The Highlander's Fiery Bride: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  Confused, she tried to wonder why everyone had frozen in place at the appearance of what had to be another clan. Then she heard Ailsa curse under her breath, “That bitch.”

  Completely befuddled, and with her head swerving from one to the other, Magdalene was going to go to Angus when Ailsa caught her wrist and shook her head no. What is going on here?

  Angus then cleared his throat, the soft sound extremely loud in the room. “Laird MacTavish, what an unexpected surprise.”

  Laird MacTavish? As in the father of that woman Ithel Mac—oh, that’s her…isn’t it? The woman Angus was once in love with. The woman who stabbed him in his back.

  “It is yer birthday, is nae it, Laird Ratagan?” Laird MacTavish said as he stepped forward to offer his hand. “And we are allies, aye, so it would be lax of us to nae come and give ye our felicitations.”

  “We are allies,” Angus said rather coolly. “And I thank ye for coming. Lady MacTavish, welcome back.”

  “Thank ye,” Lady MacTavish said as she came forward. Her gown was dark blue shimmery silk, fit for a queen, and her golden-white hair was a curtain held back by a jeweled diadem.

  Magdalene’s mind swirled with dark streaks of anger and darker ones of hatred. This lady had the bearing of a monarch but had the heart of a snake. What right had she to present herself back at the home of a man she had almost destroyed?

  She was about to turn and leave when Ailsa held her hand so tightly, she nearly lost feeling in it. Ailsa leaned into her ear, “Go to him and smile to her. Ask Angus to introduce ye two. And use his name.”

  “What?” Magdalene asked, slightly horrified at the very thought.

  “Just dae it,” Ailsa said while shoving her forward slightly.

  Tottering slightly on her feet, Magdalene took in a deep breath and went to Angus’ side. He turned to her with a slightly shocked expression and so did this Ithel lady.

  She smiled to Ithel and then asked Angus, “Angus, will you introduce me? Your family already knows who this lady is, but they won’t tell me.”

  Lady MacTavish eyebrows were up and her large blue eyes were switching between them. Magdalene held her composure but the looks she felt coming from the MacTavish clansmen was digging into her skin. Why? Was this visit for another reason than to partake in the festivities with Angus? She reached out and took Angus’ hand. Ithel’s eyes dipped to it and then shot back to her.

  “Miss Magdalene Crompton, this is Lady Ithel MacTavish, and her family, Clan MacTavish,” Angus said with a tone of relief. “Lady MacTavish, this is Miss Magdalene Crompton.”

  “Yer English,” Lady MacTavish said coolly, icily, even with a touch of scorn.

  Taken aback by such a frosty response to her warm greeting, Magdalene frowned and tightened her hand around Angus’. “Yes, I am. Why? Have you not met an Englishwoman before?”

  “Nay,” Ithel said in the same tone. “I haven’ae.”

  “Why?” Magdalene asked. Where in God’s name was this bravery coming from? Why was she goading this woman who was standing right in front of her family, on Scottish land where Ithel, by birthright, had more liberties that she had? The questions ran through her mind moments before the answer came—she despised this woman.

  A tight line was Ithel’s lips and before she could speak, her father did it for her. “We are too far from the borderland to engage with outsiders.”

  His tone was calmer than Ithel’s, but when he said outsiders it was loaded with derision. Angus then spoke and his tone was almost aggressive. “Laird and Lady MacTavish, may I speak with ye two in my meeting room, please. Mother, would ye take Miss Magdalene and the rest of the MacTavish company to the great hall? I’ll be with ye presently.”

  A hand rested on her shoulder to twist her around but stubbornly, Magdalene pinned her gaze on Angus. His body was ramrod straight and his shoulders were set back and tight. His jaw, square and twitching, told her he was the farthest thing from happy.

  “Come on, Magdalene,” Lady Isobel said in her ear. “Angus is a grown man. Best be assured he can fight his own battles.”

  Her soothing tones washed completely over a bristling Magdalene. How dare this woman, who had done the worst betrayal a woman can do, just come back as if she had not done anything?

  “Mother is right,” Ailsa said as she cajoled Magdalene towards the hall. “Angus will nae fall for whatever trick she might be trying to pull. I promise ye.”

  With her lips flat and bloodless, Magdalene followed them into the great hall. The air inside the room was a distinct change from the one she had just left. Inside was much merrier and chatter was all around. Dishes were being passed around and wine was flowing freely. She took her place at the high table but her mind was back with Angus and she was deeply anxious about what was going on in his meeting room.

  “Magdalene,” Ailsa whispered in her ear as a meat pie was slid onto her trencher, “Ye have to eat somethin’. Angus will be fine.”

  Reluctantly, she lifted the pie to her mouth and began to nibble. It was filled with scrumptious spiced beef but to her tongue, it was little more than ash. The sweet mead was a wonderful complement to the beef pie but neither of them felt satisfactory enough. Miraculously, she finished the pie and most of the mead even though her stomach was tight.

  Magdalene could not concentrate on the conversation around her as her worry for Angus was cresting. Her eyes were trained on the grand doorways and she used every beat of her heart to time how long Angus was gone. No one was coming through. She dipped her eyes to the drink and looked in the soft gold color as if it was a gateway to see into Angus’ meeting room.

