by Gill, Tamara
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Afterword
Dear Reader
A Stolen Season
Chapter 1
Lords of London series available now!
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Also by Tamara Gill
About the Author
Copyright
To Win a Highland Scot
A Time-Traveler’s Highland Love, Book 3
Copyright © 2021 by Tamara Gill
Cover Art by Wicked Smart Designs
Editor Grace Bradley Editing
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of copyright and the above publishers.
ISBN: 978-0-6451138-7-7
Prologue
Druiminn Castle 1410, Scotland
Boyd Macleod, chief of the Macleod clan, stood before his stronghold, staring down the Fae who threatened him and those he loved. "You will not take her!" he roared, fear and panic threatening his control. The Fae Queen smirked to his outburst.
His wife stood behind him. He could not see her, but knew she would be as defiant as he, standing tall and proud, a sword in her hand and ready to die this day if it meant that they would be separated.
He would not let them take her. Never.
The Fae Queen gestured to Sorcha. "Mayhap, I have not been clear enough, Chief Macleod. Sorcha's mother, a Fae Princess, was granted the child's life on the condition that she would be returned to us on her five and twentieth year. She is half-Fae, after all, and does not belong in your dirty, ancient world." The Fae Queen cast a scathing look about his land, disdain on her face as she gazed up to the castle itself, the curtain wall protecting his four-story tower castle that his father finished building late last century. It was one of the best fortresses in Scotland, and she dared to mock it. Ridicule him and his people.
"I doona care what deal you had. Sorcha doona belong to you. She belongs here with me. With our people."
"No, she does not," the queen said, her tone bored. "No matter what iron you wield toward me, it will make no difference here. I could strike you down with a flick of my hand and take her anyway, take you and your men's life away." The queen's eyes seemed to glow, and for a moment, Boyd thought she may do what she threatened before seemingly thinking otherwise.
"If I do not take Sorcha, she will die here this day. I always collect on what is due to my kind, but I shall gift you something in return, Chief Macleod."
"I doona want anything from you. No more deals will be made here. Not today or ever."
The queen smiled. She was a beautiful woman, her long, flowing white hair sparkled as if the precious metal of silver was threaded into her locks. Her eyes were fiercely blue, as ancient as his land, and all-knowing. A powerful being that, although standing in long, white robes that appeared angelic to anyone who viewed her, the being was as cold as ice and her soul as hard as rock.
"Boyd," Sorcha whispered behind him, clutching his arm and showing the first signs she was scared. Hell, he was afraid, not that he'd ever admit to such a fault, but he was. Sorcha was everything to him. He could not lose her.
"Aye." He turned, clasping Sorcha's arms. "’Tis alright, lass. I'll not let them harm you."
Tears welled in her eyes, and she cast a glance in the queen's direction. "I doona want to go. I'm not a Fae. The tales are untrue," his wife declared, her voice breaking on her last words.
Boyd pulled her against him, stroking her long, white locks, so similar to the Fae before them, and he knew that statement to be a lie. She had come to him as a young woman looking for a husband, her parents seeking an alliance. Sorcha was small-boned with striking features, otherworldly, and he had been captured by her beauty. He had fallen in love with her the moment he'd seen her. His only regret in their marriage was the absence of a bairn. No matter how much they had tried, they had not been blessed by children of their own.
Keeping hold of Sorcha, he unsheathed his sword, holding it at his side. His men, armed and behind him, did the same, and the sound of metal sliding against metal rent the air. A fog descended over the land, and a biting wind accompanied it. An ominous sight, and he could feel his men's alarm, their fear of the change of the elements.
"Do not disappoint me, Macleod. A deal is a deal. If you do not obey my decree, Sorcha will be no more. If she does not come with us now, she will die. The choice is yours."
There was no choice in such a decree. His mind roared with alarm, with hate and anger. How dare the Fae Queen do this to him and his people? If she chose, she could leave Sorcha alone, let her live out her life here with him. He knew the Fae to be fickle, untrustworthy, and cruel when they wanted to be, but this… This was beyond evil. There were no words for such an act.
"Sorcha is mortal. To take her makes no sense. Leave her be. Mayhap we can exchange something else, coin or land."
The queen laughed, the sound echoing through the land, mocking his words. "I have no need for your riches, Chief Macleod. The child is to be returned to us. Her mother has paid for her crimes of siring a child with a mortal. Now that child is grown and can return to the people she should always have known."
"This is my family. I doona want anything to do with the Fae," Sorcha yelled out over the wind.
