Highland Revenge

by Brandy Golden

  * * *

  Newsite Web Services Publishing

  www.disciplineanddesire.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Brandy Golden

  First published in 2008, 2008

  * * *

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  * * * *

  Highland Revenge

  By

  Brandy Golden

  A Newsite Web Services Book

  Published by arrangement with the author

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2008 © by Brandy Golden

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or part,

  by mimeograph or any other means, without

  permission of the author or Newsite Web Services, LLC

  Published by Newsite Web Services, LLC

  P.O. Box 1286, Loganville, Georgia 30052 USA

  newsitewebservices@comcast.net

  disciplineanddesire.com

  Prologue

  Scotland 1724

  "Nay! I will NOT marry the old Laird of Brincairn. I refuse!” Eileen was pale and trembling, unable to believe Canton would actually do this to her. “He must be forty years old!"

  "Ye will,” replied Canton, her half brother. His cold blue eyes seemed to slice her to ribbons and indeed, Eileen felt cut to the heart. “Ye've been unwed for far too long, Eileen, and the oath has already been sworn between me and the Laird. The wedding will take place in three days, prepare yourself."

  "But ... but he is an old man! Why would ye do this to me?"

  "Take heart,” he sneered, the moustache on his cruel lips lifting on one side. “The Laird is ill and no one knows how long he will last. When he croaks, ye will be a rich woman.” His eyes gleamed with avarice, his ebony hair pulled straight back from a low forehead, creating an almost brutish look. He studied her without compassion, feeling no remorse for what he was doing.

  Eileen knew it was useless to plead anymore, they had been arguing for the last half hour already. “I'll never forgive ye for doing this to me, Canton,” she said finally. “I'll see ye in hell before then.” Her deep purple eyes flashed at him. “If Morg were here, he would not make me do this!"

  Canton's face went red with rage, and he struck out with a long arm, slashing her across the face with the back of his hand. “Ye will not mention my cowardly half brother in this house: I've already told ye that."

  Eileen gasped and put her hand to her reddened cheek, realizing she was only driving him more insane with the mention of Morg. He was wildly jealous of her full-blooded brother, even though he had been gone for several years now. Canton and their greedy Uncle Roger had cheated Morg out of his inheritance.

  With a sob, she turned and ran across the stone floor of the main hall of the castle, and up the broad stone staircase to her room. Once inside, she threw herself on the beautifully embroidered coverlet in a fit of weeping.

  "Where are ye, Morg?” She groaned, wishing helplessly once again that he had taken her with him when he left. But he had left alone, angry because she had saved his life and made him look small in the eyes of the clansman. He had left like a whipped cur, not even considering her feelings. Shaking off her clutching hands, and ignoring her pleading tears, he had stridden out, vowing to return someday and claim his rightful place. That had been 4 years ago.

  Eileen beat her small fists furiously against the coverlet, kicking her feet up and down in the soft leather shoes. Finally, when she could cry no more, she wearily got up and flipped her long wheat colored braid behind her head so she could dab some cool water from the bedside pitcher on her hot face.

  Depressed, she walked to the window and stared out across the moors where the fog was beginning to roll in. She shivered and ran her hands up and down the backs of her slender arms. As she stood there in the deepening twilight, she made another vow.

  "I swear on our mother's grave, Morgan Macalister, if you don't save me from this fate, I'll never forgive ye either ... not even with the last breath I take.” Her eye's burned with impotent fury and anguish, and she determined to shed no more tears. She began to plan ... she would get away. She would go and find Morg, and Canton would not be able force this upon her.

  In spite of her plans, however, her wedding night came three days later, and she faced the ailing and aging man who had become her husband. Eileen shuddered with the knowledge that soon his gnarled old hands would be upon her young tender flesh, demanding his husbandly rights.

  She bravely faced him, determined not to let him daunt her as his eyes swept from the tip of her bare toes up her body, lingering on each curve of her naked form, inspecting it as one might inspect a prize horse, or cow.

  When his dark eyes finally fastened on hers, she saw no lust there, only hatred. She raised her chin defiantly, not understanding, but determined that he would not break her spirit whilst he claimed her flesh. He stared at her for so long that she started visibly when he finally spoke.

  "Ye appear to be in fine physical health, although your hips are fairly slender for birthing. For your sake, let's hope your brother has not cheated me with my purchase."

  "Purchase?"

  "Aye, ye didn't think I was in love with ye? I agreed to marry you so I could have an heir. Gallagher will pay for leaving me!"

  The old man's eyes gleamed maniacally, and Eileen shrank back, not understanding what he was talking about. She knew Gallagher was his only son, the one whose mother had died a few years ago.

  He shook his fist at her suddenly, his anger flaring up. “Are ye stupid, wench? I married ye with the agreement of gold to refill the coffers of Castle McKenna, and twas a pretty price I paid. If ye can't produce a child to take my place, I will have been robbed!"

  Anger and resentment surged through her then, her lip curled in scorn as she drew herself up. “That would be a shame wouldn't it? Mayhap you should have given more thought to your age affecting reproduction than my lack of ability,” she mocked.

