A Merry MacNaughton Mishap: An Historical Romance Novella (MacNaughton Castle Romance)

by Aubrey Wynne

  A Merry MacNaughton Mishap

  A MacNaughton Castle Romance

  Novella

  By

  Aubrey Wynne

  © Copyright 2020 by Aubrey Wynne

  Text by Aubrey Wynne

  Cover by Wicked Smart Designs

  Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.

  P.O. Box 7968

  La Verne CA 91750

  ceo@dragonbladepublishing.com

  Produced in the United States of America

  First Edition July 2020

  Kindle Edition

  Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.

  All Rights Reserved.

  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.

  License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

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  Dearest Reader;

  Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from the some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.

  Happy Reading!

  CEO, Dragonblade Publishing

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Aubrey Wynne

  A MacNaughton Castle Romance

  Deception and Desire (Book 1)

  An Allusive Love (Book 2)

  A Bonny Pretender (Book 3)

  A Merry MacNaughton Mishap (Novella)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Publisher’s Note

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Aubrey Wynne

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  A Reluctant Rescue

  Mid-March 1777

  The Highlands

  “Saints and sinners!” Calum MacNaughton blinked against fat, wet flakes blowing across his vision.

  Black Angus gave a low growl, and Calum checked his horse. The young Scottish deerhound was Calum’s devoted shadow, always protective and waiting for his master’s command. Hackles rose on the dog’s snow-covered back. A riderless horse galloped over the next ridge, its wild eyes rolled back in fear, reins dangling dangerously along the ground as it galloped toward them.

  “Easy, there,” he called to the frightened beastie. “Easy, there.” The horse slowed to a stop and pawed the ground, nostrils flared, sending small white puffs into the air. Its hide glistened and quivered from the water dripping down its mane and saddle blanket.

  “And where have ye been, my friend? Taking a wee dip in Dubh Loch?” He dismounted and slowly approached the animal, taking its reins and signaling Angus to stay. There must be a rider nearby, but friend or foe? The Craiggs’ land bordered the MacNaughtons’ not far from here, and neither clan held any love for the other.

  The foursome climbed the ridge, the runaway horse calm now with its new companions. Below, the sound of splashing echoed among the frosted pines surrounding the half-frozen loch below. Calum saw a man floundering in the icy water. He must have broken through the thin ice. Why would any sane person attempt crossing at this time of year?

  “Mac na galla,” he cursed as he climbed back in the saddle. Leading the stray horse, they made their way down the hill. “I suppose I’ll have to go after the eejit.”

  By the time he reached the bottom, the man was clinging to the frozen edge, his strength sapped, and barely afloat. His sodden plaid pulled heavily at the man’s shoulders and Calum could see the strength ebbing from his grip.

  Calum gave Angus a command to guard the mounts and moved onto the thickest part of the ice. The closer to the center, the thinner the surface and soon he would be on his belly crawling toward the barely conscious man.

  “What’s yer name, mon?” Calum needed the man alert. Pulling dead weight over thin ice would be nearly impossible.

  “Malachi,” came a hoarse response.

  “Weel, didna yer mother teach ye to swim in the summer?”

  “Aye, b-but I was never a g-g-ood listener.”

  “Ye need to do better today, Malachi. I’m going to get as close as I can to ye, then on the count of the three, ye need to grab my wrist. Can ye do that?”

  “Aye,” said the man through faintly blue lips.

  “I’m almost there, mon. Dinna close yer eyes,” he called in a low, soothing tone as he continued his slow, careful steps toward the opening. If the man spooked, he might lose his grip and sink below the ice. The body wouldn’t be found until late spring. “Think of that fine whisky I’ll feed ye as soon as we’re out of here.”

  Dull green eyes struggled to focus, but a faint nod acknowledged that he’d heard. Icicles clung to the ends of his dark hair and moved against his cheeks as his teeth chattered, creating an eerie echo across the ice. Cr-r-r-a-a-c-k! A chill went through Calum that had nothing to do with the temperature. “God’s bones, it’s giving way.”

  His gaze locked with the man’s, the look of fear fading as his lids began to droop. He was giving up. “G-go back. S-s-save yerself.”

  “Och, I’m one of those stubborn fools who finishes what he begins. We’ll both laugh when we tell our adventure to our grandchildren.” Calum eased onto his knees then spread out across the slick surface. Another rumble under his wet, chilled belly sent a shot of desperation through his body and strengthened his own resolve. Wet snow and ice seeped through openings of his plaid as he wormed his way across the loch. They’d both be frozen memories soon.

  With a whistle, he called for help. “Angus, trobhad!” The deerhound whined then gingerly stepped onto the loch, moving toward his master little by little.

