The Forbidden Bride (Lions of the Black Isle Book 3)

by Tarah Scott

  The Forbidden Bride

  Book Three

  Lions of the Black Isle

  Sue-Ellen Welfonder & Tarah Scott

  USA Today and Bestselling Authors

  A Drakon Press Half Hour Read

  The Forbidden Bride: Book Three Lions of the Black Isles

  Copyright © 2017 by Tarah Scott and Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: R Jackson Designs

  Cover Art: Period Images

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  From the Authors

  The Wicked Bride

  The Edge of Yesterday

  About the Authors

  Dedication

  For the bold and daring … You inspire us.

  Chapter One

  A wise man knows duty counts for little in affairs of the heart.

  Connor never believed himself to be an ogre. Then his bride began to cry.

  “Merciful God, save me…” The lass pleaded over and over as her father shoved her into place beside him on the steps of Kernwith Castle’s chapel.

  Connor no more wanted to marry her than she did him, but their families had allied to secure the Munro and Allison borders. Not to mention, her wealth would fill his family’s rattling coffers. Love alone could do neither, however sweetly the bards sang of its glory.

  “Ye cannae force me to marry you,” she wailed.

  “Shush, lady,” Connor whispered. “I willnae touch ye this night. I’ll leave you be so long as it suits ye.”

  A hiccup and fresh flood of tears answered him.

  Father John, cleared his throat. “As God brings us together, here before the good people of Clan Munro and Clan Allison, let us rejoice in the sacred union of Lady Joan Allison and—”

  Lady Joan swooned. Connor caught her as she slumped. God’s Teeth. How many fainting spells lay in his future? Her eyes fluttered open, then widened as she pushed away from him. She swayed, and he feared she would faint again. But the lass steadied herself and began shaking her head.

  “I am no’ a beast, lass,” he said. “Have done with this—”

  “I love another.” She hiccupped again.

  As do I, he almost blurted, but chivalry stayed his tongue.

  Father John began again to recite the marriage benediction. For a beat, Connor considered throwing himself on the floor, rolling about, and trying to froth at the mouth, for crazed souls were forbidden to wed. But such a show probably wouldn’t thwart her father’s intentions. Baron Allison wanted this alliance with the same determination his daughter did not.

  Connor caught her tear-filled glance at a young warrior on the fringes of the crowd to her left. The man’s fury-filled gaze swung onto Connor and Connor startled at what he read in the warrior’s eyes. Like Connor, he felt the injustice of losing the woman he loved to another man. Connor’s chest tightened. Rumor claimed that Lady Sophia’s father was considering a score of excellent offers for her hand in marriage. Suitors who would barter for her hand as he had Lady Joan’s. Men who would never love her as he did. Connor met the warrior’s gaze squarely. Connor would never love Lady Joan as this man clearly did.

  Someone jostled his arm and Connor yanked his gaze right. His eldest brother Aidan had edged closer. Their two other brothers now stood behind Connor, clearly positioned to block any retreat. Their pinched faces reflected their thoughts. Dinnae even think about Sophia Guthrie. Do your duty and be done with it.

  Five minutes ago, Connor was resigned to do just that. Now…

  He looked at his almost-bride and grinned. “Be well, my lady.”

  Connor seized her shoulders and propelled her into the arms of her lover. She cried out in unison with a chorus of protests. His older brother’s hand clamped down on Connor’s shoulder. In one mighty burst of strength, Connor twisted free and lunged past Lady Joan and her warrior.

  “Take care of her, lad,” Connor shouted as he leapt over the low stone wall that encircled the chapel.

  His feet landed on the ground and he glanced back to see his brothers surge after him. His bride’s warrior set her aside and barreled into Aidan as Aidan leapt over the stone wall. Aidan and the warrior collided with Connor’s two other brothers and dropped to the ground in a tangle of muscled legs and arms.

  “God is merciful!” Connor shouted, then raced for the stables—and the happiness that awaited him on the far side of the Black Isle.

  Chapter Two

  Connor Munro wed today. The words echoed in Sophia’s head as she slumped in her seat at the high table and picked apart a bannock.

  Her mother, sitting on her right, leaned close and whispered, “Dinnae look so downcast.” She nodded and smiled at the handsome baron sitting to Sophia’s left.

  Baron Carnes was the sixth man her father had paraded past her in the last week, though he was the first her father had seated at the high table. Her mother elbowed her. Sophia ignored her. Any interest she had in men died a month ago when Connor Munro betrothed himself to another woman.

  Despite her efforts, Sophia couldn’t halt the memory of that day in the glen when he informed her he was to wed Lady Joan. He didn’t kiss her or apologize. He simply left her standing alone in the meadow. It took all her strength not to run after him. Even now, the impulse to race to Kernwith Castle tightened the knot in her belly. What had she to offer Connor? Her title held no value. Support of the wrong overlords, and even the Scottish crown, had drained her family’s coffers. Even the land her father possessed wasn’t enough for a Lion of the Black Isle. They needed silver, and the Allison heiress had more silver than all the stars in the night sky. Perhaps Connor had even been swayed by Lady Joan’s exceptional beauty. After all, what man regretted marrying a beautiful woman?

