Highland Secrets
Page 1
Highland Secrets
Secrets of the Heart Series - Book 1
Elizabeth Rose
RoseScribe Media Inc.
Contents
To my readers
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
From the Author
About Elizabeth
Excerpt from Reckless Highlander
Also by Elizabeth Rose
Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.
RoseScribe Media Inc.
Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
Edited by Scott Moreland
To my readers
Secrets of the Heart is a series about the eldest daughters of the bastard triplets from the Legendary Bastards of the Crown which is followed by Seasons of Fortitude. This series can be read as standalone books, but if you prefer to read them in chronological order, I have listed the series below.
Legendary Bastards of the Crown:
Destiny’s Kiss – Series Prequel
Restless Sea Lord – Book 1
Ruthless Knight – Book 2
Reckless Highlander – Book 3
Seasons of Fortitude Series:
Highland Spring – Book 1
Summer’s Reign – Book 2
Autumn’s Touch – Book 3
Winter’s Flame – Book 4
Secrets of the Heart Series:
Highland Secrets – Book 1
Watch for books 2-4 in the Secrets of the Heart Series coming soon!
Seductive Secrets – Book 2
Rebellious Secrets – Book 3
Forgotten Secrets – Book 4
Enjoy!
Elizabeth Rose
Prologue
England, June 1377
“Hurry, my lords, the king is dying and has called for you.” The messenger of King Edward III waved his arm, urging the small traveling party down the corridor of Sheen Palace. King Edward III was at his life’s end and had called for his bastard triplets, Rowen, Rook, and Reed to be at his side. He also summoned their eldest daughters, Maira, Willow and Fia. The girls and their fathers had traveled for two days to get here from Whitehaven Castle where they were celebrating the birth of Rowen’s new baby boy, Michael.
Ten-year-old Fia Douglas followed behind her father, Reed, and her uncles. Nearly having to run to keep up with their long strides, she held tightly to the hands of her cousins, ten-year-old Maira and eight-year-old Willow. Fia’s long red braids bobbed up and down as she hurried through the corridor. She’d inherited her vibrant hair from her father. Willow’s ebony tresses were dark like her father, Rook’s, while Maira had strawberry-blond hair that was a combination of her father, Rowen’s blond hair and her mother’s auburn locks. The girls’ fathers were triplets and identical in every other way. Triplets were considered a curse and the brunt of many superstitions. When they were born, the king ordered them killed. But that was long ago, and things had changed since then. Fia’s father and uncles told her that they no longer raided the king or wanted vengeance against him.
“Hurry lassies, move yer wee legs faster,” Reed called back over his shoulder, speaking in his Scottish burr. Reed wore the dark green Douglas plaid. The triplets had been raised in Scotland by Annalyse and Ross Douglas, as well as with their four sisters all named after the seasons. For the first twelve years of their lives, the boys had no idea that the king was their father and Annalyse’s late sister was their mother. Reed embraced the Scottish dialect and customs since he had always idolized Ross Douglas. Rowen and Rook, on the other hand, spoke and acted like Englishmen, taking on the ways and customs of their aunt.
“We are hurryin’, Da,” Fia answered her father in a soft voice. Her eyes swept the corridor and the many people watching them curiously from the shadows. She noticed every detail of the castle from the height of the ceiling with the thick wooden beams to the swirls in the marble floor beneath her feet. She was the shyest of the three girls, but also the most observant. Nothing escaped Fia’s attention, no matter where she went. She had a sharp memory and details were her strong point.
Being the eldest daughter and child of Reed, Fia felt special. Her father often doted over her, wanting to protect her and keep her close to his side. She liked her father’s attention.
The men led the way to the dying king’s chamber, their swords swinging at their sides with every step they took. The jingle of their chainmail and spurs filled the air, sounding twice as loud since everyone around them was quiet. Their heavy booted feet stomped down the corridor, making it impossible for anyone not to know they were there.
“I wonder what Edward wants with us,” Rook mumbled to his brothers, speaking in a low voice, but still, Fia heard every word.
Her father let out a frustrated breath before he answered. “I dinna ken, but do ye think it’s that important?” Fia’s family lived over the border in the Lowlands of Scotland with her mother’s clan, the Gordons. Reed only came to England occasionally to visit his brothers. It was no secret he had no love for the English and especially not for his father.
“You fool, of course it’s important,” growled Rowen. “If not, he wouldn’t have summoned us on his deathbed.” Fia’s Uncle Rowen was the voice of reason between the three brothers.
“I’m scared,” Willow whispered to the girls. Fia felt the same way. The corridor was crowded with knights, ladies, pages, guards, and even servants that now emerged, watching the procession headed toward the king’s chamber. The way everyone stared at them made Fia very uncomfortable. As they passed by a boy who was a few years younger than her, he pointed at Fia’s father and uncles, speaking to his mother in a loud voice.
