Highland Mists
A Highland Romp
USA Today Bestselling Author Hildie McQueen
Contents
Copyright
Also by USA Today Bestselling Author Hildie McQueen
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
Epilogue
About the Author
HIGHLAND MISTS: A Highland Romp
Pink Door Publishing
Editor: Scott Moreland
Proofreader: Bobbie Sue Louk
Cover Artist: Dar Albert
Copyright Hildie McQueen 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
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This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader.
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author
Created with Vellum
Also by USA Today Bestselling Author Hildie McQueen
Other Works by Hildie McQueen
(In reading order)
Highland Romps
Declan’s Bride
Ian’s Bride
Highland Mists
Highlander’s Bride
Moriag Series
Beauty and the Highlander
Lady and the Scot
The Lass and the Laird
The Laird’s Daughter
Clan Ross*
The Heartless Laird
The Hardened Warrior
The Hellish Archer
Other Books
The Duke’s Fiery Bride
The Sea Lyon
The Sea Lord
Highland Archer
*Releasing soon
Prologue
The backdrop of the Highlands and the misting coming from the mountains down to Loch Caron sets the scene for this small village nestled between the craggy slopes and a thick forest.
Moriag village, with its hardened dirt main road down the middle, is anchored by large stables where the locals and travelers house their steeds and on the opposite end of the street, a humble monastery.
In the center of town is where the people congregate regularly, the small market bustling with activity most days. There's also the local inn, which not only serves hot meals, but a warm bed and rest for weary travelers.
The town tavern owned by Quinn Robertson is the perfect place for the men of Moriag to find out news and get into trouble.
Tucked in the corner next to the stables is where Paden Fraser fulfills the duties of blacksmith. He’s lived in Moriag for eight years, first as apprentice and later, taking over the work from the older blacksmith, Angus who became too old to continue in his duties. However Angus continues to come around daily to help when he can or to share bits of wisdom disguised as sarcasm.
Chapter One
"Ye must make amends for what ye've done Paden Fraser." Spittle sprayed from the angry man's mouth, but the blacksmith, Paden, did not back away.
It would have been wiser to indeed take a step back. However, it was hard to think reasonably past the red haze of his fury. Although Paden kept his arms down, his hands curled into fists and nostrils flared.
"Whatever yer daughter says. Tis a lie. I have never lain with her."
As the older man continued on about marriage and such, Paden searched his memory for the face of this woman who claimed he took her.
If he remembered correctly, Fenella Hay was not an attractive woman, if he'd tupped her, surely he'd remember. Unfortunately, the timing was accurate. On the night the farmer claimed his daughter was accosted, he had been at the tavern. He’d drank too much that night and had stumbled to his small cottage in the wee hours of the morning.
"God's blood, ye will marry my daughter and that is the end of it. She is fraught with despair and cannot be comforted." The farmer’s mottled face turned even redder.
Paden purposely flexed his arms, satisfied when the man's attention went to his thick biceps. "And if I refuse?"
His tactic worked and the red-faced farmer took a step backward. "I'll go to the clergy. He surely will bring ye to heel." He rushed off in the direction of the church, hunched forward with purpose.
With jerky movements, Paden yanked the cord holding his hair back allowing his dark waves to fall about his shoulders. He then raked his fingers through the tresses in exasperation. “That is the last time I drink so much.”
Choruses of chuckles from behind, made him clench his jaw. Old Angus and two stable lads stood leaning on the fence watching. He spun to them. "There is work to be done, no time to dally about and poke yer noses where they don't belong."
“Ah do not go screaming at the lads,” Old Angus said between chuckles. “Tis an interesting way to pass the time, to watch how ye will get out of this one.”
The farmer continued on his trek to the church, barely stopping when someone attempted to make conversation. Slowing down just enough, the farmer waved his hands as he spoke and pointed towards Paden who crossed his arms and glared.
With a growl, Paden turned back to the stable and just as he advanced toward the wide-eyed lads, a man on horseback approached.
"Paden Fraser, Laird McNeil requests yer presence at his keep."
The perfect opportunity to get away from the village in case one of the friars, or worse Father Gregor came back with the angry farmer. "Aye good, let me get my steed, I will come immediately."
"No need to come today, within a day tis fine," the guard said no doubt hoping to spend time at the tavern or with a village lass.
Paden did not feel bad for him in the least. Guardsmen at the keep had a good life. As there was rarely any trouble in the peaceful lands, they spent their days with sword training and busy work, followed by meals with the laird's family and entertainment by night.
"Nay I prefer to go now."
