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Highlander Entangled
By Vonda Sinclair
Lady Kristina MacQueen suffered devastating injuries at the hands of a ruthless Highland chief, Blackburn MacCromar. Two years later, he kidnaps her for a journey across the chilly, windblown Scottish Highlands to flush out her sister, Anna—the woman Blackburn forced to wed him. Red Holme, Blackburn's second-in-command, is equally brutal and determined to possess Kristina.
A Highland warrior and future chief, Colin Cameron has no intention of becoming entangled in the whims of another highborn lady. However, upon witnessing Lady Kristina being held hostage by the enemy, a knife to her throat, he resolves to rescue her and bring her to safety. When Red Holme sees Colin Cameron, he recognizes his enemy from a decade earlier and craves revenge even more than he lusts for the lady. But he is determined to have both.
Colin is the most charismatic and heroic man Kristina has ever met, and he awakens her woman's instincts. He might be her only chance to experience a brief moment of passion. Even so, she holds no illusions about marriage, for no worthy man will find her blindness and scars appealing, or see them as beneficial traits in a wife. But she can't see how he looks at her. Though Colin has sworn to never fall in love again, he cannot defend his heart against the strong, spirited and lovely lass who is like none other he has ever met.
Highlander Entangled
By Vonda Sinclair
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Highlander Entangled Copyright 2017 Vonda Sinclair
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the author. This book cannot be sold, shared or given away because this is an infringement of the copyright. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, locations, and events are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental or from the writer's imagination.
www.vondasinclair.com
Acknowledgements
My sincere thanks to the highly skilled Amanda Sumner of Careful Copyediting.
I'm also grateful for the following generous and helpful critique partners and beta readers: Dana S., Vanessa H., and Nicole L.
Dedication
To my amazing nieces and nephews.
You inspire me with your energy, creativity and love.
Highlander Entangled
By Vonda Sinclair
Chapter One
The Scottish Highlands, October 1617
"You cannot force my sister to marry you!" Kristina MacQueen yelled at Blackburn MacCromar, a hulking warlord with long black hair. Candlelight glinting off the metal studs in his leather armor, he stood beside her sister, Suzanna—or Anna, as she was better known—in the small chapel before a priest.
Dark brows lowered, Blackburn glowered at Kristina. "Shut your mouth, bitch!" Lunging toward her, Blackburn slapped her face so hard her neck wrenched. The pain exploded and she stumbled backward.
"Nay! Leave her be!" Anna grabbed onto his arm.
Holding her stinging cheek, Kristina clenched her teeth and glared at Blackburn. Anna was pale, weak and thin, barely recovered from all the blood loss she'd suffered when she'd lost her babe at seven months… after Blackburn had shoved her down the stairs. Only months before that, Blackburn had slain Anna's husband, Chief John MacCromar, and taken over as chief.
Now, tears trailed down Anna's face and she appeared ready to collapse.
"Father, how can you perform this ceremony?" Kristina demanded of the priest. "She already refused to marry him. He murdered her husband in cold blood!"
The priest merely stared down at his prayer book as if he didn't hear a word she said.
"Don't let her move from this spot," Blackburn murmured to the guard he'd placed beside Anna. He then turned toward Kristina and pulled a dirk from the scabbard at his belt.
"Don't touch her!" Anna shrieked, trying to free herself from the guard.
The long blade flashed in the candlelight. Terror striking her like a sharp icicle, Kristina dodged backward, but Blackburn's second-in-command, Red Holme, blocked her escape. Blackburn pushed her against the wall. The rough stones dug into her back. His fingers bit into her chin as he restrained her. With his other hand, he held the knife close to her face. "You listen to me, wench," he hissed. "You will keep your mouth shut during the ceremony or you will find yourself dead. Do you understand?"
"Kristina, please be quiet," Anna begged, her face wet with tears.
"Aye, you'd best listen to your sister," Blackburn said.
Her heart hammering, Kristina clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes. Equal parts fear and rage stampeded through her. If Anna married him, they were both as good as dead anyway. "You can't force a woman to wed you. 'Tis illegal!"
"She will agree to the marriage." Blackburn smiled maliciously.
Kristina glared past Blackburn to the priest. Was he a man of God or an imposter? "Please help us, Father. I beg of you! This man is a murderer!"
Blackburn's fingers tightened, nearly crushing her chin. "I warned you," he seethed.
She kicked and struggled against him. He held her firm and sliced the blade down the left side of her face. She screamed at the searing pain. When she yanked away from him this time, he let her go. Blood poured from the cut on her cheek and drenched her hands.
Anna's screams echoed until they were muffled.
"Hold your knife to her throat," he ordered Holme.
Before Kristina could escape, the beefy man pinned her arms to her sides, near squeezing the breath from her, and placed his blade against her throat. The sharp tip pricked the skin of her neck but 'twas naught compared to the devastating pain lashing her face.
"I like you, lass, but I always follow orders," Holme growled into her ear.
Was she going to die this day? The gash on her face was deep, several inches long, and it bled profusely.
"You will marry me, m'lady," he told Anna, "Or I will order your sister's throat slit."
