Highlander’s Haunted Past
Adamina Young
Contents
A Welcome Gift
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
Highlander’s Deception
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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About the Author
A Welcome Gift
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Enjoy!
1
It was a glorious fall afternoon with a light breeze rippling the changing leaves around the castle’s walls. High on the hill, Inverness Castle provided an open view of the river and highlands beyond. Kenna Gordon took in this view as she lay back on pillows of green velvet, nursing a glass of wine. Though the air was cool, the heat from the sun soaked into her skin, mixing with the wine in her blood to leave her in a sleepy daze.
Kenna used to love days like these, an ideal time to curl up on the cushions with her younger sister to nap or work on art and needlework. However, today, the view was soured by the stench of death and the whispers of horrors that the maids thought she couldn’t hear.
Only a week ago, her father had slammed the castle’s gates in the face of Mary, Queen of Scots under the order of the Earl of Huntly, Chief of Clan Gordon. Rising as quickly as the Queen’s fury was the fiercest of the Highland clans, led by Clan Fraser and Clan Munro. Ill-prepared and undermanned, the castle had barely lasted three days under siege before the futility of it all had set in, and her father had gone to open the gates himself.
Kenna was grateful—as that was what she was supposed to be—for Queen Mary had only executed her father, leaving her and her siblings unscathed. For now, at least. The terms of their lives had yet to be negotiated.
The muffled knock echoed through the room, almost immediately followed by the entrance of her two elder brothers, John and Thomas, both sporting red eyes and pallid complexions. It had been a sleepless week for them all. Yet, there was a brightness to each of them that gave her pause.
“Where have ye two been?” Kenna asked with the boldness only a younger sister could have before two Highland warriors. “I have been left to my own fer days.”
“Deepest sympathies fer yer troubles,” Thomas said, lifting the pitcher of wine and tipping it to her in a mock ‘cheers’ before pouring himself a glass, “but ye ken we had to make arrangements and the like. Didna have any time to keep ye entertained.”
“Fer Father?” Kenna asked, hope swelling in her chest.
To see her father’s body taken down from the wall and given a proper burial before it was sunken with rot would be a blessing far greater than any other. Her father had been a good man, so intelligent and so kind. His children deserved to see him for the last time while he was whole.
Thomas paused with the goblet at his lips, casting a glance at John as he said, “Nay, havena got to that one just yet.”
Thomas had always been the kinder of the two, similar to her father in every way. He had a quiet sort of strength, always calculating through his options before he lifted a finger so that he would not have to lift a fist.
John, on the other hand, would lift a fist and send it flying before he comprehended that the little voice in his head was actually a thought—Kenna assumed that they were hard for him to recognize because he had so few.
“Twas our family’s future we’ve just arranged. Nay, not just the future for us, but the future of the entire clan,” John said, beaming at Kenna, who thought it altogether inappropriate to look so cheerful at a time like this. “Aye, it has all been settled, and our heads will stay both on our necks and in our castle.”
Kenna raised a brow at the news. “‘Tis quite impressive, dear John, especially knowing how little gold remains in our stores. One might ask what it is ye found to sell.”
“Always quick to ask questions ye’ll not like answers to,” Thomas replied with a smile. “The gold may not be stacked as high as it ought, but there is more than enough fer a dowry.”
Kenna stilled, feeling the wine burn her stomach. “Fer whom?”
“Well, fer ye, of course,” John said, looking as giddy as a man who came stumbling out of a whore house.
Thomas was immediately beside her, topping up her goblet with more wine before she could properly begin screaming at them.
“The whole of Scotland now kens how poorly Castle Inverness can defend itself. A man with the Queen’s ear told us that Queen Mary and her men don’t fear us being left at their backs, so long as we show our loyalty to the crown. A marriage between a Gordon lass and a clansman of the Queen’s choosing is enough for her to leave us be.”
“No,” Kenna replied. “Absolutely not!”
“Kenna, ‘twas the only option,” Thomas said with a sigh as if they were children again and Kenna was throwing a fit over a lost game of cards.
“Only option? Ye mean to say the most convenient one fer ye, who is not to be sold like an animal at market. Thinking only of yerselves, finding ways to play ‘Laird’ in yer castle fer a wee longer. Too bad the Earl of Huntly is likely to take it from ye as soon as it pleases him, while I’ll be a hostage to the Queen till the end of my days. Ye ken father would never have allowed—”
John’s hand collided so fiercely with her cheek that she was thrown back into the pillows, drenching herself in sticky red wine.
“Foolish lass! We think of Clan Gordon, just as father did ‘til the noose tightened, and so shall ye. Be grateful; the Queen coulda picked a portly boy without a penny to his name, but she picked the heir of Laird Fraser, a warrior and proper Highlander. ‘Tis a better match than ye deserve. Honestly, with yer mouth, ye ought to be dead, not marrying one of the most eligible unmarried men in the Highlands.”
