Highlander’s Gypsy Lass (Highlander's 0f Clan Macgregor Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

  Highlander’s Gypsy Lass

  Desiring him was forbidden, but staying away from him was impossible...

  Kenna Kendrick

  Contents

  Thank you

  About the book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  But there’s more…

  Afterword

  Do you want more Romance?

  A Highlander Born from Chaos

  Never miss a thing

  Thank you

  About the Author

  Thank you

  I want to personally thank you for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me. It’s a blessing to have the opportunity to share with you, my passion for writing, through my stories.

  As a FREE GIFT, I am giving you a link to my first novel. It has more than 100 reviews, with an average rating of 4.5 out of 5

  It is called “Stealing the Highland Bride”, and you can get it for FREE.

  Please note that this story is only available for YOU as a subscriber and hasn't been published anywhere else.

  Please click on the cover to download the book

  About the book

  Her love was like a rebel bird no one could domesticate...

  Rosalie was always free. Being part of the Highland Travellers meant that she could sing, dance and enjoy life's wonders. But the day comes when she must make a choice: marry the man the tribe commands, or cut all ties with the only family she ever knew.

  As if things couldn't get more complicated, Rosalie falls to the hands of a Highlander so enticing, that will tempt her to a new life. Unbeknownst to her, the forbidden desire she feels is the least of her problems...

  Declan, Chief of Clan Macgregor was bound to loneliness. He inspired loyalty and admiration to his people but his heart never knew the music of love.

  After saving an unknown lass from certain death, Declan feels that she is the one. Until he sees her dancing and bewitching the crowds with a group of thieving gypsies...

  Is this mysterious woman just a seductress toying with his love? And why is there no record of where she came from?

  Desiring him was forbidden, but staying away from him was impossible...

  * * *

  Chapter One

  The covered wagon bumped and sloshed through mud and over rocks. The highlands unrolled around the small traveler caravan making its way towards Loch Awe of Argyll, Scotland. Her feet bouncing as she sat on the back of the wagon, Rosalie watched the passing of the burnt sienna and pale green glens blanketing the slender winding trail on either side. She pulled her travel cloak tighter to shield the child against the light drizzle and gentle breeze. As they approached the settlement banking along the loch, the smell of juniper and myrtle awakened her excitement.

  Dogs barked alongside the wagons. The wheels creaked and moaned as they cut through thick mud and rattled over uneven rocks. The clang of pots and falling items from within the caravan made Rosalie bite down on her lip and cringe.

  “How much further?”

  Magda braved walking through the rocking vehicle to hear the young woman speak. Rosalie looked up tenderly at her adopted mother as the old woman braced herself against the arched frame for support.

  “Patience, Rosalie, patience,” Magda’s aged voice cracked. “Aye, not much longer, ma dear. We’ll pro’ably settle o’er there. You know, as much as I do, it’s up to Alexander.”

  Rosalie smiled up at Magda, taking a moment to appreciate the wise eyes framed by shocks of gray and white streaking her thick, dark hair. The two women peered over the landscape. They could see the first signs of civilization sprouting over the meadows and pastures. There was always uncertainty about what a new place would bring.

  Alexander, the eldest man, had traveled through most of the country at one time or another. Regardless, each place he brought them back to was a gamble. Time changed people and their opinions of their kind. Some welcomed the travelers and the trades they offered, bringing their wares for repair, or enlisting the services of the women to mend and sew new gowns. Other times, they were met with the prejudices and fears of the villagers, driven off like rabid dogs before they could prove their good intentions.

  “I have a good feelin’ about this place, Magda.” Rosalie rubbed out the folds of her wool gown, warming the flats of her hands against the rough-spun cloth.

  “Aye.”

  Magda agreed, but the young redhead could see uncertainty twisting her cracked lips. The ancient eyes remained trained on two men tending a field nearby. They paused their work to watch the caravan roll through. Neither of them waved, just stared, passing unknown words to one another as they watched the procession tumble through.

  In the distance, a castle tower arose, twisting five stories high into the air. “There’ll be work ‘ere. They can afford a castle; they can afford labor.” Magda turned to shield her aching bones from the early autumn cold in the shelter of the rounded wagon. “Get that damned dog ‘fore it keels over. An’ mind your gown.” Her voice trailed off, but Rosalie could hear her mutter something about the girls’ carelessness and making a decent impression.

