Ian's Rose
Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens
Suzan Tisdale
TARGE & THISTLE INC
Contents
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Also by Suzan Tisdale
Dedication
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
Epilogue
Prologue to The Bowie Bride
About the Author
Also by Suzan Tisdale
Cover design by Pistolique
Copyright © 2016 Suzan Tisdale
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
ISBN: 978-1-943244-08-9
Acknowledgments
I want to extend a very special thank you to Barb Massabrook and E.M. Thank you for helping me with the Gaelic!
Thank you to Tanya Anne Crosby and Kathryn Le Veque. Without you, I wouldn’t have survived the last two years.
Also by Suzan Tisdale
The Clan MacDougall Series
Laiden’s Daughter
Findley’s Lass
Wee William’s Woman
McKenna’s Honor
The Clan Graham Series
Rowan’s Lady
Frederick’s Queen
The Clan McDunnah Series
A Murmor of Providence
A Whisper of Fate
A Breath of Promise
The Mackintoshes and McLarens Series
Ian’s Rose
The Bowie’s Bride - 2016
Brogan’s Promise - 2017
Moirra’s Heart Series
Stealing Moirra’s Heart
Saving Moirra’s Heart
Isle of the Blessed
For HM Ward’s The Arrangement Series
The King’s Courtesan
The Brides of the Clan MacDougall
(A Sweet Series)
Aishlinn
Maggy (arriving 2017)
Nora (arriving 2017)
Coming Soon:
The Thief’s Daughter
For my warrior princess.
Thank you for helping grandmamma write this book.
1
Scotland, May 1356, The Mackintosh Keep, Northern Highlands of Scotland
Ian Mackintosh had inherited his father’s long and infamous stubborn streak. While that stubborn streak proved a useful skill on the field of battle, it was oft his undoing in other matters. Especially where matters of the heart or his pride were concerned.
Standing in the courtyard next to his older and equally pig-headed brother, Frederick, the two proud — and at times obstinate — men awaited the arrival of long over-due guests. It had been raining almost non-stop for three days and nights, only adding to the somberness of Ian’s mood. Drenched to the bone, sick at heart, he wanted nothing more than to be inside the keep with vast amounts of ale to keep him company.
Torches lined the pathway to the heavy gate and along the upper walls. They sizzled and hissed, fighting valiantly against the steady rain. The flames flickered with the gusting breeze, casting shadows hither and yon. Dancing shadows that at times Ian believed were mocking him.
Whilst Frederick was excited to be awaiting the arrival of his wife’s newly discovered family, Ian was not so exceedingly cheerful. There was much on the young man’s mind. More specifically, there was a woman on his mind. A beautiful woman with hair the color of honey and blue eyes that darkened if she was angry and brightened when filled with delight. Lately, those exquisite eyes were nearly obsidian, filled with sorrow. Sorrow brought on by his behavior.
A woman who consumed nearly every waking thought. A stubborn, confusing, bewildering and beautiful young woman named Rose. And as much as he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, building a future together, it was not meant to be.
Since their return to his family’s lands, he had tried to keep his distance, to stay away from the lovely lass. They had met more than a year ago, when his foolish brother had agreed to marry a young woman he’d met only once. Frederick had offered for her hand within an hour of their first meeting. Ian had done his level best to talk his brother out of it, especially after they had seen Aggie McLaren’s keep for the first time, then again after meeting her father, Mermadak McLaren — may his soul now be burning in the bowels of hell for eternity.
Somehow, the young woman had won Frederick’s heart, as well as every member of their family’s, including Ian’s. In retrospect, Ian’s first impression of Aggie McLaren had been wrong and he could say without hesitation that she was the best thing that had ever happened to his brother.
Rose was Aggie’s dearest friend. The two women had gone through much heartache and hell together.
He and Rose had formed a deep friendship during their time at the McLaren keep, a friendship that grew into something he had not expected. He loved her, and that alone scared the bloody hell out of him. Though he knew she felt the same toward him, had even accepted his proposal of marriage months ago, he felt wholly unworthy of her love. He believed she deserved far better than what he could offer, which was, at the moment, nothing at all. ’Twas why he had broken their secret troth. He had nothing to give her but a lifetime of poverty and: She deserved better.
“Could ye at least pretend excitement, brother?” Frederick asked as he frowned at Ian.
Ian’s forced smile made Frederick chuckle. “Why do ye no’ just go ask fer Rose’s hand and be done with it?”
Ian’s smile evaporated in an instant. His brother could not possibly understand his fear or hesitance. Aye, he’d asked for her hand before they had come here and she had happily agreed.
