Highlander's Revenge (Highlanders 0f The McCall Clan Book 3)

by Barbara Bard

  The warriors Blair had summoned from the various clans to fight the English were already departing. Many of them embraced each other, glad to have done battle. They were all amicable now, but Declan had a feeling it was just a matter of time before they were at war with each other again. The petty squabbles over land and other matters often took hold of the Highlanders. Nobody dared attack his father though. Declan hoped that one day he would be treated with as much respect as his father was.

  His father, who was Aife’s younger brother had been wounded in the first war, surviving with only one leg and could not participate in the recent battle. Nonetheless, he was regarded as a a living legend in the Highlands. He was at home, in a small hamlet across the valley. Declan wanted to make him proud and live the life of a warrior that had been denied to his father.

  Below him, he watched the banners depart one by one, although some still remained, wanting to enjoy the feasting even longer. There were plenty of men, some of whom would surely be unimpressed that Drew and Blair had taken English women to their chambers and treated them as equals.

  Now that the battle was over, it was time for old differences to emerge, and perhaps Declan could sway some of them into confronting his cousins. If he could have influence over the McCall clan, it would go a long way to making his father proud.

  Then, he could enjoy the same respect as Blair, Drew, and restore the Highlanders to their pure blood and not have to worry about the enemy lurking within the camp.

  Staring back at the door, Drew rested his hand on his blade. He had to be patient and wait. There was plenty of time for him to achieve all he wanted to. He was younger than his cousins and he had strength, and that was all the advantage he ever needed to make things work in his favor.

  Declan returned to his post, waiting all morning for someone to arrive and relieve him, but nobody came. He was unable to slake his thirst, and his stomach was beginning to rumble. All morning long he paced up and down the hallway. More than a few hours had passed since he had risen and by that point he had enough of it. He was not going to be forgotten in this manner, and since this Catherine was locked up nice and tightly he saw no harm in leaving to go and get some food.

  Now that some time had passed, Declan had a calmer mind, and a fresher way of looking at things. His mood the previous night had been influenced by the alcohol, and he was a little ashamed of how he had acted towards his prisoner.

  For a man his age, 25, he was going through the throes of maturity, forged by the war. He had been thrust into a battle that transformed his mind and made him see things he had never seen before. He was changing, that much he could tell. Yet, he was so unsure of who he was changing into.

  But he wanted so badly to be around all the other Highlanders. It felt as though the world was passing him by, and he wasn't sure how to go about changing that. All he wanted was to be engaged in the process. So much was changing, and he wasn't sure if he could adapt to the new order that Drew and Blair seemed to be implementing.

  Walking through the castle, Declan kept an eye out for Drew or Blair, but saw no sign of them. He continued outside, his stomach giving him trouble. He could hear the noise from his post and wanted to be a part of it, so he went out and got some meat to fill his belly.

  Looking around, Declan gazed in awe at the hardened warriors around him. In the midst of the warriors, he thought himself a boy. The sight of them filled him with a deep respect. He longed to be a part of them, to be looked upon with the same respect as they looked at each other. Women emerged from their tents as well, looking tousled and rough.

  Declan blushed at the sight of them, especially when they smiled at him.

  Declan heard snippets of conversation as he made his way through the camp, wanting to soak in as much as possible before all the clans left. As he moved, he held his tongue, cowed by the reputation of all the older warriors, but when he heard one conversation, he could not remain silent.

  An older man with a thick black beard was heralding the feats of Drew against Lord Flynn. The man's bald head gleamed under the morning sun, and his words carried on the air.

  “Never hae there been such a display of sheer power than in that battle. I was with Drew every step of the way, watching how he feinted and drew that Sassenach bastard in, then the killing blow!” he thrust a fist into the air and laughed uproariously. The others around him joined in.

  Declan rolled his eyes, for he had heard plenty about this fight already. Seeing Drew in battle had been a privilege, but Declan wished that he was spoken about in such a manner. “Drew wasn’t that impressive,” He muttered under his breath.

  “What was that, lad?” The man asked. Drew froze. He didn't think anyone had been paying him attention, so it took him by surprise to be challenged like this.

  “Well, gae on? What did ye mean? Dae ye nae think that Drew was mighty?”

  “Oh, my cousin did indeed show a great deal of bravery against Lord Flynn, but dinnae ye think ye are giving him a wee bit tae much credit? He is just a man after all, and from what I saw he wasn't always in control.”

  “Are ye praising the Sassenach?”

  “Nay! I would never! But I would nae be so quick tae believe that Drew is the only good swordsman. I'm sure that I could have beaten Lord Flynn if I was given the chance, and I am only sorry that the battle ended so quickly. I was waiting to fight side by side with my cousins.”

  The man looked at him, then laughed. Declan's cheeks darkened. “Who are ye to show me such dishonor?” He said in a terse voice.