Kristina coughed and gagged against the blood entering her mouth from the wound and forced herself to breathe. Nausea flooded her stomach and the sharp pain in her face was near unbearable.
She wanted to gut the bastard, and the one holding her too, but she was no match for Blackburn, Holme and the eight large guards he had stationed inside this chapel. She and Anna could not best Blackburn now. But if she lived, she would kill him.
The ceremony continued. Though Anna was crying and the guard had to hold her up, she finally said, "I do."
After he kissed Anna, sealing the hell-hated vows, Blackburn told the guard, "Carry my wife back to the keep." Blackburn approached Kristina. "I told you she would agree." He smirked.
"Bastard!"
Snarling, he grasped the front of her bloody bodice, yanked her away from Holme, then threw her against the wall. The back of her head struck the stones. Agonizing pain consuming her, she slid to the floor, and her surroundings vanished.
***
Stirling, Scotland, October 1619
"Kristina, wake up and ready yourself for a journey!"
In her bedchamber, Kristina MacQueen jolted awake. Had she just heard her mother's voice? 'Twas impossible. Her mother had passed many years ago. The voice had been inside her dream. What had Ma meant about a journey? Kristina had not left the vicinity of her aunt and uncle's manor house in many months.
Hearing the faint hoofbeats of many horses galloping in the distance, she sat up and listened. As each moment passed, the horses' hooves pounded closer and closer until they echoed off the cobblestones just outside the window. Her heart thumping and an eerie feeling prickling along her skin, she swung her feet toward the floor and sat on the edge of the bed.
A fis
t battered violently at the home's entrance door below.
"Saints. Who could that be?" she whispered. It had to be the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morn, for she heard no one moving about the house and her room was chilly. The visitor couldn't be the physician calling to treat Uncle Gilbert, who suffered from gout, rheumatism and various other ailments. Nay, he wouldn't bring that many horses with him on a house call. Maybe 'twas the creditors, come to expel them from their home. When her uncle's health had declined, so had his funds.
Could it be news of her older sister? She had not heard from Anna in many months.
Ready yourself for a journey, her mother had said in the dream.
Good heavens! Had someone come for her, to take her to Anna?
Heart hammering, Kristina leapt from the warm bed. Though she couldn't see, she knew the placement of the furniture in her room and could easily navigate the space without bumping into anything. After tiptoeing across the cold wooden floor in her stockings, she approached the door and turned the knob to open it a crack, then listened. The maids were in an uproar on the ground floor below.
"What's the racket?" Aunt Matilda yelled as she tromped by Kristina's chamber and down the stairs. "Who is it?" she demanded near the front door.
"Chief Blackburn MacCromar!" The snarled response was bellowed from outside, just below her window.
A chill of terror and revulsion flashed through Kristina. "Saints, preserve us." She shut the door and barred it, her fingers trembling. She had not been near the malicious bastard in two years. He had finally come for her.
Anxiety and nausea froze her to the spot. What would he do? Would he kill her for a certainty this time?
After Blackburn had sliced Kristina's face and slammed her head against the stone wall, she had not known anything for days. When she'd awakened, she'd been blind and had not seen anything since.
Anna had been the only one there to protect her. If not for her, Blackburn might have easily finished Kristina off in her weakened state.
When Blackburn had left on a trip, she and Anna had run away. After bringing her here to hide with their aunt and uncle, Anna had fled toward Edinburgh, to lure Blackburn away from her, she'd said. What a strong and brave woman her sister was, and how she admired her. Anna had only slipped back a couple of times since, to bring money she'd earned from singing.
Why would her mother, in a dream, expect her to take a journey with such a cruel man as Blackburn?
Had he found Anna?
"Dear God, nay. Please keep Anna safe," she whispered, nausea clutching at her stomach.
Kristina had to be ready for the blackguard. Feeling along the plaster wall, she found her storage chest, the oak wood and the metal studs cold against her palms. Kneeling, she opened it and dug through the scratchy woolen and linen clothing, feeling for the small knife in its leather sheath. Finding it, she strapped it to her thigh above her stocking. She knew the blade was sharp, for she'd whetted it herself.
Was it sacrilege to hope for an opportunity to kill Blackburn? Regardless, she would protect herself and her sister as best she could.
She tied a small linen pouch containing a few supplies, silver coins and her mother's gold and garnet earrings around her waist. The earrings were the last things of her mother's that she possessed. Not wanting to be without them, she either wore them or had them close by at all times. Blackburn had stolen the rest of her mother's jewels, along with the ones Anna's first husband had given her, and sold it all. Kristina would not want him to see these earrings.
Shivering from the chilly room, she struggled to pull on two layers of her warmest clothing over the smock—no easy task, as she was unable to see and had no assistance as she usually did. Once she'd adjusted her clothing into place, she secured the wide leather belt over her arisaid.
Where could Anna be now, all these months later? "Dear God, let her be well," she whispered. "And please forgive me if I have to kill a man to protect myself."
Heavy footfalls pounded up the steps, riveting Kristina's attention. Chills of fear slid along her spine.
"Search this place!" Blackburn ordered.
Doors opened and slammed. Heavy boots thudded back and forth.