  “We have one chance to get this right, friend, so listen well.” He stretched out his arm. “Grab on to me and hold on with all the strength ye’ve got left. One, two, three!”

  The man gritted his chattering teeth, dug his nails into the ice, and thrust one arm out. Calum latched on to his wrist, surprised at the strength the exhausted man still poss
essed. His clammy slick skin was already puckered with a grayish cast.

  As he began to pull, he saw the colors of the Craigg tartan on the underside of the man’s plaid. Christ’s bones. But there wasn’t time to worry about whose skin he was saving. With his free hand, he leaned around, pulled his dirk from his hose, and jabbed the blade into the ice for leverage.

  He looked over his shoulder at Black Angus. “Tarraing!”

  Angus sniffed at his master’s backside, and Calum rewarded him with an “aye” when the black nose touched the end of his plaid. The hound latched on to the wool with powerful jaws and began to pull his master backwards. Calum pushed against his blade at the same time, then pulled it from the ice, and jammed it back down.

  “Tarraing!” The dog pulled, he pushed. Water sloshed over the edge of ice as Malachi’s chest emerged from the water, soaking Calum’s front and sending needles of pain across his thighs.

  Malachi’s legs emerged from the water, and he fumbled for his own dirk, digging it into the ice. With a shaking hand and clenched teeth, he pulled at his blade along with the deerhound as Calum continued to push until all three were lying on the bank of the frozen loch.

  Two sets of chattering teeth now filled the silence. Calum rolled onto his back, breathing heavy. “I’m no’ afraid to tell ye, I was a wee bit worried neither of us would make it home this day.” He grinned as Angus licked his face and whined. Burying his fingers in the dog’s wiry black and gray coat, he pulled himself to a sitting position. “I dinna think my dog is verra happy either.”

  Tiny icicles pelted his face as he sat up and realized he was talking to his dog and an unconscious man. A stream of curses sounded from Calum as he rose and hoisted the still form over his shoulder. Frigid water slid down his back and side as Malachi’s sopping clothes pressed against his body. After a bit of maneuvering, the body sagged over the saddle, feet dangling on one side, arms on the other. He pulled the second blanket from his own horse with an apologetic pat.

  “Sorry, old boy, but he needs it more,” he told the horse.

  “It’s no’ the most comfortable, my new friend, but it will get ye home.” Friend. His da will have a fit not only for saving a Craigg but for bringing one home. “And for the love of Mary, ye better no’ die after all the trouble ye’ve put us through.” Angus howled his agreement, the hound’s golden eyes still watching the stranger warily.

  Calum took up the reins from the spare horse, climbed back on his gelding, and clicked to both horses and dog. He secured the heavy wool tightly around his neck, pulled his cap down against the blustery wind, and cursed the early spring storm. With a nudge to his mount’s flank, they carefully picked their way back up the hill.

  “It’s colder than a Sassenach’s heart on eviction day at the orphanage.” Black Angus barked in response as he padded behind in the horse’s tracks.

  The snow was accumulating quickly, but they had less than an hour before the round tower of MacNaughton Castle greeted their eyes. Visions of a large hearth, warm spiced wine, and a willing lass filled his head. He should have stopped at the last inn and waited out the brewing storm. The stew was good, and the barmaid always ready for a romp.

  When he’d left the village that morning, the sun had glinted off the snow-covered rooftops with the promise of a bright day. But the weather was her own mistress and as fickle as a honey bee in a field of wildflowers. He grinned. A bit of water never stopped a Highlander, whether it be frozen or falling from the sky.

  *

  By the time the bedraggled group reached MacNaughton Castle, Calum’s stomach rumbled and his fingers ached from the cold. He’d tucked his face inside the wet plaid, creating a warm but moist protection for most of his body. The steam beneath kept him warm as the outer wool turned into a crackling, icy shell.

  The rescued Highlander hadn’t stirred, but a groan had occasionally slipped past his blue lips. Considering Da’s hatred of the Craigg Clan, and the feud that had simmered for generations, he decided not to announce his guest to the family. Entering the stable yard, he called for the head groom.

  “Rory, help me get this man to the kitchen. He fell through the ice and isna doing so well.” Dismounting, he handed his reins off to one of the lads who came running. “Rub them both down good, boy. It’s been a long journey.”

  “He’s a Craigg,” Rory whispered loudly, his face turning the same dull red as his hair. He scooped up one arm under his shoulder, and they half-carried, half-dragged the man up the hill, kicking up a cloud of white in their wake.

  “I ken that, but he’ll be dead if we dinna get him before a fire.” Calum pushed the door handle down with an elbow and kicked the thick oak with his leather boot. “Keep this between us for now. If we say anything, the poor man stands a better chance in the frozen loch. If he dies, there’s no need to tell Da.”