  “They call me Mont,” The big man said, his rumbling baritone powerful enough to shake the ground. “And I dinnae mean tae show ye disrespect, but ye get what ye give in this world, and ye seem quick to speak against yer cousin.”

  “Nay, I love my cousin, and I am proud of him, I only wish that I had been given the chance tae prove myself in battle against the Sassenach villain,” Declan said. The debate had gathered a little attention among the people around him, and Mont seemed amused by the steel that Declan was showing.

  “Ye think ye would be able tae best Lord Flynn? Even though he was Sassenach I hae to give him respect. He was blessed with talent, which makes Drew's victory all the more impressive. Dae ye think ye could even win while suffering the same wound as Drew?”

  “I was fighting in that battle for as long as I could! If Drew had nae returned I would hae taken up the fight for him. I would hae done my cousin proud.”

  Mont laughed. “Did ye see the same duel as I? Flynn's blade slashed as quickly as a whip. Why, I believe Drew is the best swordsman this land has seen since the Blue Thistle. And as much as I admire yer enthusiasm I would nae like tae see a pup like ye gae up against a swordsman like the Sassenachman.”

  “The who?” Declan asked. Mont looked at him with astonishment.

  “Have ye nae heard of the Blue Thistle? What are we teaching the wee lads and lasses?” he said, looking around. The other people chuckled softly. “I'm just about on my last legs. Come back later and I'll give ye a tale for the ages,” he promised.

  “Ah, speak of the devil,” Mont said, and looked up. The others around them gasped. Declan looked around, and saw Drew storming towards him.

  “What are ye daeing here, Declan? I told ye tae guard Catherine,” He thundered, his face a picture of anger. Declan groaned inwardly.

  “I was hungry, cousin! I only came down here tae eat. She is locked up, there is nae danger of her escaping. I left the key by the door,” he said.

  “Ye hae tae take yer duties seriously, Declan. Stay here if ye like, but it may be best for ye tae gae on home and be with yer father. Ye hae been through a lot. We love having ye here, but we would understand if ye wanted tae return home,” Drew said, his anger diminishing.

  Drew turned and made his way back to the castle, leaving Declan with a festering shame inside. Declan wished that he could do something to make his cousins proud of him, to ensure that his name would be spoken in the same breath as the rest of the
McCall. Drew and Blair cast long shadows. All Declan wanted was to live up to their reputations.

  Click on the link below to find out how the story continues!

  http://barbarabard.com/Amb02

  Highlander’s Savior-A Preview

  Prologue

  They had been traveling for a while through these dark woods, as they were going to meet Lord Flynn, the man who Rosemary was betrothed to.

  George had suggested that they find a place to lay their head for the night as it was getting too dark to keep traveling. Sarah and Rosemary were talking about Rosemary’s betrothal when another wagon pulled up. Sarah immediately felt that something wasn’t right.

  The wagon was looking strange and suspicious, with men being held in cages and the men that guarded the wagon were cruel to them. Sarah tried to carry on the conversation, but Rosemary was already distracted. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the wagon.

  Rosemary had always been the curious one, always wanting to know everything. Rosemary started to walk towards the wagon, wanting to investigate what was happening and why everything appeared so strange.

  This was the last time Sarah saw her.

  Concerned for her safety, the driver, George told the soldiers that she was indeed Rosemary. Lord Flynn had no reason to doubt them because he had never seen her.

  He took the lie as the truth and now Sarah was saddled with the responsibility of imitating Rosemary. She would be getting married to Lord Flynn just as Rosemary should be. However, Sarah felt ashamed of pretending to be her friend, as she was nothing compared to the beauty and grace that Rosemary carried with her. Her confidence and composure was something that Sarah would never have.

  Sarah wished she was not in this position, but Lord Flynn could never know she was not his bride. He would banish her from the country, or worse, kill her.

  This was a job Sarah had no choice but to carry out and for fear for her life, she hoped she didn’t fail.

  Sarah had not heard anything about the incident since that night. The only information she had was the recount of the bandits who arrived in Lord Flynn’s house the night of her arrival.

  They had been attacked by some Scottish brutes. Sarah was afraid that her friend had been kidnapped by those Highlanders or, even worse, killed.

  Chapter 1

  Sarah slammed the door to her bedchamber, she was breathing hard and fast. She stood still and closed her eyes so she would not collapse. She didn’t know imitating Rosemary would be this difficult, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Being so close to Lord Flynn had set her nerves into a frenzy. It wouldn’t be long before he discovered she was a fraud.

  Moving towards the bed, she perched herself on the edge and placed her head in her hands. Soft sobs began to make her body shudder, and warm tears trickled along her palms.