  He had not looked pleased when leaving the foyer so she had thought he had only asked for privacy to send them off.

  Why is it taking so long?

  How could he be hospitable to humor someone who had broken his heart? It felt unimaginable to her. A flicker of red hair had her jerking her head up and her heart racing—Angus!—only to see that it was Malcolm who had entered.

  The soldier, dressed in his formal plaid, looked a little worn for wear and she wondered what had made him so but kept her peace. Malcolm greeted everyone but went to his mother and whispered something in her ear. Instantly, Lady Isobel’s face went tight.

  That does not look good.

  “Pardon me,” Lady Isobel said as she stood. The swish of her tartan gown was heard as she hurried over the rush-mats and down from the pedestal and hurried off. Now, the lingering strains of Magdalene’s hunger were completely gone and her chest was tight. What has caused Lady Isobel to rush off so quickly?

  Leaning over to Ailsa, and trying to keep the anxiety from her tone, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “I dinnae ken,” the younger woman’s frown was deep. She then spun to Malcolm who was shoveling food into his mouth with a speed that made Magdalene dizzy. “Malcolm, why did Mother just run out on us so suddenly?”

  “Cannae tell ye,” Malcolm said around a mouthful. “Better if ye dinnae ken.”

  Did he expect his words to calm her? If anything, Magdalene’s concern was that much worse. I have to know, I am entitled to that much. But she did not speak and forced herself to take another drink of heady mead. Angus was still gone and then his mother had upped and went, too. Nothing felt right.

  “Is it the witch?” she asked quietly.

  “Nae,” Malcolm said as he reached for his goblet. “If it was her Angus would have left the castle entirely.”

  None of the guests had picked up on the tense mood of their hosts and were happily chatting away. If only she could be so ignorant. Magdalene tried to distract herself by looking at the diverse distinctions of the people in the hall. The northerners were tall, slender and a bit pale while those from the lowlands were shorter, tanned and a bit stockier.

  She briefly met the eyes of the first lady she had met, Lady Arwen Montgomery, who lifted her goblet and gave her a warm smile. Soothed that not all the visitors were against her, Magdalene nodded and smil
ed back. However, every passing moment felt as if shards of broken glass were being dragged over her skin. They scraped and scratched and dug in harder until she could not take it anymore. Something had to be done or her heart might erupt from her chest.

  “Pardon me,” she said to Ailsa. “I… need to use a privy.”

  The young woman’s head tilted to the side and a mirror of Lady Isobel’s knowing smile was on Ailsa’s face. Magdalene forced herself to not react, knowing that Ailsa was seeing right through her flimsy excuse. “Of course ye dae.”

  I have got to learn subterfuge. Magdalene chided herself as she walked off. She had to go to Angus’ meeting room but halfway in a random corridor she stopped and castigated herself for not knowing where it was. She had been in the castle long enough. To her blessing, a servant woman came along and she asked where to find it.

  Given the right directions, she thanked her and followed them to the very door that was not fully closed. She hesitated as voices filtered out and chief among them was Laird MacTavish.

  “And we ken how reticent ye might be to consider this proposal Laird, but Ithel was only afraid. Admittedly, that was me fault because I never remarried after her mother died, she dinnae get to see the strength a Laird’s wife must have. Ye see it was just her and her nurse.”

  What could they be talking about?

  Her hand was sporadically clenching at her side, sometimes so tightly her fingers went numb as she waited for Angus or even his mother to speak.

  A heavy silence was in the air before Angus said. “It wasnae true?”

  “Nay,” Ithel’s voice was meek and very frail. “As Father said, I was just scared about being in such an important position and I felt it too much at that time.”

  “There was nay man ye said ye were in love with?” Lady Isobel asked carefully.

  “Nay, I was just foolish. I dae love Angus dearly but the thought of moving from me clan and becoming the lady of another terrified me. At home, Father counseled me and gave me time to make peace with meself. I do hope ye will forgive me, Me Laird.”

  By God, they cannot be talking about what I hope they aren’t… a marriage.

  “And it took ye two and a half years to come to this conclusion?” Angus’ voice was even. “And think it well to ask of another marriage?”

  Her worst fear was now coming true and Magdalene stumbled on her feet. A sharp pain ran through her chest and pressed a hand to it. No, no, no, please God, no.

  “I couldn’ae in good conscience come to ye so soon after I did what I had,” Lady Ithel pleaded. “I wasnae sure ye would have believed me.”

  Maybe you took that time to rid yourself of the child.

  “Laird MacTavish,” Angus said. “I am surprised ye’d come back with another proposal and I must admit the connection between our clans could be a good one.”

  Magdalene was hoping for the ‘but’ to come in and felt her worry deepen when it did not come. The MacTavish Laird was speaking to Angus but his tone was a bit muffled. Is Angus really considering falling into this woman’s trap? Clearly, it is one. Does he not see that? Worst of all… am I going to lose him so soon?

