Highland Retribution

by Keira Montclair

  Braden Grant is haunted by the death of his friend Ronan, who took his own life. No one knows why the warrior resorted to such desperate measures, but Braden blames himself. He won’t feel settled until he’s atoned for failing to save his friend, and when he meets Cairstine Muir, he wonders if he’s finally found his chance. Held against her will by the very man who killed her family, the lass is a prisoner in her own keep. Her beauty and quiet strength call to him as much as her situation urges him to fight.

  Though life has taught her harsh lessons, Cairstine still has an ember of hope in her heart. She longs to escape her captors and exact vengeance on them, but nothing is more important to her than her wee son’s safety. Though she failed to save her family, she pledges she will always save him, come what may. When a strong, handsome defender steps into her life, promising to help her exact vengeance on her captors, she sees the opportunity she’s waited for...but is the possibility of a new life worth the risk to her son?

  Dedication

  To my daughter Christy,

  Thanks for always being an inspiration. Hope this works!

  The Grants and Ramsays in 1280s

  GRANTS

  LAIRD ALEXANDER GRANT and wife, MADDIE

  John (Jake) and wife, Aline

  James (Jamie) and wife, Gracie

  Kyla and husband, Finlay

  Connor

  Elizabeth

  Maeve

  BRENNA GRANT and husband, QUADE RAMSAY

  Torrian (Quade’s son from his first marriage) and wife, Heather—Nellie (Heather’s daughter from a previous relationship) and son, Lachlan

  Lily (Quade’s daughter from his first marriage) and husband, Kyle—twin daughters, Lise and Liliana

  Bethia and husband, Donnan—son Drystan

  Gregor

  Jennet

  ROBBIE GRANT and wife, CARALYN

  Ashlyn (Caralyn’s daughter from a previous relationship) and husband, Magnus—daughter

  Gracie (Caralyn’s daughter from a previous relationship) and husband, Jamie

  Rodric (Roddy)

  Padraig

  BRODIE GRANT and wife, CELESTINA

  Loki (adopted) and wife, Arabella—sons, Kenzie (adopted) and Lucas, daughter, Ami (adopted)

  Braden

  Catriona

  Alison

  JENNIE GRANT and husband, AEDAN CAMERON

  Riley

  Tara

  Brin

  RAMSAYS

  QUADE RAMSAY and wife, BRENNA GRANT (see above)

  LOGAN RAMSAY and wife, GWYNETH

  Molly (adopted) and husband, Tormod

  Maggie (adopted) and husband, Will

  Sorcha and husband, Cailean

  Gavin

  Brigid

  MICHEIL RAMSAY and wife, DIANA

  David and wife, Anna

  Daniel

  AVELINA RAMSAY and DREW MENZIE

  Elyse

  Tad

  Tomag

  Maitland

  Table of Contents

  The Family Trees

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Epilogue

  Other Novels by Keira Montclair

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  1284, the Highlands of Scotland

  Cairstine Muir had a sick feeling deep in her belly. The feeling didn’t stem from the fact that her wee son had run off again and they’d been unsuccessful at finding him, but from a troubling thought that had entered her mind.

  A small part of her would be happier if they never found her son; if another clan took him in and offered him a better—and safer—home.

  Steafan, or Steenie as she called him, had disappeared after he’d gone into the bushes to pish, or as he liked to say, “go pishy.” At only five winters, the lad was one braw soul who was prone to distraction, often ending up in a completely different area from where he started. Cairstine constantly reminded him to focus, but he was just a wee lad. His father often gave him a thrashing to hammer in the lesson, but it rarely stuck with him.

  Unfortunately for Steenie and for Cairstine, being the son of Greer Lamont was not easy. Greer and his brother Blair were cruel, sinful men. They’d killed her parents and the rest of her clan in front of her, and Greer had then taken her hostage and called her his wife. She’d never said a vow to accept him, nor would she have, even though her dear mother would rightfully have told her they lived in sin.

  Greer didn’t believe in marriage. In his mind, he owned Cairstine and that was all she needed to know. That arrangement suited her fine, because she never would have agreed to be his wife. Better that she was forced to live in sin. Nearly everything Greer did was sinful.

  “Steenie!” she called out from atop her horse, wishing she’d never agreed to come out on this small journey. Greer had said they’d be patrolling the area, watching for something, though he’d not said what. She knew better than to ask, but Steenie had begged to ride along. He loved getting outside the castle and knew he couldn’t go alone. On rare occasions, Greer gave in to him. This had been one of them. She could almost say she regretted it, but had she not come along with them, he’d have no one else to help him find the lad. He’d sent his guards off to search for the shipment of goods they expected, deciding at the last moment that the two of them would search for Steenie alone.

  How she wished her wee son would get away forever. As much as it would break her heart, she’d prefer to see him free of the brute who controlled their lives with his fists. If Steenie ever managed to get away, she’d follow the first chance she got. She’d tried to run away once with the lad, but she’d learned her lesson. Greer had made sure she’d never do it again. But if she didn’t have the lad to worry about, things would be different.