“Mother, are they the king’s bastards?” Someone in the crowd chuckled at the boy’s question.
“Hush,” the boy’s mother scolded the child, pulling him closer as Fia and her cousins passed by them.
“What is a bastard?” asked Willow, almost tripping on her shoe since they moved so fast.
“It’s a bad thing,” Maira told her.
“Why did that boy call our fathers bastards?” Willow asked, much too loudly.
“Shh,” Fia scolded, her eyes darting from one person to another. She didn’t like it here. She wanted to go home.
“I’ll bet he’s finally going to legitimize us,” Rook told his brothers as they continued to walk.
“I dinna want that,” spat Reed. “I told Edward he is no’ goin’ to change my mind. I will never pay allegiance to him the way ye two do.”
Fia was well aware that her father never totally reconciled with the king, refusing to pay him homage like his brothers. After all, the men were the illegitimate sons of King Edward – a man who once ordered them killed as babies.
Living in Scotland, Fia had never met her grandfather. Today would be the first, and probably th
e last time she would ever meet the English king. The man was dying, and it sounded as if he wasn’t going to last long.
“In here.” The king’s messenger held open a door and motioned with a nod of his head. He wore a small cap that reminded Fia of a jester. His shoes were dirty and he had a small rip in his hose just under the knee.
Rook and Rowen entered the room, but Reed stopped at the threshold and glanced back over his shoulder.
“Stay close, lassies. The king has requested yer presence, but I dinna ken why. He is near death, but there is nothin’ to fear.”
“We’re no’ afraid, Da,” Fia answered for all of them.
“Edward might no’ be able to speak up, so listen carefully to everythin’ he says.”
“We will, Uncle Reed,” Maira said with a nod.
After they entered the room, the messenger closed the door behind them. Fia squeezed the hands of her cousins, taking a good look around the king’s chamber. The room was filled with people. Servants stood in the shadows, and important-looking men were in groups talking softly to each other. A man in a dark robe that looked to be a healer leaned over the bed, checking the king. A woman wearing a jeweled headpiece over her wimple studied Edward with a sour look on her face, standing close to the king’s bedside. The queen was dead, so Fia guessed this woman was Alice. She had heard her father and uncles say Alice was a shrewd woman and also the king’s mistress.
There was even a young boy that looked to be about her age, watching curiously from the other side of the room.
King Edward III lay on his bed in the middle of the vast chamber. His thick, overstuffed pallet was positioned atop a small dais of three steps that led to the dying man’s resting place. Tall, ornately carved, wooden spindles two lengths the height of a full-grown man rose up from each corner of the bed. Above the spindles were iron rods holding long, burgundy, velvet bedcurtains that were half-closed on one side. Fia observed the curtain rings that were made of iron and shaped into claws. Each one gripped the bedcurtain as tightly as the dying king seemed to cling to his life.
The aroma of evergreen and exotic spices from beeswax candles filled the air, intermingling with the stagnant scent of death. The candles burned brightly in the circular iron holder hanging from chains connected to the beams overhead. Colorful tapestries and banners with the king’s crest lined the walls. The area behind the bed was filled with crossed swords, battleaxes, and weapons of all kinds.
At the far side of the room was a large window. And to her surprise, it wasn’t an open hole covered by a shutter but, instead, it was embedded with glass. It wasn’t just any glass, but expensive, beautiful, stained glass depicting a scene of a royal joust. The early morning sunrays shone through the window, projecting a multitude of orange, blue, and red hues into the room. The light splashed across the wooden floor in colorful blotches, bathing her soft slippers, making them look magical. Fia drank in every little thing that made the king’s chamber so exquisite.
“Stay close, lassies,” Reed instructed moving forward to join his brothers. A good dozen people surrounded Edward now, trying their best to make him comfortable in his last minutes of life.
“He’s looking at us,” Maira whispered, keeping her bright blue eyes fastened to the man on the bed as she spoke. She was a small girl, but afraid of nothing.
Indeed, the king was watching them through his dark, sunken eyes. The man was old and gaunt and had a long white beard trailing halfway down his chest. With his head propped up on a pillow, it looked as if it took all his strength just to keep his eyelids from closing. Fia had seen people die before, and this man had the same look of death that she’d witnessed on those that had left this world before him. His open mouth formed a hollow O, seeming as if his spirit were getting ready to flee his body. A shiver ran up Fia’s spine. Death loomed here, throwing shadows of the grave over King Edward’s pale, pasty skin.
“Father,” said Rowen, stepping up to the bed while Rook and Reed lingered behind him. The buzz of conversation in the room softened as everyone watched intently when the king’s bastard son approached him. “We are here at your request.”
