Given to the Highlander
Veronica Touse
Copyright © 2018 by Veronica Touse
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This one is for my sweet husband who selflessly offered to workshop the steamy scenes with me.
Contents
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 1
It had been unseasonably warm for so early in the year. Malmuira wished the sun wouldn’t beat down quite so much. Her pale skin pinked in the sun quicker than snow melted in a fire. She could feel the prickle of heat on the back of her neck and moved her hair to cover the exposed skin.
She was gathering together some fresh heather for her bed when she heard a twig snap not far off from where she stood. She jumped in alarm and grabbed a large branch near her in case she needed to defend herself. None could be too sure these days. The war had been going on far too long for her taste, and many a damsel had been cheated her maidenhood by plundering heathens hell bent on taking what they wanted, with no account for the consequences.
The blood feud had been fought for so long that many in the clan forgot why the war continued. Malmuira’s memory was longer, but the cause struck close to her heart. Malmuira’s own brother, Balloch Buchanon, was responsible for the blood shed. He had fallen in love with Chief Murray’s daughter, and against his wishes had wed her. They lived in the Buchanon keep and had a child together.
She could tell that the noise had come from the bushes near her. She watched for any other sign of movement while she grabbed her bag of heather, moving towards the darkened tree line, which took her closer to home. A swift movement caught her eye and she almost yelled in astonishment.
“Michty me! Darlin’ ye got to stop sneakin’ up.” Malmuira dropped the bag of heather to the ground and began to gather up the pieces that had escaped her bag.
A bright-eyed, fair-haired child appeared from behind a bush, latching onto Malmuira’s skirts and giggling.
“What are ye doing out here by yerself? You know not to wander.” Malmuira scolded her sternly, but Siusan didn’t even flinch. The child was spoiled with affection and knew she was loved even when being reprimanded.
“Ah’m sorry, Mal. Ah was just looking for ye.” She still had a sweet grin and began to help Malmuira pick up the pieces of heather that had fallen in her haste.
“What do ye need?”
“Ye’re missin’ the feast Mally,” the child said.
“Hush’n’ yerself, Siusan. The feast is for me; I can miss it if I like.”
“Faither ain’t happy,” she replied solemnly. She twirled a piece of heather between her fingers.
“Well ah’m sure he will manage without me. Ye’ll both have to get used to me not being around whenever ye call.” She felt fear every time she talked about leaving. Not fear for the unknown, but fear for leaving the sweet bairn in front of her.
“Mally, do ye really have to be leavin’?”
Malmuira saw a tear fall down the cheek of her only sister and immediately felt a fierce protection well in her heart. She grabbed the child and put her on her hip, while carrying the bag of heather in the other hand.
“We’re family, dear wee’n. We’ll see each other near e’re fair when the men hunt. Faither promised ah can visit every year before the hunt.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the thought that next fair when the sun was hot she’d be married to a man she didn’t know. She wondered if he’d be kind to her, or if he’d beat her like fair Maizy, whose husband hit her if he didn’t like the way she spoke. She shuddered as she imagined what he could look like. She had heard things, but one never knew if they were true or not.
“Mally, come eat with us,” Siusan urged, pulling on the top of her dress as if to make her move faster.
“A’right. Ah’ll join ye, but under protest.”
Siusan jumped out of Malmuira’s arms and ran ahead across the meadow with glee. Ah to be light as a bairn and carefree.
The hall was full of the most prominent men in the clan, drinking the finest whiskey and ale her father had. They all feasted on fowl and game from the best season in recent history. When Malmuira entered the room, a loud cheer sounded from the men who spotted her as they raised their tankards up in the air in a salute. She felt her cheeks grow hot at being the center of attention. She never cared to draw the eyes of the people around her, and she had already been at the center of many a conversation.
“Nighean, come join yer faither.” Her father sat at the head of the center table with a cup of whiskey near one hand and large piece of meat on a plate near the other.
“Aye, Faither.” She sat near his right hand with her back straight as a sapling. She could tell by the way that the men were quieting down that they expected a speech from her father.
“In my auld years, my foolishness is made known to me. And were I but a wee bit more wise in my young’r years, t’would help me know what I know now. This bloody war of ten years is over. Ah dare’n think about how it could have ended long ago. But it is now. Thanks to my daughter, Malmuira.” At this the men gave a single cheer and drank a swig of whiskey.
“We send her off to wed the son of Clan Murray at daybreak. Tonight we feast.”
Malmuira’s head bowed once in acknowledgement of the honor she was given to represent her clan. She was ending a war that had been almost ten years running. And all because her pigheaded brother couldn’t keep his pants on. Of course, she had gotten a beautiful niece from the union, and her new sister by marriage was kind to her.
The men returned to their meal and her father sat back down.
“Daughter of mine.” He leaned over towards her to get her attention.
“Aye, Faither,” she replied.
