Highlander's Daring Escape (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Alisa Adams

  Highlander’s Daring Escape

  Alisa Adams

  Contents

  A Free Thank You Gift

  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

  Highlander’s Scarred Angel

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  A Free Thank You Gift

  Also by the author

  A Free Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book.

  As a thank you gift I wrote a full length novel for you called Rescuing The Highlander.

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  Click here to get you FREE book

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  Or use this link directly in your browser.

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  alisaadams.com/free

  Prologue

  Bryan Pressley glanced around anxiously. His heart beat rapidly in his chest and the hand holding his sword trembled, although that was more from fatigue than anything else. His eyes darted about furtively, and behind him, squeezing his hand, was Catherine.

  Whenever he looked at her he was filled with love, but unfortunately that wasn’t the only thing residing in his heart at the moment. It was also filled with fear. If anything should happen to her he didn’t know what he would do. All he wanted was to protect her, and he would give anything he had, even his life, to keep her safe.

  Perhaps that was what it would take.

  “Where are we going next?” she asked, her words breathless and trembling. Bryan wracked his brains. He was tired of depending on the kindness of strangers, and he knew that such kindness had its limits.

  “We could go north, to the mountains. They might not follow us there. We could lose them,” he said, although Catherine didn’t much like that plan. She was a hardy girl, but she wasn’t made for such an extended stay away from the comfort she had known from home. Bryan’s mind worked a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of a way to escape the soldiers chasing them, but the chase was wearying and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure this terrible lifestyle. It wasn’t what he had wanted for either of them, moving from village to village, town to town, begging for the hospitality of strangers, constantly moving so that the hunters wouldn’t catch up to them, but it was only a matter of time. It had always been a matter of time.

  Seeing his picture hanging on the walls of taverns made him burn with anger. He had been branded a criminal…and perhaps that was truly all he was in the end, and the love he had for Catherine was just something that cursed them.

  He felt a pull on his arm. She was panting and needed to stop for a moment to catch her breath. She placed a hand on her narrow waist and looked him in the eyes.

  “Perhaps this is the end of it, Bryan. Perhaps I should turn back and give myself in. If I tell them the truth they may believe me, and I could buy you enough time to get to safety. I could tell them all the wrong information, say that you’ve gone to the ends of the country, or doubled back into England. I could make sure that they never find you.” Her words were frantic and there was panic in her tired eyes.

  Bryan pursed his lips as he stood before her and cupped her cheek in his hand. She closed her eyes as she enjoyed the gentle caress of his touch. His cloak billowed in a soft breeze, and in his eyes was utter anguish.

  “And what would I dae without ye?” he asked. “What would be the point of living without ye? Catherine, ye cannae leave. I could nae gae on,” he said earnestly. Catherine’s head dropped and a tear trickled down her cheek. She sniffed and kissed his palm.

  “I don’t know what else to do. This seems impossible. Where can we go where they won’t find us? I don’t want to lose you either Bryan, but I’d rather know you were alive out here than dead.”

  “Being apart from ye would be nae better than dying,” he said. He pulled her in close and gave her a passionate kiss. The moment their lips met he was filled with a sweet warmth, and he felt as though he could do anything. “I’m with ye until the end Catherine.”

  She smiled sadly, her bright blue eyes swam with tears, but she smiled.

  “We hae tae keep moving,” Bryan said urgently, although there was nothing he would have liked more than to stop in the shady glade and sip from the honeyed delight of her body and her love. However, fate had other plans in store for him at that moment, for he heard a rustling in the trees and knew that they had found him again. He exchanged a worried look with Catherine, wondering if this was the final time they would be together like this, then he let go of her hand and gripped his sword with two hands, raising it before him, ready to defend himself and the woman he loved.

  1

  Many moons ago…

  * * *

  Bryan Pressley sat by the stream. He dipped his hands in the water and brought them up to his face, splashing it over himself. He shook his face and the water dripped down. It was cold and fresh, and made him feel like a new man. He looked down at his belongings, which were all contained in one small sack, aside from his sword, which was the only link he had to his past. The rest of the sack contained some bread and cheese, a small knife, and a smooth, round stone he had found on his travels. He hadn’t been sure exactly why he had picked up the stone, but it had seemed to him one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. It was perfectly smooth unlike so many other stones he had come across, which were all jagged and harsh. It seemed remarkable to him that something so pure and smooth could have come from nature, so he had carried it with him everywhere he went.