  “Steenie, where are you?” Her gaze searched the area again, not seeing the beautiful Scottish landscape for what it was.

  There had been a day when her gaze would take in the lush green forests, the rolling hills standing so majestic in the cool Scottish winds, but rarely did she notice the wonders of nature any more. How she used to love the sweet fragrance of heather mixed with pine, or the whistling of the wind through the towering oak trees, just waiting for the days their leaves would turn into the glorious golds and reds of autumn. They used to stir a deep sense of pride, but no longer.

  She hadn’t seen those sights in years. Instead she only saw desolation and despair wherever she looked. How could the landscape change so much?

  It hadn’t, she had.

  There had been two days in her life that had forever left a lasting impression on her. The first was the day her parents and brother had been killed, and the second was the day she’d nearly died trying to escape Greer Lamont with her young son in tow.

  Those two incidents drove everything she did, changing her life and her focus to only one thing—protecting and loving Steenie. She no longer cared about herself, if she lived or died, only her son. She would protect him until she took her last dying breath, no matter the size of the beast she’d have to fight.

  A shad
ow crossed over her soul and she started, staring up at the clouds overhead, even though there were none. The feeling reminded her of those two days, sad but separate, long ago.

  Both days she’d had a terrible foreboding in the morning, a premonition deep inside her, that some chance occurrence would change her life forever.

  She was experiencing the same intuition, the same hunch deep in her core. In her past, the feelings had come over her as though a priest had covered her with a dark shroud, but this was slightly different.

  This shroud was light, billowing in a warm breeze.

  What could that mean?

  Greer rode up beside her. “He’s not here, but I see there’s a celebration at a nearby clan, the Drummonds. I’m hungry. We’ll head into the courtyard and see if Steenie snuck inside. As long as we’re there, I’m eating. If we don’t find him, we’ll head back to our land.”

  Cairstine nodded her agreement because she’d learned it was best to always agree with him. Greer Lamont was a bastard. So much so that she’d given him that name with a bit of kick at the end.

  Bastart!

  How she hated him. She followed him toward the sounds of revelry inside the bailey of a large castle. The gates were open, so perhaps Steenie had found his way inside. This was a celebration for the villagers of the clan, the same type she’d seen put on by her own clan many moons ago. Some clans allowed outsiders in, some did not.

  Greer wasn’t interested in finding out, instead barreling inside as though he belonged. She followed him, her gaze seeking out someone small. If Steenie were inside, she hoped he’d hidden himself well. Or, better yet, that he’d told his story to one of the clan elders. She’d wished to tell him what to say about his sire should he ever have the opportunity, but he was too young to recall such things and too young to understand when it would be appropriate to reveal his story. She feared it would slip out to Greer and they’d both be punished for it.

  Perhaps she should have prompted him, or perhaps someone would take pity on him. After she moved inside the gates, she hurried to keep up with Greer. As usual, he paid her no mind. He’d made sure a year ago that she’d never voluntarily leave him again. Stay or die was his simple motto.

  If it weren’t for Steenie, she’d choose death.

  Once they were inside the courtyard, she scanned the area again for a young laddie, but there was no sign of her son. She almost lost sight of the bastart in the crowd. These men were tall and strong; her gaze fell on several handsome faces. It occurred to her that any of them could likely challenge her captor and win. But if Greer caused trouble, they might beat her, too. Just because her sire had not beat women did not mean others wouldn’t readily partake in the unconscionable deed.

  She continued to trail Greer, just now recognizing the hunger sounds in her belly. When had she eaten last? How she wished she could turn to any of the men and whisper, “Help me.” But she’d learned long ago not to go against Greer or Blair Lamont, and she’d learned the hard way. She would never give the bastart the opportunity to use Steenie against her again.

  The basic needs in her life mattered little. Survival and protection of her son were all that were important.

  Greer found a table full of plump meat pies, pushing others aside to get toward the front. The only problem was there was another man who’d already reached the front of the table, and he was perusing the different pies as if searching for something in particular.

  That forced Greer to wait, and he’d never possessed any patience. He was about to make a spectacle of himself. How she wished he would just be patient, but the Lamont brothers loved attention. They considered themselves more important than anyone else, so Greer would no doubt decide the man at the front of the line was in his way.

  Never mind that they were in a strange place. Never mind that they’d not been invited. That would not slow Greer, even in this rare occasion that he was without his brother.

  She examined her surroundings: a beautiful keep with intricate crenellations on the curtain wall, three towers as big as she’d ever seen, a large bailey filled with well-kept cottages, and multiple buildings for the skilled of the clan. It all spoke of a thriving, wealthy clan, as did the multitude of guards stationed on the curtain wall and the sheer number of guests enjoying the festivities.

