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Highland Hellion (Blades of Honor #1)

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by B. J. Scott




  Table of Contents

  HIGHLAND HELLION

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Epilogue

  HIGHLAND HELLION

  Blades of Honor Series

  B.J. SCOTT

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  HIGHLAND HELLION

  Copyright©2016

  B.J. SCOTT

  Cover Design by Christy Caughie

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-088-7

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  BY B.J. SCOTT

  THE FRASER BROTHERS TRILOGY

  Highland Legacy

  Highland Quest

  Highland Homecoming

  BLADES OF HONOR SERIES

  Highland Hellion

  ALSO BY B.J. SCOTT

  Her Highlander’s Promise

  Bedded By Her Highland Enemy

  This book, as always

  is dedicated to my husband, Steve.

  Words can’t express how much I appreciate

  your love and continued support.

  It is also dedicated to my street team

  for your support and dedication to

  getting the word out about my books.

  Acknowledgements

  I want to thank my family and friends for their encouragement and support in my writing adventures. Without you, I would never have realized my dream of becoming an author. Thank you to the members of my street team for all your efforts to promote my books, are always there to listen and bounce new ideas off of, and provide me with a constant reason to smile. I love you all! I want to thank my editor, Debby Gilbert and those at Soul Mate Publishing for their continued efforts to make my books the best they can be. Thanks, Christy Caughie, for another wonderful color. You made my characters come to life with your talent.

  And finally a huge thanks goes out to my readers. Thank you for buying the Fraser Brother Trilogy and encouraging me to write a sequel. Without you there would be no need for books.

  Chapter 1

  Scottish Highlands 1316

  Arya MacEachan swallowed a swig of whisky, then brought a clenched fist to her lips and blew on the dice for luck. She’d rolled a seven to open the match, so she needed another seven or an eleven to win all bets. Having dominated the Game of Hazards so far, she hoped fortune would smile upon her again.

  While her opponents had no coin, the two fat hares the man they called Fergus used to wager would make a fine stew. Her stomach rumbled. She could not remember the last time she’d eaten more than turnips and oatcakes. And her ailing mother could certainly use the nourishment. This evening’s winnings—five onions, two small sacks of grain, a crock of whisky, and a tarnished brooch—would make the scolding she’d face when she arrived home more tolerable.

  Life was tough for Clan MacEachan and other septs of the once powerful Clan MacDougall following the Scottish victory at Bannockburn. In the beginning, they avidly supported the fight for Scottish independence from England. But their loyalties shifted in the spring of 1306 when their kinsman, John Comyn, one of the several claimants to the Scottish crown, was killed in an altercation with Robert the Bruce at Greyfriars Abbey. When the Bruce claimed the throne, a civil war, fiercer than their conflict with England, tore the country apart, pitting clan against clan and Scots fighting Scots.

  The bitter day when word of her father’s death at the Battle of Bannockburn arrived, her whole world shattered and her life changed forever. With their land in Argyll confiscated by the Bruce and given to Clan Campbell as a spoil-of-war, the displaced MacEachans were forced to live in the neighboring hills, scavenging for what they could find to survive.

  Planting crops proved futile. Nothing but a few turnips grew amidst the rocks and thistles around their encampments. Hunting was considered poaching by the new Lord, an offence punishable by death.

  “Are you going to take all night to throw those dice?” Fergus growled. He downed the content of his mug, belched, then helped himself to more spirits.

  Arya shook her head, pushing the memories of her beloved father and her clan’s former prosperity to the back of her mind. She asked the Almighty for one last boon, then rolled the carved pieces of bone onto the tree stump.

  To ask the Lord for selfish favors was wrong, but her mother was ill, and a hearty meal might aid in her recovery. The rest she’d share with the bairns of the clan. Under the circumstances, she was certain God would understand and forgive her indiscretions.

  Fergus glared at the dice and cursed.

  “Eleven! I win.” She found it impossible to hide her excitement, but toned down her enthusiasm when she caught Fergus’s glower of contempt. The man was neither pleased nor impressed by yet another loss.

  After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Arya spoke. “Well, gentlemen, this has been most amusing, but the time has come for me to take my leave,” she said as she scooped her spoils into a canvas sack. “My mam will be waiting for me to make her some supper. I thank you for your contributions, and if you are ever passing through this way again, perhaps we can resume our game.”

