Highlander's Entangled Heart
A Scottish Historical Romance
Katherine Prince
Copyright © 2020 Katherine Prince
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Copyright © 2020 Katherine Prince
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ALSO BY KATHERINE PRINCE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
About the Author
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Also by Katherine Prince
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Chapter 1
AILEEN MACNOD WAS ABOUT to be married to a man she hardly knew, to a king who did not really care about her, for a clan rivalry that she did not even fully understand. The politics of the man from a different clan crossed over so many families, over so many generations, that often, two clans were often at war with each other for reasons that no one could remember.
But here she was, at the festival of Beltane, under the shadow of the great Tantallon Castle, wearing a simple, coarse woollen gown, with a wreath of flowers around her brow. She was looking into the deep, brown eyes of her soon-to-be-husband, while the priest said the vows in the background. The waves of the sea beat and crashed against the jagged rocks, and seagulls cried overhead. To her, they sounded as though they were in mourning.
At least he is not too hard to look at, thought Aileen, as she took in the warrior’s broad chest and shoulders, his raven-black hair, and straight nose. His face, as well as his body, had chiseled features, and he was an angular sort. Everything about him seemed battle-hardened, from the way he set his jaw, to the look in his eyes.
Aileen did not know whether Alexander MacDanagh wanted this marriage. To Aileen, it seemed as though he did not. He did not smile, and when it came time for them to kiss, at the behest of the priest, he only gave her a simple, chaste kiss on the cheek.
Which suited Aileen perfectly fine. She could not stand being touched, and even that simple kiss had made her stomach roil. It was not her fault that the thought of another man’s touch made her heart beat like the wings of a trapped bird; she had her previous husband to thank for that. He had been cruel, likely to lash out, and when he drank, which was often and with much abandon, he beat her, had his way with her, or both. Now, whenever she even thought of a man’s hand on her body, she shivered in displeasure. She felt broken inside, as though her late husband had taken all the good parts of her and trampled them beneath his leather boots. The beatings grew worse when she could not conceive a child. Her husband—Franklin—had blamed her and added to her guilt by taunting her about it.
Still, she could not help but notice that when he pressed his lips to her face, those lips were warm, soft to the touch, and that Alexander carried a sweet aroma about him; it was the clean smell of fresh heather, mixed with the sharp scent of leather.
Perhaps he will wed me and forget about me, she thought. Perhaps he will be a distant husband. That will be more than I could hope for.
Aileen knew just how awful a husband could be. And she wanted no part of this marriage. However, the king of all the Scots was her second cousin, and therefore she had an important position in the eternal game of alliances and court intrigue. For once, Aileen wished that she did not have to be a pawn in that game.
When the ceremony concluded, the crowd cheered, but Aileen’s stomach contracted. She was so nervous. She wished time would slow down, but it only seemed to speed up. Now that the ceremony was over, they would spend a few hours enjoying the festival before having to go back to the castle and into their now-shared chamber for the wedding night.
Just the thought of it made Aileen’s mouth run dry, and as she and Alex turned to face the crowd and walk down the small path on the lawn, she unconsciously squeezed his hand.
“I did not know lasses could have such a grip,” Alex murmured to her, as they began to walk. “Any harder and you might sever my hand from my body.”
Aileen blushed and released her grip. “I admit, I am very nervous,” she replied, as they joined the festivities.
All around the castle grounds, the smell of frankincense rose into the air, as people gave offerings to the church. Although the priests of the village frowned upon the festival, as it harkened back to Scotland’s pagan days and worship of gods and goddesses, they allowed it to happen to keep the peasants happy. Usually, the peasants worked nearly every day of the year, and having a few festival days allowed them to blow off steam, usually in the form of drinking or dancing, and the festival took away their cares and concerns for at least a little while. Indeed, both priests and kings had learned that the more the peasants connected with their roots during these festival days, as well as focused their attentions elsewhere, they would be less likely to revolt.
“Dinnae be nervous,” replied Alex. “I will nae give you a reason ever to fear me.”
“I don’t fear you,” Aileen said, although, even as these words passed her lips, she wondered if that were true. Alex carried more than a few weapons at his side, and she could tell that he would be fierce in battle. Indeed, the rumour was that he had shown himself particularly brave, and that was why the king allowed him to marry his second-cousin.
“Then do I make you nervous?” said Alex, with just the barest hint of a grin, arching an eyebrow. Aileen looked up to his eyes, and to her surprise, his gaze made something stir in her that was a kind of nervousness but felt good. It was so different from the other types of worry and anxiety she usually felt around men.
“No,” she said. “It’s not you…it’s…well, to be honest, it’s all men.”
