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

by Lydia Kendall

  “Hand over my Mother, witch!” Angus said as they neared an inner circle.

  “Ye ken it’s that easy?” Perse laughed, the tip of her blade hovering an inch over Lady Isobel’s throat. “Ye will not get her until ye send Magdalene over to me.”

  “Ye remember the plan, aye?” Angus said quietly.

  “Yes,” Magdalene nodded nervously. The plan was after the exchange, the five soldiers hiding behind the stones, waiting for Angus’ signal, would rush in and capture Perse, while Angus shielded her.

  “She’s coming,” Angus said tightly.

  Slipping off her horse, Magdalene tried but failed to quiet her fears as she walked forward. Perse looked calm but a demented look was in her eyes. She stopped at the ring, “I’m here, Aunt, let Lady Isobel go.”

  “Come further,” Perse crooned.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she did. Perse smiled, crouched and slammed her hands to the ground. Something sparked and suddenly fire erupted from the spot and raced in a circle around them, cutting Magdalene, Perse, and Lady Isobel off from the rest. Angus cried out in alarm.

  Magdalene spun in her place, looking at the distorted image of Angus behind the wall of flame. Her heart was beating frantically, a continuous hum in her ears. She reached out, surely, surely, this was a mirage, a trick.

  “Nae lass,” Perse tutted. “Ye’ll burn yer hand to a crisp if ye touch it.”

  The heat radiating from the flickering flames was enough proof her aunt was right—the fire was real and Magdalene snatched her hand back. She faced the woman in disbelief and hatred, “You’re going to hell.”

  “In this body, I’m already there,” Perse snapped. “Come now!”

  Magdalene could see Angus pacing around the ring, looking for a break to get through and the frustration on his face pained her. He even came near but the spluttering fire had him lurching back.

  “Let’s get this done,” Perse said as she pulled out her dagger. “The woman will live if ye just obey me.”

  “How?” Magdalene asked with more bluster than she had. “There is nowhere to drain my blood.”

  Perse chuckled once more, grasped something under Lady Isobel’s heels and dragged her off the slab of rock. The lady had been resting on a plank of wood and now that she was gone, Magdalene saw the hollowed-out stone and blanched. This was a place for sacrifice.

  “Come along,” Perse cajoled. “Time’s a-wasting.”

  “No,” Magdalene said and reached behind her to grasp one of the two throwing daggers she had carried with her.

  “Ye dare defy me!” Perse snapped.

  Magdalene grasped the dagger by the blade, reared her hand back and flung in the blink of an eye. The dagger missed but the second one she threw, stuck Perse in her shoulder. The woman screamed and lurched herself at Magdalene.

  “Nae!” Angus shouted and jumped through the fire just as three small explosions sounded from the outer ring of stones, where the soldiers were waiting.

  Angus’ clothes were on fire but he grabbed Perse and yanked her off Magdalene. Perse fought like one demented, stabbing at him and clawing at him. Angus managed to grab her but she slipped out of his grip and threw fire at him making him lurch to the side. Perse kept lobbing fire, screaming words in a foreign language.

  Angus was using his sword to bat the flaming attacks away and Magdalene was grasping her other dagger, praying for Perse to keep still so her last weapon wouldn’t be in vain. Sparks of fire blasted off Angus’ sword as it blocked a near hit to his head but the glowing specks blew right into Angus’ face. Perse launched at him and stabbed her dagger through his left arm. Blinded and in pain, Angus sank to the ground.

  Magdalene was looking desperately for help and she could see Malcolm and another soldier pacing around the ring of fire but they could not enter. Perse turned to her again, a triumphant look on her face. This was her only chance. She grasped the blade, and flung. This one caught Perse high on her shoulder.

  Perse screamed and lifted her had when Angus, still bleeding, launched himself at her. Perse struggled and tried to escape his hold but his arms went even tighter. In her desperation, she sank her teeth into his arm. His reflex was a powerful backhand that sent the women sprawling to the ground. A pouch at her side spilled open to reveal vials of power.

  Magdalene had rushed to Lady Isobel’s side where she lay. She was still unconscious. She cradled the woman’s head in her hands as Angus stripped Perse of her weapons, especially the black dagger, and held it in one of his hands. The black iron glinted with a wicked sheen in the fire’s light as it was held above her.

  Perse was sneering. “Dae it, Laird, kill me. Kill me I say!”

  Angus’ fist tightened around the hilt, and Magdalene could see temptation clawing at him. He did not allow it, though, as he flung the dagger away. “Nae, that would be too much of an easy death for ye witch. Ye will face the pyre. Consider it justice for all those ye burned to death.”

  Dragging Perse to her feet, Angus called out for his men. The ring of fire was dying but what alarmed her was that one of the men Angus had brought had fire burns up his leg and was limping, another was clutching his face with a rag and from the edge, she could see burn marks.

  How was it that these men were burned without getting near Perse? Malcolm was the only one of the four men who had not gotten burnt. He took rawhide rope to help Angus bind Perse like a trussed-up pig. He then crouched and fingered one of the vails that had slipped from Perse’s pouch and squinted at it with deep contemplation.

