Highland Jewel (The House of Pendray Book 3)

by Anna Markland

  Highland Jewel

  Anna Markland

  HIGHLAND JEWEL

  The House of Pendray Book 3

  By

  Anna Markland

  © Anna Markland 2019

  Cover Art by Dar Albert

  Contents

  More Anna Markland

  Itchy Feet

  Homecoming

  Change Of Plan

  Roughing It

  Safety In Numbers

  Ghosts Of The Past

  What's In A Name?

  Hairtics

  Disappointment

  Spying

  St. Margaret's Chapel

  I Thought I'd Lost Ye

  Clues

  Give Me A Chance

  Reception

  Downhill

  Thieves

  Crimes

  Fire

  Magic Stone

  Pursuit

  Glorious History

  Too Late

  Bottle Dungeon

  Friend Or Foe

  Looks Familiar

  Homecoming

  Spoon

  Blue Glass

  The Scent Of A Horse

  Mixed Feelings

  Unsettled

  Forever Changed

  Hand-Fasting

  Ruin

  Magical Beginnings

  Euphoria

  Jewel's Diamond

  Travel Plans

  Almshouse

  A Good Deal

  Orphanage

  Silly Goose

  The Right Decision

  A Gift

  About Anna

  Historical Footnotes

  Plucked from the lush gardens

  Of a yellowish-green paradise,

  Look inside this hypnotic gem

  And a kaleidoscope of

  Titillating,

  Soul-raising

  Sights and colors

  Will tease and seduce

  Your eyes and mind.

  Have you ever heard

  A peacock sing?

  Hold your ear

  To this mystical stone

  And you will hear

  Sacred hymns flowing

  To the vibrations

  Of the perfumed

  Wind.”

  ~Suzy Kassem

  Highland Jewel by Anna Markland

  Book Three, The House of Pendray

  © 2019 Anna Markland

  www.annamarkland.com

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  For permissions contact: anna@annamarkland.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Dar Albert

  More Anna Markland

  The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition (2018-2019)

  I Conquest—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen

  II Defiance—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla

  III Redemption—Caedmon & Agneta

  IV Vengeance—Ronan & Rhoni

  V Birthright—Adam & Rosamunda, Denis & Paulina

  VI Star-Crossed— Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys

  VII Allegiance—Rhys & Annalise

  VIII Crescendo—Izzy & Farah

  IX Infidelity—Gallien & Peridotte

  The Montbryce Legacy First Edition (2011-2014)

  Carried Away—Blythe & Dieter

  Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan & Nolana

  Wild Viking Princess—Ragna & Reider

  Fatal Truths—Alex & Elayne

  Sinful Passions—Bronson & Grace; Rodrick & Swan

  Series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families

  The Rover Bold—Bryk & Cathryn

  The Rover Defiant—Torstein & Sonja

  The Rover Betrayed—Magnus & Judith

  Novellas

  Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram & Ruby

  Passion’s Fire—Matthew & Brigandine

  Banished—Sigmar & Audra

  Hungry Like De Wolfe—Blaise & Anne

  Unkissable Knight—Dervenn & Victorine

  The Marauder—Santiago & Valentina

  Caledonia Chronicles (Scotland)

  Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade & Margaret

  Book II Highland Tides—Braden & Charlotte

  Book III Highland Dawn—Keith & Aurora

  Book IV Roses Among the Heather—Blair & Susanna, Craig & Timothea

  The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty (medieval Europe)

  Book 1 Loyal Heart—Sophia & Brandt

  Book 2 Courageous Heart—Luther & Francesca

  Book 3 Faithful Heart—Kon & Zara

  Myth & Mystery

  The Taking of Ireland —Sibràn & Aislinn

  Clash of the Tartans

  Kilty Secrets—Ewan & Shona

  Kilted at the Altar—Darroch & Isabel

  Kilty Pleasures—Broderick & Kyla

  The House of Pendray

  Highland Betrayal—Morgan & Hannah (audiobook available)

  Kingslayer’s Daughter—Munro & Sarah

  Highland Jewel—Garnet & Jewel

  Highland Rising—Grainger & Faith

  Itchy Feet

  Kilmer, Ayrshire, Scotland, Spring 1681

  “Dinna misunderstand me,” Jewel Pendray assured her brother. “I love our home here in Kilmer, but…”

  Gray stooped to pick a snowdrop peeking out between blades of grass and presented it to his sister with a courtly bow. “Ye’re restless after hearing Munro’s endless accounts of his adventures in Birmingham.”

  She inhaled the flower’s fragrance. “Ye canna blame our older brother for being excited about his journey. I suppose being cooped up all winter has made me fidgety.”

  Arm in arm, they walked on through the meadow beyond the stately mansion where they’d been born. Close in age, they’d always been good friends.