  The whole situation was a mess, and because of her frayed emotions, she was not even able to enjoy the opulent home in which Lord Flynn lived. He was a man of great wealth and evidently had no problem showing it.

  Her chamber was filled with so much luxury and extravagant decoration. The bed had four posts and was ever so comfortable. She could have sworn she was sitting on the cloud. There were artworks hung up on all walls, and ornaments placed on a mantelpiece in front of a huge fire.

  It was as though she had been placed in a dream, but this was a dream she wished she could wake up from.

  She knew she had to escape, one way or another. This was not her life, she was ashamed of pretending to be Rosemary, as she did not consider herself worthy. She imagined the punishment that would be meted out to her when the truth came out.

  She would be lucky to just be banished, for she could be thrown into a dungeon and forgotten for the rest of her life. No matter how she looked at it, this wouldn’t end well for her.

  She was not sure what she expected Lord Flynn to be like, but there was something about him that made the hair on her skin stand on end. He had all the making of an English man and carried himself with dignity and pride, just as an English man should.

  However, there was something missing. He lacked the wholesome goodness she had hoped to find. His eyes were cruel and his gaze felt as though he was peering into her soul.

  Damn George, and damn this whole mess!

  For the time being, she could pretend to be Rosemary, but the truth would soon come out. Rosemary's father, Charles Brambly, would quickly tell Lord Flynn that Sarah was an impostor. Unless Sarah could explain to him her situation.

  She would have to send him a letter to prepare him, for if he saw her, his reaction would surely leave the truth with nowhere to hide. But what then? Was she supposed to live her life as a lady, keeping this truth from Lord Flynn?

  A light knock at the door jolted her from her thought. She dried her eyes with a handkerchief and started to move towards the door to find out who it might be.

  However she might feel, the show should continue. She had come too far to give her true identity away. Whoever it was, she could not let them discover the truth about herself. But what if it was Lord Flynn?

  Her heart began to thump inside her chest as she curled her hand around the golden doorknob and twisted it, opening the door to reveal a shy-looking woman.

  She had delicate features, a slim build, and long curly brown hair. Her skin was clear as spring water. Her eyes were wide, and Sarah was envious of her beauty.

  Then again, she was envious of most other women's beauty as they were true ladies and she was just an impostor. Never could she compare with their soft skin, their lustrous hair, or the aura of self-confidence they possessed.

  “Rosemary, I'm so pleased to finally meet you! I'm Catherine, Harold's sister. I thought it only right that I introduce myself as I hope we can become good friends,” Catherine said with apparent excitement.

  “I must admit, at first I was a little jealous when Harold told me he was getting married and another lady would be coming to stay here.

  “I am used to being the only woman here, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it is a good thing!

  “Finally, I would have a friend, someone who I can talk to about all the nice and girly things in life without them turning their noses up at me.

  “All Harold wants to talk about is war and horses and all those nasty things men take pleasure in,” she added with one breath.

  Catherine breezed past Sarah, moving about the room like a swan settling on a warm lake. She took a seat on one of the velvet-lined chairs and placed her hands in her lap.

  Sarah closed the door slowly, inhaling deeply as she composed herself. Picturing Rosemary in her mind, Sarah tried to become the picture of an English lady, rather than a common handmaid.

  “It's so lovely of you to come and welcome me. I am glad that you are here. To find another like me was more than I could ask,” Sarah said, returning to the bed.

  “Have you been crying, my dear?” Catherine asked, leaning forward a little, concern etched upon her face.

  Sarah turned her face away. Her hands darted to her eyes, trying to cover the reddened lids.

  “I... yes, I have. You must think it so silly of me,” Sarah said, seeing no use in denying it.

  “Not at all. On the contrary, it is quite understandable. I imagine that if I were in your position I would be much the same. I suppose it is strange since you have not come too far from home, but it is still a new environment, and you are away from everything you have known. Then there was all that commotion with those terrible bandits as well,” Catherine said, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “It has been a trying time. Thank you for understanding. I am excited to be here, of course, but as you say it is quite different from what I have known. I had to leave my home and father, of course.”

  “That must have been very difficult for you. I did ask Harold about you and he said that it was just you and your father? I am so sorry to hear about your mother.”

  “Thank you, although it was years ago
now.”

  “And do not be too fretful. It will not be too long until the wedding, and then you will be able to see your father again. I imagine that the two of you became quite close after your mother died?”

  “We did indeed. There was just the two of us, we cried and consoled ourselves. We only had each other. He tried to do everything to lift the cloak of sadness from our house. We tried to celebrate her memory, instead of losing ourselves in a gloomy mood but things will never be the same again.”

  “I suppose that is all one can do. I am sorry to say that I cannot offer much in the way of understanding this conversation as I have neither lost a parent or enjoyed a close relationship with either of them.”

  “You haven't?”