Thomas winked at her, and Freya realized somehow the two of them had devised a scheme to protect Ewan and set him free.
“Ye mean he's no' a deserter?” she whispered.
He nodded in confirmation. “Your soon-to-be husband is an honorable man who received the Black Watch's great thanks for his service, and an extensive apology for having kept him locked in prison these last five and a half months. An apology that aided in his final release of contract.”
Freya breathed a sigh of relief and settled back against her desk.
“It was a very good story, even if it took a while for me to assemble the evidence to support it,” Thomas added in a conspiring tone. “But that's not why I'm here. You see, I—”
The door burst open once more, only this time it was not Alli, but Marian. She stared in wide-eyed awe. “Thomas. Someone said ye were here, but I dinna...I canna...”
Marian strode into the room and reached up to gently touch Thomas' face. He closed his eyes against the gesture and folded his one hand over hers.
“I worried after ye,” she whispered.
“And I you.” He opened his eyes. “The baby?”
Marian gave a wide smile. “He's a fine lad, strong and healthy. I...I hope ye dinna mind. I named him Thomas.”
“I could not be more honored.” And indeed it showed in the way Thomas' back straightened and his slender shoulders pulled back. “I'd meant to ask your sister.” He glanced over his shoulder to Freya, who nodded in his direction.
She was sure she knew where his thoughts were going, and she was in full support.
“Marian.” He lowered their hands to hover clasped between their waists. Chaste and sweet. “I'd be the luckiest man if ye'd allow me to be yer husband, and a father to young Thomas. I know I'm not...” He faltered a moment and Freya's heart winced for him. “I know I'm not the man I was when you met me, but I have many estates and will see you and your son well cared for.”
“Aye,” Marian whispered. “Ye dinna need to convince me, but ye could offer me a kiss. I've waited for it for so verra long.”
Thomas released her hand and smoothed his palm over her glossy golden hair before gently lifting her face to his.
Freya shifted from where she leaned against the desk and carefully edged past the couple right as their lips finally touched. She shut the door to her office and smiled to herself, her heart fuller than perhaps it had ever been. She glanced up and her smile widened further still.
For there, waiting for her by the bar, was Captain Nay with his dimpled smile and two stiff cups of tea.
EPILOGUE
August 1747
Scotland was a different place than even the mothers had seen it in their long lives. Gone were the colorful tartans of a proud nation, gone was the melodic language from the ancestors of old, and gone was any hope at a liberated Scotland.
Yet even in such hard times, happiness could still be found.
The first bud of a hay seed breaking through the soil in a tender green shoot. A woman's loving touch, accepting of a horrible past and anticipating a long and happy future. The knowledge of one's family being safe and well fed.
Aye, there was much light to be had, even in dark times.
Ewan put his hand around Freya's slender waist, and together they stared out into the pride of their hard work.
“We've had such good fortune, Ewan.” She looked up at him, and a ribbon of bright red hair swept over her freckled nose. Her eyes shone like the sunlit sky, and Ewan could not help but think what a lucky man he was to have so beautiful a wife.
Indeed they’d had good fortune.
“We did it.” He grinned at her. “Yer hay field.”
She tilted her head in the stubborn way he couldn't help but love. “Our hay field.”
The trill of a young child's laughter rang out over the billowing golden sea of hay, the stalks bending with the wind in sweeping waves.
Ewan and Freya both turned to the sound to find Crosby hovered over young Thomas like the protective father he was. Marian watched the two with her hand shading the sun from her eyes and a tender smile on her face.
The mothers observed all from beneath the shade of a tree several feet away.
“Ye know,” Ewan's mother said. “The uneven ground is the best thing to strengthen a babe's ability to walk.”
“Indeed it is,” Freya's mother added.
Freya turned toward Ewan with her brows lifted. “They've agreed on something.”
“Aye,” continued Ewan's mother. “But he ought to be barefoot.”
“Ach, no.” Freya's mother shook her head, and the little curls at her temple fluttered with the action. “It's best to find some wee shoes for him.”
Little Thomas, whose feet were currently clad in shining black boots, squealed with delight and clapped his chubby hands. Ewan couldn't help but laugh with the lad.
It was not often Marian, Crosby, and Thomas came from England for a visit, but when they did, it was so very good to have them. It was through Crosby that Ewan had his freedom. He even suspected it was through Crosby's influence that he and Freya had been allowed to keep not only her plot of land to farm, but also Ewan’s land, which he currently let to a steady tenant.
Crosby scooped the boy up with his single arm and planted a kiss on Thomas' fat cheek. Marian ran up to them both and kissed first Thomas' other cheek and then the lips of her husband.
“I used to avoid coming here.” Freya turned from the couple and looked up at Ewan. “I felt like I failed at everything here, like it was all so out of my control. And Molly's - it was a haven of everything I'd done right.”
Ewan arched a brow. “Are ye saying ye miss Molly's?”