“You wed this man in the morn and be happy. Ah bless ye with many bairns and many happy years.”
“Faither, I do this for ye and for me clan, but ah do not do this for myself. Ah will not be happy with a stranger in me bed. ‘Twill end the feud, nothing more.”
Her father paused and looked her in the eyes. Touching her cheek with his hand in a tender gesture, he wiped a stray tear that fell from her eye.
“Mally, if he be anything but the most kind man to ye, let me know. Ah will not have ye anything but happy, my favorite daughter.”
His kindness drew a lump in her throat that threatened to bring on more tears. “Thank ye.”
She couldn’t eat, even with the delicious foods and ample drink. She moved things around on her plate and nodded at the congratulations given and the gratitude expressed. After she had waited for what she felt like was the appropriate amount of time, she asked her father to excuse her. She had many things to pack for her journey and her new life.
She couldn’t eat the porridge that Mae brought to her room. She hadn’t eaten anything the day before either. Her belly complained to her in gurgles, but she couldn’t get the food past her mouth.
“Jus’ leave it, Mae,” Malmuira instructed.
“But Mal, ye need yer strength to travel.” She was stern and insistent, so Malmuira took a sip of the porridge. The act seemed to sat
isfy Mae, who began to pack up things again.
Today she would leave her home, to give herself to a no good, spoiled son of a clan chief. She had heard of his prowess among the ladies, but also about his lavish and unrestrained lifestyle. Oidche Munroe Murray was no good; wedding him was only a means to an end. She knew she was doing the right thing.
Talks of peace had been happening for a few months now, but the offer for her hand to Clan Chief Murray’s youngest son had solidified the peace between the two clans. That and some of her father’s finest barrels of whiskey and a few head of cattle. They had even agreed to establish trade talks. Trade would only make the peace more stable and likely to succeed.
Malmuira was willing to sacrifice her happiness for her father and her family. Her clan must stay safe, and if she could help secure their safety and peace, she would. There had been deaths on both sides and many had lost family members to war or to starvation.
“Well, ‘least ye must drink some milk.” Mae interrupted her thoughts with a warm glass of milk. She waited for her to drink it. Malmuira sipped on the liquid, trying to quell the waves of anxiety that pounded in her stomach.
“Mae, ‘least ye get to stay with me.”
“Aye, and ‘twill be good for me to help ye when ye’re in yer new home.”
She finished the milk and got up to dress. She had already decided on what to wear for the journey to the Murrays’ keep. It was her mother’s dress from long before Malmuira’s birth. Her sweet mother had died giving birth to Malmuira’s sister, Siusan. All had thought her past years of bearing children, but she had been found with child late in life. Alas, the bairn had survived but her mother died. Malmuira had assisted the childbirth and been present when her mother spoke her last words. She had repeated the words to her father a few minutes later.
“Call her Siusan,” she had said. “She’s pretty as the flowers.”
Malmuira wandered over to the chest where she kept her possessions and opened it, to ensure that all was where it should be. Her clothing and linens were all there. She also brought along the flower brooch her mother had passed down to her. An heirloom from many generations past.
“Mae, pack my bags in the trunk and see me downstairs. Ah depart soon. Are ye all ready to leave?” She tucked the heirloom in a fold of her dress while she spoke.
“Aye, all packed since the night. Let me do a few more things and then we’ll be off.”
Mae flitted about the room like a sparrow searching for nesting materials, then led Malmuira down the stairs and out the front. Her family waited at the front, ready to say their goodbyes.
“Mally!” Siusan squealed. She ran into Malmuira’s waiting arms and wrapped her chubby arms around her neck. She kissed both of Malmuira’s cheeks, and then pushed herself back down to the ground. “Bye, Mally.”
Malmuira kissed the top of Siusan’s head, barely able to hold back the tears in her eyes. She knew she would see her sister again, but the thought of not seeing her every day and holding her was breaking her heart.
Next, her father stepped closer. He blocked the rays of sunshine that streamed over the stones of the keep. His hulking figure was hunched slightly as he drew something from his robes.
“Keep this safe, my daughter.” He handed her something, kissed her on the forehead and turned back to the house. Before she had time to examine what he had given her, her brother had stepped up with his wife.
“See that ye’re safe, Mal,” Balloch said. His face looked serious.
“Ah will, Balloch. Take care of my sisters.” Malmuira turned to her sister by marriage and embraced her. She would miss their long talks and needlepoint work together.
“Mal, my brother is a good man, e’en after what ye heard. Give him a chance. There’s much ye don’t know about him.”
“Aye, Lara. I know ye love yer kin. Ah will try my hardest to be fair.”
“He could make ye happy, Mal. Like me and Balloch. Ah’ll see ye soon.”
She reached over and hugged Malmuira like a sister would and tucked a bouquet of flowers in her waist. “Till next we meet.”