Kenna clutched her swelling cheek, blood slowly filling her mouth with a salty heat. “I shan’t…”
“Fine,” Thomas chimed in. “No, John, getting this one to see sense is harder than getting a cow to crow. We promised a Gordon lass, and we have one to spare. Elizabeth is in her room, I expect?”
John’s smile slowly grew as he came to know Thomas’ plan. “Aye, she is. Likely to find her with the healer again. I suppose the Queen would prefer a healthy lass, given the hard bit of travel ahead, but Elizabeth is behaved and bonny. A good match.”
“Aye, the Fraser ought to be able to keep her well enough on the road to Aberdeen. Or not. I reckon it will be fer her new husband to decide how well she stays.”
“That’s quite enough,” Kenna snapped, standing up so that she could at least look her brothers in the eyes when she acknowledged her loss. “Ye two ought to be minstrels; ye put on such a show. If I agree, Elizabeth stays here?”
“Aye,” John replied with the smirk of a victor.
Her brothers knew well enough that Elizabeth, the youngest of the Gordon siblings, had never been blessed with good health. A simple trip into the city of Inverness was enough to leave her b
edridden for a week. They all knew that a several days’ trek across the Highlands to the Queen’s temporary court in Aberdeen would be enough to put her in an early grave, even if she was given royal comforts along the way. It wasn’t a fate that one as sweet and kindhearted as Elizabeth deserved.
“Fine, I’ll be yer sacrificial lamb.”
“Excellent. Congratulations on yer fortune and may God bless yer union,” John said, the note of earnest approval grating against her. “Now, clean yerself up. It will not do to look like such a mess come tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Kenna asked.
“The Queen wishes to return to her court gathered at Aberdeen in two days’ time, leaving only tomorrow fer such a major event,” Thomas said, motioning for John to follow him as he exited.
Neither seemed keen to wait long enough for Kenna to argue, for they surely felt the renewed vigor rising within her. They managed to slam the door behind them just as Kenna retrieved her spilled goblet and hurled it at the door.
Kenna had never been so angry. Tears soaked her face, leaving streaks of salt in their wake as she tore off her ruined dress and shift and began scrubbing at her skin to remove the lingering remnants of wine. The shift became the finest rag the castle had ever known as she used the expensive cloth to soak up the puddles of wine that lay on the floor. The pillows and rugs may have been salvageable, but Kenna left them be. Forcing John to pay for their replacement once she was gone was the smallest of triumphs, and she clung hard to it.
She had been raised with the spoiled notion that she would be able to marry for love. Her family had been rich and well positioned, high enough to gain very little from a strategic marriage alliance and low enough to prevent others from actively seeking her hand for their own social climb. A staunch believer in love, her father had always told her that he would allow her to marry whomever she wished, so long as he could provide her with a comfortable home. Had she foreseen her father placing clan loyalty over his own life in the face of a queen, she may have more actively sought the man of her dreams and married him while given the chance. Someone tall and handsome who would look at her and be unable to look away. A man who would protect her but would not use that protection as a justification to disregard her mind. A man who would make her feel the things that whispered through her when she lay in bed at night.
It had been a happy wish while it lasted.
Content that both her body and the room were as clean as she cared for them to be, Kenna set about dressing herself in a fresh shift and dress. She settled on a brown woolen dress, far too warm for the season but the closest thing she had to black, and she was not prepared to stop her public mourning just yet. At least the warmth slowed her trembling a bit.
Kenna hadn’t heard the knock at the door and did not notice the small, ebony-haired girl until she broke into a fit of coughing as she crossed the threshold.
“Elizabeth, what are ye doing out of bed?” Kenna admonished, grabbing her sister by the elbow and guiding her to the most comfortable chair in the room.
Elizabeth stared at her, her blue eyes wide and her face somehow paler than usual. “Kenna, whatever happened to yer face?”
Kenna glanced over at a looking glass sitting on the table. Sure enough, the place where John had struck her had swollen her face so terribly that she barely recognized herself, and it was starting to grow dark with bruising. She wondered what her new fiancé would say when he saw. At best, he would declare her unfit and reject her on the spot. At worst, he would come to have rough expectations. The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine.
“John and I got into it.”
“About the wedding?”
“Aye, ye know about it already?”
“Thomas told me. He just left me, so I came to find ye.”
“I see.”
A pair of maids entered, neither of whom Kenna recognized, and began to lay out a small supper of cheese, bread, and thinly sliced venison. Though it was a finer meal than they had been given in days, it was still poor in comparison to the meals they had shared when surrounded by family and friends only a turn of the moon prior.
