Her Highlander's Heartl (Highlanders 0f Cadney Book 2)

by Fiona Faris

  Her Highlander’s Heart

  Love for her brother, his love of his clan brings them together to defend against a common enemy…

  Fiona Faris

  Contents

  Thank you

  About the book

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Afterword

  Do you want more Romance?

  Her Highland Secret

  Never miss a thing

  Thank you

  About the Author

  Thank you

  I want to personally thank you for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me. It’s a blessing to have the opportunity to share with you, my passion for writing, through my stories.

  As a gift, I am giving you a link to my first novel. It has more than 160 reviews, with an average rating of 4.4 out of 5

  It is called “A Maid for the Grieving Highlander”, and you can get it for FREE.

  Please note that this story is only available for YOU as a subscriber and hasn't been published anywhere else.

  Please click on the cover to download the book

  About the book

  Love for her brother, his love of his clan brings them together to defend against a common enemy

  Milly would do anything to save her brother, even get married to the man who had rejected her. Walking into MacKenzie Castle, little did she know she would be walking into a desperate marriage proposal from the one man she hated above all others. There was no way she would marry Nathan MacKenzie, unless he agreed to do something for her first…

  Nathan MacKenzie was not supposed to be Laird. He didn’t want it, but when his father is killed in a Jacobite uprising, Nathan is thrust into a role he was not prepared to take.

  Without a wife, Nathan runs the risk of being cast out and the lairdship to fall into the hands of his greedy cousin Elias MacKenzie.

  Nathan would have to find a wife and soon, or Elias would stake his claim and destroy their clan forever...

  * * *

  Prologue

  Late August, 1689. Dunkeld, Scotland

  The crush of men clamoring down the cobblestone slowed Gavin down. His father had rushed ahead, the old fool. They were Highlanders not used to battle in town. His strategies worked best in the open fields and light forests of their homeland. He raced forward, dodging fence posts and hay bales, losing sight of both the old man and his brother, Lucas, in the massive movement of men. Always wanting to be at the center of the action, Gavin knew he couldn’t dissuade his father, but he at least hoped to keep up with him to help protect him and to fight alongside him. Everywhere around him men fell, crying out in pain and rage. The Battle of Dunkeld was well underway and as far as Gavin could tell, they were losing.

  Gavin could feel it in his bones. The battle would soon be over. In order to survive, the Scots would need to retreat and retrench. The English snakes would hold the town. The Kirk was at the center of the battle where the English commanders kept their watch. Wised up beyond his twenty- two years in the art of battle, Gavin knew he had to cut the head off the snake in order to end the battle. He also knew that the church is where his father would be headed.

  “Gavin! Where ye at!?” He turned to see his clansman, Thomas Graham, running through a throng of men headed in the opposite direction to meet him.

  “Tis no place for ye, Thomas!” he shouted. “Go on! Head back to the men! Save yer hide!”

  “I’ll not leave ye tae go intae the Kirk on yer own, Gav.” He knew he couldn’t force his friend back, but he cursed the lad’s foolishness. He had no reason to join Gavin in the search for his father.

  “Stay back and when I give ye th’ order tae run, do it!” he snapped. He couldn’t see his father anywhere, but noticed in the distance the tall, familiar muscular build and dark black hair of neighboring clansman and good friend of his da, Laird Hammish MacKenzie. Another foolish old man. Both Hammish and his da should be enjoying their waning years; sitting at the heads of their clans drinking fine ale and whisky, awaiting young grandchildren to bounce at their knees. Not as they were, out here fighting like mad men for a lost Jacobite cause. The English held the crown and Gavin knew it was only a matter of time before their Highland way of life was changed for good. He swung his broad sword wide, taking out two English soldiers running toward he and Thomas, killing with ease. The only purpose the English soldiers serving currently was to slow him down as he headed toward Hammish.

  The crowd behind them began to thin, and the smells of death and blood began to ebb. As he drew closer to the church, he saw Hammish was surrounded by at least ten English soldiers, swords drawn. He was a grand warrior, but even Gavin knew ten against one were bad odds. He increased his pace. Another haggard soldier ran at him, slowing him down and Gavin groaned.

  “Come on, man, th’ fight is over! Ye won, ye bastard!” Gavin growled as he knocked the man on the head with the hilt of his sword, temporarily losing sight of Hammish. If he couldn’t help his own da in the fight, the least he could do was help Hammish. Between himself and Thomas, they should be able to fight ten men off.