  Rosalie offered no response, and Magda waited for none before disappearing inside. Rosalie lifted the hem of her skirt as she jumped down, mud splashing up and sucking around her leather boots. The dog stopped at her feet, panting relentlessly from the hours it had spent alongside the wagon. Rosalie tried her best to mind its paws as she scooped the creature in her arms and ran to catch the back of the wagon once more. She tossed the dog up and took one more glance at the men nearby before clambering in herself.

  “Kin’ o’ handsome that one is, ay dog?” She scratched behind the animal’s ears as the two men disappeared behind them. One was tall, about her age, with red hair a shade lighter than her own. The other was an older man, older than even Magda.

  Although they habitually kept a low profile, it was impossible to go unnoticed as their caravan passed the humble homes stretching out from the loch and castle. It took them over an hour to reach the tree line cloaking the mouth of the Awe River. Juniper, willow, birch, and the thick underbrush of late summer enveloped them. Rosalie stayed on the back of the wagon, stroking the tired dog, as the caravan stopped and started while the men checked out spots for them to set up camp.

  In the heart of the woods, they found a clearing large enough for their vehicles. Through the vegetation, the young girl could still hear the roar of the river nearby, although it was no longer in sight. The wagons moved in a large circle, creating a protective ring around the camp. The rain let up, but despite the bright sun and clear blue skies, moisture still hung in the air, nipping at noses and cheeks.

  “Get on it, girl. Go help Anna,” Magda called out.

  Rosalie felt flush with excitement. Exhilaration always filled her when they came to a new place. Her heart pounded with hope and excitement
as grand fantasies of adventure played out in her mind. She found Anna already picking the site clean of twigs and brush, piling it in the center, where the men would dig out a pit for the fire.

  Anna was Rosalie’s childhood friend. Although Rosalie was unsure of her own age, as Magda had adopted her in infancy, she guessed Anna was a year younger than her. She always felt envious of Anna in the most loving way possible, admiring her olive complexion, rounded curves, and the contrast of her dark, thick hair against light amber eyes.

  Rosalie dove into her duties, creating a makeshift basket out of her apron. “Did ye see the gentleman we passed?”

  “Aye,” Anna grinned. “Ye fancy him?”

  Rosalie blushed, wishing Anna hadn’t said anything. There was no point in entertaining such thoughts. To marry an outsider would mean exile from the ones she loved.

  “Why? Did you?” Rosalie shot back.

  Anna smirked and shrugged. “I calls ‘em as I sees ‘em. Those arms…” she shuddered playfully.

  Rosalie giggled and shushed her friend, looking around to make sure no one heard their banter as they worked. The men set to their duties, and Rosalie let out a sigh as she realized no one was close enough to listen to them. Anna was bolder than Rosalie. She admired her for that, but there was less risk for Anna.

  Rosalie never quite fit into either world. Her auburn hair, bright green eyes, and fair complexion were a daily reminder she did not belong. Outsider’s blood coursed through her veins. She was destined to a life never entirely fitting in with the travelers, yet always cast out by the rest of the world as well.

  “Y’know Enoch is sweet on ye.” Anna saw Rosalie grimace. “Wha’, you don’ like him?”

  Rosalie was not sure how to answer. There were few choices for marriage, and her time was approaching—lest she wanted to be a maid for the rest of her life, or say goodbye to those she loved. Enoch was a handsome man, dark and about as tall as Rosalie, but growing up in the small community, she knew things about him.

  “You know how he is.” Her face grew dark as she thought of the few times she’d overheard him boasting to his friends about some of the ways he came into revenue for the Roma community. It was men like him that gave travelers a criminal reputation, and whether Magda and Alexander knew of his nighttime occupations, Anna and Rosalie had heard his proud stories of bravado and treachery.

  “Aye,” Anna nodded, dipping the second jug, “I do, but he’s strong, Rosie. He’s got good blood in ‘im, an’ ye know he’d keep ye safe and provided fer. Isn’t tha’ what matters?”

  As if he could sense them speaking, Rosalie looked up to see Enoch approaching them. She gathered her skirts and rose, not wanting to deal with both of them at the same time.

  Anna’s mouth fell open at Rosalie’s sudden change of course. “Where’re you off to?”

  “I’m goin’ to help Magda with the wash.”

  Anna looked over her shoulder. She saw Enoch closing in on them and stared Rosalie down, pursing her lips. She knew what her friend was thinking. It was foolish for her to throw away such blatant opportunities for marriage. It did not matter what she felt about him. All that mattered is if he could protect her and her future children from the dangers of the world.

  “Suit yerself, Rosie,” Irritation underlined every word as Anna stood, “Ye could think aboot others fer once. Maybe spend a li’l less time alone in the woods.”