But when they’d arrived on the safe and hallowed lands of his family, he began to realize several things. One, he had no way to support a wife, not on a warrior’s wages. And that was all he was good for: swinging a sword, battles, defending his homeland and his people. Two, there was no way he could give her anything but heartache. He’d not be able to give her lovely dresses such as those Frederick gave his own wife. There’d be no fancy slippers or baubles or fine linens and silks for the woman he loved more than life itself. Nay, he could give her nothing and that was the cold, hard truth.
He could not give her anything other than love.
And sometimes, love simply wasn’t enough.
He would, however, love her until the day he died. There would be no other woman. No one would ever be able to take her place. ’Twas both the easiest and most difficult decision Ian Mackintosh had
ever made. But Rose hadn’t seen it that way. She felt betrayed, more than let down, and he could not rightly blame her. But in the end, he knew he had made the right decision. Even if it had left him feeling empty and miserable and as broken as a bit of fine glass thrown against a piece of granite.
As he brooded silently, hating the rain, the night, and for the lot life had given him, a rider approached the gates. The lad bore news that Aggie’s family was several hours away, delayed by the God-awful rain. Frederick was disappointed. Ian was relieved. Now he could go and skulk and drink his misery away.
“I shall go tell Aggie the news,” Frederick said. “And da and mum and everyone else who awaits them indoors.”
Ian shrugged his shoulders, truly not caring about anyone or anything at the moment.
“What the bloody hell is wrong with ye, Ian?” Frederick demanded as they headed into the keep.
Standing in the narrow entryway, they left puddles of water on the stone floor as they shrugged out of their sodden cloaks.
“Ye’ve been in a piss poor mood fer weeks now,” Frederick pointed out. “If ye can no’ find yerself in better spirits before Aggie’s family arrives, I’d appreciate it if ye’d stay away from everyone.”
“’Twill be me pleasure,” Ian said as he bounded down the steps and disappeared from sight.
Frederick stared after him for a long while. Mayhap if Ian will no’ tell me what is the matter, Rose will.
* * *
’Twas easy enough to locate Rose. As soon as Frederick walked through the door to the bedchamber he shared with his wife Aggie, he regretted his decision to seek her out. The two women sat side by side on the bed and both had been crying. It took no great mental acumen to realize his brother Ian was the source of their tears. His assumption was immediately verified by the angry glare his wife shot at him.
“Yer brother is a c-cad!” Aggie informed him as if he hadn’t been aware of that fact for most of his life. “He’s b-broken p-poor Rose’s heart!”
Frederick’s anger began to flame brightly. Not at his wife, but at his brother. Aggie had suffered for years with a speech impediment, a very profound stutter that he had thought she had all but overcome. The only time it was noticeable was when she was terrified or upset. I’m going to kill him, he thought to himself, fer upsettin’ me wife.
“Aggie,” Rose sniffled, “I asked ye no’ to tell anyone!”
Aggie gave her a reassuring hug. “Aye, but I d-did no’ promise I wouldn’t.”
Frederick took in a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever his wife was about to say. Instinct told him this was no typical lover’s quarrel, but a real and profound heartache. One that his wife felt almost as deeply as Rose.
“What did he do?”
Rose blew her nose into a bit of linen, unable to speak. Aggie took it upon herself to inform her husband of his brother’s cowardice. “Did ye k-ken he had asked f-fer Rose’s hand?”
“Nay, I did no’,” he said.
“He did,” Aggie said as she wiped her own tears away with her fingertips. “When ye were all still b-back on M-McLaren lands. They were t-to marry when ye returned.”
Nay, he was not going to like this at all.
“Two weeks ago, he came to her and broke the troth! And he would no’ give a good reason why!” She’d gone from being hurt to being angry. He could handle an angry wife, but not one who’d been hurt.
“Did he give any reason at all?” he asked.
“Nay, the coward did no’! He simply told her ’twas better fer Rose if they parted ways. Can ye believe he’d do such a thing?”
Letting loose a heavy sigh, he shook his head. “Nay, I can no’ believe such a thing. Ian has never broken his word, at least no’ that I be aware of.”
Rose looked up at him, the anguish in her heart evidenced in her eyes. “One day, we were verra happy and the next, he tells me he can no’ marry me.” She sniffled again and dabbed at her eyes. “I do no’ ken what I did.”
“Ye did no’ do a thing,” Aggie assured her. “The fault lies entirely with that c-coward, that c-cad he calls brother.”
He wasn’t necessarily sure why his wife was behaving as though his brother’s behavior was his fault, but he wasn’t up to arguing that point. He was cold, soaked to the bone, and tired. “I be terribly sorry fer what Ian has done, Rose. I shall do me best to make it right. I will no’ make ye any false promises, but I will do me best to find out what he’s thinkin’ inside that thick skull of his.”
