The Highlander Who Stole Christmas

by Eliza Knight

  The Highlander Who Stole Christmas

  Eliza Knight

  Contents

  More Books by Eliza Knight

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Note to Readers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright 2020 © Eliza Knight

  THE HIGHLANDER WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS © 2020 Eliza Knight. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part or the whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, and punishable by law.

  THE HIGHLANDER WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  THE HIGHLANDER WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS was originally published in the A Very Highland Holiday anthology.

  Cover Design by Dar Albert

  Edited by Erica Monroe

  Published by:

  More Books by Eliza Knight

  Prince Charlie’s Angels

  The Rebel Wears Plaid

  Truly Madly Plaid

  You’ve Got Plaid

  The Sutherland Legacy

  The Highlander’s Gift

  The Highlander’s Quest

  The Highlander’s Stolen Bride

  The Highlander’s Hellion

  The Highlander’s Secret Vow

  The Highlander’s Enchantment

  The Stolen Bride Series

  The Highlander’s Temptation

  The Highlander’s Reward

  The Highlander’s Conquest

  The Highlander’s Lady

  The Highlander’s Warrior Bride

  The Highlander’s Triumph

  The Highlander’s Sin

  Wild Highland Mistletoe (a Stolen Bride winter novella)

  The Highlander’s Charm (a Stolen Bride novella)

  A Kilted Christmas Wish – a contemporary Holiday spin-off

  The Highlander’s Surrender

  The Highlander’s Dare

  The Conquered Bride Series

  Conquered by the Highlander

  Seduced by the Laird

  Taken by the Highlander (a Conquered bride novella)

  Claimed by the Warrior

  Stolen by the Laird

  Protected by the Laird (a Conquered bride novella)

  Guarded by the Warrior

  The MacDougall Legacy Series

  Laird of Shadows

  Laird of Twilight

  Laird of Darkness

  Pirates of Britannia: Devils of the Deep

  Savage of the Sea

  The Sea Devil

  A Pirate’s Bounty

  The Thistles and Roses Series

  Promise of a Knight

  Eternally Bound

  Breath from the Sea

  The Highland Bound Series (Erotic time-travel)

  Behind the Plaid

  Bared to the Laird

  Dark Side of the Laird

  Highlander’s Touch

  Highlander Undone

  Highlander Unraveled

  Wicked Women

  Her Desperate Gamble

  Seducing the Sheriff

  Kiss Me, Cowboy

  Historical Fiction

  Coming soon!

  The Little Mayfair Bookshop

  Tales From the Tudor Court

  My Lady Viper

  Prisoner of the Queen

  Ancient Historical Fiction

  A Day of Fire: a novel of Pompeii

  A Year of Ravens: a novel of Boudica’s Rebellion

  French Revolution

  Ribbons of Scarlet: a novel of the French Revolution

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  For eight months, Thane Shaw has patiently waited to enact his revenge against the Campbells, and finally he can’t resist the opportunity that’s presented itself: stealing their most precious treasure for his own—Lady Sarah.

  Note to Readers

  Dear Reader,

  I’m very excited to be a part of A Very Highland Holiday collection. My story, The Highlander Who Stole Christmas, is a fun tale loosely based on How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Suess. It’s one of my very favorite Christmas stories, and I thought it would be a lot of fun to use some of the themes from it in writing this Highland holiday tale.

  Thane is quite bitter when he heads down south from his clan’s holding to Campbell lands where he plans to ruin their Christmas festivities and all of the holiday season by stealing Lady Sarah. But he may just find his heart growing by three, as did the Grinch.

  While it’s true that Christmas wasn’t widely celebrated in the Highlands after being banned, and frowned upon even when the ban was lifted, there were some small pockets where traditions were maintained (probably in secret), perhaps a bit more quiet than how I portray celebrations in my story.

  After all, it is said that the Christmas Carol, “O, Come All Ye Faithful” was written as a call to rebel arms after the birth of Bonnie Prince Charlie. How else would such a call be passed if rebels weren’t singing in secret?

  I wish you all a very merry holiday season, and a wonderful New Year.

  Happy Highland Reading!

  XO,

  Eliza

  To Andrea, because you always bring me Christmas cheer!

  Chapter One

  Revenge was a dish best served on a cold, snowy platter.

  At least, that was what Laird Thane Shaw told himself as he headed out into the darkness just after nightfall, ignoring how the clouds covered the stars in the inky black sky. A blustery wind blew, and a man with less hate in his bones might have frozen to death. But his thirst for revenge was enough to keep him warm.