The guard shrugged. "Very well, tis good I suppose as the laird's cousin and guardsmen arrived from Skye and will need their horses looked after."
The statement made the blood in his veins freeze.
Skye.
He'd not gone far enough from that place it seemed.
Skye was the one place he would never return to, unless men dragged him there to get the reward on his head.
This time his pace slower, he went about collecting tools that he packed in a leather case. The lads hurried to prepare his steed as he went to his cottage to collect a tartan and change clothes.
Hopefully the visitors would not recognize him. Paden had grown a beard and kept his hair long to help hide his features. Today it would come in very handy.
Chapter Two
It was but a couple hours ride to the McNeil's keep and Paden took his time. Along the way he pondered how to keep from being seen by any of the McNeil’s of Skye
. Hopefully none were friends of his family, although he did recall the McNeils were not far from his family land.
The proud grey stone structure towered behind high walls designed to keep the clan safe in case of enemy attack.
As far as Paden knew it had been only recently for the first time in ages, that villagers had sought sanctuary when a selfish laird, mistaking McNeil for an easy target attempted to overthrow the laird. Obviously the greedy man was not aware that although three clans lived in the area, coexisting peacefully, they had fiercely trained guards and would also join forces to protect that peaceful life. The attackers were easily defeated, since most defected and left. Only a very few were willing to die for the man who’d instigated the attack.
The gates to the courtyard were open, and he guided his horse in and to the left where the stables were. Several guardsmen milled around in groups, some practicing, others keeping watch. Small groups of men and women milled about, performing assigned duties.
Dugan, the laird's head guard came to greet him with a wide grin. The tall thick muscled man grasped Paden’s shoulder when he dismounted.
"Aye Paden, nice to see ye without a tankard in hand," Dugan said reminding him of the one particular night at the tavern and the consequences he’d come to escape from.
Although they rarely saw each other, they’d become good friends. When Dugan came to the village and brought his horse to the stables or when Paden was called to the keep they often spent time in friendly banter.
"Do ye remember which lasses came around us last time ye were with me at the tavern?" Paden ensured to keep his voice low.
Dugan frowned. "Nay I donna remember anything to do with any lasses. What happens?"
"Hay, the farmer came to me this morning. One of his daughters claims to be ruined and he is demanding I marry her. I don't remember anything happening? Do ye?"
"Och," Dugan shook his head and grimaced. "Tis would be bad. His daughters are homely, no doubt the only way he can marry them off. He could 'ave been there that night and saw how much we drank."
The large man looked around as if expecting the farmer to come after him next. "What are ye going to do?"
"Run," Paden replied with a grin and both broke out into chuckles. "What else can I do?" He scanned the courtyard for any new faces. "Who comes from Skye?"
"They just arrived, a small time ago.” At Dugan’s reply, Paden eyed his horse and considered leaving.
Not noticing his tension, Dugan continued. “The laird's brother, he and his wife bring with them a daughter who is to remain here for a season. Now that lass is quite comely. I would not mind..." He cut the sentence short and cleared his throat. "Speaking of which."
Paden turned to see several men exiting the main door of the keep. Laird McNeil walked with another man who favored him and three women. Paden recognized the laird's wife and figured the other women who held on to her arms as the Laird's brother's wife and daughter. When his gaze fell on the youngest woman, he had to blink to get a better look.
The woman wore a form fitting dark green gown, the jeweled tone brought out her sun kissed skin and reddish hair. Her large expressive eyes scanned the courtyard as she tilted her head to listen to whatever her uncle spoke of.
Paden turned away, hoping to find the shelter of the stables to hide in until they went back inside when the Laird McNeil’s loud call for the guard to come forward stilled everyone, him included.
Unaware he sought to hide, Dugan nudged him. "Come line up with us."
The guardsmen fell into four straight rows of eight men each. Paden ensured to be in the back. Nonetheless, the laird's keen eyes fell upon him almost immediately. "Aye Fraser, glad to see ye here."
The laird turned to his brother. "Fraser is the town blacksmith, who will see about yer horses. Tis the best blacksmith in the land." The brother along with the four guardsmen behind the group looked to him with interest.
When Paden dragged his eyes from the laird’s, his gaze collided with the young woman's.
Her eyes widened and lips parted. As she continued to look directly at him the beautiful green eyes narrowed as if she suspected something. Then ever so slowly her lips curved.
The spell was broken when one of the women took her arm guiding her away toward the gardens. Just before walking around the corner of the building, she turned and once again looked to him.
"That could be trouble," Dugan said apparently having noticed how the laird's niece paid Paden extra attention.