  He then stood and walked to the far end of the circle and flung the vial a way off. As it smashed, fire blazed up from the spot of impact. Was that what Perse had been using? Had she not actually thrown fire from her hands as was believed?

  Malcolm returned as the other two men who were stable, came over to her and lifted Lady Isobel. Malcolm helped Magdalene up and grinned. “Guess those lessons paid off after all, eh?”

  “Yes,” she said, then nodded to the vails he was scooping up. “What are those?”

  “Yer Aunt’s fire,” Malcolm snorted. “I kent there wasnae such things as fire throwers but kept it to meself.”

  The two injured men were on horseback, Angus had bound and gagged Perse, while Malcolm held his Mother. Magdalene went to her horse and wearily got on Glynn. Angus came closer with Perse thrown over his horse like a bag of coal. “It’s over me love…it’s finally over…let’s go home.”

  “Home,” she whispered, thinking of the comfort of the Williamson’s citadel. The word home had such an accurate ring to it—it was solid, secure, full of love and care, and was just right. “Yes, let us go home.”

  Epilogue

  There was no time for Magdalene to write to her mother about Perse as the same day Perse had been captured, she had been bound and executed, by burning on a stone in East Lothian.

  “It’s law,” Angus told her later that morning. The scroll Angus had found in Perse’s room the night he had invaded it was marked all over with Celtic symbols of evil and instructions on how to make a rebi by blood. It was just more proof this woman was a witch and it had been burned with her.

  Lady Isobel had woken as the sleeping draught Perse had forced in her had left her system. Though groggy, the lady had insisted on seeing the execution herself. The joy it brought hundreds had been tempered by one final burying, that of the soldier whose face had been burned. In the light of day, Malcolm had gone back to Castlerigg and searched around. Perse had buried vials of her mixture in places, where the soldiers had later stepped on them.

  The concoction in the vials that had slipped out of Perse’s pouch that night had been examined and found to be a mix of limestone and gunpowder with a liquid that smelled of rotten eggs, the same foul smell that had been in the crystal caves. Her aunt had no devilish powers, only devilish skills at alchemy, concocting an elixir that altered its base elements into a substance that exploded when placed under pressure.

  “It’s a blessing in disguise,” Ang
us had told her after the mixture had been examined. “We can use this in battles henceforth.”

  Celebrations were still going and Magdalene had done her best to partake in them but she still felt a measure of sorrow. Evil or not, Perse had still been her blood relative. Someone she had grown to treasure even from afar. She felt a bit guilty that she had led to her aunt’s death even though it was a deserved punishment for her evil acts. Try as she might, she just couldn’t put to paper how evil her aunt had been and that her punishment was duly deserved.

  She had agonized about it, days on end, unable to write to her mother about the horrible crimes and execution. Until Angus had said, it was only right for him to take her back to England, to find her mother and explain it all in person. It was a fitting solution, Magdalene had thought, but she still feared her uncle.

  “Ach,” Angus’ playful groan dragged her out of her musing. She turned from the balcony, where she had been looking out into the evening sunset, and smiled to him.

  The once deeply ingrained lines of stress her aunt had brought to his face were gone now and with the pressure lifted from his shoulders, he looked even younger. His dark red hair rested on his shoulders in the wild tumbled way she loved and his eyes were sparkling with joy.

  He took her into his arms and kissed her forehead, his lips smoothing the soft furrows there. “What are ye worrying about now?”

  “My Mother,” she admitted. “I just cannot seem to find a way to write what I want to tell her and I am afraid of going back to England.”

  An understanding smile curved Angus’ lips, but he then kissed her, a slow dance of suckling lips, and tangled tongues. “Dinnae ye worry about it, love.”

  Magdalene’s worried her lip, her eyes were lowered under heavy lids, heavily laden with lashes. “Will you make me stop worrying?”

  Eyebrows danced up in surprise but his smile was devious. Angus drew a fingertip over the edge of her bodice as her breathing quickened. An inch further and he could reach her nipples, which already stood stiff and aching for his touch.

  “Make ye stop worrying, aye?” His voice had dipped to a half-growl. He then kissed her ear, “Me pleasure, lass.”

  He softly pulled her away from the terrace and into his room, stopping right before the bed. Slowly, torturously, he reached behind her and undid the laces there. With the gown loosened, he lowered the arms to the elbows and her bodice to her waist, not once moving his eyes from hers.

  Her spine arched as the fine muslin raked over her nipples, baring the taut peaks to his heated gaze and his hand cupped a milk-white round while his mouth found the other, she felt fire race up her spine. Clutching at his hair she could barely gasp in air much less hold it in. When his tongue curled around her hard nipple, a hot, wet sensation shot down between her thighs.

