The Highlander's Enigmatic Bride
A Scottish Historical Romance Novel
Lydia Kendall
Edited by
Maggie Berry
Contents
A Little Gift for You
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
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Falling for the Highlander
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Also by Lydia Kendall
About the Author
A Little Gift for You
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you, called Falling for the Highlander. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping the image below or this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
Lydia Kendall
About the Book
When Isabel Brown, the famous Duke of Gordon’s only daughter, loses her beloved brother in an ambush set up by the notorious clan Maccallion, the course of her entire life changes brutally.
Setting out on the riskiest journey for the sole purpose of seeking revenge for her brother’s death, she gets imprisoned by the fearsome but exquisitely handsome Laird of clan Maccallion.
Edan Maccallion, unaware of his captive’s mysterious identity, falls under the spell of her breathtaking beauty, never predicting that the price of his infatuation will be too high.
As Isabel’s adventure in captivity reveals the true culprit, everyone’s fates end up hanging by a thread, risking not only immediate peril but a bloody war.
Chapter 1
1783, England
They said, “James, you’re a bloody fool for befriending the Scots.”
They said, “Any Englishman knows you can’t trust them buggers.”
The townsfolk concurred: their fallen hero —loved and adored by all who knew him — had been betrayed.
“I heard he saved the life of that dreadful Edan.”
“And he never saw it coming.”
“How could he know the very life he saved would be the hand to end his.”
"May the Good Lord bless his soul, and may He be with the Browns who bear this pain."
And now, the Duke of Gordon watched his son’s body being lowered in the ground. His one remaining eye filled with salty tears he kept hidden from the mourners. His daughter, Isabel placed her hand gently on his arm.
“I know, father,” she hushed so no one would hear.
He placed his large, soft hand on top of hers and gave a squeeze.
One by one the black-clad attendees drifted to their homes before the English spring rains began to fall. But for Isabel and her father, the gloom was setting in.
James, his father, and his Uncle Ezra had been traveling the highlands. They were crossing their territory and found themselves ambushed by the Clan Mccallion. It was bad enough for him to lose his eye in the melee, but to lose his son was too great a price to pay. The Duke of Gordon was returning home — a broken man — to bury his son. Ezra tried to recount the story but found himself overcome with emotion and unable to finish the tale.
Isabel Brown will never forgive this heinous act of violence — and she will never forget! This was to be a one woman’s WAR against the clan Mccallion.
Upon returning to the grand house, Isabel entered her chambers with a stern determination to remain strong for her father. Although the sadness nearly broke her, she was stoic. She would be strong and brave. She missed James already; after all, he had been more than a brother to her. He had been a dear friend. Their childhood was punctuated by the knowledge of the battles fought with the Jacobites, but ultimately, they had been happy.
“My lady, begging your pardon, but may I help you dress for dinner?” Her servant, Charlotte, offered. Isabel couldn’t think of eating when she felt such pain. Yet, she knew she would be expected at the grieving table where her father and uncle would dine with friends and extended family in mourning.
“Indeed, I suppose I must.” From her rained-on funeral gown and into a fresh cascade of black taffeta, Isabel emerged. She glanced in the looking-glass at her reflection. The black was a stark contrast to her white blonde hair, now pulled back into a bun to hide beneath more black fabric, and her green eyes shown from her pale face. She looked too thin in her grief, yet the eyes of her brother still shone back at her. Despite his large frame and his father’s masculine nose and chin, people always knew they were siblings by the eyes they had received from their mother before her early death, which came before Isabel’s memories began.
“I do hope that I am not speaking out of turn, miss, but I wish to tell you that I am deeply sorry for the loss of your brother. I have offered my prayers on your behalf. Master James was a good man, very kind. I have asked the Lord to keep you comforted,” Charlotte said bravely, yet with a respectful timidity.
“Thank you, Charlotte. Your words do, indeed, bring comfort. James was a kind soul and I shall miss him greatly. Thank you,” Isabel replied, choking back her tears.
Isabel’s internal dialogue was that of a darker desire than merely finding comfort. Her need was for vengeance. That the Mccallion Clan would brutalize her family so, merely for the money, was dreadful to consider. Yet something inside of her knew that there was more to this raid than greed.