  “I understand what ye’re saying,” Gray said at length. “We’re fortunate Mama inherited this dear old estate from her uncle, although, strictly speaking, that isna true. Kilmer would have gone to a male cousin if General Abbot hadna awarded it to Papa.”

  “Yet another example of unfair rules about females,” she replied.

  “Life does sometimes seem dull compared to the perils our parents experienced during Cromwell’s invasion.”

  “True,” Jewel agreed, twirling the snowdrop ’twixt finger and thumb. “Not that I want to risk life and limb like they did. I’m sure Munro felt the same ennui. That’s the main reason he insisted on detouring to Wales instead of coming straight home from Whitehall with us last year.”

  Gray chuckled. “I’m still nay sure how he ended up in Birmingham, but he managed to find himself a wife in the process.”

  “And two foster sons.”

  They shared the humor as they continued their walk.

  “’Tis ridiculous,” Jewel lamented, pausing to pick more snowdrops. “I’m named for the Scottish crown jewels our mother stole away from under the noses of the British army—”


  “—Of which Papa was a member,” Gray added with a wry grin.

  “Every Scot kens the tale of how our mother saved Scotland’s Honors, yet I’ve never even been to Dunnottar Castle.”

  “They say ’tis a ruin, thanks to Papa’s artillery bombardment.”

  Try as she might, Jewel could never envision her gentle father in command of a gunnery crew.

  When they came to the stepping stones over the brook, she shoved the flowers into her brother’s hand and lifted the hem of her skirts. “What about ye?” she cajoled. “We call ye Gray, but ye’re named for Reverend Grainger who hid the regalia under the floor of his church, yet I’ll wager ye’ve no idea where his village of Kinneff is located.”

  He followed her across the stones. “What are ye getting at?”

  She squealed as her foot slipped on a mossy rock, relieved when she managed to jump to safety on the opposite bank. “I think every young person should experience an adventure before they settle down.”

  He thrust the flowers back into her hands. “Ye mean before Papa finds a suitable husband for ye.”

  Jewel shivered. Her father had dropped increasingly regular reminders she was past the age when lasses married. “Aye. To tell the truth, the suitors he’s suggested dinna spark my interest.”

  He laughed. “Ye’re too particular.”

  She resisted the temptation to give in to the childish urge to pout. “Our parents love each other and Munro is obviously smitten with Sarah. What’s amiss with wanting to find someone I love?”

  “And there’s the real reason ye crave an adventure,” he teased. “But Papa willna let ye undertake such a journey into the Highlands without an escort.”

  She buried her nose in the flowers and peered at him, wide-eyed. “That’s where I thought ye might come in handy.”

  Colonel Morgan Pendray, Earl of Glenheath, had a special place in his heart for his only daughter. Jewel was a youthful replica of his beloved Hannah and he was inclined to spoil her as a result.

  His sons knew it, but neither Munro nor Gray ever complained about his favoritism. They also tended to overindulge their sister.

  He understood Jewel’s wish to travel to the Highlands, but could not give his approval. “I have to hand it to her,” he whispered to his wife. “She waited until all the members of the family were gathered for the evening meal.”

  “They say the danger from Covenanters is passed, now Richard Cameron is dead,” Jewel asserted before taking a sip of broth.

  Morgan bristled. “Cameron might be gone, but the zealots he inspired are still out there. To be honest, I think the public display of his head on Edinburgh’s Netherbow Port just spurs them on.”

  “Surely they keep to themselves, confining their activities to secret religious meetings in fields and forests,” Gray offered.

  “I see ye’ve enlisted yer brother’s aid,” Morgan replied. “The men who assassinated Archbishop Sharp were Cameronians. ’Tis the reason I didna hesitate to inform the dragoons when I discovered Cameron and the killers were camped at Airds Moss, only twenty miles from here.”

  “Thanks to yer actions,” Munro added, “David Axton and John Balford were captured during the skirmish that resulted in Cameron’s death.”

  “And they’ll stand trial for their participation in Sharp’s murder,” Morgan added. “We must have the rule of law, no matter our feelings about religion or the archbishop’s reputedly cruel nature.”

  “Aye,” his wife affirmed. “Yer Papa and I didna risk our lives during the Commonwealth so we could live with anarchy. Ye ken we have our misgivings about King Charles, but the monarchy was ousted once before and look what happened.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed. Every member of the family was aware Munro’s pregnant English wife was the daughter of one of the signatories to the death warrant of Charles I.

  “It’s all right,” Sarah finally said softly. “I’ve come to terms with my father’s actions. He later regretted the king’s execution and acknowledged Cromwell became a worse tyrant than the king.”

  “Cameron and his ilk have a lot in common with tyrants,” Morgan replied. “They want religious freedom for themselves, but not for everybody else.”