  His possessions were few and there wasn’t much to his name. Bryan was a wanderer. He was in his mid-twenties and he had never known a home. For a number of those years he had known only loneliness. Of course, when he stayed in taverns he could be the life of the party and enjoy the vigorous charm of the locals, but he always moved on, never setting down roots, for he was a man without a home.

  It had been the same ever since he had been born.

  Sometimes it felt as though he didn’t need a home, and he tried to convince himself that while he was here the entire world was his home. He could go anywhere and do anything he wanted. He had complete freedom—the freedom that a lot of people would have longed for, but without a central place to return, without something calling him back, he felt as though he was drifting through the world without purpose and without meaning. Yes, he could go anywhere, but to what end? All his life he would be wandering, never settling anywhere, when all he wanted was everything that had ever been denied to him.

  Of course the girls in the taverns liked the fact that he was a stranger and they often saw him as exotic and brooding, but flings like that never lasted. He wanted something more substantial. He wanted a lady, someone he could look to and love with pride, but he knew he could never get anyone like that. He was just a Highland brute with no home, no land, and no hope. The best he could hope for was to find some farmer’s daughter somewhere who could take him in, but he wasn’t sure the farming life was for him. He knew nothing about how to tame the land, only how to survive in it, and he had no idea
how to go about courting a lass either. There were many things his father hadn’t taught him, many things his father hadn’t even been able to teach him.

  In a way, Bryan hated thinking about his father because it only ever brought back painful memories, but whenever he thought like this he immediately felt guilty. His father was the greatest man he had ever known, and it was a tragedy that he had died without ever having land or redeeming the family name. The only thing he had to pass down to Bryan was his sword. It was a great sword, and the blade and hilt were intricately carved with depictions of mythical monsters like dragons and griffins and great beasts that rose from the sea. His father had always told him that this sword had slain them all, had been used by mighty warriors of the Pressley clan to ward off evil and defend the land from all manner of enemies. The hilt was gold, and at one point there had been jewels embedded into the hilt, but a long time ago they had been pried away by some inscrutable people who hadn’t had the same respect for the past as Bryan and his father shared.

  The Pressley name had once managed to strike fear into the hearts of evil-doers, but now it had faded into the mists of time. Some people could once recall tales of a mighty warrior for the clan, but to most people the name was as meaningless as most others. Bryan knew it was unfair. His family had never deserved this, they had just suffered from the bad decisions of a few misguided members of his ancestry, and because of them his family had lost their land, their titles, and all the respect of the Highlands.

  It had been some generations since the Pressleys had been a force among the Highland tribes, but stories had been passed down from father to son, and Bryan knew that one day it would be his duty to pass on the same stories that had been told to him. The family name and the memories of what had been were the only legacy that existed for the Pressley descendents, but Bryan wanted more. It wasn’t enough for him to just pass on stories of the glory of the clan, which was getting farther and farther away as time marched inexorably forward.

  Bryan wanted to make a difference. He wanted to do something for his family, not just let the name fall further into ruin. He wanted to leave his son something tangible, some hope for the future…but that was even if he did have a son. Before he had a son he had to find a wife, and that was proving troublesome by itself. One of the fears in his mind was that he would never find a suitable wife and he would die alone, the last of the Pressleys, and the sword would be passed down to nobody. It was a thought that left him melancholy, with slumped shoulders and a sunken heart.

  Bryan pulled himself up and put his boots back on his feet. He wore ragged clothes that were stained and patched. He swung his cloak around his shoulders and fastened his sword on his belt around his waist. The small knapsack was just a pouch that hung on the opposite side of his body to his sword, leaving his arms free to swing about. Bryan was a tall man, with an imposing figure. He had broad shoulders and a barrel chest, and thick muscular legs that had been forged from years of walking across harsh terrain. His body was lean and muscled; there was barely any fat on him because he ate a meager diet, only taking what he needed from the land. His beard was thick and lustrous, the same dark shade of black as his hair, and it made him appear older than he actually was. Although sometimes he felt as if he had lived for hundreds of years, for he had suffered through much tragedy in life already and he wondered if he would ever be given a respite from all that plagued him.

  One of the greatest sorrows he had was that he couldn’t even speak to his father’s grave. His father had been buried miles away, and Bryan’s journey had taken him far away. The grave wasn’t marked either. It was just a hole that Bryan had dug near a tree and marked with a simple cross made of sticks. It was unlikely that anyone who passed would take notice of it, but Bryan hoped to return there at some point.

  He remembered how he had stood in the shade of that mighty oak tree, his clothes clinging to him after he had dug the grave and filled in the dirt, patting it down smooth so that no animals would be tempted to burrow in and consecrate the ground that was so sacred to him. Sweat dripped from his brow and mingled with his tears as he stood over his father’s grave, making a vow that he promised to keep.