Freya chuckled. “I’m happier here. But even if I did, Alli wouldna ever give it back. She's established a lot in her time as madam.” There was an unmistakable note of pride in Freya's voice.
As well there should be. Alli had continued with the efforts Freya had put forth, as well as those efforts to educate ladies and take them in, offering more jobs than just those one expected in a brothel.
“And this has become my haven,” Freya said. “Of everything I've done right.”
She folded her hand in his and then wrapped her arms around his arm, pressing close to him.
He brushed a kiss on her smooth forehead. She wasn't the only one to feel that way. After a lifetime of believing his father had been a traitor, his mother finally sat him down and discussed it all. His da killed the officials who had planned to abduct several chiefs and hold them captive until they agreed to terms of trade that would render their lands destitute. Trade was everything to the Highlanders who existed on a currency of bartering.
His da had hung for his crimes and his name smeared for his efforts. His father knew of the scheme because his mother had heard it from one of the English wives. Had his father not done what he did, had he told people instead, it would have been Ewan's mother who died. He swung from the rope to save her, to save his people, and no one was ever the wiser.
Ewan had thought becoming a soldier of the Black Watch would wipe clean his reputation. Too late, he realized it had tarnished it instead.
But now...now he was an honest man with his own land let at a fair rent, with hay grown at the labor of his own back. Most importantly, his family was safe.
“This too has become my haven,” Ewan said softly. “And ye have become my joy.”
Light conversation flitted between the Crosbys and the mothers behind them. Freya nuzzled closer to him. “Ye're about to have even more joy in yer life.”
Ewan looked out at the endless stretch of golden hay and nodded. “Aye, I am.”
Freya laughed and nudged her shoulder into him. “I dinna mean the harvest.”
He glanced down at her. She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes glittering with barely restrained excitement. Suddenly a gasp sucked the smile from his face, right down into his heart.
She nodded and put the hand she clasped aga
inst her flat lower stomach. “Aye, I'm with child. Ewan, we're going to have a bairn.”
Ewan pulled his hand from Freya's so he could grab her waist and twirl her in the air. They laughed together and ended in a warm kiss.
After a lifetime of unnecessary repentance, after being a traitor and being freed, after losing so much and getting it all back again, Ewan had found love and through that, he had found happiness.
He was a lucky man indeed.
THANK YOU FOR READING
Thank you so much for reading The Madam’s Highlander. I truly hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please know that I read all my reviews and welcome your thoughts on my book.
To find out more information on my books and more about me, please visit my website at http://www.madelinemartin.com
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Books by Madeline Martin
Heart of the Highlands Series
Deception of a Highlander
Possession of a Highlander
Enchantment of a Highlander
Mercenary Maidens Series
Highland Spy
Highland Ruse
Wicked Earls Club
Earl of Benton
Novellas
A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
The Highlander’s Challenge
The Highlander’s Untamed Lady
The Madam’s Highlander
Read on for an excerpt from Madeline Martin’s A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
Banff, Scotland June 1604
Senara had never fought against four men at once, but she wasn't about to back down from the challenge.
“Give us the horse and we'll leave ye be.” The taller of the men gripped her fingers where she held Norbert's reins. His hand was as large as both of hers combined.
Norbert huffed out a breath of warm air, as if he found the idea preposterous. For indeed it was. She'd no sooner give up her horse than she would her father's sword.
Her parents had been generous to gift her with both prior to her departure. She'd rather die than lose either.
“I'll be damned if I give ye anything.” Senara swept a dagger from her waist and drew the razor-sharp tip over the man's thumb.
He loosed a curse and jerked his hand back. “The cat's got claws, lads.” The look he gave the others was not one of caution, but of malice.
Of foul intent.
Senara glanced at the swells of purple heather surrounding the trail and at the heavy green trees beyond. It did not appear there were more men.
Four men would not be impossible.
She edged in front of Norbert.
“That's quite a blade ye got there, lass.” A man with a tangle of blond hair grinned at the first man. “Did she stick ye with her poker?”
The other two laughed.
Senara slid free her father's sword from the leather scabbard. The steel glinted in the afternoon sun, embodied with all the strength and bravery of her father.
“Does she even know how to use it?” the blond asked.
Senara didn't answer.
They would see.
The man with the injured hand - nay, the injured pride - charged at her. Senara stepped aside from his clumsy attack.
The others laughed.
The tall man's face went red. This time he pulled out his own sword - a terribly large thing he had to hold with two hands.
Her heart skittered against her ribs, but she tamped down the swell of fear. She'd done mock fights with her father and brother many times.
Norbert, she reminded herself. She was doing this to save her sweet Norbert.
The tall man swung his blade down toward her head. She crossed her sword and dagger against one another and stopped the lethal blow. The clang of metal was almost deafening, and the vibrations carried up her arms and near rattled her back teeth.