  Jewel’s beguiling smile turned to a pout. “We accompanied ye to London, and Munro journeyed alone in England and Wales. Can Scots nay travel in their own country? Gray and I want to visit the Highlands.”

  Her brother squirmed in his seat. “Weel, I’d be willing to go with Jewel.”

  “Confident as we are in Gray’s wish to keep ye safe,” Munro said, “ye’ll need an escort of armed men.”

  “Who better than some of our very own Highlanders here in Kilmer?” Jewel declared, a familiar triumphant gleam in her eye. “I’ll wager they would love to visit the places where they were born.”

  “The minx has ye there, husband,” Hannah replied. “After the restoration of the monarchy, many of my uncle’s men settled here out of loyalty to him, but they miss their Highlands.”

  “That might be true,” Morgan agreed, sensing he was in danger of losing the argument. “But they are getting on in years. Nevertheless, we’ll put it to them.”

  Homecoming

  Leith, Firth of Forth, Scotland

  Garnet Barclay walked unsteadily down the galley’s gangplank and slowly picked his way along the quay, reeling like a drunkard. “I canna find my land legs,” he lamented to his companion.

  “Aye,” Donald Cahill agreed. “Seems an eternity since we left Rotterdam. I thought we’d never set foot on dry land again.”

  Garnet previously considered himself a good sailor. The wind and waves hadn’t bothered him when he’d sailed to Holland from Aberdeen two years before, looking forward to a promising new start in the upper echelons of the prestigious Bank of Amsterdam. The stormy North Sea had tested his mettle on this return voyage.

  Glad to finally unclench his jaw, he set down the satchel containing his few belongings and shaded his eyes to peer at the distant castle towering over the town of Edinburgh. “Good to be home, though.”

  “We’ll see,” Cahill replied ominously. “Once we rid our country of the tyrant.”

  Garnet glanced about cautiously. “’Tis dangerous to talk of treason on a crowded dock. This isna the Scots Kirk in Rotterdam.”

  While he agreed with Donald’s firmly-held belief Presbyterianism should be Scotland’s national religion, the notion of yet again ousting the reigning monarch didn’t sit well in his gut. Too many Scots had sacrificed a great deal to help restore Charles II to the throne. The king had reneged on the Covenant he’d signed with the High Kirk, but that didn’t mean he should be executed.

  Garnet understood hatred and resentment. As a bairn he’d witnessed the torching of his grandparents’ manor house by marauding Highland bands during Cromwell’s invasion of Scotland. Glenheath’s barbaric clansmen hadn’t listened to his grandfather’s insistence that the Barclays were staunch Royalists, like most Highlanders.

  However, the reigning monarch couldn’t be blamed. Garnet’s ancestral home had been a casualty of war, though he doubted he could ever forgive the atrocity.

  Donald Cahill also hailed from the Grampian foothills. He’d proven to be a good friend, aiding in Garnet’s escape from prison in Amsterdam and providing the funds to return home. Garnet just wished the coin hadn’t come from Covenanter coffers.

  His benefactor made no secret of his allegiance to the outlawed Covenanters. Indeed, he was returning to Scotland with the express purpose of field preaching at illegal conventicles.

  After the escape, Donald helped him make his way to Rotterdam where he’d found sanctuary in the Scots Kirk, which turned out to be a haven for Covenanter exiles. “Richard Cameron himself was ordained here,” his friend told him. “He’s gone back to Scotland now, but folks talk of nothing else but his inspiring sermons. I hope one day to be as effective a preacher.”

  Feeling beholden to his rescuer, Garnet got caught up in the fervor. H
e shouted Amen as loudly as any other member of the congregation when the Reverend Robert MacWard called passionately for the king to honor the Covenant he’d signed guaranteeing the supremacy of the presbyterian church in Scotland.

  From what Garnet understood, most presbyterian preachers had abandoned the pursuit of the Covenant when King Charles offered pardons. They’d agreed to submit themselves to the Episcopalian form of church governance and accepted the king as head of the church. Only the fanatical Cameronians continued the fight to make the crown subservient to the church, then they’d committed treason by calling for the removal of the king.

  Garnet feared for Donald’s sanity when news came Richard Cameron had been killed by government dragoons at Airds Moss. Cahill’s anger knew no bounds and he immediately set about making plans to return from exile. “The Rising needs new blood,” he insisted, seemingly forgetting he’d already suffered a sword slash to the arm at the Battle of Bothwell Bridge—the reason for his flight to the Netherlands.

  Garnet was desperate to get home to his ailing, embittered parents. They were worn to the bone by years spent rebuilding the ancestral home and restocking herds stolen by Glenheath’s men. However, having escaped the hangman’s noose in Amsterdam, he resolved not to stick out his neck again. He had no enthusiasm for defying the law by attending illegal religious gatherings held in open fields and forests.