But it was no use. No matter how they pleaded or what they offered, nothing but Sorcha would satisfy them. They would take his wife and his life along with it. For to live without her was equivalent to death itself.
The queen raised her hand, sweeping it over his armed men. The sound of clanging metal, of bodies falling onto one another, met his ears, and Boyd turned to see his men still as death.
"Do not be alarmed. They are not dead, merely sleeping. Once Sorcha is with us, they will wake." The queen held out her hand toward Sorcha, her confidence that his wife would go with them spiking a fury inside Boyd he had held dormant.
But no more.
He charged forward, raising his sword. The queen's eyes flared as he came w
ithin striking distance, but then he was floating above his lands, his ability to move stripped from him.
The queen's face morphed into something angry and displeased. She no longer radiated light and calm, but darkness, her gown changing to black instead of white, the silks swirling like an angry sea.
"That was uncalled for, Macleod, and I cannot stand for such insolence. Come." She reached for Sorcha. His wife fought the command, turned, and tried to hold on to the men lying at her feet, but like an unknown force, she was pulled toward the queen.
Panic tore through Boyd, and he struggled in his invisible chains, the movement like swimming through a fast-moving current, heavy and impossible to gain traction. "Stop, please, doona take her." He would beg if he had to. This was his wife, his love. He could not have her stolen from him.
"Say your goodbyes. You will not see her again." The queen took Sorcha's hand, and with horror, Boyd watched as his wife seemed to lose all her fear, anger, and panic. Her face relaxed to the beautiful curves he knew so well, that he had traced with his fingers, had kissed when they made love. Her woolen gown made of the clan's red, blue, and green colors fell from her body and was replaced by a long, white, flowing robe, barely appropriate to retain honor.
"Sorcha will be happier with us, Macleod, but we thank you for your care toward our princess."
Sorcha looked up at him, a small frown between her brow. "I love you, Boyd." Her whispered words carried off into the wind.
"No," he roared, "doona take her. No!" Boyd fought against his bonds, but it was no use. He was captured, held above the ground, and as useless as the Campbells.
The Fae and Sorcha disappeared. The queen remained, stared up at him, a smirk marring her lips. "She will be happy with us and live forever, but you'll never see her again. But do not despair, Macleod, for I have something for you too, just as I promised."
"I doona want your doaty gift, shrew," he seethed, conceiving a hundred different ways he'd like to lob off her head.
"Had you cooperated, I would not need to bestow upon you anything, but now I must. You defied our laws. You loved a Fae and sought to keep her here in the human world where she did not belong. Punishment must be served," she said, her eyes glowing alarmingly bright. "I curse you with immortality. You shall live as long as the Fae you valued so dearly. An eternity without the one you love until your heart is full of another. The people you love, your clan and family shall grow old and die, while you, Macleod will be forced to watch. No strike against you will save you from this curse. Not even one against yourself."
He would never love again. No woman could compare to his wife. Sorcha was his heart and soul. "I welcome the curse, for if only to give me time to seek justice upon you." Boyd gained pleasure at the queen being taken aback by his words. Good, he wanted to insult her, scare her, let her know that one day, may it be a week or a thousand years from now, he would have his vengeance.
The queen shrugged one delicate shoulder. "Well then, I suppose you shall live forever. Open your heart, Macleod, and your pain will be over. Fight me on this, and you shall forever dwell in your darkness, your anguish and resentment." And then she was gone.
Boyd dropped like a stone to the ground, making an oomph sound when his gut landed against a rock. He stared at where he'd seen Sorcha last, the sound of his men gaining their wits behind him.
He stood, turned to face his men, despair swamping him. He'd lost the only woman he had ever loved. His life. He raised his eyes and found his men, some still on the ground, staring at him as if they'd seen a ghoul.
"Chief," Corey, one of his guardsmen gasped, pointing at Boyd's head. "Your hair, ’tis white."
Boyd grabbed a lock of his hair and started at the sight of it. Gone was his dark-red brown hair, and in its place was the coloring of the Fae. He could not speak, did not know what the change meant. Or if it were simply the marking of the curse now in place.
The sound of laughter floated through the trees, and he turned, glaring at the woods, knowing the Fae Queen was watching, enjoying her foolery.
"Laugh all you like, but know that one day I shall have my revenge on you. I promise on my own heart's blood," he yelled, slicing across his hand with his dirk. Blood pooled in his palm and slid down his arm. He fisted his hand, raising it to the sky. "I will not die until I see your head upon the ground. See who is laughing then."