  By now, he had probably deflowered his new bride.

  Pain twisted through Sophia. How many nights had she lain awake imagining what it would be like to stroke his chest, to have his warm hands glide along her body, to have the part of him that was most male inside of her? She fought tears. Another woman would have a lifetime of days and nights to incite that passion in him.

  Could a soul die of a broken heart?

  The hound lying under the table nudged her leg with his nose. Sophia took a sip of ale and discreetly dropped clumps of bannock on the floor.

  Thunder clapped. Was it raining? She wanted to walk in the lashing rain and fall asleep under angry, dark clouds that swallowed the morrow’s sun.

  “The roasted pig is quite good, my lady.”

  Sophia jarred from her thoughts upon hearing the baron speak.

  He smiled at her. She nodded, unable to reply. What would her mother do if she excused herself?

  “Do ye mind if I tell you how beautiful you are?” he murmured.

  Anger flared and she snapped her gaze onto her plate. The baron wanted to marry her for the same reason Connor had ma
rried Lady Joan. Sophia was a pauper compared to Lady Joan, but for Baron Carnes, Sophia represented a good alliance.

  “Have I offended ye, my lady?” he asked.

  She shook her head without shifting her gaze from her plate. The baron leaned toward her father and said something Sophia couldn’t hear.

  “Sophia,” her mother said under her breath, “if ye do no’ speak kindly to Baron Carnes, I swear to marry you to the next man who walks through the door.”

  “It matters not,” Sophia said.

  “Good,” her mother replied. “I will inform your father that you have accepted Baron Carnes’ proposal.”

  ***

  Guthrie Hall loomed dark under the gray clouds of evening. No horns sounded in warning as Connor spurred across the night-frosted moorland, galloping his horse ever closer to the home of his love.

  The horse wasn’t exactly his. He’d leapt onto the back of the only saddled beast in Kernwith Castle’s stables. A massive and hot-blooded charger, the horse likely belonged to someone in the Allison wedding party. Connor didn’t care. He’d return the warhorse later—after he’d claimed his lady and made her his bride.

  Pray God he wasn’t too late.

  At last, he reined up before Guthrie Hall’s gate and smiled at the two spearmen who stepped from the guardhouse and barred his entry. “Our lord awaits no visitors,” the man on the left declared, his tone unfriendly. “Be gone.”

  “Your laird will see me.” Connor thanked the heavenly powers that the guards didn’t know him. “I am Boyd Davidson, here to make a generous bid for his daughter.”

  The spearmen exchanged glances, and the larger of the two gave Connor’s borrowed charger and its costly trappings a swift appraising glance. He jerked his head and said to the other. “He is likely too late, but open the gate.”

  The words ‘likely too late’ rang in Connor’s mind. What did that mean? If Sophia were wed, surely the men would know? Anxiety drilled through him as he waited for the slow swing of the gate. The charger pranced, clearly aware of his tension. When a space large enough to admit the horse opened, Connor spurred the animal into the bailey and rode straight for the tower. He caught sight of the men on duty at the closed door and cursed his change of luck. He knew the guards and didn’t like them. The feeling was mutual.

  ***

  Sophia stared at her mother. “Ye are no’ serious,” she whispered.

  Thunder rumbled as if the gods had descended upon them.

  “Mother—” Sophia’s plea was cut off by earth-shaking hammer-falls.

  The great hall’s door splintered apart, shards of wood flying everywhere. Shouts went up. Men and women jumped to their feet and surged away from the door as—Sophia’s heart jumped into her throat. Holy Mother of God, it wasn’t possible.

  Connor plunged into the hall, astride a huge, wild-eyed warhorse.

  Baron Carnes shot to his feet. “What is this?”

  Connor jerked his steed to a halt in the center of the hall. The beast sidestepped as Connor stood in the stirrups, his gaze on her father. The guards sprang toward Connor.

  Sophia’s father surged to his feet. “Hold!” he shouted to his men as Connor kicked his charger.

  The animal lunged forward, but the guards skidded to a halt. People leapt aside and the horse reached the dais in three bounds then came to a halt. Sophia couldn’t tear her gaze from Connor. His wet hair clung to his forehead, his plaid glistened with raindrops and his expression was thunderous.

  He pinned her father with a stare. “Lord Guthrie! I am here for Lady Sophia whether you approve or nae.” Connor’s attention shifted to her. His expression softened. “Here, lass.” He smiled gently and extended a hand.

  Sophia could scarcely believe what she was seeing. She shoved to her feet.

  “By God.” Baron Carnes kicked his chair back. “This cur must die.”

  Sophia’s father grasped the young man’s arm. “Easy, lad.”

  Connor edged the charger closer to the table. “Come with me.” His eyes locked on her face. “If ye dare.”

  She yanked up her skirts and leapt onto the table.

  “Sophia,” her mother cried, but Sophia clasped Connor’s hand and sprang onto his lap. His arms closed around her as he wheeled the charger and spurred across the hall. As they galloped through the opening in the shattered door, Sophia’s happiness grew for she’d caught a sound she was sure Connor missed…

  Her father’s rollicking laughter.