Kristina's hands trembled and her stomach knotted as she pulled on her leather boots, then her thick woolen cloak. She found her cane where she'd propped it by the bed. 'Twas long, lightweight and made of pine, not nearly strong enough to use as a weapon. She was wise enough to know she couldn't defeat Blackburn with a stick, but she did need it to get around wherever she went.
"Where is she?" the male voice growled outside her door. "Out of my way, you hag!"
Panic quickened Kristina's breathing and her heart rate. She felt as if she were headed to her own execution… and she might be. The barbaric murderer who had forced Anna to marry him two years ago could easily kill Kristina… but he might suffer a couple of stab wounds in the process.
Though she had not wanted to ever prepare for this day, she had, for she knew Blackburn would never stop searching for Anna… unless he was dead. Unfortunately, no one had killed him yet.
He was obsessed with Anna, wanting to possess her and abuse her in equal measure. But Kristina—he would not give one rotten fig for her. He had merely used her to bend Anna to his will.
Had he not done enough damage to Kristina already? Blindness. A horrid scar down her face. What had she done to him? Naught but try to protect her beloved sister.
A heavy fist pummeled her door. She jumped, then stood firm, facing it. "Dear God, give me strength," she whispered, releasing a breath.
The latch clattered, but the bar held the door securely closed. "Lady Kristina, if you wish to see your sister alive, you will open this door now," Blackburn roared.
She frowned. His words made no logical sense. If he had Anna, he wouldn't be here. Did he take her for a fool?
"I will kill your aunt! Do you hear me, you little witch?"
Aunt Matilda screamed, turning Kristina's blood to ice. Had he grabbed her?
Kristina hastened toward the door. "Leave my aunt be… and everyone else here! Then I'll open the door. Do you promise?"
"Aye."
As if his promise meant anything. She well knew she could not bargain with the devil.
Kristina drew in a deep, calming breath. She would need all the fortitude and courage she possessed to face this brute. "Are you well, aunt?"
"Aye, but don't you dare open that door, Kristina!"
She didn't listen. She unbarred the door, for she wouldn't stand by while this madman killed her aunt, perhaps her ailing uncle, and everyone else in this house.
Kristina pulled the door open by slow degrees, feeling as if she stood before a gaping abyss, vulnerable, only blackness before her. Her heart thundered in her ears so loudly she could hardly hear. But she smelled him. Blackburn MacCromar stank of sweat, horses, and whisky.
"What do you want? Where is my sister?"
He yanked the cane from her hand, and it clattered away. Roughly, he grabbed Kristina, picked her up and tossed her over his bulky shoulder. Pain slammed into her stomach, near knocking the breath from her, even as fear spiked inside her. "Bastard," she gasped.
Her aunt screamed. Then Kristina felt her aunt's weak, arthritic grip on her arm as she tried to pull her from the monster.
"Get back, you old crone!" Blackburn turned about, shook her aunt off, then strode down the corridor.
"I'll be fine, aunt! Don't worry over me," Kristina called, trying to keep her voice steady, though she wanted to sob, her head dangling upside down. She imagined the horror on her aunt's face. "I'll send word when I can."
She heard sobs coming from her aunt and some of the female servants. Blackburn's boots clomped down the steps and along the wood floors, his men's footsteps following, as they exited the front door into the cool night air. The acrid smoke from burning pitch invaded her nostrils, making her cough. The sounds of hissing and popping torch flames reached her next. Hors
es neighed and snorted as he carried her among them. The scents of horses and sweaty men increased. How many men were here?
Chill wind blasted them, carrying away some of the odors and freshening the air.
"She can ride with me," a man said. She remembered that callous voice—Blackburn's second-in-command and war leader, the soulless man who'd held a knife to her throat: Red Holme.
Revulsion gave her a tremor as she recalled the nasty, lust-filled looks he'd given her before she'd lost her sight. He had tried every ploy to lure her to his bed. Disgusted by him and his malevolent aura, she'd spurned his advances.
"I brought a horse for her," Blackburn called to Holme. "Can you stay in the saddle, wench?" He dumped her onto her feet, then his voice became mocking. "Or would you feel safer riding with Holme?"
Toppling sideways against the horse, she grabbed onto the saddle. "I can ride alone." She had not been on a horse since losing her sight, but before that, she'd ridden plenty. Surely she hadn't forgotten how. And she wanted to be as far away from Holme as possible.
"Where is my sister?" she asked, keeping her voice steady and neutral.
"You will find out soon enough. Keep quiet or you'll find yourself gagged." Lifting her, he placed her astride the horse. After she shoved her skirts out of the way, she grabbed hold of the saddle and placed her feet in the stirrups.
"She cannot keep up with our fast pace," Red Holme grumbled.
"Aye, she will. Hold her bridle and keep her beside you, Ralston. I want her alive until we reach our destination."
What did he mean? What was their destination and what would he do to her there?
Within moments, the horses started walking forward, then trotting at a brisk pace. The cold wind stung her cheeks, blowing her cowl off and her hair back. Holding onto the saddle and using her legs to grip the horse, she worked hard to keep her balance, leaning slightly forward over the horse's neck.
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