  Angus held her quaking body and gently removed the rest of the gown from her, baring her creamy skin, slender shoulders, high, rounded breasts, small waist, and softly curved hips were the apex of dark blonde curls rested. Magdalene writhed as Angus took his fill of her breasts. A moan was harsh in her throat as he titillated her nipple with wet, cat-like flicks of his tongue. He kept an accompanying rhythm on her other breast, his fingers circling her bud, kneading and pinching with just enough pressure to drive her mad.

  “Angus, please,” she groaned.

  “Please what, love?” He asked roughly.

  “Kiss me,” she begged.

  His chuckle was dark. “I’ll kiss ye love, but not on yer mouth. I want to taste ye again. Drink in that lovey honey of yers.”

  Her neck arching as his mouth kissed down her body, her insides melted and warm slickness was between her thighs. She tried to brace for the first touch but when his tongue met her tender flesh, she knew her efforts had been futile.

  “Angus,” was a keening cry as he licked her.

  His thumbs spread her and he entered her with his tongue. Crying out at such pleasure she grabbed at him as he penetrated her with his tongue. His finger found her bud and circled it, again and again, keeping her balancing on a fine line of ecstasy until he pulled his hand away. When his teeth grazed her bud, she screamed and shattered around him.

  Her breasts heaved and her skin was on fire. Anticipation settled into her stomach as she lay there shivering and exposed, empty and aching for him to enter her. Her head canted to the side to see his hungry eyes devouring her. She cupped his face and stroked his stubbled jaw, “Please.”

  His fingers trailed through her curls and found her opening. Her spine arching as his thick fingers entered her, she impaled herself on his touch. So much pleasure. His lips closed over a nipple, licking, sucking, and the sensations adding to the pleasure of his fingers.

  “Angus, please!” She begged, “I need you inside me.”

  Roughly, Angus disrobed, baring his magnificent body to her sight. Magdalene loved the lines of hard muscles and when her eyes dipped to his length, she blushed. He settled between her legs, kissing her neck and nipping at her breasts while he positioned his cock at her entrance and pressed forward.

  Her back bowed off the bed as her tight channel clamped down on his shaft, and a sweet cry left her mouth. She felt every inch of his thick girth stretching her, filling her, making them one in flesh. His mouth never left her as he kept his rhythm slow and steady, giving her peaks of pleasure over and over again.

  She clutched the muscles in his flexing back, loving the hard bulk of his weight on her and how pleasure was blinding her to any and everything that was not him. Her control began to unravel as the whirling tension built, gathering in the wanton peak that ached for more.

  “Harder,” she groaned into his mouth. “I’m so close, please.”

  His length was positioned inside her then, and her hip was caged in his big hand as he filled her. She swallowed his groans as he took in her moans. His skin was getting slick and the peak of her pleasure took her by surprise. She cried out instantly as a rush of golden-tinged warmth enveloped her, and she pulsed around her lover. Angus’ shout was muffled but his peak came and the strain of his neck muscles showed it. She felt the rush of his seed entering her, making this the second time.

  Panting, he collapsed onto the bed and pulled her close and she rested her head on his shoulder. When she caught her breath she asked, “You didn’t pull away this time…what changed?”

  Angus eyed her and dropped a kiss on her forehead, “Because I’ve decided to take ye up on yer word.”

  She frowned. “What word?”

  “The first time we joined and I told ye that ye weren’t ready for bairns yet, ye said ye’d nae mind having me bairns,” he grinned.

  “I don’t remember that,” Magdalene blushed.

  “Well, I’d like it if ye’d remember this,” Angus said as he took her hand and kissed it. “Magdalene, ye are me world now and I cannae see meself living a life without ye in it…would ye marry me and stop me from suffering?”

  She snorted, “When you put it that way, I think your family would hate me if I was the reason you wasted away.”

  He spanked her and she laughed before kissing him, “Yes, Angus, my answer is yes…. and I think I know what to put in my letter now.”

  “Eh? And what’s that?”

  “Please come to my wedding,” Magdalene murmured, before she drifted off.

  Keswick, England

  Never in her life had Lady Larie felt this kind of anger. It was a beast inside her chest, clawing and roaring to be let free. The King had sent his findings to her eight days ago about the traitor who had killed her husband. Now she was almost back at her home and if she did not get her anger in check, the King might be trying her for murder.

  “That pit snake,” she mumbled under her breath as she unfolded the letter and read the one paragraph that made her blood boil.

  Upon our days and nights of tedious search, my men have found the origin of the basket. The order to compile the basket and soak the fruit with poison was sent from a Winchester address, the hom
e of Lord John Crompton.

  The bloody murderer had been in her home all along! She had known there was something off with John but she had not, in a hundred years, had believed he would have devolved into a murderer, by proxy yes, but still a murderer. Her fist clenched tightly as she breathed in.

  “Forgive me Lord for what I’m about to do,” she muttered under her breath. “Pardon my sins.”

  The very day she had gotten the letter, she had sent one back to the King asking him for his guards to meet her at her home to arrest John. A letter coming from a commander of the guards had written her back with an affirmation that his soldiers would be at a station at Keswick. They had met the party hours ago and the soldiers were riding behind her on their horses.