Alex suddenly looked stricken. “Why do you say that?” he asked softly. His voice was deep as a Scottish loch, rolling with musical notes. It helped Aileen to know that this warrior had a softer side.
“My late husband…was not kind to me.” She paused. “I do not wish to speak of it further.”
Alex nodded once, accepting this. Aileen did not want to talk to a stranger about her past hurts. She did not know what to say to make him understand.
Yet, he seemed to, as his mouth set in a grim line.
Perhaps he might even be kind, thought Aileen.
They were strolling through the castle, taking in the sights of the open market. Merchants called out their wares, the smell of roasting chestnuts and fowl mingling with clink of coins as they exchanged hands. Freshly baked bread was eaten nearly as soon as it left the ovens, and people topped it with heaping portions of honey, and as a special treat, butter
. Flowers grew in abundance this time of year: daffodils, daisies, bluebells, and marsh marigolds burst all around them in a colourful display. People wore fresh garlands in their hair and carried baskets full of flowers to give as offerings, ostensibly to the church (but really, everyone knew the offerings were really to the old gods of fertility).
Aileen and Alex stopped for a moment to look at the May Pole dance. There was a large pole, approximately ten feet in height, and a group of peasants were dancing around it, ducking over and under one another with ribbons of every colour. Indeed, the entire festival was bursting with life and colour, as people forgot their worries.
Everyone, it seemed, except Aileen. She did not know how to feel about her new husband, who looked at everything as though it displeased him. He appeared to be the stern sort, and from Aileen’s experience, that could mean the or’nery sort.
“Do you know where the May Pole comes from?” he asked.
Aileen shook her head. “Indeed, I do not.”
Alex gave a little snort. His mouth quirked up into a mischievous smile. “It is a most scandalous thing,” he said in a thick, Scottish brogue. Aileen had a softer accent, being more connected to the royal court, but Alex, having grown up as little more than a peasant, had a stronger, country accent.
“In the old days,” he continued, “people used to pray to the heathen gods to make their crops grow, make their cows bear good, stout calves, and in general, make them blessed with good fortune with many sons and daughters.”
“As we continue to pray for today,” responded Aileen.
“Well,” said Alex, his smile growing ever more mischievous by the second. A smile favoured him, thought Aileen, whenever he let down his guard. “Did you know that this festival has its origin in the old pagan beliefs? Because this day signals the beginning of the growing season, the people in the old days would beseech the goddess of fertility. Bringing together masculine and feminine elements was very important to those people. The flowers and the ribbon represent the feminine.” And here, he gestured to the pole, with the people bobbing and weaving, huge smiles on their faces. “And the pole, with its rigid structure—”
Aileen had to blush.
Does he mean to embarrass me? She thought.
“—represents the masculine.”
“Indeed,” she said drily. “How…very enlightening.”
Alex saw the strain of her face. “My lady,” he said quickly. “I did not mean to cause you any offence.”
“And I did not receive any,” she answered coolly. Indeed, she did not know what to make of her new husband. Was he being suggestive just to try to titillate her for later? Or was he sincerely trying to give her a lesson in history?
As she looked among the people dancing and laughing, she smiled sadly. How she had loved to dance! Before…well, before her previous husband had stolen her happiness and joy. Now, she did not want to do anything that would risk being exposed.
However, Alex must have seen her longing written plainly on her face.
“My lady,” he said, his voice dropping, and it filled Aileen with a warmth that she thought she would never feel again. “Would you honour me by joining the festivities?” He held out a rough, calloused hand to her.
Aileen hesitated. She felt pressured to accept, because this man was now her husband. What would he do if she refused? Would he beat her? Force himself on her?
“My wonderful lady,” he said, “I will never force you to do anything that you do not want to.”
She took his hand, and off they went. They slowly walked to the throng of people and joined in the circle of dancers. At first, Aileen was nervous, because it had been so long since she had danced, that she was worried that she had forgotten the steps. However, once she heard the music of the drums, the bagpipes, and flutes, she knew what to do. She and Alex weaved in and out of the crowd of dancers, and for once, Aileen forgot to feel self-conscious. As she gave herself up to the music, she loved every second of it.
The good part was that in the group dance, there was no bodily contact between the dancers, only between their partners. Aileen held up her hands, and placed her palms against Alex’s, and that small touch felt warm and solid. She couldn’t help but return Alex’s grin, and they went through the steps.
“You’re not a bad dancer,” he complimented her.
“Thank you, you are not so bad yourself,” she replied.
On and on they went, until the seconds turned into minutes, and half the afternoon was gone.
After dancing and laughing a great deal, they exited the circle, their legs and feet tired and their mouths parched with thirst.