  “I must say, this is an intriguing proposal,” Angus said and that was when Magdalene’s fear coalesced and a toxic mix of fear, anger, and self-preservation were moving her feet. She was literally vibrating with anger as she entered and did not care how her intrusion would look.

  “Stop with the lies! You’re already made your bed in hell why not tell the truth for once! You were with another man’s child and I may not be an oracle but even I can see that this act of yours is only a thin veil to make something out of a bad situation. Isn’t it? How dare you think that you can walk in and get back into Angus’ good graces?”

  Her abrupt interruption earned her shocked faces and then when her spiel sank in, enraged red faces. Laird MacTavish was on his feet and his face was murderous, “Who are ye to come in here and disturb a private discussion between me and Laird Ratagan, with these absurd accusations? Ye have no place here, Englishwoman!”

  Now, Angus was standing. He reached out for Magdalene and softly pushed her behind him. “Measure yer tones, MacTavish. Magdalene is a guest in me home. Ye have no right to abuse her.”

  “Moreover,” Lady Isobel stood too, “Was any of what she said true? Lady MacTavish, was any of that true?”

  “Nae,” Ithel tried to dismiss the claim but the red in her face told differently. “It is nae, I dinnae ken what devilish imagination this woman has—”

  “Enough,” Angus said tiredly and she stopped mid-sentence. “Ithel, I agreed to hear ye only to see how far ye’d take this attempt to. After ye left, I did me own investigation and found that aye, ye were with a child but the man left ye and ye took a concoction to rid yerself of the bairn.”

  A sickly white sheen made the woman’s already pale skin revolting to look at as Angus continued. “Ye have spat in God’s face, Ithel and I am disgusted that ye thought it right to come and try this. I wouldnae marry ye if ye retrieved the moon from the sky to give me. Laird MacTavish, I am open to a cordial relationship between our clans, but that is as far as it will go.”

  The Laird's nose was flaring and his eyes were narrowed between him and Magdalene. His spine straightened but his expression was hard. “For the sake of peace, I’ll take yer offer.” His eyes then slid to Magdalene and his lip lifted in a sneer. “So, this is where yer heart lies, Ratagan?”

  “And if it is?” Angus asked while angling his body to partially shield Magdalene.

  Laird MacTavish’s lips went flat and bloodless again. “I just hope ye ken what yer doing, Williamson. I advise ye to ken of what yer ancestors would say to ye, about mixing honorable blood with those of the weaker race. Come Ithel, we are leaving.”

  Lady Isobel stood and eyed Angus with a wordless command to stay where he was while she ushered the Laird and his daughter out.

  When the door closed, the strength in Magdalene’s legs gave out and she stumbled. Angus shot out a hand, caught her and carried her close to rest on his chest. She was trembling. “I’m sorry. I-I should not have done that.”

  His chest rumbled with a laugh while he kissed her temple. “No, ye shouldn’t have but dae ye see me complaining?”

  “But—”

  “But nothin’, Magdalene,” Angus grinned. “Ye did the right thing, a bit abrupt, but it was right. I had nae planned to stay so long with them but MacTavish kept going on and on about our past relations before he got to springing another marriage proposal on me. Ye came in that very moment. Were ye out there worried about me?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I was. I got so angry when I overheard what she was saying and the lies she was spinning. I hate liars, Angus. I hate it when someone tries to deceive me. While I was listening, I was afraid you’d… you’d pick her.”

  “And why would I dae that?” Angus asked.

  “Because she is Scottish,” Magdalene admitted, her voice muffled in his chest. “I’m not. I was scared. I know it was not sensible but…. I was still afraid. How could she think you would believe her?”

  “And she dinnae ken I’d be smart enough to see through her,” Angus snorted. “And what’s this balderdash about ye not being a Scot? I wish ye had seen yerself, m'eudail, if ye had a sword ye would have run Ithel through. Thank God ye were armed with words instead of steel.”

  “Mayhap we should stop her lessons with Ailsa,” Lady Isobel said as she reentered the room and sat with a gracious swish of her skirts. “She has become somewhat formidable with defending herself if I may say so.”

  Lady Isobel spoke with deep admiration. Instead of looking at her, Magdalene pressed her head further into Angus’ neck and mumbled something completely incomprehensible.

  “Mother,” Angus said. “Let me save ye the trouble of askin’. I told Magdalene the truth about Ithel because I felt much more comfortable telling her and I dinnae want to spoil yer impression of the MacTavishes. I had assumed I’d never see her a
gain so I had let it die.”

  “I am nae angry with ye, Angus,” Lady Isobel. “And I’d imagine that ye’d like to let yer wife ken parts of yer past, too.”

  “Mother!”

  “Wife?” Magdalene exclaimed.

  Smiling mischievously, Lady Isobel stood and shook her head, “Angus, ye ken how I’d always tell ye yer nae that much different from yer Faither?”

  “Aye?” Angus was wary. “What of it?”

  “Well, he told me about his intention to marry me with his eyes long before he said those words with his mouth,” Lady Isobel explained. “Ye, son, has the same look to the lass in yer arms as yer faither did to me. I haven’ae seen ye smile more than three times in the past few years, that is until Magdalene stepped a foot into this castle. Yer happy now and ye do want to keep that way, aye.”