Highlander's Betrayed Princess (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Alisa Adams

  “Milady...” Annie took her by the shoulders and said firmly, “The question is, is he good enough for you? An’ the answer is no because naebody is good enough for ye. But wheesht noo. Go an’ get merrit.” She smiled at Eilidh tearfully then turned her around to face the altar and gave her a gentle push forward to where Fearchar was waiting.

  He took her arm and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “My beautiful bairn,” he whispered, then Eilidh smiled at her father, took his arm, and walked into the church.

  Iain’s heart skipped a beat when he saw his ravishing bride, and he beamed with pleasure and pride as she drew alongside him. Then, as she took off her cloak and handed it to Annie, the words he was about to say deserted him. He gasped as his eyes took in every last detail of her; he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

  His attention was dragged back to reality when the priest intoned the blessing. Father Patterson was a tall, handsome, imposing man, and many of the local ladies thought he would have made a better husband than a priest, but they resigned themselves to the fact that God obviously knew better than they did. He had a very kind smile, which he gave them when he invited them to say their vows.

  “You first, Iain, since you are the provider and protector.”

  Iain took a deep breath, and suddenly all his nervous tension was gone. He took Eilidh’s hand in his, and as he looked into her bright, trusting eyes, he knew that he was just where he wanted to be. “My Eilidh,” he said huskily. “Ye are everythin’ I ever wanted...brave, loyal, lovin’, and generous. Beautiful in body and soul. Ye have made me want to be a better man for you and for oor children, should we be blessed. Will you be my wife?”

  She looked up at him and her eyes were shining with love. “You are my shelter from the storm, my refuge, and my home. I love you with all my heart and I will never leave you. Yes, Iain, I will marry you, and I vow to be the best wife I can be. Will you be my husband?”

  “Yes Eilidh,” he replied as he slipped his golden ring on her finger. “Yer devoted and lovin’ husband for as lang as we live.”

  “For as long as we live,” she echoed softly, then her lips were stilled by the gentle pressure of his as he kissed her tenderly, then smiled at her with such love in his eyes that she almost wept for joy. She embraced him briefly before they took Communion and the priest said the final blessing.

  Iain heaved a huge sigh of relief, then laughed. “I thought that wid never end!”

  Eilidh giggled as she took his hand and they began to walk out of the church. “It is over now, and we are husband and wife.”

  “No’ quite yet,” he said pointedly, with a sideways, mischievous look.

  She laughed again, and gave him a playful push. “You are a monster,” she said, but her voice was loving, and she was smiling. Then she looked thoughtful. “How long are we required to stay at the reception?” she asked.

  He frowned. “As long as it takes to dae oor duty and receive all the guests,” he replied, and his handsome face took on a suspicious look. “What are you thinkin’, Mistress Jamieson?” He gave her a wicked smile.

  “My new name sounds so strange,” she remarked dreamily, then went back to what she was saying. “How soon before you can make me your wife...really make me your wife?” she asked. She looked away from him, feeling slightly embarrassed.

  “I wish I could dae it right now,” he growled. “You look so bonny, but we have tae mingle wi’ a’ these people who came to see us being married.” Then he bent down to whisper in her ear. “We will jist slip away, I promise ye. Wait for my signal!”

  Then they exchanged a conspiratorial smile.

  When the speeches were done, the toasts drunk, and the food looked as though a plague of locusts had visited it, Iain winked at her, then gave a sideways nod at the door to the great hall. She only just stopped herself rushing towards him, then they went out to the frosty courtyard, and paused to look up at the sky that was inky black and studded with stars.

  “The first night of the rest o’oor lives, my lovely Eilidh,” he whispered. “Are ye ready?”

  “I have been ready almost since the first time I saw you, my sweet,” she replied.

  They heard a babble of voices behind them which proved to be some drunken guests stumbling outside. Iain swept Eilidh into his arms and ran with her into the main building. He rushed upstairs with no apparent effort. Eilidh was not heavy, but she was not weightless either, and she was once more amazed at the strength of his arms.

  He threw her onto the bed and lay down beside her, then they laughed till they were breathless.

  When Eilidh had calmed down, she felt a little frightened. This was a completely new experience and she had nothing to compare it with.

  Iain saw the look on her face and kissed her softly. “Dinnae fash yersel’, my sweet bride,” he whispered. “I will take care o’ ye. It is my duty and my pleasure.”

  She reached out her hands to touch the bristles that were even now growing on the face that had been smoothly shaved just a few hours before. What a perfect specimen of manhood he was!

  She felt him undoing the laces on her beautiful shoes, then the ones on the back of her dress, and she moaned in anticipation of his touch. He pulled her from the bed so that she was standing upright then tore off his own clothes as though they were burning him. He pulled her into his arms so that their naked bodies were touching from chest to knee.

  Eilidh had never felt a man’s flesh against her own before and was surprised at how soft it was. She inhaled the smell of him, an earthy, yeasty scent that was all his own.