  Chapter Three

  The moon shone bright when they reached Munro land. Connor surprised Sophia when he stopped beneath a large oak in the middle of nowhere. Not even a shepherd’s hut broke the emptiness of the heather and rock-strewn moors, and Kernwith Castle stood behind the distant hills. He pulled her close, swung a leg over the saddle, and slid to the ground with her.

  Connor set her feet on the ground, then looked down at her. “How cold-hardy are ye, lass?”

  “Enough to stay here forever.” She smiled up at him.

  “Och, we’ll no’ be that long.” He tied the horse to a nearby bush, then returned to her side.

  “Are ye hungry?” she asked.

  “Hungry?” White teeth flashed. “Ravenous.”

  Her pulse jumped, but she narrowed her eyes in mock recrimination. “Did you bring me out here to steal my innocence, Connor Munro?”

  He pulled her to him. “I’m no’ out to steal you or your virtue. I mean to seal our vows.”

  She blinked. “Here?”

  “If you will have me.”

  “What of your bride?” she asked.

  “You are my bride.” He framed her face, smoothed her hair back with his thumbs, then brushed her lips with his. “Will ye be mine, my heart?”

  “I will.” She desired nothing greater. “But what about a priest—”

  “We are Highlanders, lass. I will make ye mine in the old tradition. Later, I will arrange for a churchman to bless us.”

  “Then we need only—”

  “To say we want each other,” he finished. “As our ancestors have done since time began.” He stepped back and extended his hands toward her. She placed her hands in his and he laced their fingers. “Do ye agree to be mine and only mine, Sophia Guthrie?” he said in a clear voice. “Will ye live beside me as my wife and be the mother to my bairns? Do ye love and want me as I do you?”

  She nodded. “I do, and I will.”

  With a whoop, Connor swept her into his arms and spun in a circle until her head spun. He set her on the ground, whipped off his plaid, then placed it on the ground at the base of the tree and pulled her down beside him.

  “So, Wife,” he leaned against the trunk and drew her close, cradling her against his chest, “before I ‘steal’ your innocence, tell me true—will ye hate me when your father refuses to accept our marriage?”

  “Never.” She snuggled closer. “But we need no’ worry. He will be most pleased.”

  “I think not, lass.”

  She smiled. “Well, he might demand that you repair the door to Guthrie Hall’s keep.”

  “Done, but more than a shattered door will be bothering the man.”

  Mirth bubbled up inside her. “Oh, to be sure. He will be angry he had to feed and court more than a dozen suitors.”

  “Aye, he will at that.”

  “There is more,” she said.

  He hugged her tighter. “God help me. What else?”

  “Did you not hear his laughter as we rode from the great hall?”

  “I heard only the blood rushing in my ears, sweet.” He traced lazy circles with his finger on her arm.

  “As ye know, my mother hails from Skye,” she went on. “Well, the story isnae told here, but there it is well known that he, too, rode his horse into her father’s hall and took her.”

  “Nae!” Connor laughed.

  “He was pleased,” she said, and was so pleased herself that she could almost feel her soul dancing.

  “I will do my best to ma
ke him proud.”

  Connor slid a finger along her jaw, then down her neck to her collarbone. She shivered. With a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face upward and kissed her. She’d had his mouth on hers many times before, but never had he tasted so sweet. He gently flicked her mouth with his tongue and she opened up for him. Their tongues tangled and she became aware of the familiar tightening between her legs she always experienced when he touched her.

  He broke the kiss, then laid her on her back and settled on top of her. She was instantly aware of the hard ridge that dug into her belly. Her heart began to beat fast. In the past, he’d kissed her, teased her a bit, but she’d never felt the weight of a man on top of her, never felt such raw male need. He was glorious.

  Connor stared down at her, his features a mask in the dark. “I want your love—this night and for all eternity.”

  Sophia wrapped her arms around his neck. “I am yours.”

  “As God as my witness, I swear to always love and protect ye,” he said.

  Her heart swelled with joy. He kissed her again, gently, almost reverently. When his palm covered her breast, she started.

  “Are ye well?” he asked.

  She smiled, although he couldn’t see her. “Aye. This is new. That is all.”

  “Are ye sure?”

  Sophia pulled his face down to hers. “Love me, Connor.”

  He brushed his mouth against hers, then slid his warm mouth down along her jaw, to her neck and then—God have mercy—to the rise of her breast. Her heart beat faster as his mouth edged farther downward. He tugged her bodice and cold air washed over her naked breast. Her nipple puckered and she couldn’t halt a gasp when Connor’s warm mouth closed over the hard bud. He flicked his tongue against the sensitive flesh.

  Pleasure ripped through her. She had wanted Connor, had known that joining was pleasurable, but this… He gently thrust against her stomach. Need coiled in her core and she became aware of the wetness between her legs. Sophia speared her fingers into Connor’s hair and arched into his mouth. He groaned. The sound struck a chord in her and she suddenly wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted. He rolled aside and she started. Was their lovemaking over? He began lifting her skirt.