“Lady, would you like refreshment?” asked Alex, as he gestured toward a tavern that sold beer and wine.
“A cup of weak beer would suffice, and I would thank ye for it,” she responded, fanning herself.
Alex gave a little bow, then strode off. Aileen noticed how he was nearly a head taller than everyone else in the festival. His height was not the primary consideration on her mind when they were wed; besides, Aileen was tall for a woman, so she had not noticed too much when they stood side by side saying their vows. However, now that Alex strode through the crowd, in his black, leather boots, as if he owned the entire festival, she could not help but feel a shiver of desire.
Still, she told herself to not think so much about it. He was still a man, and as such, he had the power to hurt her.
While Alex was gone, another man came up to her.
“Hello Timothy,” she greeted. “How do you go?”
She had known Timothy for a few years, and she had seen him about the castle. At times, she had seen him casting looks her way, but she had never paid him any mind. She had been married for one, and Timothy did not suit her. Timothy was a nice enough fellow, and perhaps they would have gotten married if the king had not always used her as a political pawn, but…life was not always easy or straightforward.
“Very well,” he answered. He held out his hand; he was swaying a bit, and Aileen noticed the scent of beer on him. “Would you like to dance?”
Aileen may have trusted in Alex, for reasons still unknown to her, but her whole being revolted against the touch of any other man. She had done her duty to her husband, but she owed no such loyalty to anyone else.
She shook her head. “No thank ye,” she said, slightly appalled that he could not tell that she was in a wedding gown. “My husband will return soon, and I am waiting for him.” She shrank back against the bench that she sat in.
Timothy sniffed and said, “Then you can wait while we take a turn at the dancing circle. Come.” And then he reached out and grabbed her arm.
Aileen froze. All her worst memories of her late husband came flooding back to her. The beatings. His hands on her. How he would force himself on her. Aileen’s voice became caught in her throat, as she was too afraid to speak.
But she remained firmly on the bench. Timothy tried to pull her up, but she dug in her heels.
Just when it seemed like Timothy was going to force her, up Alex came walking up.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked softly, but his voice carried, and had a note of menace to it that was unmistakable. His presence seemed to fill up the entire courtyard, so great was his strength. Some people stopped to watch the scene unfold.
“Nothing,” stammered Timothy, immediately releasing Aileen. He continued to sway.
He must be deep in his cups, thought Aileen. It doesn’t excuse his behaviour, though.
“You best leave,” said Alex. “We would not want to disturb this lovely festival.” He gestured around to the people and activity with one arm, then casually laid a hand on his blade at his side.
Timothy glanced at the blade, then said, “No. I suppose we wouldn’t,” and slunk off into the crowd.
Aileen’s heart was pounding hard, and she felt as though she had just run several leagues.
Alex looked back at her and handed her the beer to steady her. “Are you alrigh
t, my lady?” he asked softly and tenderly.
No, she was not alright. She had been doing just fine, when Timothy had come out of nowhere, and he had presumed to touch her! Aileen was tired of pretending to be fine, tired of trying to hide how absolutely afraid she was all the time.
However, she did not want to seem like a mouse to her new husband. If she displeased him, who knew what he would do?
Aileen grasped the cup and took a small sip. “Perhaps I should like to return to the castle,” she said. “I greatly enjoyed your invitation, but…” her knees shook underneath her dress. “…but I think that I am quite worn out.”
Alex bit his lower lip. He could tell that she was just being brave and putting on a show for him. He wished that he could take all her fear and simply throw it over a cliff. She looked terrified, but he complied. “As you wish, my lady,” he said, and he led her back to the castle.
Chapter 2
THEY STOOD IN THEIR room. A fire crackled in the hearth, shooting up amber sparks. Elegant sheets draped the bed, and the room was sumptuously decorated. This was the honeymoon room, for newlyweds; Aileen and Alex would go to another after today, but for the night…it was theirs. Aileen swallowed nervously. Her mouth felt dry, and she kept rubbing her palms against her dress.
“May I offer you something to drink?” asked Alex, gesturing to the decanter of wine that stood in a corner, along with bread, fruit, and cheese.
“No,” said Aileen quickly. “I would not want to impose.”
Alex strode up to her, his masculine presence filling up the entire room. In these close quarters, Aileen could not help but notice how Alex’s shirt clung to his tightly-formed muscles, how his bright eyes glittered, and how his delightful scent wafted toward her. Indeed, most of the other men that she had met smelled as though they had never bathed in more than a year, which, to be fair, they hadn’t. However, Alex smelled as though he had bathed yesterday, with gentle notes of lavender drifting toward her.
Highlander's Entangled Heart (Immortal Warrior Book 1) Page 1