  “I cannae wait ony longer,” he said hoarsely, then he gently placed her on the bed and looked at her in wonder. He had done so before, but this time they were married and there was pride of possession in his gaze.

  Eilidh held out her arms to him, and he sank into them with a sigh of relief and thankfulness.

  “I love you, love you, love you,” he murmured as he rubbed his hips against her from side to side.

  She moaned at the exquisite torture. “Please,” she begged. “Now, Iain.”

  She lay back on the pillow and gazed at him in astonishment.

  “I adore ye, lass,” he whispered against her mouth before kissing her.

  Eilidh ran her hands backward through his thick fair hair and smiled. “I love you too, Husband, but I am a very forgetful woman and will need constant reminding.”

  Iain laughed, and Eilidh thought for the hundredth time how beautiful he was. “Whatever you command,” he said fondly. “For Eilidh Jamieson I would do anything.”

  “Is that a promise?” she asked mischievously. “Anything?”

  “Anything.” He laughed. “What are you thinking, you wee besom?”

  “Can we stay in bed for a week?” she asked.

  “Only a week?” He looked disappointed.

  “Two then,” she offered.

  “Make it a month,” he laughed, and she joined in, then he asked soberly, “But whit will we do a’ that time?”

  She sighed, then pulled him towards her for a kiss. “What about a son?” she replied wickedly.

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  Chapter 1

  Keith dodged a blow and whirled his sword around, trying to strike against Seamus’s leg. Seamus jumped back and narrowly avoided the blow. Keith, with all the vigor of youth, slashed his sword through the air so fast that it made whipping sounds. His gaze was deadly focused on his older opponent. Se
amus twisted and moved his feet quickly. A grin appeared on his face, which was quite the contrast to the expression his younger foe wore. Sweat beaded on Keith’s forehead, and just at the moment when he thought he had the advantage, Seamus’s heavy sword came crashing down and deflected the blows.

  The sound of singing steel trilled through the air, and the witnesses gasped as Seamus took things to another level. His sword whirled and in one swift movement he had taken Keith’s legs out from under him. Panic flared in the young man’s eyes as his arms flailed and he landed flat on his back.

  The shadow of the Laird loomed over Keith. Some had said that Seamus had killed a bear once. Looking at him now, it was not difficult to imagine him wrestling a bear into submission. Keith blinked, embracing the aching pain that swept over his back, and then took Seamus’s hand.

  “Ye are improving all the time,” Seamus said. Keith dusted himself off.

  “It dinnae feel like it.”

  “Ah, this time ye almost got me.” Seamus pointed to his garment and showed a part that had been nipped by Keith’s sword. Keith beamed.

  “One day ye’ll be even better than me,” Seamus said.

  “How dae ye know?”

  “Because I dinnae hae me for a teacher!” Seamus slapped Keith on the back heartily and roared with laughter.

  “I hope I get a chance tae prove myself in battle just like ye did,” Keith said.

  “Ye time will come. It does for every man. Now, get along with ye chores else ye ma will be out here causing no end of chaos.”

  Keith nodded and handed the sword back to Seamus reluctantly. He was so grateful that Seamus was kind to him, and he would do anything for the Laird. He had stopped for a while there, as Keith’s house was on his way to the keep, and Keith felt so lucky that he was able to spend some time with Seamus once in a while and even practice in fight with him.

  “I wish I could practice all day.”

  “It’s always useful tae learn about the land. Ye hae many useful skills Keith, and ye should be proud.” Seamus tapped a finger against his chin. “You are a brave and clever lad. Come by the keep taemorrow, I‘ll try to find a task for ye.”

  There had been much turmoil in recent years, and as Keith strolled through the woodland he whistled and reflected on it. Keith was a young man who had just entered his prime. He had a shock of dark, thick hair and his beard was growing in. His eyes were sharp and were the color of the brightest sea. They twinkled as light from the sun caught them. His ma had always said that life and love danced in his eyes. But he didn’t just want life and love; he wanted war and glory, like his father before him, like Seamus and Angus, like all the other warriors in the clan.

  Keith bent down and plucked a plant from the ground, ripping its prickling stem up. He waved it before his nose and breathed in its sweet scent, placing it into a bag. The colorful flowers popped at him and swayed in the morning breeze.

  It was fascinating to him how some plants could be deadly and some could be sweet. Take berries, for example: if you ate a certain type of berry your stomach would turn itself inside and out. You’d be the victim of a terrible rotting feeling in your gut and everything would be emptied. Keith had unfortunately experienced that in his folly of youth, as a child, his stomach had rumbled and before his ma could stop him he’d thrust a fistful of dark berries into his mouth. He still remembered how the juice had run down his cheeks, as dark as blood.