  She seethed with the knowledge that Canton had sold her. Sold her! If she could defeat both their purposes, it would give her great satisfaction.

  "Aye, it would indeed, however ... I intend to remedy that. Get to the bed!” He pointed a knotted and trembling finger towards the bed, and Eileen's heart sank. Apparently, he was going to try, whether he could be sure of success or not. She hesitated, glancing from the bed to the door.

  "Don't bother to run: there are guards outside in the hall, and they would just bring ye back. There's nowhere to run. Now do as ye are told!” He pointed to the bed again, and Eileen reluctantly went to the huge blocked bed and sat down on it.

  "Turn the coverlet back and lay down on the sheets ... on your back. Ye had best be a virgin, lass. I paid extra for that."

  Burning with humiliation and shock, she did as she was bid and then lay down on the crisp sheets and sank back against the pillows. When he reached up and doused the flickering lights, the room was cast into total darkness. Although it was summer and the evening light lingered longer than normal, the heavy brocade draperies had been pulled across the windows, blocking out the light.

&
nbsp; She heard the door open, and a slice of light shone through, then it was quickly closed. She had little time to puzzle over that occurrence, for she heard the sound of clothes being shed and metal clanking on the stone floor. She shivered in fear and dread as she heard muffled footsteps coming towards the bed.

  Eileen had never been with a man before, and she was frightened, terrified, suddenly—the darkness was suffocating to her! Abruptly, she was pressed down onto the bed, his body lying partially on top of hers, and a calloused hand painfully squeezed her breast, making her cry out.

  She felt hard warm flesh against hers, and his rough palm slid down her body, his breath coming faster. She turned her face to the side, not wanting him to kiss her, and she felt his probing fingers parting her thighs. They left her for a moment, and when they returned, a thick creamy substance was applied to her feminine center, the fingers then slipping inside her.

  Eileen tried to close her thighs against the intrusion, but his heavy leg was between hers, and she couldn't stop his invasion.

  Please let this be over!

  She prayed silently as the tears trickled from beneath her dark lashes. This wasn't supposed to be how her wedding night should go, and she mourned the loss of something she would never have, the gentle, loving introduction to the loss of innocence.

  She gasped when he moved over her then, forcing his lower body between her soft thighs; she felt his male shaft probing her. She panicked and began to fight, trying to scratch his face with her fingernails.

  "Lie still,” he whispered hoarsely, “just lie still, lass, and it will all be over in a minute.” With a harsh thrust, he rammed into her, breaking past the virginal barrier and rushing on, not even giving her time to adjust to the thickness of him. A strangled scream escaped her lips, and she moaned in pain.

  In less than a minute, it was over, and his weight was lifted from her, leaving her sobbing and hurting, unable to close her trembling legs.

  She was so distraught that she didn't even notice the soft lighting returning to the room until she felt a hand on her thigh. Opening her eyes, she turned her head slowly to meet his harsh gaze before it moved down her body, a satisfied grunt escaping his lips at the sight of the blood spots beneath her.

  "At least I know ye were a virgin,” he said gruffly, his eye's conveying no sympathy. “Now let's hope ye can conceive."

  He turned his back to her and limped slowly towards the door, and it was then that Eileen realized it hadn't been her husband who had deflowered her.

  "Ye are a bastard,” she hissed through pain twisted lips.

  His dark eyes were cold as he looked back at her. “Aye, lass ... among other things. Ye would do well to remember that."

  One year later, the Laird of the clan Brincairn, the fierce Donald Brincairn, held his three-month-old son above the castle parapet in his trembling hands and made a declaration to the clansmen.

  "This is my son ... Soren Brincairn ... my one and only heir to all that is mine. I disown and disinherit Gallagher Brincairn and pronounce him an outcast of Castle McCrae and Brincairn lands."

  When he began a fit of coughing, Jamie came forward and took the baby, handing him back to his mother. Eileen accepted her son into her arms and gently shushed him as she looked out over the crowd. Her face was as white as death, and her deep purple eyes burned with unshed tears, yet she lifted her chin defiantly. She would get even with Canton and the Laird one day ... she would have revenge for the humiliation and degradation she had been put through. Foiling their plans would bring her great joy and satisfaction, and best all ... no man would ever use her again!

  As Jamie slowly walked the frail and wheezing old man back inside, Eileen followed, her face a frozen mask.

  The old Laird stopped and turned, his dark eyes going to the babe in her arms, and then they lifted slowly to her face. The gleam of stubbornness and revenge lent an extra glow about his paper frail face, a maniacal satisfaction in having had the last word. “Ye will not leave this castle. If ye do, the babe will be kept from ye."

  "Ye are a bastard,” hissed Eileen impotently, her fury recklessly spilling over. Even as the old man neared death, he still held her in his grasp.

  "So ye have said, many times over,” he cackled sardonically, “but ye have had the best of everything I could give ye this last year. I've not treated ye too unkindly have I?"

  Eileen studied him closely, looking for signs of duplicity. Cold wrath burned inside her, yet she realized he meant what he said. Women were to be moved about and used as needed; their feelings didn't mean anything. They were just pawns in men's masculine endeavors and should accept their dictates without question.