  “I will not return here until I can return with a wife. I will continue the family legacy, Father. I will make us great again. Somehow I will make the Highlands bow with respect whenever they hear our name. Somehow I’ll bring glory, pride, and honor back to our family. I will be just as great as the warriors that have held this sword before me.”

  It was a vow that Bryan was determined to keep, and now everything he did was in service to that goal. The weight of his ancestors bore down upon him. The pressure of generations threatened to crush him with the weight of expectation. He wasn’t going to die in the middle of nowhere, buried by his only son like his father had been. He was going to be a great man, a man that would capture the hearts of all those around him and whose name would be revered among commoners and nobles alike, but first he needed to find land, no matter how small. He needed to generate income and build for the future. He couldn’t spend his entire life wandering around the Highlands hoping that something magical would fall into his lap. He had to take his destiny into his own hands and make the future he wanted a reality rather than waiting for it all to unfold.

  So it was that he moved on to his next destination, growing ever closer to the border between England and Scotland, in hope that he could find some opportunity of which he could take advantage.

  2

  Catherine gazed out of the wagon at the flowers passing by as they passed into the Lowlands, having come from the north of England. This world was so close to her own, and yet it seemed different, filled with lush greens and earthy browns. The trees seemed to be standing to attention as she passed by. The wagon creaked and she was jostled as the wagon passed over the uneven roads. She gasped and yelped a little as she was thrown into her handmaiden and friend, Betsy, who was sitting beside her. Across from her was her Uncle Nathaniel. His angular face was pale and his streaky grey hair mimicked vines that framed his face. He looked nothing like his brother, her father, the Lord of the region. Lord Thomas Browne was tall and imposing, with a glow on his skin that looked as though he had been touched by the gods. Catherine shared that same glow and the flaming red hair. She had freckles over her nose too, and bright blue eyes.

  Her body was trim and slender, for she was an active girl who often liked running about and frolicking among nature. She loved seeing the variety of vivid flowers the world had to offer, and she was never bored when she had the opportunity to gaze out at the natural world.

  “I’m surprised you wanted to join me on this excursion. You know the Highlands aren’t a place for noble ladies like yourself. They’re filled with brute savages and nasty, cruel commoners who do not have the same sensibilities as we do. Frankly, I’m astonished that Thomas allowed you to come on this journey at all,” Nathaniel said.

  Catherine had to bite her tongue. She loved her Uncle as she loved all her family and yet there was something about him that set on her edge. It was as though they saw the world in entirely different ways. For him, girls were better seen and not heard, they were only to do the bidding of their fathers and husbands and were frail and fragile, always needing the protection of somebody else. In his eyes they were delicate creatures who needed as much protection as the tiniest mouse did from the cruelest lion, but he couldn’t seem to see that Catherine had inherited her father’s strength and capabilities. Her uncle seemed to see her as the small girl she had been, rather than the young woman she had grown into.

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine with you to protect us Uncle, and we won’t stray too far from the wagon. It’s just nice to see more of the world.”

  Nathaniel huffed. “I don’t think you’ll be impressed with the Highlands. This place is a blight on the world and we’d all be better off if it would be cut adrift. The problem is that they don’t know their place. They keep snapping at our heels like yapping dogs and we ha
ve to continually turn around and discipline them when we should be focusing our efforts on other threats, like the damned French. Still, I suppose they provide a decent amount of income. It will all change when you’re married, girl. We’ll find a good husband for you and gain some influence in the capital. We’ll become important to the King, and our best men will ride with him while one of his garrisons can guard this forsaken place.”

  Catherine didn’t know much about politics but she blanched whenever her uncle or her father mentioned her future. They had it in her mind that she would be shipped off to the capital and forced to marry some stiff man, and of course it was their choice rather than hers. Catherine had known for a long time that she was to be married to a man of high nobility. It was her duty to her family to do all she could to increase their prestige and influence, and of course she wanted to do her duty, but the thought of giving up her independence for a man she did not know…it caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach.

  She also didn’t agree with her uncle on his views with the Highlands, but she had learned a long time ago not to dispute his opinions with him because he never took hers seriously, always dismissing them with a patronizing shake of the head, as though she were acting above herself to even have opinions in the first place. She had been on a few of these excursions before. The estate had an arrangement with some families in the Lowlands that they would offer protection in exchange for goods and taxes. Catherine didn’t know the ins and outs of the arrangement, but it seemed like a fair deal for her, and it gave her the opportunity to see a new place, to escape the confines of the estate.