  He rounded the corner coming the church yard, Thomas tightly on his heels. Both men stopping short to avoid colliding with the wooden fence that separated them from Hammish. For a brief moment relief washed over Gavin. Coming out of the Kirk was the unmistakable lanky, tall form of Elias MacKenzie, the Laird’s nephew. At least Hammish had kin closer than Gavin able to help in the fight. But before the thought completed he watched in horror as Elias took a small metal pistol from under his plaid, aiming it right at the back of his uncle’s head.

  “Noooooo…” Gavin let out a long scream, hopping over the fence to try his best to stop Elias, unable to think what the man was doing. In the haze of the fight, Elias must have mistook his uncle for English. A shot rang out, and Gavin saw Hammish slump forward and fall to the ground. The ball went too fast and was at too close a range for the old man to have survived it.

  “What th’ devil…” he heard Thomas mutter behind him. Realization dawned on Gavin as Elias met his eyes. A glimmer of something vicious passed through the Mackenzie man’s gaze. There was no mistake, Elias was a traitor and now a murderer of his own kin. Turning quickly to Thomas, Gavin had just enough time to yell, “RUN!” and watch as the lad hopped back over the fence before he heard Elias yell, “Seize him, but DO NOT KILL HIM!”

  Gavin fought hard, trying desperately to give Thomas enough time to escape. He may go down, but he would die giving his clansman as much room as possible to get away. Arms and legs kicking and pullin
g at his body from all directions caused him to lose footing and fall to the ground. Somehow in the melee he had lost his sword, the shock of what he had just witnessed, giving Elias and the English soldiers the upper hand, to much for him to bear. If Thomas were lucky, Elias, the fool traitor, would have only seen Gavin, and the lad would have enough of a lead to get back to Lucas or Magnus, or any part of the line away from the Kirk. His vision blurred, and Gavin knew he wasn’t going to be able to remain awake for much longer against the onslaught. He threw out a punch, his knuckles hitting hard English armor, pain radiating up his arm.

  “Knock the bastard out!” he heard Elias yell. What th’ devil was right, was the last thought Gavin MacGille had before everything went black.

  Chapter One

  January 1690, Cadney, Scotland

  Milly watched the snow out of her chamber window. It gently fell outside the keep walls onto the soft meadow below. Everything was so peaceful and silent she swore she could hear each flake as it hit the ground. Wrapping her cloak tightly around herself, she willed her mind to go blank, thinking of nothing and everything all at once. She had almost achieved the peace she sought when the door to her chamber opened violently and her maid Violet came crashing in, clearly distraught.

  “The MacKenzie willnae give Thomas back, Milly. He is a mean, nasty Laird,” Violet sobbed, her head dramatically hitting the pillow of Milly’s bed. Milly’s peaceful reflection now broken. She stood and moved over to the bed in an effort to try and to soothe the girl.

  “Violet, but there must be some misunderstanding,” she cooed to the crying woman, draped across her bed linens. “The old Laird is a kindly man. He would never keep Thomas against his will.” Milly could not believe the audacity of the MacKenzie.

  “If he is so kindly, as ye say, why have we not heard back?” It was a fair point. She had written over a month ago asking for the release of her clansman Thomas Graham. She received no response. Violet’s despair was growing worse and worse with each passing day. She hated to see her friend in such sadness. “We’ll never be married. He’ll be kept in that blasted dungeon for all time. Och, he must be so cold and alone. Milly…it’s…it’s just wretched! We must get him out, Milly. We must!”

  Milly tried to think. Violet was right. It wouldn’t do at all to keep waiting, idle, no response from the Laird. She certainly didn’t understand why he had not responded. She couldn’t help but think of her own brother, Gavin. He and Thomas had been great friends before Gavin disappeared during the Battle of Dunkeld. Gavin would want Milly to help Thomas in any way she could. Was a mere letter enough? Now, Thomas sat rotting in a dungeon. Well, rotting might be a strong word. He had only been in the dungeon for a few weeks. Still, such a harsh punishment for an ally was out of character for the old man. A MacKenzie would have never locked up a MacGille without good reason and first going through her older brother, Lucas, Laird of the MacGille clan. There would have been council meetings and treaties. “It just doesn’t make any sense!”

  “Claire Tavish told Lolly Gash in our kitchens that Edina told the Laird that Thomas made a suggestion toward her in the kitchens that was compromising. The Laird would not stand for the women under his protection to be used in such a way, but ye ken Edina was a mad woman and a liar. None of it about Thomas is true. Not a word!” Violet’s words came out in a huffed rush. Milly could barely keep up. Of course, it wasn’t true. Och, Edina that evil witch still making trouble, even from the grave. At least now they knew why Thomas had been sent to the dungeon. He wouldn’t have even been in the witch’s line of sight had he not been sent by Lucas in an effort to keep an eye on a wretched clanswoman who had tried to kill his bride.