Rose let loose a very unladylike moan. “Do no’ bother. ’Twill do neither of us any good. He simply does no’ love me anymore.”
“He’s an arse,” Aggie offered by way of consolation.
Frederick couldn’t necessarily disagree with her appraisal of his younger brother.
“Why would he do such a thing?” Aggie asked, looking into her husband’s eyes as if she might find some answer within them.
“I do no’ ken, love. I simply do no’ ken.” If he did, he’d certainly rectify the situation at once. For now, he had to move on to more pressing matters. “Aggie, we’ve received word on Douglas. His arrival has been delayed by the rain.”
Her shoulders sagged in disappointment. The wait for the arrival of the man who had fathered her, a man she’d never met, was maddening. Tears of worry filled her gold-brown eyes. He went to her, bent down on one knee and took her hand in his. They had spent most of last night discussing Douglas Carruthers’ impending arrival. She worried and fretted he would not like her any more than Mermadak, the man who had raised her, had. Frederick knew nothing could be further from the truth. “Do no’ fash yerself over it, sweeting. He’ll love ye, of that I am certain.”
“Thank ye, husband.” She smiled at him. “But what are we to do about Rose and yer arse of a brother?”
He chuckled at her tenacity. “I do no’ ken, but I’ll think of somethin’.”
2
Dawn came and went, and still no sign of Douglas Carruthers. Thankfully, the rain had finally lifted as the gray skies moved south. By mid morning, the sun had chased away the fog, leaving the earth to look as though fairies had bejeweled the grass and trees with tiny diamonds. Frederick assured his wife that all was well before kissing her goodbye with the promise to keep her apprised of any word from the Carruthers.
Aggie paced nervously about her chamber, her mind racing from one worry to the next as she absentmindedly chewed on her thumbnail. Her real father, a man she had not known existed until very recently, was due to ride through the gates of the Mackintosh keep at any moment. While she was curious to meet him and see for herself why her mother had fallen in love with him, she still fretted over what he was going to think of her.
No matter what her husband believed or how hard he tried to convince her there was no need to worry, she could not help but worry. Would he be disappointed in what he had sired? Was he visiting only to inform her he had moved on with his life and had no desire to have her in it?
As far as she was concerned, it did not matter at all that he had at one time loved her mother. That was twenty years ago. People can change over time; that she knew with certainty.
For days now, she had tried to convince herself that his opinion of her — good, bad, or indifferent — would not matter. She was married to the best of men, with two beautiful children she adored, and a good life that a year ago she’d not have thought possible. Compared to that, Douglas Carruthers’ view was not important. All that mattered was Frederick, their children, and the life they were building together.
’Twas a feeble lie at best. In truth, she wanted the man to like her, to look upon her with a kind father’s fondness and adoration. She wanted everything Mermadak McLaren had never given her. He’d never had a kind word to say to Aggie and his displeasure with her only increased a thousandfold after her mother’s death.
According to her mother’s journals — another recent discovery — the Carruthers was everything Mermadak wasn’t. Kind, generous,
with a strong sense of honor. They’d loved one another beyond measure even though her mother had been married to Mermadak at the time. ’Twas enough to make Aggie’s head hurt when she thought about it.
And there was the matter of Rose and Ian. The cur had the audacity to break her best friend’s heart by breaking a promise, a vow. Of all the men she had known in her life, next to Frederick, Ian would have been the last person she thought would break his word. Least of all to Rose, who he professed to love above all else. ‘Twas an unjust deed and Rose deserved far better.
So much was happening and it seemed ’twas all taking place at once.
Still, there was much to be thankful for. Such as her children, the youngest of whom was now happily feeding at the breast of her wet-nurse, Rebeca Mackintosh. Aggie felt she owed a lifetime of gratitude to the woman who had selflessly volunteered to feed Ada when Aggie had been so dreadfully ill and nearly died. It hadn’t taken long for the two women to become friends.
“Yer goin’ to wear a hole in the floor,” Rebeca told her as she smiled adoringly at the babe. “Besides, yer makin’ me tired watchin’ ye go back and forth and back and forth.”
Aggie ignored her and continued pacing. ’Twas impossible to sit still, to focus on any one task, not with her mind working on what she would say to Douglas Carruthers.
Rebeca let loose a heavy breath. “Come take yer daughter,” she said with a smile. “’Twill keep yer hands and mind busy.”
Whenever Aggie held Ada, every worry and dread evaporated in an instant. Such a beautiful, sweet babe, with ginger hair and bright blue eyes. “She is growing well?” Aggie asked for reassurance as she took the babe into her arms.
“Aye, I believe so,” Rebeca replied with an affectionate smile. “She be strong and hearty, considerin’ how she came into this world.”
Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 1