  This was for his twin sister, Thea. If no one else felt the need to exact revenge on her behalf, then he would gladly take up the mantle. Thea deserved no less—in fact, she deserved so much more. Life, for one.

  Damn his clan for fearing the wrath of the Campbells. The bloody bastards deserved to feel the same pain the Shaw clan endured. No matter their size, no matter their might, the Campbells couldn’t get away with murder.

  And he was going to teach them just that.

  An eye for an eye—or rather, a sister for a sister.

  Lady Sarah Campbell was about to become collateral damage in a war waged between clans, and while he did feel a twinge of guilt at putting her life in danger for the sake of his bloodlust, at least he wasn’t going to kill her. Unlike the Campbells who had violently stolen his sister’s life.

  And so, Thane ignored the warnings of the weather and rode out into the night before anyone could stop him.

  Wrapped in his plaid to ward off the cold along with an extra riding blanket on his horse, Destiny, he rode over the moors. His horse’s hooves knocked against the frozen, packed earth. White clouds puffed from his mouth and the horse’s muzzle, and with each gust of wind, the ice on the tree limbs tinkled like musical wind chimes.

  Eight long months had passed since the Battle of Culloden, which had not only changed the landscape of Scotland but the landscape of his clan. His entire life. And ended his sister’s.

  He’d been one of the lucky ones. Hell, if one could call him lucky. He felt cursed. Vexed with life, and guilt for surviving, when so many ot
hers had died for the cause. More than half of the Shaw warriors had been annihilated in battle. And those who’d made it were filled with such anguish and fear. Not to mention they’d had to hide from those who sought to kill them ever since. The Duke of Cumberland had orchestrated the catastrophic battle, and when it had ended, he’d put out the order for all Jacobite rebels to be murdered.

  And still, Thane was here. But without his twin sister in the world, what more did he have to live for?

  When he returned to his castle with Lady Sarah in tow, it would raise the morale of his people. Seeing that Thea’s death was being avenged would bring them hope for a brighter future. Or in some way present a future that was less bleak. Even the dogs looked dejected these days. All of the clan’s crops had been burned or stolen by dragoons, and what little stores they’d been able to hide were quickly dwindling. Neighboring clans were all in the same boat. The population itself was dwindling because of it, as some fled to the New World and parts of Europe. Escaping starvation, fear and grief.

  At the very least, he might be able to extort some supplies from the Campbells when they came looking for Sarah. A ransom paid was better than a silly chit who required rations.

  Lady Sarah Campbell…He’d not seen her since Thea had been wed to the Chief of Clan Campbell, but his memory of her was sharp. The lass had a confidence about her that came with the privilege of belonging to a powerful clan. One that had not seemed to fair as badly as the rest of the nation.

  Trailing in undulating waves down her back and threaded with little white flowers, her red locks screamed out to the sun. Her lips were a perfect pink bow, accented by a beauty mark on the indentation of her creamy, dimpled cheek. But most noteworthy were her brown eyes, the kind that saw straight into a man’s soul, disturbing him enough that he’d dreamt of them for months after their meeting.

  What sort of things had a lass like that seen?

  He hardly had to guess, given the brutality of her brothers. It crossed his mind then that perhaps Lady Sarah had witnessed his sister’s death. A shudder passed through him, imagining what Thea had gone through. Why had their da arranged to marry her off? If Thane had been laird at the time, he’d not have agreed. But the responsibility had only fallen to his shoulders after the great battle, which had also stolen his da’s life. And what was done was done.

  Thane thrust aside those melancholy thoughts, or else he might guide his horse right off a cliff. Instead, he focused on his plan for infiltrating the Campbell stronghold and finding Lady Sarah as fast as he could.

  Recognizing her was the least of his worries. Och, but Thane could pick her out of a crowd of a thousand fiery-headed beauties, of that he was certain.

  What he worried about most was blending in with those in residence.

  He planned to infiltrate the castle during their annual Christmas feast, which took place on the eve of the holiday, and steal her away while everyone was distracted by the celebration. Word had leached out across the Highlands that the Campbells still planned to celebrate despite the death and destruction that had hit their country. Another great blow to those who were still suffering.

  Bloody bastards would be drunk on ale and wine and spiced cider, dining on the blood and guts of their peers.

  The Campbells hardly suffered enough during the battle.

  Of course, he knew that wasn’t generous of him. All the clans had suffered. However, after learning that Thea had been left with little protection at the castle while the warriors had gone off to fight for Bonnie Prince Charlie and that when the ransom for Thea was demanded, the Campbells had refused, he wasn’t feeling very charitable.