Her trunk was loaded up in a wagon her mare pulled. Another part of the conditions of the peaceful settlement. She was also delivering a small chest with various valuables: a dowry for the bride of peace. A few moments before they left she opened the small package her father had handed her. It was a ring that she held in her hands. It was the ring that his wife had given to him. He meant for her to give it to her new husband. She held the reminder of her father’s love close to her heart and rebelliously thought that her new husband would never deserve to wear the ring her father gave to her.
The road would take a week for them to bridge the distance between the Loch Menteith and north to Atholl. Her maid, Mae, went with her, as well as five of her father’s warriors. They were there to protect her, but also to witness the gift to Clan Chief Murray.
The pace of the wagon went slower than if they had but horses, and breaks were few. Malmuira was determined to get there as quickly as possible. The heat was intolerable. The sun was strange this summer—large and hot, barely allowing for a breath of wind.
“Lady Malmuira, shan’t we stop and rest a wee bit?” Thad asked her again for the third time in the last few hours.
“Nay, we shan’t stop. We need to reach Atholl soon and get this mess over with.”
“Aye, my lady, but the horses will n’er make the heat if they don’t get a rest and some water.”
Irritation flashed through Malmuira at his insistence. Damn the horses and the heat. She just wanted to get there. They had been on the road five days and from what the men said, they were almost there.
“Fine. Rest while we must. Only a short break.”
Her mare—a fine chestnut with large hooves—was sweating underneath the harness that held her to the cart. Sad to see such a strong, capable mare completing a task as menial as cart pulling. She was a bred warhorse, trained to obey the most subtle commands. It only took a few minutes to remove the harness. Malmuira took a moment to brush the horse down, check her hooves and clean them with a pick. The men did the same for their horses, leading them just off the road for water.
Gohrich stared absently at his horse while it drank from the stream. He took a swig of water from his canteen and nodded towards Malmuira’s mare.
“Ye’re the only lass I know that’ll check her mare and ride jus’ like the men.”
“Bet yer britches, that’s right. Ah can outride any of ye, as well.”
“That t’ain’t in question, my lady. Ah’ve seen ye ride before.”
“Good. Ah got my pride to protect,” she said with a smile.
Gohrich smiled back at her. “Now get some water yerself.” Gohrich was a protective brother figure that had grown up next to Malmuira. He always watched out for her. It was one of the reasons he was assigned to take her to Murray. The other reason being that he was best friends with her brother and had aided Balloch in retrieving Lara from the other clan, against Lara’s father’s wishes.
The entire ordeal had led to the war and neither side had been willing to apologize and make amends, until of late. Gohrich had asked to attend to Malmuira until she was delivered to her waiting bridegroom.
She took a long draw from the skin of water on her horse before getting everything settled on her mare once more. “We leave now,” she announced. The men hooked her mare back up to the cart and they were again on their way to a fate that Malmuira had not chosen for herself. To a man who played with women like toys before tossing them to their fate. What would become of her? She only hoped it was tolerable.
“‘Tis an impressive keep.” Gohrich had a knack for stating the obvious.
They stood in front of a large stone keep that housed her future clan. To get to the keep they had to pass through the Murrays’ township. The local village had been ill-accustomed to people coming in from the south. Most had kept their distance. Malmuira only hoped that they received a more gracious welcome on
ce inside the keep. A man from the clan helped take their horses to the stable and directed a few others to unload their goods and wares.
They showed them inside and to a large dining hall where a small party of men sat waiting. All stood as Malmuira entered the room.
Gohrich took the lead and spoke in a booming voice. “We come to bear gifts to the Clan Chief Murray, to appease a debt and instill peace.”
“Come and welcome.” A graying man stood at the head of the table. His eyes were a calm sea blue and those eyes had laugh lines. “I am Clan Chief Murray.”
The men introduced and greeted each other while Malmuira stood patiently nearby, wondering which was her husband-to-be. She was disappointed at the end when she realized that he wasn’t in present company.
“And ye must be the Lady Malmuira. Ah see the men from yer village were not exaggerating when they said that ye were fairer than the first flower in spring.”
Malmuira curtsied deeply to the chief, keeping her eyes carefully directed at the floor.
“Ah’m happy to be here.”
“Ah see ye’re also well-mannered. Me son does well to marry ye.”
She nodded in gratitude and stood from her bow. “Might ah see my room so ah may rest from my long journey?”
A young woman stepped forward and led Malmuira out of the room and to the stairs where Mae awaited her. They were shown upstairs to a room with a large window. The bed was fresh-packed with heather and the room smelled like a breath of fresh air. Her trunk had been delivered and set at the foot of the bed. “M’lady, let me help you change.”
“Nay, me maidservant will be up and she’ll help. Thank ye.”
The woman left quickly and Mae entered soon after. She set about helping Malmuira to change. She was about to unpack her belongings when Malmuira put a hand on her shoulder.
Given to the Highlander (Highlander Bride Series Book 1) Page 1