  "Looking for absolution are ye?” she scoffed, refusing to give him a trickle of credit, “now that death is upon ye?"

  "Nay, lass,” he replied flatly. “Just the assurance that what I have decreed will be carried out. Jamie will see to it that the babe stays here, to be raised to his inheritance and status in life. Ye are free to go if ye wish; I'm finished with ye."

  Eileen trembled with the force of her frustrated rage, but knew there was little she could do. There was nowhere to go, no place to hide, and her son did deserve his honors. At least the old curmudgeon owed her that.

  "Oh, I'll stay ... ye can rest assured of that. My son will have what is due him. It's the least he deserves for the manner in which ye brought him into this world, without his own father to know him."

  "Be silent!” The Laird shook with anger, and he reached out to backhand Eileen, but he collapsed into a fit of coughing, his face turning mottled.

  Jamie sent her a warning glance, but Eileen didn't care.

  "At least, ye have no control over what I do with my knowledge once ye are gone,” she mocked, feeling no pity for him whatsoever. “I'll raise my son to hate ye, to be a curse on your name, and I will rule the Brincairn clan myself!"

  The Laird gargled with fury, trying to get his breath. He fell to his knees, despite Jamie trying to hold him up, and unexpectedly he went limp, the raspy breath halting abruptly in the quiet of the room.

  Jamie knelt down beside the old man and put his hand on his throat; then he looked quietly up at Eileen. “He is dead."

  Soren chose that moment to erupt in baby screams, and Eileen's numbed heart echoed his sentiments. She knelt down on the other side of the fallen Laird; her eyes burning into Jamie's concerned brown ones. “I want to know everything ... and I mean ... everything!"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  Eileen slowed the golden palomino to a walk, listening to three-year-old Soren chattering in delight in front of her in the saddle. She laughed as he leaned forward to pat the horse's beautiful neck, and she held onto his shirttail to keep him from sliding off.

  "He is a delight, Milady, no doubt about that. Soon, ye will be needing to get him his own pony.” Melba watched her young charge, her mouth crinkling up into a smile at the bonny, golden haired mother and her son. She had been with Eileen from her birth, caring for her, and seeing to her needs after the child's parents had been killed when Eileen was but twelve years old.

  She had also been there the day young Morgan had lost his fight for the inheritance of The McAlester to the evil Canton and his Uncle Roger. If only Morgan Mathias had stayed around, he might have found a way to depose Canton, but he hadn't. She wondered what would happen when he did return and found his own sister ruling the McAlester clan and Castle McKenna?

  "Aye, Melba,” replied Eileen. She smiled warmly at the older woman, her smile like a bit of sunshine peeking through the fog on the highland crests. Her smile faded, and grim determination settled across her lovely features as she spied Jamie Brincairn making his way towards them.

  Jamie smiled and waved at Eileen, his gentle features masking his intense pleasure at the sight of her. She was indeed, a lady of high quality, and she sat the golden palomino proudly, her beautiful cranberry and green tartan skirts falling in folds around her legs as she sa
t sidesaddle.

  It was hard to believe such grace could change into a hard fighter, a fierce leader, determined to shake Canton loose from Castle McKenna and reclaim her birthplace under the Brincairn clan name. But that was her intent, and it was his pleasure, and Dungally's, to help do so. She had been training with Dungally for the last four years in order to achieve just that, while Jamie had been in correspondence with the King. If he couldn't have Eileen for himself, then he would do the next best thing.

  His Uncle, the old Laird of Brincairn had much to answer for, and Jamie felt guilty everyday for his part in the old man's schemes to use Eileen. Eileen had forgiven him, though, knowing he hadn't had much choice. If he had not gone along with Donald Brincairn's plans, he and his gentle mother would have been booted out with nowhere to go. Still, his gut twisted in memory of what she had been forced to endure at the hand of the cruel Laird.

  "It is time,” he said, his soft brown eyes burning into her own purple ones as he halted his dancing mount before the trio.

  Eileen nodded in return, excitement reflecting in her own eyes. “Aye, tis time.” Nothing more was said as they turned and headed back to Castle McCrae, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Jamie's thoughts went to his gentle mother whom he had been determined to protect at all costs. She was the first Lady Brincairn's sister, and she lived in a small cottage off the back of the castle lands, dependent upon her brother-n-law, Donald Brincairn for support. Pregnant out of wedlock, she had been disowned by her family, all except for the gentle Lady Amelia Brincairn, Gallagher's mother.

  The Laird of Brincairn had agreed to give her sister shelter in return for Lady Amelia's cooperation in marrying him. It had been a richly rewarding marriage for Donald Brincairn, one that had brought him a handsome dowry, including the son she had borne him. When Gallagher had left home after Lady Amelia's death, Donald Brincairn had gone mad.

  Jamie shook off the morose thoughts as they approached the Castle. No point in dwelling on the past. It was over and done. All they could do was look forward to the future, and the time when Gallagher would return, for Jamie knew he would. He glanced sideways at Eileen. The current Lady Brincairn would not like it when that happened, but he and Dungally had determined to do what was best for her ... at least what they thought was best.