by Fiona Faris
Highlander's Wicked Game
Only he can find her, only together can they stop this feud...
Fiona Faris
Contents
Thank you
About the book
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
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Afterword
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About the Author
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About the book
Highlander’s Wicked Game
Only he can find her, only together they can stop this feud...
Marra MacDonald was preparing all her life for the lairdship she was denied because of her sex. By pretending to be an obedient daughter, she was gathering in secret all the knowledge she could, to make her clan proud. All the knowledge her father didn't share.
One fateful night, Marra throws away her caution and attends the Spring Gathering in disguise. Little did she know that her life was about to change forever… The devilishly handsome Duncan MacGregor didn't want to be Laird. His carefree demeanor aroused worries and doubts in his clan.
While searching for fun at the Spring Gathering, he meets the lass that steals his heart. Unbeknownst to Duncan however, she is the last woman he should be meddling with... When Marra is violently abducted and the heartbreaking secret of their true identities comes to light, he has to step up, solve the mystery, and become the leader he was destined to be...
Can these two save their clans and their love before all is consumed by chaos?
* * *
Prologue
The joyous cries of children at play filled the forest, bouncing off of the trees and echoing out across the water. A six year old boy gave chase, weaving in and out of the crowded gathering, quick on the heels of a pretty little red haired girl. He had been standing watching his father’s men tossing cabers when she had come up behind him and pulled his hair. He had taken off after her, and she had squealed in a delightful fright. They raced across the earth as if their tiny little feet had wings. When the boy caught up to the girl, he grabbed her by her skirts and jerked on them. The girl fell forward, sending them both tumbling to the ground and rolling limb over limb. They emerged in breathless laughter, their eyes sparkling with joy.
“Let’s do it again!” she exclaimed, her green eyes shining with enthusiasm.
“Aye,” the boy replied, grinning and taking her hand to help her to her feet.
Angry voices interrupted their play as their fathers called their names.
“Duncan!”
“Marra!”
The children turned their heads meeting two very angry faces. Each father grabbed up his child and quickly pulled them apart, and they walked in opposite directions.
“Marra, ye are ne’er tae play with a Campbell, ever! Do ye hear me?”
“Aye, Faither,” the girl whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched the boy with blue eyes disappear from sight.
Chapter One
Duncan MacGregor stood at the water’s edge and stared out across the blue-grey expanse toward the Isle of Jura. His cousin, Lachlan, stood beside him and spat on the ground in disgust. “Clan MacDonald,” Lachlan bit out, his tone full of hatred. The two cousins had been taught from an early age to hate the MacDonalds of Jura. Duncan’s father had had a falling out with the Jura laird at the battle of Dunkeld, and amends had never been made. The MacGregor laird had ensured that the feud would continue long after he was gone by passing his hatred on to the next generation.
“Aye, but their lands have the best deer in the islands,” Duncan noted. He longed to cross the water for a good hunt.
“Ye spend tae much o’ yer time huntin’ and nae enough trainin’ with me,” Lachlan chastised. “Ye were meant tae be a warrior for yer clan nae a hunter. Leave huntin’ tae the auld men. The blood o’ our enemies cries out tae be spilled.”
“We are forced tae bear the name o’ the Clan Campbell who are our enemies. Are we tae shed our own blood as well?” Duncan asked, attempting to curb his cousin’s bloodlust.
The MacGregor name had been outlawed by King James I of England and King James the VI of Scotland on pain of death, in retaliation for a battle with the Clan Colquhoun wherein one-hundred forty Colquhouns were killed. The law stated that, ‘... the name of McGregor should be altogether abolished, and that (all) persons of that Clan should renounce their name and take some other name, and that they nor none of their posterity should call themselves Gregor or McGregor thereafter, under the pain of death.’ Any MacGregor who wished to live had been forced to take the names of other clans. Duncan’s family had taken the name Campbell, a fierce powerful clan, but they had kept the truth of their surname alive amongst themselves.
Lachlan spat in disgust once more. “I would just as soon slit my own throat as bear the name Campbell were it not for the laird demanding it o’ me.”
“There are many men that would gladly slit it for ye, MacGregor or nae,” Duncan chuckled. His cousin had fought with many a man and had boasted of his successes to anyone who would listen. Lachlan believed himself to be the fiercest warrior in all of Scotland.
“I will defeat them all at the gatherin’,” Lachlan boasted, puffing his chest out with confidence.
