Highlander’s Wicked Temptation: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel
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Highlander's Wicked Temptation
A Historical Scottish Romance Novel
Maddie MacKenna
Contents
A Gift from the Highlands
Before You Start Reading…
Scottish Brogue Glossary
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
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Preview: Highlander’s Bewitching Healer
Prologue
1. Ambushed
2. The Laird
Also by Maddie MacKenna
About the Author
A Gift from the Highlands
Thank you very much for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love and support!
As a way to show you my gratitude, I have written a full length novel for you, called Highlander’s Untamed Bride. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping the image below or this link here.
Once again, I can’t thank you enough for your support!
Maddie MacKenna
Before You Start Reading…
Did you know that there’s a special place where you can chat with me and with thousands of like-minded bookworms all over the globe?!
Join Cobalt Fairy’s facebook group of voracious readers and I guarantee you, you’d wish you had joined us sooner!
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Just click on the image above! ⇧
About the Book
His hands set her on fire, and they cannot avoid the flames of their passion…
Lady Cleopatra Wood has been the subject of her father’s ire and punishments for many years. And she is certain her day would have ended with another lecture. Had she not been taken hostage by a brutish but dangerously handsome Highlander, that is.
Jude Anderson, Laird of Hanvale, is hellbent on getting his son back from the people who kidnapped him. However, he didn’t count one thing: the fear in the faerie-like eyes of the Englishwoman, or the feelings it would ignite in his heart.
Yet, as happy as he feels with Cleopatra in his arms, Jude’s mind never strays from his ultimate goal: keeping his son safe. An undertaking that seems almost impossible when assassins move through the walls. Because it's an eye for an eye, a child lost for a lost child...
Scottish Brogue Glossary
Here is a very useful glossary my good friend and fellow author Lydia Kendall sent to me, that will help you better understand the Scottish Brogue used:
aboot - about
ach - oh
afore - before
an' - and
anythin - anything
a'side - beside
askin' - asking
a'tween - between
auld - old
aye - yes
bampot - a jerk
bare bannock- a type of biscuit
bearin' - bearing
beddin' - bedding or sleeping with
bellend - a vulgar slang word
blethering - blabbing
blootered - drunk
bonnie - beautiful or pretty
bonniest - prettiest
cannae - cannot
chargin' - charging
cheesin' - happy
clocked - noticed
c'mon- come on
couldn'ae - couldn't
coupla - couple of
crivens - hell
cuddie - idiot
dae - do
dinin' - dining
dinnae - didn't or don't
disnae - doesn't
dobber - idiot
doesn'ae - doesn't
dolton - idiot
doon - down
dram - a measure of whiskey
efter - after
eh' - right
'ere - here
fer - for
frein - friend
fey - from
gae - get or give
git - a contemptible person
gonnae - going to
greetin' - dying
hae - have
hald - hold
haven'ae - haven't
heed - head
heedstart - head start
hid - had
hoovered - gobbled
intoxicated - drunk
kip - rest
lass - young girl
leavin - leaving
legless - drunk
me - my
nae - not
no' - not
noo - now
nothin' - nothing,
oan - on
o' - of
Och - an Olympian spirit who rules the sun
oot- out
packin- packing
pished - drunk
scooby - clue
scran - food
shite - shit
sittin' - sitting
so's - so as
somethin' - something
soonds ' sounds
stonking - stinking
tae - to
teasin' - teasing
thrawn - perverse, ill-tempered
tryin' - trying
wallops - idiot
wee -small
wheest - talking
whit's - what's
wi'- with
wid - would
wisnae - was not
withoot - without
wouldnae - wouldn't
ya - you
ye - you
yea - yes
ye'll - you'll
yer - your
yerself - yourself
ye're - you're
ye've - you've
1
The crashing of footsteps on the hard-wood floors bounced off the stone walls of the manor. Glancing over her shoulder, fear rippled through Cleopatra as she raced down the deserted hallway. With each step she took, the braver she became, knowing her salvation was just beyond the hard oak door.
The door and her freedom were within her grasp, but she knew one mistake would cost her dearly. A distant clatter of voices caused her to pause.