  “Not so fast,” Fergus snapped. “You canna just up and leave without giving us a chance to recoup our losses.”

  “I’m afraid I must. My mother is bedridden, and canna prepare her meals.” As she turned to depart, Fergus clasped her wrist, his nails digging into her flesh.

  “You will go when I say so and not before. I demand we play another round and are given a chance to win back what we’ve lost.”

  Fergus pinned her with a scathing stare that caused the hair o
n her neck to bristle, but she’d not back down. Instead, she raised her chin in defiance. “There is no point in continuing. Good fortune has smiled upon me this night, and you have nothing left to wager.” Arya tried to twist free of his hold on her, but he tightened his grip.

  “No one is that lucky unless they cheat.” Fergus slammed her palm down on the tree stump, then drew his dirk. “Do you know what happens to thieves and swindlers, laddie? Many a man has lost his fingers and even his life over a game gone bad. The reason Hazards has been outlawed in taverns and banned by the church for many years. How do you think you’ll manage with only one hand?”

  This wasn’t the first time she’d been mistaken for a lad, but she saw no point in clarifying. Fergus did not strike her as the sort of man who would care, as long as he got back what he’d lost. But that was not going to happen.

  “I am neither a cheat nor a swindler, sir. I won fairly and demand you release me at once.” Arya glared up at him.

  Show no fear.

  “You heard the lass. Let her go. Now.” A dark-clocked figure entered the clearing, leapt from his horse, and unsheathed his sword.

  “Her? You’re a liar. No woman I’ve ever met can drink, gamble, and curse the way this fellow does.” Fergus yanked the wool cap from her head, her hair spilling free. “Damnation! It is a lass.” He scrubbed a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his thumb. “What sort of ruse is this? And who the hell are you?” he asked the newcomer.

  “My name is Garrett MacDougall, and it appears I arrived just in time.” He narrowed his stare, focusing on Arya. “I heard there was gambling going on at the rendezvous spot tonight and thought I might find you here.”

  “I dinna care who you are. Lass or lad, this scalawag cheats and I demand satisfaction.” Fergus tightened his grip on Arya’s arm. “I’d suggest you be on your way and mind your affairs.”

  “There is no deception or trickery afoot, sir. Just an honest game of chance that you gentlemen entered into of your own free will,” Arya replied.

  “Then why are you dressed like a lad?” Fergus asked.

  “It matters not what she wears. Sheath your weapon and let her go. I’ll not warn you again.” Garrett took a menacing step forward. “Now.”

  Arya proudly watched as Garrett took control of the situation. Fergus obviously had no idea who he was challenging. And while she was capable of handling her own life, she was grateful she could always count on him to watch her back.

  Her heart fluttered. Garrett was so braw, he took her breath away. He was the only man who could twist her insides into knots and make her forget her name in his presence. A feminine weakness she often cursed and did her utmost to suppress.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the first time he visited her grandfather’s castle with his da. She’d only seen five summers and he was ten, but even at that young age, she recognized a bond between them that would last a lifetime. When he waved her off, declaring he had no use for bairns, she was determined to set him straight and prove she was no ordinary lass—her father had seen to that. She went out of her way to impress the arrogant bugger, showing him she could ride, shoot and wrestle as well as any lad.

  “Unhand her, or you’ll answer to me,” Garrett demanded through clenched teeth.

  “Nay. I willna have it said I was outplayed or outsmarted by a woman. Besides, my wife will skin me alive if I come home empty-handed and smelling of whisky. I have five wee ones to feed, and—”

  “You should have thought of those things before you entered into the game,” Garrett replied. “Let the lass go or empty bellies will be the least of your bairns’ worries. I’d suspect having no da to raise them will be far worse.”

  One of Fergus’s companions stepped forward. “Do as he says, man, and release her. This fellow’s reputation with a blade is heralded throughout the Highlands.”

  “Well, he doesna look so tough to me.” Fergus puffed out his chest. “Besides, it’s four against two. The odds are in my favor, not his.”

  “You are on your own, Fergus. I am not going die so you can act like a horse’s arse.” The man threw his hands in the air and backed away. The other two players did the same.

  “Cowards, the lot of you. Damn you all,” Fergus shouted.

  “It appears it is just you and me, Fergus.” Garrett clasped Arya’s arm, tugged her free, then shoved her behind him. “Get your belongings and ready your horse” He pointed at her palfrey tied to a tree at the edge of the clearing.