“Aye, the gatherin’,” Duncan nodded, grinning. He was looking forward to the spring gathering. It was the one time of the year when the clans came together, friend and foe, to compete, sell their wares, and arrange marriages. MacGregors from all over the highlands and islands could secretly socialize with one another without anyone realizing who they were under the guise of their adopted names. It was where his father had met his mother and where someday he, himself, would most likely meet his own lass. Mayhap this year? Keeping a secret such as the one they kept led to a lonely existence. He was forced to pretend that his foes were his friends. Any of the clans would gladly kill him were they to discover the truth. He hoped to one day meet a young MacGregor lass to share the secret with. “Faither will want tae be leavin’ afore long.”
“Will ye be c
ompetin’ in the games?” Lachlan inquired as the men turned to walk back to the castle.
“Nae, I will leave ye tae defend the clan’s honor.” Duncan shook his head, slinging his bow over his shoulder.
“As the laird’s son, ye should compete. It is a dishonor that ye have so little regard for the ways o’ warfare. I dinnae understand ye at all, cousin,” Lachlan frowned.
“Mayhap I will compete in the archery tournament. It pleases me tae provide food for my family and the clan. Ye ken I can fight when needed.” Duncan playfully shoved at Lachlan causing him to stumble sideways.
Lachlan laughed. “Aye, I ken it well enough.”
“Well then,” Duncan nodded. Lachlan shoved him back, and the two of them continued on toward the castle in companionable silence.
When they arrived back at the castle, they found everyone running to and fro in preparation for their departure. Duncan entered in search of his father. He found him in his room coughing and wheezing. “Faither?”
“Aye,” his father gasped out in reply.
“Are ye well, Faither?” he asked in concern.
“I will nae die o’ a cough,” his father growled then coughed even harder, “but it looks as if ye will have tae attend the gatherin’ without me.”
“I will stay with ye,” Duncan offered.
“Nae, ye must go and represent our family, but dinnae forget that in their eyes ye are a Campbell. Dinnae lose yerself in yer cups and let slip our secret.”
“I would nae do such a thing and ye ken it,” Duncan remarked. He moved over to a side table and poured his father a tankard of water. “It sounds as if ye should be in bed.”
His father nodded his head in agreement and moved to crawl beneath his blankets. Once he was settled, Duncan handed him the tankard and urged him to drink. “I will go and get the healer. She was still at her croft when I passed by it.”
Duncan left the room and went to do as promised. He found the healer hanging herbs to dry. “Idonea,” he greeted the elderly woman.
“Aye?” Idonea turned in inquiry. “Duncan,” she greeted with a smile. “How can I be o’ service, lad?”
“’Tis faither that is in need o’ yer healin’ hands,” Duncan informed her.
The healer stopped what she was doing and grabbed a bag with various herbs in it. Duncan walked her up to the castle and went in search of Lachlan. He found his cousin in the stables. He turned at hearing Duncan enter. “Are ye ready tae depart?”
“Faither has fallen ill and will nae be goin’ tae the gatherin’. He has asked that we go without him,” Duncan answered, leaning against the side of a stall.
“Then we can go now and no’ wait for the others,” Lachlan replied. Duncan could tell that he was anxious to get underway.
“Aye, that we can. I will go and speak with the healer after she has seen tae faither, then we will go.” Lachlan nodded his head in acknowledgment, and Duncan returned to the castle. Once the healer had confirmed that the laird would recover with nothin’ but rest and some medicinal herbs, Duncan joined Lachlan, and they left for the gathering.
When they arrived at the gathering, Lachlan went off to join the other competitors, and Duncan perused the stalls filled with wares. He stopped to purchase a tankard of ale and then continued on down the line of stalls. The sun emerged from behind the clouds and turned the earth from a drab grey to a brilliant, fresh, spring green. A flash of red in the sunlight caught his attention, and he turned his head to discover the source. What he saw stopped him in his tracks and made his heart beat faster in his chest. His breath caught in his throat, and he coughed, choking on a mouthful of ale. Standing in front of the textile stall examining the cloth wares was the most beautiful lass he had ever seen. The light rippled through crimson rivulets down her back and sparkled a deep emerald green in her eyes. She wore a dress that matched her eyes, with creamy accents and a matching arisaid. Nothing about her person identified her clan, a common practice among hidden MacGregors. He himself refused to wear the Campbell colors. As the MacGregor colors were outlawed, he instead chose to wear Stuart colors in support of the Jacobite cause, as did many others of his hidden clan. As this was an accepted practice among various clans, no one raised an eye in question.