Darting to the nearby door, she stepped into the nook and pressed herself against the wall as far as she could go. Holding her breath, she waited for the sounds to die down before peaking around the door frame. She knew if she were caught, she’d find herself once again locked in the tower for days on end, but the risk was worth it. Even if all she got to see were the pale blue skies and soft white clouds drifting by, she could endure the weeks of solitude if she were discovered.
With her heart pounding against her ribs, she slowly slipped out of her hiding spot. Hugging the wall, she tiptoed further down the hallway, praying for a chance to see the outside world.
It wasn’t her escape that was such a grievous offense, but the deed she had done. For in her clammy little hand, she clung to a book she had swiped from her father’s library. If he caught her with such an item it would be the end for her.
“What are you tell
ing me?” her father’s voice boomed down the hall. She froze against the wall and squeezed her eyes tight. Every nerve sparked like little flames that would soon turn into a raging inferno. Her palms moistened as she chomped down on her lips. “I know the Clan is planning something and I would like to know what it is.”
“Yes, right away, Sire,” a meek voice answered back. Cleopatra knew instantly the sound of Allen Welch. He had been her father’s councilman for decades. His whiny voice made even the servants cringe. She paused as her ears perked.
Please don’t come this way. Turn and go to the study. That is where you need to go. Not down this way.
With nowhere to hide, Cleopatra knew she could easily be exposed, out in the open. With the door an arm’s length away, she decided to make a run for it. Rising to her toes, she scampered to the door. It moaned under protest as she pushed it open. Stealing one last glimpse over her shoulder, she slipped through the narrow crack undetected.
Exhaling, Cleopatra raced across the open yard toward the distant trees. Her legs burned as her lungs begged for air, but she wasn’t about to stop, not until she reached the shadows of the trees where she would be safe.
The wind whipped her face as she ran through the misty yard. Her only hope was that the morning’s fog was still thick enough to shroud her. The instant her hand grazed over the rough bark, she stopped and circled around it. A shrill of delight escaped her lips as she gasped for air.
With the tree at her back, she twisted around. The oak door was sealed shut and with no signs of her father or his councilmen charging out for her, she knew she was safe. A smile spread across her face as she turned her attention to the bounty in her hand. The thick, leather-bound book with brown edges was hers.
She lifted her face to the canopy and took in the cool morning air. The scent of moss and musk filled her nose and senses. Drawing the book to her bosom, she pushed off the tree and began her journey through the thick woods.
“Fine day is it not, Mr. Rabbit?” she said as a furry white bunny scampered across her path. The sweet sound of birds chirping high in the boughs delighted her in ways she couldn’t express. Although she lived in Wintersmith, her heart belonged to the forest and all that dwelt within its sacred trees.
Cleopatra skipped along the unmarked trail until the forest opened up for her. In the clearing a small, withered cottage rested near the trees on the other side of the green meadow. To anyone passing by they would have thought it to be in ruins, but Cleopatra didn’t mind the holey thatched ceiling or the crumbling stone walls. It was her sanctuary, the only place in the whole world her father refused to go.
“Ah, home sweet home,” she said crossing the threshold. An old moldy door hanging by a single hinge laid against the inner wall of the cottage. Carefully, she stepped over the door and moved through the dank living space. Although nature had reclaimed the house, she didn’t mind. At least here she was free to say and do whatever she pleased.
Weaving through the tall grass sprouting up from the stone floors, she found her favorite spot near the broken window. Over the years she had built up the nook with her favorite things to make the home cozy. She plucked a pillow out of the grass and set it beside the window as the golden rays of light poured through the window. The warm sunlight caressed her face as she made herself comfortable and opened the book.
Just as she started to read, a murmur of voices caught her attention. Her head whipped up as she ducked down. Fear gripped her as she peered over the windowsill.
Who is that? No one knows of this place and Father does not come out this far from the manor.
The snapping of twigs caused her ears to perk as her breathing grew shallow. Shadows shifted between the trees as she tried to get a clear view of what was coming.
“That way.”
Cleopatra heard the low, deep voice. Ducking her head down, she clasped her hand over her mouth. With wide eyes, she tried to keep her curiosity in check. It took all she had not to look up again as heavy footsteps fell near the window.