The laughter stopped, and he turned, striding back to Castle Druiminn, past his startled men's faces and his staff who went about their chores.
Today, he may have lost everything, but tomorrow was a new dawn. A new day to plan, plot, and ultimately act. He would get Sorcha back, and he would kill the Faery Queen, and he would not die until he had done so.
Chapter 1
Druiminn Castle 2021, Scotland
Maya Harris stood at the gates of Druiminn Castle and watched as bus after bus unloaded its many tourists, all eager and excited for their tour of the old Scottish stronghold. Maya shaded her eyes and glanced up at the castle, forever in awe of this estate and still home to the Laird Macleod.
How lucky she was to be working here for the summer and helping out in the kitchens when they needed more staff. With the multitude of tours every day, she was constantly cleaning up after the sightseers. Yet, she loved every minute of her work. Just to be within the ancient walls, looking up at the magnificent portraits of past lairds, the tapestries, the oldest dating back to the 15th century was one that had always captured her notice.
Her employer and head housekeeper, Mrs. Holmes, had stated it depicted a standoff between Chief Boyd Macleod and the Fae Queen in the early fifteenth century. Maya had inwardly scoffed at the old folk tale, as an English woman, born and raised in Kent, she never believed in the Scottish superstitions. Still, the tapestry was unbelievably well kept and lifelike. Not that she could touch it to see how perfect it really was since it sat behind a wall of Perspex to stop grubby, oily hands from feeling it.
Hers included.
She strolled around the side of the castle, entering through the kitchen that also served as the staff entrance. Maya greeted the chef Samuel, Molly, and Heidi, her two closest friends she'd made in Scotland, who were eating their lunch.
"Oh, Maya, you'll be so excited to hear what we have to tell you today. Mrs. Holmes was stating this morning that she needs to clean the Perspex covering the tapestries in the great hall this afternoon," Molly said, her eyes bright with excitement.
"If you're sneaky and quick enough, you may be able to feel one for the first time. We all know you're a little obsessed, just like the rest of us who want to touch things we're not supposed to," Heidi joked.
Samuel, who had been standing kneading dough, scoffed, didn't comment on Heidi's words.
"I wouldn't dare touch it. Mrs. Holmes would sack me on the spot, and I would hate to lose this job. I love it here." Maya pulled off her coat and hung it in a small closet before sitting down at the table. "Have you just finished your morning shift? Are we still on for drinks down in Druiminn tonight?"
Every Friday night, the staff would get together and have a few wines or beers at the local pub. The week had been extremely busy, what with the height of the tourist season, and they would all have earned their night of relaxing and partying before another busload of people arrived tomorrow.
"I can't make it tonight," Molly said, her tone dejected. "I'm training for my night job at the petrol station. It's only from eight to eleven every night, so I'll still be able to work here, but it'll mean more money for me, and I'll get to Dubai for my holiday even more quickly."
Maya smiled at the thought of a holiday in Dubai. All that warm, hot air, the beaches, the amazing architecture, and the people. "I would love to travel there. What an amazing place it would be." One day, Maya promised herself.
She had very few holidays in her life. As an orphan, she never knew her parents, didn't even know who they were. From what she could find out from Child Services, they had left her on the doorstep of a hospital
in Kent and never returned.
Her life hadn't been too terrible, however. Not like what so many other children had to endure when in foster care. She had been put with kind people, if not a little distracted and not too involved, but at least they never hurt her.
She had finished high school, attended university, and earned a degree in media studies, but found after she left that gaining employment in that field was a hard gig to score. With her money running out, she had seen the advertisement for cleaning work required on a Highland estate during busy tourist seasons and had applied.
The moment she had walked up from Druiminn toward the castle, watching as it slowly revealed itself through the trees, she had fallen instantly in love and under its spell. When summer was over, she would ask to be kept on or seek employment locally. There was something about Scotland that pulled at her heartstrings and made her feel at home.
"She's only going because she has fantasies of marrying a rich sheik," Heidi teased, grinning. "If you do happen to land one, see if he has any brothers. I could endure quite well a life of luxury."
Molly laughed, sipping her can of soft drink. "Oh, I will, and I can find one for you too, Maya. If you like."
Maya chuckled, pushing back her chair when she noticed the time. "If you find a sheik, it'll be enough for me that you'll be happy." She went over to the uniforms closet and pulled out a clean apron. "I better get going, the morning tour will be gone by now, but I'll see you tonight, Heidi?”
