Under a Highlander's Spell
A Historical Scottish Romance Novel
Maddie MacKenna
Edited by
Robin Spencer
Contents
A Gift from the Highlands
Scottish Brogue Glossary
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Highlander’s Sinful Desire
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Also by Maddie MacKenna
About the Author
A Gift from the Highlands
Thank you very much for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love and support!
As a way to show you my gratitude, I have written a full length novel for you, called Highlander’s Untamed Bride. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping the image below or this link here.
Once again, I can’t thank you enough for your support!
Maddie MacKenna
Scottish Brogue Glossary
Here is a very useful glossary my good friend and fellow author Lydia Kendall sent to me, that will help you better understand the Scottish Brogue used:
aboot - about
ach - oh
afore - before
an' - and
anythin - anything
a'side - beside
askin' - asking
a'tween - between
auld - old
aye - yes
bampot - a jerk
bare bannock- a type of biscuit
bearin' - bearing
beddin' - bedding or sleeping with
bellend - a vulgar slang word
blethering - blabbing
blootered - drunk
bonnie - beautiful or pretty
bonniest - prettiest
cannae - cannot
chargin' - charging
cheesin' - happy
clocked - noticed
c'mon- come on
couldn'ae - couldn't
coupla - couple of
crivens - hell
cuddie - idiot
dae - do
dinin' - dining
dinnae - didn't or don't
disnae - doesn't
dobber - idiot
doesn'ae - doesn't
dolton - idiot
doon - down
dram - a measure of whiskey
efter - after
eh' - right
'ere - here
fer - for
frein - friend
fey - from
gae - get or give
git - a contemptible person
gonnae - going to
greetin' - dying
hae - have
hald - hold
haven'ae - haven't
heed - head
heedstart - head start
hid - had
hoovered - gobbled
intoxicated - drunk
kip - rest
lass - young girl
leavin - leaving
legless - drunk
me - my
nae - not
no' - not
noo - now
nothin' - nothing,
oan - on
o' - of
Och - an Olympian spirit who rules the sun
oot- out
packin- packing
pished - drunk
scooby - clue
scran - food
shite - shit
sittin' - sitting
so's - so as
somethin' - something
soonds ' sounds
stonking - stinking
tae - to
teasin' - teasing
thrawn - perverse, ill-tempered
tryin' - trying
wallops - idiot
wee -small
wheest - talking
whit's - what's
wi'- with
wid - would
wisnae - was not
withoot - without
wouldnae - wouldn't
ya - you
ye - you
yea - yes
ye'll - you'll
yer - your
yerself - yourself
ye're - you're
ye've - you've
About the Book
Like a roaring fire, the passion that ignites between them threatens to consume them whole...
Groomed to be the perfect lady, Miss Theodora Kent grew up believing in the romantic ideals of old. Ideals, that she believes she has found in the face of a Duke’s son.
Chased away from home, Naomhan Grant, son of the Laird of Grant, flees to England, where he hides in plain sight by assuming the mantle of deacon. A meeting with his friend’s fiancé challenges not only his beliefs but also his self-control.
But you can only run for so long before fate finally catches up to you.
For Theodora and Naomhan, two letters mark the end: Theodora is getting married in a week and Naomhan is being called back to the one place he must never return to. For his father is dead and someone just tried to kill his brother…
1
1690, Scotland
Stephen Grant rode ahead of the three men into the castle grounds. The sun was high that day and the winds were fast. It was the perfect day for everything to go wrong. The four harbingers of doom kicked their horses faster. When the sun was low, more riders would follow their path into the estate.
The road led to a tall castle at the center of the estate. Stephen got off his horse and the doors were opened to him, as he was known there and trusted. He had grown up on the estate for he was a Grant, the nephew of Torquil Grant of Grant.
The guards bid him good tidings but he gave them no heed for the news he brought to the castle was grave.
Yet another door was pushed open to him and his company. There was an ominous silence behind the door as all eyes fell on him. Stephen went down on one knee in front of his uncle until he was told to rise.