“Aye,” answered Rook, moving forward eagerly now. “You wanted to speak to us?”
“I did,” said Edward, not able to lift his head. His face was as white as a ghost, and his thin body looked bony beneath the covers. Frightening was the only way to describe what Fia saw. His long fingers of one hand gripped the bedcovers while his other arm lay limp next to him. Two ornate gold and jeweled rings on his fingers winked at her in the light.
“I’m scared,” said Willow, the youngest of the three girls. Maira and Fia were the same age, but Maira was by far the bravest. Nothing seemed to rattle her nerves. Maira always stood up for her cousins and had even physically fought off their brothers when they teased the girls too much. She sometimes acted like a boy. Willow, on the other hand, was very feminine and probably the prettiest of the three girls and she knew it. She had a little button nose on a heart-shaped face. Her skin was smooth, her hair wavy, and her cheeks rosy. Even at her young age, she often used her looks to her advantage. She smiled at the boys to get them to do her bidding.
Fia, being the most observant of the three, noticed not only things around her, but what was inside a person as well. She noticed now the way the king looked fondly at his bastard triplets from his deathbed.
“Dinna be scared,” Fia whispered, feeling her knees knocking together as she spoke. Then her father pushed his way to the king’s bedside to stand beside his brothers.
“Edward, if ye’re finally goin’ to legitimize us on yer deathbed, my answer is still the same,” Reed spat. “I dinna want it.”
“Good,” said the king in a weak voice. “Because that is not why I called you boys here today.”
“Wait. What did you say?” Rook pushed his way in front of Reed, leaning closer to the king to make sure he heard the man’s faint voice correctly. One of the king’s guards took it as an act of aggression and drew his sword and pointed it at Rook.
“Step away from the bed,” the guard commanded.
“God’s eyes, Rook, get back,” scoffed Rowen, pulling his brother away from the king. “We’re not here to cause trouble. Our father is dying.”
Rook spun around and scowled at Rowen. “You heard him. He’s on his deathbed and, still, he refuses to legitimize us. I can’t believe it.” He threw his hands in the air.
“I can’t . . . do it,” said the king, his words sounding slurred. His eyelids flickered open and closed. One side of his face twitched while the other drooped. Only one side of his mouth moved when he spoke. “There is too much history . . . in your defiant acts against me. No one will ever forget it.” He struggled to breathe. The healer put one hand on the king’s chest and the other on his shoulder.
“My king, you must conserve your strength. Do not talk,” the healer told him.
“Nay.” The king used his left hand to push the healer’s hand away. Fia noticed that the entire right side of his body never moved. “I need . . . to tell them. I’m sorry, boys, but I’m not going to legitimize you . . . even if I am dying.”
“Then why did you call us here?” growled Rook, his quick temper flaring. “Did you want pity from us after you tried to have us killed, just because now you’re the one about to die?”
“Rook, stop it,” warned Rowen, taking a step closer to the bed, trying to intervene. “It’s all right,” he said with a nod to the guard. “We are not going to hurt our father.”
The guard’s eyes traveled from the men to the king. Only when the king nodded slightly did the man lower his sword and step away.
“Your king is dying, and you mustn’t upset him,” said the woman standing next to the bed. Her voice was haughty, and she didn’t seem friendly at all. She was also much younger than Edward. “You must leave now.”
“Nay, Alice,” said Edward, raising his shaky hand and holding it out toward the triplets. “I called them here. They will stay.�
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“Then don’t upset him again!” snapped Alice, lifting her nose in the air before leaving the bedside to go over to talk to the young boy. The boy’s clothes were made of velvet and silk and were very regal. It made Fia wonder if he was one of the king’s dozen legitimate children.
“Father, why did you call us here?” questioned Rowen.
While Fia’s uncles called the king father, she never heard her own father call him anything but Edward.
“My granddaughters,” said Edward, reaching out his bony fingers, pointing to Fia and her cousins. “Come here, girls.”
Fia gripped the hands of her cousins, too frightened even to move. Her heart beat furiously in her chest, the drumming sounding louder and louder in her ears.
“Go on, lass,” said her father, giving her a slight nod of his head.
“Maira and Willow, you too,” added Rowen, stepping to the side.
Fia walked forward with her cousins, slowly approaching the side of the dying man.
“Healer, leave us,” commanded Edward, sending the man to the other side of the room. “Come closer, girls. Let me see you.”
When the girls didn’t move, Rook reached out and put his hands on their shoulders, gently guiding them closer to the bed.
“Go on, girls. He isn’t going to hurt you,” Rook explained.
“Just the opposite,” said Edward. “You three are the eldest daughters of my sons, are you not?”