"Tis the last thing I need right now," Paden grumbled. "I will leave as soon as possible, once my work is done"
Laird McNeil and his brother approached. The laird, a good man with an easygoing disposition beamed with pride when looking from him to Dugan. "I have a fine leader of the guard brother. Anything ye need, do not hesitate to call upon Dugan."
Dugan lowered his head at their laird and waited for whatever he'd say next. The laird looked to Paden. "Tis good of ye to get here so soon. Join us for the evening meal Paden."
"Thank ye Laird for honoring me with such, but I can eat out here with the stable hands." Paden hoped the man would not insist.
"Nonsense. I expect ye to sup with us." The men walked away toward where the guards had resumed sword practice.
His friend chuckled. "Seems to me ye just went from the pot straight into fire."
Paden grumbled in response, “tis not my lucky day.”
Just then a visiting guard approached, the older man was not familiar to Paden. The man studied Dugan, and then looked to Paden. "My horse stumbled a bit on the way here. Can ye look at him?"
“Aye just point the beast out to me.” The man nodded and walked toward the corrals, but Dugan and Paden followed him.
“That one, the reddish one,” he pointed to a magnificent animal.
“Tis a beauty,” Paden said meaning it.
The guard studied the horse with pride. “Aye he is.”
“I hope to ride him tomorrow. Please inform me,” the man started to walk away, but hesitated and turned to Paden. His narrowed eyes scanned over his face. "Do ye have family in Skye? Ye look familiar to me."
Paden assumed a bored expression and shook he head. “Nay.”
Chapter Three
Emma could barely hear whatever her aunt and mother said. Her mind was awhirl at having seen the handsome man lined up with the guards. From where she stood, she kept her gaze toward the courtyard that was visible from the gardens hoping to catch another glimpse, but it was futile.
Despite wishing to be in back in front, to seek out the blacksmith, Emma was immediately taken in by the beauty of her aunt Grisella's garden. It was evident her aunt loved gardening and many hours had been devoted to cultivating the enchanting space.
There were colorful flowering plants intermingled with lush ivy and thick leaved plantings. A waist high ivy covered brick wall divided the area. On the other side was a large space in which herbs and food plants were. In this area, which received longer sun coverage, vegetables flourished.
She kneeled and sniffed at a bloom. "I've never seen this type of flower before." The white flower had a delicate, but sweet fragrance.
Her aunt beamed with pride. "It is from Ireland. I acquired it from a traveling tribe of gypsies that came through the village."
“Tis beautiful. There is so much to admire here.”
Her mind automatically went to the handsome man in the courtyard. "Why do ye have to call a blacksmith to come and shoe horses? Do ye not have a smithy in the keep?" She hoped her question sounded as only mild curiosity.
Her aunt smiled. "Paden comes here often or the guards take horses to the village. He does very good work, not just with shoeing but in making swords and such." She shook her head. "Yer uncle would like nothing more than to have him live here, but he provides much needed assistance to the other lairds in Moriag so tis best for him to remain in the village."
Over an hour later, after dallying about, they finally they made their way back toward the
courtyard, Emma stretched her neck hoping to spot the blacksmith, but he was nowhere to be seen. She let out a sigh and followed her mother and aunt indoors.
The women decided they’d drink warm beverages and head to the sitting room to continue chatting. Emma had no choice but to follow as the great room was empty, except for a couple of servants sweeping and wiping tables.
An hour later, she put her embroidery hoop down and stretched. "I require fresh air. Can I walk outside alone?"
Her aunt nodded, "Aye the keep grounds are quite safe. With so many guards about, ye will feel secure."
Emma hurried out before her mother would come up with an excuse to stop her. She had to get a closer look at the blacksmith. He was too familiar, and she had the feeling to have met him before. The man had not come forth and admitted to knowing her father upon his closer inspection, however, something about him had made her take notice.
Once outside, Emma hesitated upon entering the courtyard and looked about. It was best to avoid the nosy guardsmen that had traveled from Skye. Every one of them would report to her parents.
Not seeing any of the men from Skye, she hurried toward the stables ignoring the curious glances from her uncle’s guards who milled about.
The draw to go and find him was strong and although she understood it was unbecoming of a woman to seek out a particular man, reason did not matter at the moment.
Upon spotting one of the guards, she pretended not to notice him. Ignoring his curious gaze, she continued past him.
“Milady do ye need something?”
Barely hesitating, she glanced over her shoulder. “Nay, I seek to check on my horse, she lied. She is used to me feeding her something daily.”
Although the man frowned, he didn’t protest as she continued toward the stables.
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