Mccallion villains, she thought. James should never have trusted Edan. This was surely his own doing. And for that, he is going to pay.
In times past, the Mccallion Clan had been robbers and thieves, but never murderers. They planned this. She had heard that Edan was not yet Laird, but he would soon be, and he surely had great authority in the clan already. He had betrayed his friend, Isabel was certain of it. She knew not why, but it had to have been so. Nothing else made sense.
“Charlotte,” Isabel broke the silence as her servant fluffed the gown where the hem touched the floor.
“Yes, my lady?”
“I need to get away for a time. To clear my head. I am thinking to ask my father to allow me a short journey. Perhaps we will leave tomorrow or the following day. Ple
ase be ready for whatever his response,” Isabel was slowly formulating the plan as she spoke. Usually, she would plan ahead, but she had not planned for her brother’s murder, and now she would find the steps along the way.
“As you wish, my lady,” Charlotte agreed, ignoring the internal dread of a long journey when the rains were sure to come pouring during the week.
Dinner approached, and Isabel descended the long, curving staircase. Candles lit the interior of the grand home as darkness laid hold of the skies beyond the walls. She reached the lower floor and entered into the dining hall where her father sat at the head of the table. A glass filled to the brim with wine was held in his hand. Isabel saw the way he swayed slightly and his one eye shone as glass, and knew that it must not be his first.
To the left of the Duke, his brother Ezra sat firmly, looking on him with compassion. A number of lords and ladies filled the other spaces, and Isabel sat in her usual chair. Only one seat remained unoccupied. To the right of her father, the space belonging to James was a lonely reminder of their pain.
Rapidly raising, and subsequently spilling, his glass of wine, the Duke of Gordon gargled, “To my son!” The portion that had remained in the glass was chugged in one go and what had spilled before dripped into his sleeve.
Throughout the dinner, the same toast was made numerous times. Each time, the red stain on the Duke’s sleeve grew from the extra splashes. The dinner party was awkward and uncomfortable, and Isabel knew that her father being drunk beyond his wits might be just what she needed to sneak out.
Indeed, once the guests departed, she walked her father to his room where his attendants were waiting to change him for bed.
She stopped just outside his door. “Father?” she asked. “I wanted to ask you if I might be allowed to travel with Charlotte to clear my head? I would wish to leave in the morning, and I shall return three days hence.” Her heart beat quickly at the lie. She knew that in his right mind, her father would never let her go. Especially now that he had lost his beloved son, the idea of Isabel leaving seemed too great a risk.
“Yes, yes, my dear. Anything you wish is yours,” he mumbled sluggishly under his breath.
“Thank you, father. You are most kind. Now I shall help you get to your attendants.” She handed him off to one of the men waiting to ready him for bed.
“Do you think that is wise, niece? Do you think yourself clever for taking such advantage of his drunken pain? Your father shall have a fit in the morning if you be gone. Yet, I think you know this and merely have no care as such. What selfishness you must possess to be so careless in this season!” Ezra bellowed in the hallway.
Feigning intense fear at the accusations, Isabel lied, “Uncle, you do not understand. It is not at all what you assume. I assure you, I simply wish to go south and clear my head. You misunderstand, truly.”
“Do not toy with me, girl. I will not believe you, but I will allow your father to make his own judgment in the morning. You had better pray that the Lord will go before you,” he said harshly. His eyes betrayed nothing. He did not wish for her safety, only a harsh penance for her disloyalty to her father in asking him while he was witless.
“You need not believe me. My father is the duke, and he has permitted me to go. I follow his authority, not yours. I will return in three days as promised,” Isabel said confidently. She turned to leave, giving her uncle her back.
Once she reached her bedchambers, she saw that her hands were shaking. She tried to steady them, but they would not. The cold from the funeral rains still chilled her, even more so the coldness in Ezra’s eyes.
“Charlotte,” she called. “Ready a hot bath for me. And pack warm clothes for us both. We shall be departing early tomorrow. Before sunrise. Alert the stable boy, we need a horse cart and a driver.”