  This was Clan Drummond. When her mother had been alive, she’d mentioned the Drummonds, how wonderful the laird Diana and her husband Micheil were. She even recalled the expression on her mother’s face when she’d explained to Cairstine that women could be lairds, and good ones, too. The Lamonts were not far from the Drummonds, less than half a day away, but this was the first time they’d been here since returning to Muir Castle four years ago. They didn’t believe in being neighborly, so they kept to themselves. It was no surprise that Steenie had found his way here when they’d been out traveling away from home.

  But her gaze, so trained to find the sweet young lad, didn’t see him anywhere.

  Mayhap she’d been looking at the situation completely wrong. Perhaps she’d wish that Greer would be true to his usual self, become belligerent, and this clan would beat him, putting him in his rightful place as a barbarian. Maybe she’d be so lucky that they’d show him what it felt like to be a prisoner.

  Greer gave the man at the front of the line his shoulder. “Hurry up so I can grab my share.”

  The dark-haired man turned around and said, “I’ll take my time, arse.”

  “Hellfire you won’t. Get out of my way.”

  Cairstine almost gasped when she caught a full glimpse of the man challenging Greer. He was shorter than several of the strapping Highlanders at the gathering, but hell, his handsomeness surpassed them all. Dark hair, dark eyes, and the most muscular shoulders she’d seen in a long time caught her attention enough that she couldn’t look away. Greer was undeniably a good-looking man, too, but his black heart made him ugly to her.

  Greer grabbed the stranger’s tunic by the neck and lifted him off his feet. The handsome lad counteracted with his fist, delivering a blow that launched a resounding crack, causing the bastart to let go of him, stand back, and grab his nose. He then grabbed Greer’s leg and tossed him onto his back, giving him no time to respond. He leaned toward Greer, his boot on his chest, and said, “I said I’ll take my time.”

  To Cairstine’s surprise, Greer calmed down. “My apologies,” he said. “Take what you want and move on.” The look in Greer’s gaze told Cairstine this wasn’t over—he’d only conceded for the moment. So, he was wise enough not to start a fight with a courtyard full of strangers…she wouldn’t have thought it.

  When the man stood back, Cairstine reached for Greer to assist him, but the boor shoved her hands away. She whispered to him, “Greer, please. Can we not leave?” Clearly, Steenie was not here. It was best for them to move on and continue their search elsewhere.

  She glanced up to find the handsome man staring at her, his gaze intense enough to make her blush.

  How she wished she had the courage to speak.

  Take me away. Save me, save my son, from this ogre.

  That foreboding, that shroud, covered her again. This time she couldn’t tell if it was light or dark.

  Before she could think any more about it, Greer bounced to his feet, his gaze now locked on the other man. He whispered, “Don’t touch me, Cairstine.”

  She stepped back and dropped her gaze to the ground. The gown she wore was a shabby garment of green wool. Why would the man stare at her so? It couldn’t be her looks, as she’d lost any enticing qualities years ago. All light had gone out of her along with her hope for a new life. Greer often took pleasure in reminding her of how unsightly she’d become. If that’s how he really felt, she wondered why he didn’t just do her the favor of turning her out onto the street. Surely, her life would be better as a homeless wench than kept unwillingly in the bleak and tarnished walls of her clan’s ruined castle.

  As the handsome lad stood there, still staring at her, another man wi
th hair as dark as night came up behind him. The two had a similar look except the new man towered over every other man in the courtyard. The newcomer asked in a loud enough voice for all to hear, “Need help, cousin?” A fair-haired man stepped up to join them, offering his support as well.

  The handsome lad replied, “Nay, I’ve handled it.” He grabbed a meat pie, and after a nudge to his cousin, the three of them stepped away.

  As soon as they turned their backs, Greer spun around and slapped her hard across the cheek. “Do not ever embarrass me again. I am capable of standing on my own. I don’t need your help.” She’d learned not to cry out when he hit her—he’d hit her again if she did—but she couldn’t stop the reflexive action of her hand going up to her cheek, as though rubbing it would take the sting away or stop the bruise that would appear the next day.

  The brawny lad whirled around with the reverberating sound of Greer’s slap, just in time to see her reaction.

  The fury on his face shocked her. He closed in on Greer and demanded, “Did you just hit a lass? Someone who could never hurt you? Someone who is smaller than you and doesn’t have the muscle strength you have? Surely a big man like you doesn’t need to pick on a wee lass to make himself feel stronger, does he? I thought I’d already shown you just how weak you really are.” He continued to step closer toward them, and Cairstine could see the fire in his gaze. She reflexively took two steps back.

  Shite, but they were in trouble now.

  Greer glanced back at her, a small grin on his face. “Cairstine? Did I hit you?” He had his hand on her wrist. His fingernail scraped her tender skin on the inside; a veiled warning that if she did him wrong, he’d slash deep, something he loved to do. Many of his abuses were done this way, hidden from the people who could help her.

  Cairstine dropped her hand from her face and shook her head. “Nay. He didn’t hit me. A bug bit me, and I slapped it away.”