  After hearing the stories about his cousins, Seamus and Angus, and the recent arrival of Bryan and Catherine, Keith was ready to see the world for himself. The adventures they went on were filled with excitement and danger, and the village had been filled with stories. Even now, months after the events, everyone still talked about them. These men were seen as heroes.

  All his life he had been wandering the same path. Every day blurred into one another as if they were all the same. He would rise, do some chores for his ma, and then walk the trail in the woods, collecting supplies for her. After some lunch he would spend the afternoon with his friends sparring, preparing for the day when he would join the ranks of the warriors and find some glory for himself. That day was yet to come. He’d pleaded with his parents to fight alongside the Highland warriors, but they had deemed him too young. He’d pouted as he’d watched the soldiers line up against the English from afar. He’d quailed as he heard about the battle with the bandits, and he was deeply envious of all of those who had returned with a story to tell. While he enjoyed listening to them, he wanted one of his own.

  As his mind wandered, a lazy smile curled on his face. He pretended to be in battle, ducking and dodging, then striking with his sword, killing the evil threat to his fair maiden. Not that there was a fair maiden in his life. He was as much devoid of that as he was experienced at war.

  Keith became so lost in his fantasy that he almost picked out a horrible, ugly looking plant that was covered in spikes. He gulped as he caught himself. His mother called it Midnight Tears because it killed people in their sleep, numbing their tongues so they could not scream for help. They could only die in silence. Sometimes blood came out of their nose or eyes, looking like blood tears running down their cheeks.

  “I’m back Ma!” he cried when he entered their small home. His mother, Isolde, was hunched over a table, her shawl pulled over her head. Her black hair that was streaked with grey was pulled back by some twine into a ponytail. She snapped her fingers and gestured for him to bring the things he had gathered. She was sitting at a table, crunching things together. Keith turned up his nose at the acrid smell in the air, and he shook his head when he saw her crushing a beetle. He set the basket beside her and she pulled her attention away from what she was doing to look at it.

  “Thank ye lad. It seems as though we are blessed by nature; she keeps on giving us what we need,” Isolde said.

  “Aye, she does at that. But dae ye hae tae be taking from her? Why dae ye need tae crush the beetle?”

  Her eyes gleamed. “Trust me lad, I know what I’m daeing.”

  “Ma, I need tae talk with ye,” he said.

  “Gae on,” she replied without looking up. Keith sighed and looked down at the knobbly bit of bread he was holding, tossing it back onto the table.

  “I feel as though I hae missed out on all the excitement. I was tae young for the old days, and the things that are happening here hae passed me by. If I hae just been a few years older, I would hae fought alongside my kin and I would hae stories of my own tae tell, instead of listening tae the ones others hae tae share. I want tae know what it’s like tae achieve something, tae be part of something bigger than me. I want tae test my skills and make people see me. I know that is what I need to do.”

  “Ye dinnae need any of that,” Isolde replied quickly. “It’s nae as good as ye may think. Not all people have to prove themselves by killing. You are special Keith. You are the smartest lad I know and I am not saying that because you are my son.”

  “That’s embarrassing,” Keith spoke quietly, his head dipping. Smart was good for women and older men that had proved themselves in battle already. A young man had to be brave!

  Isolde turned to face him with her bright blue eyes. There was no doubting they were mother and son for they had the same azure eyes.

  “Aye, those Highlander heros, there are plenty of them.” She gestured with her arm outside. “All the stories they tell after they come back. But what about the ones who dinnae? What about the ones who never came back? Ye could just as easily be one of them.”

  Her words were harsh and her voice had risen to a near shriek. A few moments of silence passed between them. Isolde softened and spoke more gently. “Keith, ye are my only son. I dinnae want tae see ye hurt.”

  Keith was not afraid of death. He was afraid of a meaningless life. “I just hae this feeling that I could be more than I am, but I dinnae ken how tae dae it.”

  Isolde looked upon him with pity and her heart swelled as only a mother’s heart could. She turned her whole body away f
rom her work and placed her hands in her lap. “As much as I love ye, I dinnae think I am the best person tae talk tae about this. I cannae help ye find the path ye seek. But ye kin can. Gae up tae the keep and talk with your cousin Seamus.”

  Keith’s eyes brightened. “He actually spoke tae me already. He stopped by today! He said he might find a task for me.”

  Seamus was so attentive to his clan. Whenever he was at home he made sure they all knew that he was always willing to talk with them about any of their concerns.

  So that is why Keith became so anxious about his future one day, Isolde thought. He wanted to bring the subject to Seamus!

  “Aye, well there ye gae then! There is nae need tae fret. Seamus has always been good tae his kin. If he can help ye, he will.”

  Keith jumped up, not wanting to waste any more time. He clapped his hands together out of excitement.

  “And ye will nae stop me?” Keith asked, his voice trembling with worry.

  “Who am I tae disagree with the Laird?”

  “Thank ye Ma,” he said.

  “Ye are welcome my son,” she replied.

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