In the manor, she was able to keep hidden and unseen. She had rooms and nooks that masked her from those around her, but here, in this small cottage beyond her father’s house, she only had the tall grass to hide in.
Cleopatra laid on her belly and crawled away from the window trying not to make a sound. Coming to the broken door, she slipped behind it and peaked through the narrow crack.
Four large men moved quietly through the shadows and stepped out into the sun’s rays. Without the trees and shadows to hide them, she noticed they were not from her father’s realm. They wore the darker green trews with the crowned lion pin.
Now what are they doing here? And why would a Scot come this far into England?
Cleopatra’s heart raced.
They should not be here.
“Well, well, look what we have here.”
Cleopatra glanced up to find sea-foam green eyes staring at her through the top of the crack in the door. For a single heartbeat, there was silence around her. Something within her stirred as if seeing this ruggish handsome stranger mesmerized her. Reality came crashing around her like a cannonball careening into the dirt. Peeling her eyes off the stranger she realized just what was happening.
She was no longer safe in the ruins of the cottage resting on the grassy floor, for these men had come for a reason and she saw the fires of vengeance roaring in the man’s eyes. She pushed back as she gasped and felt the hard cold slap of danger vibrating through her. Trying with all her might to get away, the brute rushed into the cottage and snatched her by the foot.
“Let me go,” she wailed as she kicked with all her might to get him off her.
The man laughed as he dragged her over the tall grass and leaned down. His strong fingers curled around her wrist and yanked her to her feet.
“Ye got some spirit in ye,” he said drawing her to his face. Cleopatra couldn’t help but notice his scruffy cheeks and strong jawline. His lips were full and when he spoke, they barely moved.
“Unhand me, brute!” Cleopatra demanded as she jerked her arm back only to have him hold onto her tighter.
“Where’s the Earl?” the man demanded as three others came around the house. Cleopatra glared at him, refusing to answer. His thick eyebrows arched as he pulled her out of the cottage and into the clearing.
“Answer me,” he said as Cleopatra scanned the other men circling her. Outnumbered, and with no place to run to, she glared defiantly at them.
“Release me and I’ll tell you,” she said in a near growl.
“Tell me and I’ll release ye,” he countered as the men around them chuckled.
“She’s got spirit,” the man to Cleopatra’s left said with a chuckle. “Those are always the best to tame.”
“Silence, Ronan,” the man said. “We came here for one thing, and I’ll be damned if I daenae get it,” Cleopatra’s captor said.
“I know you,” Cleopatra said. “You’re the Laird of Hanvale. What are you doing out this far?”
“That is a matter for the Earl,” he said with a smirk.
“What do you want from me?” Cleopatra asked as fear caused her blood to run cold.
“Ye? Nothin’. It is the Earl we want,” the Laird said. “Now, where is he?”
“In the manor, like he always is,” Cleopatra answered as the Laird eased his grip.
“Can she be trusted?” another man said slipping out from the shadows of the forest.
Cleopatra swallowed hard as she turned her attention to the new arrival.
“Are ye lyin’ to me lass?” the Laird asked with a rough shake.
“Why would I lie?”
“There are many reasons a person lies,” the other man said stepping closer as his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword.
“You don’t scare me,” Cleopatra said defiantly.
“Oh, really?” the Laird said as his smirk grew across his lips. “Ronan,” the Laird didn’t look to the men but held his gaze on Cleopatra. “Ho
ld her. Wait for me signal. If I daenae come out in an hour, come for me. But one way or another, I’m gettin’ me son back.”
Ronan reached out and snagged Cleopatra from the Laird’s grip. Her mouth popped open as her eyes widened. Ronan’s glare was nerve racking. His dark brown eyes glared at her with an intensity she had only seen in her father. Ronan’s round face didn’t intimidate her despite his nostrils flaring.
“Please, run,” Ronan whispered. “I could use some entertainin’.” He tossed Cleopatra to the ground and towered over her.
“She’s nae to be harmed,” the Laird ordered. “Nae yet at least.”
“I’ll be waitin’ for yer signal,” Ronan said as Cleopatra turned her head to watch the Laird strut through the clearing, like he owned the place. The other men followed with the Laird leaving Cleopatra alone with Ronan.