  “I wouldna want to be the one to tell him,” Rory agreed, his brown eyes bright with mischief. “My memory isna what it used to be.”

  “Thank ye for yer help. And remember, no’ a word.” They dropped the limp form onto a bench next to the hearth and Rory returned to the stable. Calum’s mouth watered when he took in the aroma of fresh bread. Several skewered birds roasted over a low fire, their juices sizzling as they dripped onto the flames. A young boy sat next to the hearth and turned the spit.

  “Go find Enid, lad, and be quick about it.”

  The boy jumped up, glanced at the handle of the spit and back at his master uncertainly.

  “It’ll be fine, I willna let it burn. Now go!” He smiled as the child scampered off, making a wide berth around the deerhound.

  Looking about the kitchen, he spied the oblong loaves on the long trestle table. Yanking off the cloth covering them, he grabbed one, bit into the end, and tore off a chunk. He closed his eyes as he chewed and gave a tired sigh. A familiar reprimand interrupted his chewing.

  “I’ll have ye hung by yer toes and whipped soundly, Calum MacNaughton. Leave my bread alone. It’s for the evening meal.” Enid the cook bustled in, her plump form filling the space between Calum and the crackling fire. “And if ye think those big blue eyes will change my mind—”

  She gaped at the sleeping man crumpled on the bench next to the hearth. Deep brown curls plastered against his skin made his pallor almost alabaster.

  “Sweet Jesus, what have ye dragged home now? Is he dead?”

  “Now why would I bring home a corpse, my lovely Enid?” He pinched her rosy cheek and chuckled as she slapped his hand.

  “I’m no’ one of yer giggling lasses who melts under yer poor excuse for charm. No matter how tall, dark, and handsome ye may be,” she scolded, but her eyes did not move from the body slumped in her kitchen.

  “I thought ye were husband hunting. He’ll be an easy one to catch.”

  He ducked as Enid grabbed the loaf of bread from his hand, reached up on her tiptoes, and smacked him on top of the head. A chunk of the bread fell to the floor, and Angus snatched it up, his wiry gray tail wagging as he sniffed the stone floor for more.

  “I’m as lithe on my feet as I was at twenty. Now ye better start explaining before I call the MacNaughton in here.” She handed him back the bread and put her fists on her ample hips, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together.

  Calum’s smirk disappeared. “I’m only teasing, and I wouldna be telling anyone about our visitor. He’s a Craigg.”

  She gasped. “Why in heaven would ye bring one of those devils here?”

  “Well, I didna ken when I pulled him from the loch. After that…” He shrugged. “Well, I couldna just leave him to die. Craigg or no.”

  She nodded and blew at a red curl that had escaped her kertch. “Well, get him into my room or the entire clan will ken he’s here. Strip him down while I find a dry shirt.”

  Calum gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I kent I could count on ye, Enid.”

  Pink stained her cheeks as she waved him away. Calum stuffed another hunk of bread into his mouth and then tossed the man
over his shoulder again.

  *

  “Ye saved my life. Considering our clans’ shared history, I doubt if my family would have been as welcoming.” Malachi Craigg shook his head. “My horse is young and he spooked at something in the wood. By the time I reined him in, I realized we were offshore.”

  “Why did ye no’ grab on to the horse? He made it to land.” Calum settled onto the chair next to the bed. Black Angus sprawled out next to him, his head on his master’s foot.

  The older man pursed his lips, red creeping up his neck. “When the ice cracked, the beast panicked and reared, slipping on the ice and falling backward. I’ve never learned to swim. By the time I wallowed my way to the broken edge, I had no more strength left to pull myself out. I tell ye, I watched my life passing before me, and it wasna pretty.”

  “I dinna doubt it. Enid and I wondered if ye’d make it through the sweating.”

  His fever had taken three days to break. With Enid’s healing hands, he began to regain some color and strength. After a week, he still looked peaked and unfit for travel. But Calum wouldn’t interfere with another man’s decisions, though that rumbly cough concerned him. Another surprise. He was lucky his great-grandfather didn’t reach down from the heavens to strike him smartly for caring about the life of a Craigg.

  But he found he liked Malachi. Each time Calum had stopped in to check on the patient, they’d gotten lost in conversation. Both men were well read and shared similar political views concerning the future of Scotland. It was a shame their clans were at odds.

  “To be truthful, my family has no idea ye are here. I thought it best to keep yer arrival quiet.” Calum smiled. “I respect my da, but I disagree with holding a grudge from generations past. He’d have tried to ransom ye or something as foolish, I’m sure.”

  “My brothers are also tired of the feuding. We’ve tried to reason with our father but he willna listen.” Malachi sat up and swung his legs over the bed. “It is good to hear ye feel the same.”