  As Anna turned away from her, Rosalie snatched her wrist with the speed of a viper. “I’ll think on it.” She met her friend’s amber eyes, wishing to qualm her fears. It was enough. She watched Anna’s anxiety lift a bit, and the smile return to her eyes.

  “Good; ye’d be a fool not to.”

  Rosalie hurried away, stealing a glance over her shoulder at Enoch. Their eyes locked for a moment. He gave her a look like a wild cat crouched and ready to pounce on her. It sent a warning up her spine, telling her not to let him catch her alone or test his temper. Disturbed, she ran to find Magda, still feeling his eyes boring into her back.

  Magda was waiting for her. Whatever grief Anna gave her, her mother was worse. She had watched the whole thing from beneath the canopy stretching from the wagon. Rosalie cursed under her breath; the old crone was cross.

  “Are ye daft, girl?”

  Rosalie knitted her brows. She could feel her patience thinning. There were too many people nagging her—and she was too tired to coddle the lot of them. “No.”

  “Yer sure actin’ like it. He was comin’ right to ye. What’re ye thinkin’?”

  “I was thinkin’ the life o’ a spinster sounds nice.” She couldn’t help but smile as she heard Magda’s sharp gasp.

  “Don’ joke, Rosalie!”

  Rosalie started to gather the laundry, Magda, right on her heels. “Aye, it’s no joke. The way I figure it, I can save a whole lotta time if I skip the family bit. Get a nice sheep or two—”

  “Bite your tongue.” Magda looked around to see if anyone could hear, and Rosalie let out a peal of laughter. The woman’s hands shook. “You’ll be the death o’ me, child.” She was downright mad, and Rosalie knew better than to push her too far, “Tomorrow, yer goin’ with him into town. No excuses. You hear?”

  “Aye, I hear,” she heaved the basket into the crook of her arm and stepped out of striking range, “but today, I’m lookin’ at sheep. Ye think the clan’ll notice if their flock’s down a few?”

  “Ohh…” her hand grasped at her chest in a dramatic gesture. “I swear, the devil gave ye that red hair. Get out o’ here. Go on!” Magda picked up a small rock and threw it at Rosalie’s feet. “Get! I cannae look at you right now!”

  Rosalie smiled to herself as she watched Magda fret. She paced, cursed, and prayed to God for help with her daughter. It was too easy to give her a hard time.

  Yet the joy slipped away as soon as she was alone in the woods. All jokes aside, she knew she would have to marry another traveler if she wished to remain in the Roma’s good graces. The thought of exile was too much for her to bear. The idea of leaving Magda and Anna tightened her chest until she couldn’t breathe.

  Her thoughts circled over and over until she pushed them out. With a small prayer, she decided to let fate take care of the situation. The woods calmed her. Being alone out there awakened her sense of adventure, and helped her forget about everything else. Out there, without fear of judgment, she could be herself.

  The river was just far enough away from camp to give Rosalie complete privacy. She was grateful for the clear skies and bright sun fingering through the trees. The traveler followed the shoreline until she came to a bend extended by large boulders. Someone had pushed a log across this part of the river to make a footbridge.

  It was an ideal location for her to spend the rest of the day. She washed the clothes, beating them against the rocks until her hands were dark red from the cold water and her arms trembled. Before hanging them to dry, she double-checked the sky. Even though it looked promising, she knew the weather could change in an instant.

  There was always a large number of clothes to wash following a move. It was Rosalie’s favorite chore because she could be alone for as long as she wanted. For the first hour or so, she rested, twisting daisy chains for crowns and letting her muscles relax in the warming sun. As the moments passed by, she became more and more curious about what lay on the other side of the river.

  By noon, she couldn’t help herself. She was careful, hopping between the water-slick boulders to reach where the log bridged over. With a quick shake, she checked its stability. It was only as wide as her shoulders, forcing her to inch across, toe-to-heel. The bark was worn, and slicker than she thought, but the idea of turning around scared her more than continuing forward.

  The rapids below roared, capped in angry white swirls. Rosalie’s heart pounded as the sound deafened her. She focused on the opposing bank, her hands outstretched for balance.

  A strong wind gusted over the churning rapids. Rosalie teetered. Her feet slipped. Her
balance failed, and dark water beckoned. She screamed.

  Chapter Two

  The world spun around her. Her chest slammed against the log, knocking the air from her lungs. In a moment of desperation, she managed to cling to the trunk. The ice-cold water suffocated her. The smooth flats of her boots touched the river’s bottom. Her feet skated over the slick rocks. The current dragged her legs beneath the log, threatening to yank her under it.