“As you wish, my lady,” Charlotte was in for a very busy evening. She stoked the fire before preparing the bath. While Isabel bathed, she informed the stable boy of their need and returned to pack a few gowns and blankets for the proposed three-day journey.
In the bathing room, Isabel stepped out of the tub after washing and analyzed her body in the long, mirrored walls. She was quite thin, but her years had developed an ample bosom and rounded hips, accentuated by the corsets she wore. At one point in the evening she had considered disguising herself as a man for the journey and remain unrecognized and perhaps appear as a better adversary for Edan, but she knew that her figure would never allow for such a falsehood to pass.
She dried herself and Charlotte assisted her in dressing for bed, and then left the room. The moment she blew out the candle, she smiled and whispered a promise.
Tonight, I rest. Tomorrow I will set out for revenge! May God have mercy on any one who stands in my way!
Chapter 2
Edan sat quietly considering the events of the previous week. His dearest friend – a man for whom he would die – murdered by his own clan. Days later, he was officially declared Laird of the Clan Mccallion. His mother appeared for the ceremony – one of the first times he had seen her leave her bedchambers since the death of his father over a year ago. It had been an overwhelming six days, to be sure.
“Ye dinnae look overly thrilled to be honest, me Laird,” Caitriona said, stressing her brother’s new title. She knew he was in shock and grief and confusion while also being thrust into power and authority over the whole clan.
Edan sighed. “Aye, I’m thrilled. But ye ken this is a lot for a few days.”
“Dinnae worry, ye Titan. Uncle Callum has trained ye well and it isnae like ye’ve got to solve all our problems in a fortnight. I’m certain they’ll give ye at least a month to fix it all,” she teased. Caitriona knew her teasing held sway over her brother’s moods. No amount of distress or anguish of his could stand against the teasing of his sister. She was barely a year younger than he, but most of the time, he felt that she was the one caring for him and not the other way around.
He gave a laugh, but the gloom quickly returned. “I ken it’s true, he has taught me well, but I cannae help wishing it were Faither who’d trained me.
Or that I didnae become a Laird in the first place, he thought to himself. An honor it is to be sure, but not like this. Not when I have to decide between the death of me friend and the safety of me clan. Nobody warned me about this.
“Ye’d be foolish to wish anything otherwise,” she replied gently. “But … It seems that this be the card ye were dealt and ye’d best accept it and be the Laird we want ye to be. My big brother, Laird of the Mccallion Clan, Ruler of the Highlands, a Man Among Men!” she burst with enthusiasm. Again, he found himself powerless to her joy.
“Ye are the most annoying sister that ever stepped in a tartan,” he joked.
“Aye, it seems likely,” she replied. “Now, come me Laird, join me in yer kingdom, yer subjects await.” Caitriona pulled his hand so that Edan would have to stand and follow her. She was small, but sturdy, with a stout frame and dark hair like their mother’s. Edan had the burgundy shade that had once belonged to his father. Like both their parents, they each had light blue eyes, with the big and round shape of their mother’s.
“Ye are quite the brute,” Edan commented on her strength.
“And I’ll be taking that as a near and dear compliment. I think I’ll be a warrior, maybe even the next Laird. I can chop me hair right off,” she replied. Then adding in hushed tones, “I can even stuff something into a pair of trousers, and everyone will believe I’ve got bullocks as big as yers!”
“One of these days, ye’ll have to start watching that mouth of yers. Ye dinnae have any bullocks, but yer mouth sure makes up for the lack. And it’s certainly bigger than the junk I’ve seen on any bull,” he teased back.
“Aye, it is rather large. But I havenae any intention of marrying soon so I dinnae ken why I’d need to change it now. I’ll be a girl later. I’ll parade me bosoms like that old hag Morvan and her daughter Lorna! Have ye seen the rack that mother passed to daughter? I could s
uckle the whole of the island had I those beasts,” she added crassly.
“Will ye please, for heaven’s sake, calm yer tongue?” he nearly begged.
“I’ll calm me tongue when ye aren’t looking so knackered and miserable. I say it all to shock ye and it does the trick, dinnae deny it,” she justified with a twinge of seriousness. Deep down, Caitriona was truly worried for her brother. His sadness had grown great since the death of his dear friend at the hands of his own clansmen.
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