  Violet’s ramblings gave Milly a touch more information than they’d had when they’d first heard of the lad’s plight. She could always count on kitchen maids to learn everything about the inner workings of a keep. Knowing Edina as she did, the woman would have said anything to get rid of her guards. What Milly couldn’t figure out was why would the Laird believe her. Surely Lucas or Magnus explained the situation fully? And Edina was long dead. Why then still keep Thomas in chains? It really didn’t make any sense. Were Gavin here, he would have not wasted a moment worrying about what to do. He would’ve saddled a horse and ridden for the MacKenzie keep post haste.

  “Violet, dear, please dinnae fash,” Milly said, determination etched across her brow. “We’ll gae tae the MacKenzie keep and I’ll speak with the old Laird. He always had a soft spot for me when I was a wee lass, I’m sure he will give Thomas back.”

  Violet jumped up from the bed, embracing Milly so violently that both women fell to the ground. “Oh, bless ye! Ye are truly so kind. I cannae thank ye enough!” Milly was winded from the fall but couldn’t help but smile at her friend. At least a trip to the MacKenzie keep would help keep Milly’s mind occupied. She had been so consumed as of late of thoughts of her missing twin brother. Helping Violet and Thomas would be a welcomed distraction.

  “Now, go pack our things, we’ll leave right away… before this snow turns into a blizzard!”

  * * *

  The cold winter air burned Nathan’s lungs as he rode through the familiar landscape. Snow flurried down around him, gathering in light tufts on his horse’s mane. He had been gone too long, and his body wasn’t used to being assaulted by the iced chill of the December Scottish air. He couldn’t wait to see his father and tell him of his latest bounty. The Laird of MacKenzie loved hearing about insolent, idiotic criminals. Nathan had shared many a late night with his da over a fine whisky, making the old man laugh about one scrape or another Nathan had gotten into with a bandit. This last trip had taken him all the way to the South of France. Being gone from MacKenzie lands even for a year, let alone the three he had been away, was too much for any Highland man to bear. Especially Nathan. He relished adventure, but more than that he needed the thistle and heather of the mountains of his home. He craved the crystal-ice cold of Cadney Loch. In winter, the snow that blanketed the soft rising meadow that led to where MacKenzie lands took over from their neighboring clan, the MacGilles in a white sheath that made Nathan think it must be what heaven looked like. No matter where his adventures took him, Nathan always found himself longing for home. There was nowhere in the world with the same pull on his heart.

  Looking at the gates to the castle as he broke through the meadow, he was surprised to see no guard towers lit. The banners that usually waved even throughout the long winter nights were also missing. Something was wrong. Spurring his horse to speed up, he rode faster, entering the keep. It had been years since any guards were stationed at the tower, no current disagreements between clans making it necessary, but his father still made a habit of leaving the towers lit.

  Leaving his horse tied to a post in the stable, close to hay and water, he patted the steed gently on its muzzle. “I’ll be back for ye, beastie. Once I see that all is well inside.” The steam rising from the horse’s deep whine wet Nathan’s cheeks, the droplets immediately turning to ice on his chapped skin.

  He entered the castle through the main hall. Tables lined the stone floors in neat rows leading up to the high table where he and his family sat for all clan meals and meetings. The blue, red and yellow of the MacKenzie plaid still hung behind his father’s chair. All was quiet and nothing looked changed since he was last home. Candles burned down past half-way, indicating hours had passed since the evening meal. Maybe Nathan was wrong, maybe everything was well. It could simply be the cold winter air prevented his da from having the tower candles lit. Perhaps in an effort to conserve resources for the upcoming colder months. But Nathan still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not quite right.

  He made his way to the council room. That is where he would find the answers he needed. His father spent many long nights in the room going over clan treaties and other necessary business of the Laird. It held no interest for Nathan. He loved his clan, and he loved his family, but he had no desire to be Laird. Knowing his da
was young, and full of fight, he had time before the role would be thrust upon him.

  The council room was behind the main hall of the keep. The room was small, and Nathan had always liked the cozy feel of it. It reminded him more of a study, or a library, than the large, hollow great council rooms of other, larger clans. There was a roaring fire in the small hearth. Books and ledgers lined the wall. A brilliant red and blue carpet covered the cold stone floor, a source of pride for Nathan. It was a gift he had brought his father. He had the rug made in Edinburgh, by a Turkish merchant in exchange for information about a young lowland lass who had stolen the immigrant’s gold and tried to make her way back north for safe harbor. He walked across the rug toward his father’s large wooden desk. Interesting, Da wouldnae keep such a disorganized mess, Nathan thought as he thumbed through the stack of papers, haphazardly strewn about.