“Ye’re late, nephew. We have gone a long way without ye. Would ye care to tell yer old dear uncle what kept ye away?” Torquil Grant said in his usual sarcastic tone.
“I beg yer forgiveness, Uncle. I wouldnae have been late if it wasnae forced upon me.” His face fell before he stepped forward and handed the Laird the letters held by his belt. “These three men accuse me cousin Naomhan, the first son of our Laird and first heir, of betrayin’ the King and Queen of Scotland,” he announced and turned t
o glare back at them as did everyone in the room.
The Laird’s hands trembled as he stared at the letter in his hand. The Grant family crest rested on the seal of the letter.
We shall meet in four days in the twilight of the morning by the Oak tree. The Queen and King shall be with little escort as they ride out to see the King’s birthed niece. Do be early for we will not get a second chance as this.
May God be with us.
“They lie, surely. We all know Naomhan,” one of the elders said, as the room burst into arguments and noise. Torquil just stared at the letter before he looked up at the messenger, Stephen. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something else was wrong. They had never wronged Stephen or his late father, Huisdean, and thus Stephen had no reason to play foul.
“May we see the letter?” the others asked and Torquil handed over the letter. He looked to his wife, Isla, who stared back at him. There was a familiar fear in her eyes, just as the day she had birthed Naomhan. He had held her hands then to lend her his strength, but then as now, he was too weak and dumbfounded to say anything.
“We need to make a decision now before it is too late. The guards of the Queen will be upon us soon and they will want to know if we will surrender willingly or turn our allegiance away from them. If the Laird’s decree is for us to become as the Jacobites—” the glares were turned back to Stephen who didn’t flinch under the weight of it, “—I will follow him because I know Naomhan. I grew up with him and I know that he wouldnae dae somethin’ like this without a good reason.”
Stephen turned to the Laird again, putting pressure back on him. Isla was the first to stand.
“My son is not guilty of this crime. Naomhan is not a Jacobite and these men have lied.” She turned to her husband whose head was bowed and his face hidden from her. “I will nae be part of this, nay.” With that, she stormed past Stephen and the three men who had accused her son of treason against the crown; planning to assassin the Queen, a crime she knew could not be true.
While the men ranted and awaited the Laird to give the sentence that was obvious to all, Isla ran to her room and called to her most trusted maid. Though Torquil had spoken no words, she had known her husband well enough to know the thoughts that went through his mind.
“Which of the guards dae you trust the most?” she asked her young maid. The maid was hesitant for she feared her mistress asked the question because she had come to the knowledge of her secret affair with one of the new guards. Isla shook her maid vigorously to express her impatience. The life of her son was at stake.
“There is one, milady,” the maid answered in fright.
“I need you to pass a message,” Isla told her.
The guard known as Red, because of the color of his hair, rode out of the castle grounds as fast as he could, careful to take routes that would not be watched by the Queen’s men. His name was not known for he was never one to talk much. With him, he carried a message from the Laird himself to Naomhan. The message was short even though it took more words from the young guard to help Naomhan make any sense of it.
The Crown thinks you a Jacobite and a threat to the throne. You have to run. Run as far away from Scotland as you can. If you don’t, they’ll give you the noose.
Please save yourself.
The message had been abrupt and the messenger too frightened even to stay a while longer with Naomhan.
Suddenly, the sword by his hip became even heavier. It cried the wails of battle. There was no way he was going to run, not from his home, not from his family, and certainly not from injustice. If he ran, his honor was lost forever, whether he was guilty of treason or not, he would be seen as a Jacobite wherever he went. He thought of what his father would have done if he had been at his crossroads and he knew his father would stand and fight.
“There will be no dishonor to Clan Grant, not while I still breathe air.” Torquil Grant of Grant would have held his sword above his head, high above in the mountains, and shouted till the winds screamed back, and the sky thundered. But while he took after his father’s bravery, he was a simple man. While he held the respect and loyalty of his peers, he could not bear the loss of a life for his cause.