She shoved the man's blade from her and lashed out with her own sword. He moved to block her assault, which was exactly what she'd wanted.
In a deft move, she attacked with the dagger, plunging it into his side. She pulled the blade free and a warm wash of blood gushed out over her hand.
Surprise showed on the man's face. He staggered back with a hand to the wound.
Though not a mortal hit, it was a warning.
She was no lass easily defeated.
Two of the men lunged toward her at once. She arched her sword through the air as her father had shown her and both their blows were blocked with a metallic ring.
Senara knelt and stabbed with the blade, catching one man in the thigh and swiping the other on the rump.
Truth be told, she hadn't meant to hit him there, but it was the only flesh within reach. And if it came down to his injured bum or saving Norbert, well - she'd save Norbert.
The man howled in offense, rightly so, and drew back.
A shadow blotted out the summer sun behind Senara and chilled the warm day. Her skin prickled with the nearness of a new arrival.
Perhaps she ought to have feared him, attacked him even, but the open mouths of her assailants gave her a sense of comfort regarding the stranger.
The blond man had been moving toward her before the new person arrived, and his momentum continued to carry him toward her. Senara lifted her sword to halt his attack.
Her block was unnecessary.
A form moved in front of her with such fluid speed, she barely recognized it for a man. In the time it took to suck in her breath, the new arrival had her attacker on the ground with his sword arm jerking back to deliver a killing blow.
“Stop.” The word left Senara's mouth before she'd even thought it.
The new man was taller than the four others, and shoulder-length black hair obscured his face. His clothes were fine and immaculate despite him being on the same dusty open road as she.
“Why should he live?” He kept his gaze fixed on his defeated foe as he spoke. “He attacked a defenseless woman with three other men. He's a coward.”
Ire plucked at Senara. She tucked her dagger into her belt and approached him with her free hand cocked on her hip. “Defenseless, ye say?”
His gaze lifted toward her sword, and a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “Aye, well, armed then.” He pulled his blade from where it hovered threateningly at the blond man's throat. “Off with the lot of ye or I'll have ye hanged.”
By the time the defeated man had scrambled to his feet, his companions had already limped off.
The dark-haired man turned toward Senara. “Are ye hurt?”
“Nay, because I'm more than armed - I know what I'm doing.” Senara pushed her sword into its scabbard. The heavy weight of it fell against the side of her right thigh, reminding her of how many times she'd seen her da with it slung in exactly the same way. It made her feel invincible and powerful and...and horribly homesick for her family.
“Ye held them off well, I'll give ye that,” the man said.
She turned her attention to Norbert rather than give in to the sudden tightness in her throat at the thought of her family and the familiar thatched home set back in the mountains. “I'll have ye know I dinna need yer help.”
For his part, Norbert had been quite brave in how he'd stood staring at the men with his dark, soft eyes. She'd make sure to find something sweet for him later.
When the man didn't speak again, she turned and found him watching her with his brow lifted.
He had rather nice brows, for a man. Not too arched like a lass, but not so flat as to make him low-browed and angry. Just enough of an arch to lend his deep brown eyes a look of sincerity.
Senara realized she was not only staring, but also had not properly thanked him for his aid - even if she hadn't necessarily required it. “But thank ye for stopping - it was kind of ye.”
&nb
sp; He nodded, his expression unchanged from that pensive, sincere stare of his. “I'll help ye onto yer horse, so ye can be on yer way.” The rich timbre of his voice matched his gaze - even and deep.
And entirely pleasing, if she was being honest.
She waved away his offer. “Ach, no - I'll walk.”
He didn't reply and in the end, it was the stretch of silence which pressed the answer from her.
“Norbert has carried me the better part of the day and I'm no' expected to arrive until nightfall.” She let her gaze skim the swells of deep purple and the sunlit fields.
The warm day had turned the scent of grass into something lush and sweet beneath the perfume of heather. A smile tugged at her lips. “This is the perfect sort of day to tarry, dinna ye think?”
He slid a side glance to where she'd been gazing. “I assume ye were walking when ye were attacked.”
As he'd made the statement rather than asking an actual question, Senara didn't bother to reply. Instead, she lifted her face toward the warmth of the sun and closed her eyes against its caress.
Perhaps it hadn't been the wisest of choices to not be riding Norbert, but she knew well enough how to fend off attacks. Even Da always said what an incredibly lucky lass she was as she could always seem to manage herself out of awful situations.
“I'll walk with ye.” The man's voice interrupted her thoughts.
Senara opened her eyes and regarded him. His dark hair was not actually black, but a deep, deep brown with threads of red-gold, which near glowed in the sunlight.
“It isna necessary.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and only then realized it'd come loose during the fight.
“As ye can defend yerself.” He finished the sentence for her and went to claim the reins of his horse in a stubborn demonstration of his intent.
“I dinna need ye to walk with me,” Senara insisted.
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