  Normally Arya refused to back down from a challenge, but, this time, she’d heed Garrett’s orders. “Just this once,” she muttered as she picked up her sack and the two hares. She gave a curt nod and turned to leave, then hesitated.

  “Do as I said, Arya,” Garrett demanded when Fergus moved in her direction.

  She stood fast, staring at her winnings.

  “Now,” Garrett repeated.

  Arya nodded, but before doing as Garrett instructed, she tossed one of the rabbits at Fergus’s feet. “I won these fairly, but I willna have it said that I took food from babes. Next time, dinna wager your bairns’ dinner,” she said.

  “I’d suggest you take the meat and leave,” Garrett said to Fergus. “We want no more trouble and your family is waiting for you.”

  Fergus grunted as he bent down to scooped up the hare. “She is fortunate you were here to protect her.”

  Arya bit back the urge to respond. There was no point antagonizing this fool any further, so she held her tongue and prepared to mount her horse.

  “You’re wrong,” Garrett piped up. “Arya was not the one I worried would get hurt. You are lucky she walked away, and dinna decide to stay and fight.”

  Fergus spat on the ground, before sheathing his blade. “No woman could best me,” he mumbled while heading toward his horse. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to his friends, then dragged himself into the saddle.

  Once the four men rode out of sight, Garrett joined Arya. “Finally, you did as I instructed, and for that I give thanks,” he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Dinna get accustomed to it. I take orders from no man. The sooner you realize that, the better. I did as you asked because it suited me to do so,” she said, then patted her horse’s neck.

  “That attitude is going to get you killed, lass,” Garrett replied as he climbed atop his destrier. “What in the name of Saint Stephen are you doing here alone?”

  “I dinna need anyone’s permission to go out for an evening of gambling and a wee dram. Especially yours,” she replied. “And as you can see, I did quite well. Mam and I will have plenty to eat for at least a sennight. If you ask nicely, I may invite you to sup with us on the morrow.

  “Dinna be coy with me, Arya. Going out unescorted at night to gamble with strangers is dangerous. If you’re not careful, you’ll wind up dead.”

  “You know if I had stayed to answer the bugger’s challenge, he’d not have gotten off so easily.” She laughed, then kicked her horse into a trot, leaving Garrett in a cloud of dust. She heard the thunder of hooves behind her, but she did not slow her pace.

  After giving chase for about a mile, Garrett caught up. They rode together in silence, not stopping until they came to a small stone croft, nestled in the woods.

  “You know it would not hurt you to let them win once in a while. And Fergus was right, you do curse and drink like a sailor.” Garrett dismounted.

  She shrugged. “I canna help if I am skilled at Hazards. They knew the risks. And where is it written a man is the only one who can enjoy spirits or speak their mind?”

  “You know very well that your mother doesna approve of your unladylike behavior, and neither do the other ladies of the clan.”

  “You fash too much, Garrett. I care not what other women think. And my mother should be accustomed to my ways by n
ow.”

  “One of these days I willna be there to intervene on your behalf, and you might find yourself facing a foe who refuses to yield.”

  “Let him come. I can handle a blade as well as any man, and I’m not afraid.” She jumped down from her horse, then tethered it to a nearby tree. “I dinna need you to protect me.”

  Garrett followed. “That’s your problem. You fear nothing and are going to end up in an early grave. It’s time you started to act more like a—”

  Arya whipped around. “More like what? A woman? Someone who cowers before men and obeys without question?” She spat on the ground.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Well, it is what you meant.” She planted her hands firmly on her hips and scowled at him.

  “I’m not fool enough to think you will ever obey me or any man. But you are a lass, and if you tried to behave more like a lady, you might find it pleasurable.”

  “Is that so? And who is going to teach me? You?” She grabbed her winnings, then headed toward the croft.

  Garrett darted in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Now what?” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the ground. “If you have nothing profound to say, get out of my way. I’m tired, and my mother is waiting for her supper.”

  “If you’d consent to marry me and stopped trying to be something you’re not, you’d see things more clearly.” He stood his ground, blocking the path. “A good bedding wouldna hurt either. I would never force myself upon you, but say the word and I’ll show you what you’ve been missing. Once you’ve had a taste of the mind-numbing pleasure experienced between a woman and man when they join, perhaps you would be more willing to consider the prospect of marriage.”

 

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