“What will ye dae when there is war?” His father had asked him once when they had drunk together while his mother and little brother had slept.
“I will lead me men to victory even if it means I will slay every one of the enemy meself,” Naomhan had replied with confidence, which he had thought his father would have been impressed by, but Torquil hadn’t been.
“I daenae pray for war but it makes a better Laird. Son—” he had squeezed Naomhan’s shoulder tightly “—on the battle field, yer life is the most important. If thousands of yer men fall in battle, the true defeat is when there is no one to rally yer men together for revenge. It is noble to want to lay down yer life for yer men, but it is cowardice.”
“Then I shall be a different Laird, Faither,” Naomhan had said that night to his father. Torquil had given his son a sympathetic smile.
“Ye’ll make a fine Laird when the time comes but ye’ll be a big dobber.”
Both men had laughed at Torquil’s words.
That lesson had been the heaviest that his father had ever taught him and one that he had never fully understood. Naomhan had heard tales of men who laid down their lives for causes greater than themselves. Those men had been sung in folktales as men amongst men and as heroes. But there was some truth to his father’s words, he realized. The legends never fell in a single battle, they persevered. They rode on the backs and sacrifices of the lesser-known men, to always return to the battlefield until they became legends.
Standing transfixed to the spot where Red, the guard, had delivered the message, Naomhan thought of his next course of action. As much as he wanted to return home, he knew he would be putting his family in the sights of the Queen. So, the mountains, he thought to himself, just as most renegade legends before him would have thought.
Naomhan took his trusty steed and rode for the mountains. He had played in those parts with his cousin when they had been much younger. Taking nothing but his sword and horse, Naomhan retreated while he thought of the best course of action. He wasn’t going to run. Scotland was his home, and had been for the Grant men before him. So, strengthened with his courage, Naomhan Grant rode into the mountains.
From that vantage point, he could easily spot any advance up the mountain.
When night came, Naomhan sat in an old cave and roasted a rabbit above the fire. The bad things were far from him and everything seemed quiet.
Being a rebel mightnae be so bad, he thought to himself. He removed his cloak and folded it under his head to sleep. The night was harsh but he feared nothing. They had been told stories of the spirits which roamed the woods in the mountains, the spirits who judged men of their hearts and guided them to their legends. Naomhan, son of Grant of Grant, rested easy.
The morning that came the next day started weeks of isolation. It was worse because he had to let his horse go for the mountain terrains were not suitable for a horse. Naomhan had never been an introvert. He had always craved attention and company. His best deeds were done when he had someone next to him, who was usually his partner in crime, Stephen.
Staring down the mountain, he could see people going about their business. None of them paid any attention to the lonely mountains. No one except those as reckless as he and Stephen ever ventured that high up the mountains. Lower down, the mountain had game, herbs, and mushrooms.
Naomhan realized that he might not catch sight of anyone or speak to anyone forever. Slowly, he felt it drawing away at his sanity. He tried to hunt game but he never hunted more than he needed; those were the rules of the mountains lest one brought doom upon himself. The rest of his days, he spent watching from the top of the mountain.
Some days, he tried to imagine what people spoke to one another. He would see a man speak to a woman and he would play out their conversations in his head. Spea
king to the opposite sex had never been a problem for the Grant men. Before he had turned eight-and-ten, he had won the hearts of more than a dozen girls.
“Push yer chest out and raise yer head. Women like confident men,” his mother Isla had told him the first time she had caught him with a girl.
“Yer face is so handsome, so unlike yer Faither,” she would say, even though she lied. Torquil Grant of Grant was an extremely handsome man and Isla knew that. She had learnt over the years of their marriage to not boost his ego.
“Just be yerself with the wee lasses. Ye’re the son of the Laird, who wouldnae want to be with ye?” his mother would ask him and he would bow his head in timidity before shaking his head. There was no one, he soon realized. From that day on, the only female he ever bowed his head to was his mother. He had held his head up high before everyone else.
Under a Highlander's Spell: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 1