One of the maids draped a gown across Kenna’s bed, and Kenna felt her heart clench in memory. It used to be the deepest of blues with fine, delicate lace, which was now torn in a few places from years of neglect. Yet, no matter how far it traveled from its original splendor, Kenna still loved it.
“Why is this here?” Kenna asked, trailing her finger down the worn silk.
“Queen Mary thought ye should wear the same gown that yer mum wore fer her wedding,” the maid replied.
“A wonderful thought,” Kenna said, feigning a smile. “She has my gratitude.”
The maids gave a slight curtsey and departed, surely off to inform the Queen of Kenna’s reaction, for Kenna had no doubt anymore that these maids belonged to Mary.
“‘Tis seen better days,” Elizabeth reflected, examining an especially large tear. “The Queen mustn’t have seen it before sending it along. Seems foolish the girls did not tell her of its disrepair.”
“The Queen knows its state well enough,” Kenna said, snatching up the gown and bringing it to the table, which was already littered with abandoned needlework projects. “But it wouldn’t suit fer a Gordon lass to show up looking bonny when she hopes to show the rest of the Highlands that we are nothing compared to the rest. I should send word that John ruined another dress of mine today. Stained with wine all down the front. She may prefer it.”
“Kenna.” Elizabeth blanched. “Hush now, ye do not know who could be listening.”
Kenna bit her lip. Elizabeth was right. The Queen’s servants could very well still be standing outside the door with Kenna none the wiser. She may have just delivered a treat upon which the Queen would feast.
“I suppose at least some of it can be mended,” Kenna said with a sigh, examining a large area of lace along the hem that had separated from the faded blue silk.
“Aye, shall need to be if ye do not want it to fall apart at the altar tomorrow.”
“Father Kent’s poor old heart would give out.”
Elizabeth giggled and picked up a needle of her own and the sisters bent over the gown, hoping to achieve a miracle.
* * *
Morning came all too quickly for Kenna. As soon as dawn cracked on the horizon, she was surrounded by maids who were keen on having her look the part of a bride. They scrubbed her skin until it threatened to go raw before dousing her in sweet-smelling rose waters and rubbing bits of face powder here and there to make her coloring more fashionable. Others were tugging at her wild black curls, doing their best to tame them into submission with pins and netting studded with small pearls. They must have been winning that war for Kenna’s head had never felt worse.
While they worked on her, the maids gossiped with such vigor that Kenna would have believed that they hadn’t seen each other in days—though, with the Queen’s maids mixed in with the usual castle staff, it was possible they hadn’t. Most of the stories involved drunken men doing something foolish like starting a brawl over the last bannock or slaughtering a chicken to roast in the middle of the night. Other stories were darker, and Kenna winced each time she recognized the name of a lass that some man had decided he could take liberties with, claiming it to be his right as a conquering warrior. Kenna, though she despised her situation, at least was being taken as a wife before being violated so. A woman could hardly ask for more in a situation such as this.
Dressing provided a new wave of challenges. Though Kenna and Elizabeth had worked on their mother’s gown well into the night, it was still less than desirable, with some places worn nearly threadbare and others so badly torn that even Elizabeth’s small, delicate stitches could not be hidden. With all said and done, Kenna felt it looked like a shattered vase that someone had tried to stick back together—technically whole but covered with a web of cracks and dips that would never come together perfectly again. As the maids pulled it over her, Kenna understo
od with horror that in their haste to make repairs, they had failed to consider the size. Their mother had been a wisp of a woman, much like Elizabeth, and could have been blown away by a passing breeze. Kenna, on the other hand, took after the heartier, Highland breed of women on her father’s side. Her waist was thin but juxtaposed against an ample bosom and hips to match. By the time they got the gown to fit, albeit poorly, Kenna’s vision was speckled with dark spots, and she had a new loathing for the man—for it was surely a man that had invented the corset.
“Hurry up,” John snapped after barging into the room uninvited. “Ye ken ye have to be at the wedding in order to be wed.”
Although Kenna would have liked for the women to cluck and chastise him for his impatience, they seemed to share his mind, quickly pulling out the chair from under her and hoisting her to her feet before she could even think about falling. Despite their frenzied pace as they made their way out of the room and through the winding halls, the maids were still all about her, pulling and pinching and shifting pins here and there.
“If one of ye wouldn’t mind giving me a wee push while ye’re at it,” Kenna said as they arrived at the stairs, “ye’d be saving me a fair bit of trouble.”
They laughed, much to Kenna’s annoyance. She hadn’t been joking.
She was given a bit of space as they walked down the stairs before the crusade against her looks resumed. They only seemed to begin to fall away from her when she approached a side entrance to the courtyard. Only one maid caught her before she reached it, making one final effort to urge a curl forward to cover the bruise on her cheek, which had settled into a deep purple overnight and was far too dark to be covered by the light powders they had at hand.
Highlander's Haunted Past (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 1) Page 1