Duncan grinned, wiping the ale from his chin. He set his tankard aside and moved forward toward her. About halfway to the stall, he was stopped by his cousin. “There ye are. ‘Tis nearly time for my victory. Ye gave me yer word ye would be there.”
“Aye, I did.” Duncan turned back in hopes of speaking with the scarlet haired lass and found she had disappeared. He looked all about him, but did not see her anywhere.
“What are ye lookin’ for?” Lachlan asked, confused by his cousin’s behavior.
“There was a bonnie red haired lass. She was just here, and now she is gone. Did ye see where she went?”
Lachlan chuckled. “Nae I did no’ see, but dinnae fash. There are plenty more lassies tae choose from.”
“No’ like this one,” Duncan replied, shaking his head.
“They’re all the same. Ye’ll find another,” Lachlan insisted. “The games are startin’ and I dinnae want tae miss it.”
Duncan took one last look around for the bonnie lass, then followed Lachlan to watch the competition.
Chapter Two
Marra MacDonald slipped quietly through the darkness down the back stairs and out of the kitchen garden door. She scurried down to the water’s edge and found her maid, Diana, waiting for her beside a small boat. “If the laird catches us, I will be put tae the lash,” Diana protested one last time. She had attempted to discourage Marra from defying her father, but Marra would hear nothing of it. “We must return afore yer faither is done hunting.”
“He left afore I did and will nae return until after dark. If we leave now, we can attend the gatherin’ and return afore anyone kens we have gone,” Marra reassured her. “I have been lookin’ forward tae the gatherin’ all winter long and I am no’ goin’ tae let faither’s hatred o’ the Campbells keep me from goin’. I have read every book on the island, which was no’ verra many. I long tae acquire more.”
“Dinnae speak tae anyone while we are there and be sure tae keep that red hair o’ yers covered. It shines akin tae a beacon on a dark night tae every lad lookin’ for a lass,” Diana warned.
Marra scrunched her nose in disapproval at her maid’s demands. Marra’s father kept her locked away from everyone that he perceived as a threat to her virtue. She had not been allowed to converse with any lads outside of their family. She was expected to marry a laird and regain some of the MacDonald clans lost preeminence among the islands and highlands. Once the MacDonald had been the Laird of the Isles, but no more. Her father held a grudge against anyone who had played a part in their downfall, especially the Clan Campbell.
The two women climbed into the waiting boat and took turns rowing. It took them quite some time to make it across the water, but eventually they reached the opposite shore and tied the boat off, so it would not float away. “’Tis a stroke o’ good fortune that the gatherin’ is so close, or ye would ne’er be able tae attend without yer faither kennin’ it,” Diana huffed, collapsing onto the grass in exhaustion.
“Aye,” Marra sat down next to her in the grass and rolled her shoulders painfully. Rowing for so long had taken its toll on her body. They allowed themselves to rest for a moment then rose and walked the remaining short distance to the gathering. Marra drew her arisaid up over her hair. She had purposefully chosen not to wear the MacDonald tartan so as not to reveal her identity.
As they approached the gathering, Marra melted into the crowd, leaving Diana to do as she pleased. Marra meandered in and out of the stalls examining their wares. She hoped to find a book seller. She stopped at a textile stall and fingered the cloth. She liked several of the pieces, but were she to purchase them, it would be hard to explain where they had come from without admitting where she had been. A group of children ran past. A little girl trip
ped and grabbed at Marra to keep from falling. Her little hand clutched the edge of Marra’s arisaid pulling it from her head. Marra turned and helped the girl to her feet.
“Are ye hurt, lass?” Marra asked, helping her to brush the dirt from her dress.
“Nae.” The little girl shook her head, then ran off in pursuit of the other children.
Marra smiled at their exuberance. She missed the carefree days of her childhood when she had been allowed to run free with the other children of the island. The moment she had become a woman of interest to prospective husbands, her father had restricted her every deed. Diana had been hired to ensure her purity remained intact by chaperoning her at all times. Marra’s father had forbade her to attend the gathering, but Diana had taken pity on her, and so they had crossed the water for a brief moment’s relief.
“Do ye ken where I might purchase books?” Marra asked the textile merchant.
“Aye, ‘tis the next aisle over, lass,” the merchant answered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the next line of stalls.