  Oh, how his sister must have suffered at the hands of the butcher of the loyalist government army—also known as the Duke of Cumberland, son to King George who’d exacted his revenge on the Scottish rebels in favor of Bonnie Prince Charlie. Knowing that had made him harden his heart. Not just to the bloody Sassenachs who’d murdered her, but to those bastard Campbells, who might as well have been a party to it for they hadn’t done much to protect her.

  The place in his chest that used to burn a fire for a cause, had now frozen over, beating only for revenge.

  Before this moment, Lady Sarah Campbell had considered herself to be quite beloved by her family.

  But now, as she backed against the wall in the darkened corridor, she realized what a complete fool she’d been. How easily she’d allowed herself to live in a bubble of pure fantasy. For it was evident now, considering the conversation happening on the other side of the tightly closed door, that she was only a commodity to be traded.

  Her heart pounded in her ears, threatening to drown out the rest of the conversation happening within.

  “There will be dozens of them present.” This was the distinctive deep voice of her younger brother Edward.

  “Ye were smart, brother, to invite everyone for the Christmas feast. No one will guess that we’re actually brokering a deal.” And that had been her other youngest brother Ellyson’s reply.

  Both her brothers chuckled, following by the sound of clinking. Were they giving cheers to selling her off?

  Sarah fumed, hands fisted at her side, and her jaw clenched so tight she risked breaking a tooth. To them, she was a deal to be brokered, and neither of them seemed to care one wit that she was human, and until a few moments ago, their much-beloved sister.

  Alas, that had all been in her mind, for it was evident now that she didn’t mean as much to them as she thought she did. What an absolutely pathetic idiot she’d been.

  The Christmas feast that she’d been helping to prepare for weeks—had in fact planned most of—was just a ruse to auction her off to the highest bidder. Why did they even bother with the feast to begin with? They could have saved themselves a lot of trouble and resources if they’d simply tossed her naked out into the moors for the quickest man to grab.

  The clans were all hurting for money and staples since the Battle of Culloden, and though their clan was larger and richer than others, their size was the problem. They were large, too large, and had a lot of mouths to feed. So why not get rid of her and collect coin in the process?

  She was nothing but a piece of property.

  Jon was so busy with the rebellion these last few years that he’d put off arranging a marriage for her, and she’d been glad for it. Now that she was five and twenty, she thought for certain she’d be too long in the tooth for anyone to want her. Apparently not.

  Sarah reached forward, preparing to bang on the door to tell them exactly what she thought of their disgusting plan, but what they said next stilled her.

  “Northumberland’s son will be there, as well.”

  “English bastards,” cursed her brother Edward.

  “Aye. We’ll rob him blind if he’s willing to take her.”

  Selling her to a bloody Sassenach made her stomach curdle, and she dropped her hand, pressing it to her gut, willing herself not to vomit. Northumberland…The same man who’d killed their brother and cousins on the field of battle.

  Oh, dear God, she could not be wed to a Sassenach! Especially one who’d led a red-coated regiment against her own kin. What had got into her brothers?

  Greed.

  Sarah pinched her forearm, hoping this was a dream, but the pain radiating from the spot between her thumb and forefinger was very real.

  They rattled off a few other names—all men she knew to be violent, and several more that were in league with the government, having gone against Bonnie Prince Charlie. Was that it then? After having fought for the prince at Culloden, her brothers were now prepared to sell their souls, and hers, to the highest bidder?

  This wouldn’t do. It couldn’t.

  Again, she raised her hand to rap on the door, to barge inside and tell them that they were crazy, but something stopped her. What if they denied her argument? What if they were so desperate for coin that they locked her up until the deed was done, the papers signed, and she was no longer a Campbell, but the wife of
an Englishman?

  Sarah backed away from the door, fear snaking its way down her spine. Her entire body started to tremble, and she bit her knuckles to keep from screaming.

  There was so little she had control over. So little, indeed.

  Except for one thing. Edward and Ellyson didn’t need to know she was aware of their plans. If they weren’t privy to her knowledge, and they continued with the charade of a festive Christmas celebration, they would have no idea that she was planning to escape, for that was what she must do.

  Get as far away as possible.

  Sarah would not wed any of the dozen or so men her brothers had invited into their home to steal her away. Never. And she wasn’t against marriage—but she was against being sold to butchers.

  She needed to escape, and perhaps the night of the feast was the perfect time. Her brothers would be so distracted sorting through the proposals, counting the coins that would soon line their coffers, they wouldn’t notice she’d gone missing.

  Blinded by tears, Sarah rushed back to her chamber and quietly shut the door. She leaned against the cool wood, sucking in a breath on a sob.

  So much had changed in the last eight months. So much had changed in the last eight minutes.