The Highlander's Secret Maiden
A Scottish Historical Romance Novel
Lydia Kendall
Contents
A Little Gift for You
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
The Highlander's Enigmatic Bride
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Also by Lydia Kendall
About the Author
A Little Gift for You
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you, called Falling for the Highlander. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping the image below or this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
Lydia Kendall
About the Book
When Georgina Andrews runs away from her cruel fate of marrying a man she secretly despises with the powerful Laird MacGowan and his exquisitely handsome brother Marcas, an endless manhunt begins.
The scandal is too big and the mission only one: bring the girl back and get revenge from the untamed Highlanders. The leader of the expedition is none other than the sworn enemy of clan MacGowan...and Georgina’s betrothed.
Marcas, torn between his fascination for Georgina and his vengeful brother, quickly realizes that when the choice between freedom and love becomes crucial, a single moment is all that it takes to change one’s destiny.
Chapter 1
A wedding…Another wedding. There seems to be no end to them.
Bored of listening to her father prattle on, she turned her attention to the budding trees and flowers that spoke of the English countryside come to life after the wet and dark winter. It was her favorite time of the year when promise hung in the air. Even so, it was hard to ignore the feeling of dread as they approached the Earl of Aylesford’s wedding. For Georgina at 22 years old, finding a prosperous match had become more and more a frequent topic of late.
It was the same thing at every wedding. She knew it so well, she could write about it. Her father will tell her what to expect – as if she didn’t already know.
“This will be the perfect occasion to formally begin your courtship of Morgan Bolton; he’s a man of considerable power and would be a most advantageous match for you.”
“I doubt he’ll have much to discuss other than himself.” Georgina deliberately sighed at the mention of the leader of the British Army. Morgan Bolton was nothing but a vile creature in her eyes, with a propensity to crush the spirits of those he deemed weak or not worthy of glory.
“He led us into yet another victory against the enemy, you should be grateful for his forward thinking and bravery.”
“His disgusting viciousness more like.” From the brief encounters Georgina had experienced with him, he was all ego with little to please the eye.
They pulled up in front of the Aylesford estate. Georgina stepped out of the carriage, and once again, wished that her mother was still here. She would have been the voice of reason to emphasize the need for an element of romantic love in a potential match for her.
Now it begins again…with greetings at the door.
“Welcome, Mr. Andrews, Miss Andrews, do come in.” The maid showed them to the ballroom where the festivities were just beginning. Georgina thanked the young woman and watched her walk away with a purpose.
Would the maid have more freedom living such a life— no father trying to sell her off to the highest bidder. No treacherous marriage to an insufferable brute of a man to worry about. Then again, the maid still had the Earl of Aylesford to answer to, so perhaps it was impossible to lead a life free from the control of a man.
“Ah, good evening Jeremy, wonderful to see you and your lovely daughter.” Georgina curtseyed to Peter Gibbons, an acquaintance of her father. “A splendid day for a wedding is it not?”
Georgina’s eyes swept the room and saw it was the customary ton occasion. Perhaps a bit more splendid with a bit of dancing to liven things up.”
Mr. Gibbons let out a bark of a laugh at Georgina’s comment.
As was his usual practice at each social function, her father pitched in with his trite comment. “Ah, come now Georgina. Once the happy couple arrives, there will be ample opportunity to dance with a certain bachelor.”
She looked across the room and noticed Morgan Bolton standing, one hand in his pocket, the other at his side.
Just look at the way he projects himself like he was above everyone else. Oh, no, he’s looking straight at me. Am I a particularly tasty morsel he can’t wait to sink his teeth into. She glanced at her hands and shook her head. Only one word for him —predator.
Mr. Gibbons winked as he spoke, “Oh, I’m sure a fine young lady such as yourself will have the pick of the gentlemen.”
She smiled politely, internally wishing to be anywhere but here. “You are too kind to flatter me so, Mr. Gibbons.”
They shared a brief chuckle, and then my father delivered the dreaded line. “Perhaps she’ll even leave the festivities with a marriage proposal.”
Following the object of her father’s stare, she saw the unwavering drooling of the great British leader. This insufferable sight coupled with her father’s clichéd hint, left her feeling cold and nauseated. I need to catch my breath … elsewhere.
She couldn’t tolerate any more of these dubious hints about her potential match with this all-powerful army official. “Please excuse me, father, Mr. Gibbons. I need a moment in the dressing room.” She darted into the increasing sea of guests and felt more alone than ever.
Georgina longed for a confidante to share her dread about this impending match with Morgan Bolton and reveal her recurring fantasy about running away from it all to start a brand-new life. Since her mother’s passing three years ago, she had become obsessed with painting, even keeping a sketchbook handy. She depicted places she could get lost in — a way to escape the reality around her. She imagined tonight’s events on a canvas would show Morgan, the incubus, and her, his trapped innocent.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Earl of Aylesford and his Lady Agatha Aylesford.” The newly married coupled entered to the sound of congratulatory applause. Georgina blended with a group of other young women while the floor cleared allowing the newlyweds to parade to the center of the ballroom for their customary first dance.
Georgina watched the newly married couple dance rigidly in front of their esteemed guest. Their movements di
dn’t flow; they were merely following the sets. They might as well be strangers. There goes another lovely young maiden sacrificed in the name of security.
She lowered her eyes to her wringing hands. Am I destined for the same loveless marriage and dull life? Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the banter behind her.
“She looks puffed.”
“When I get married, I will be the most tempting armful in the room. Not a cow stuffed in a frock.”
“But she marries into a well-inlaid family, even if she does have to put up with an old frog face snorting away on top of her night after night.” The two now exploded into a muffled fit of giggles over the bride.
Georgina turned to see the smugness of two meddling magpies – the lovely Eunice and the charming Rose. She attended their coming-out balls with her mother several years ago. She saw them then as two old biddies, both come with unwanted opinions and incessant gossip.
“Oh, my gosh, Georgina, is it true that you’re to be engaged to Major Bolton?”
“Well, I’m not aware that is certain.” She was foxed about this rumor seemingly spread across the region. It hadn’t occurred to her that her father had been postulating her betrothal with other people in their social circle.
Eunice whipped her head to see Morgan’s lecherous gaze, then back to Georgina for a reaction.
“He certainly has his eyes set on you anyway; I doubt there’s much you can do to resist the advances of such a powerful man,” Eunice said. Then Rose followed with, “Why, he’s handsome enough that I’d be tempted to set my cap on him.”
Georgina shook her head and turned away. She is welcome to have him.
Now that the newlywed’s first dance was well under way, others began to join in, lifting the stiffness from the atmosphere. Georgina returned her attention to the room desperately wishing to drown out the babbling duo.
Glancing across the room in an attempt to ignore Morgan’s unwelcomed stare, she locked on to a set of captivating eyes with a secret expression.
“Now who is that?” Eunice’s words echoed Georgina’s thoughts. He was definitely not one of the local prospects. This man was rugged and handsome with brilliant blue eyes. His physique hinted at extraordinary strength and his features were chiseled to perfection. She held his gaze and was unable to tear herself away; she felt an undeniable pull between them.
Georgina overheard Rose, “He’s a Scotsman, he must be. Look at the red hair and the brutish strength.” Eunice reply was “What would one of their kind be doing here? They’re all brutes with no manners or social standing.”
Georgina broke the gaze of the blue eyes. She was annoyed at such a comment. “How would you know such a fact?”
Eunice continued, “Everyone knows that. They practically run into battle for the sheer joy of causing destruction to us Brits. No dignity whatsoever.”
Georgina gaped at Rose’s ogling of this man with the blue eyes. “Well, he looks plenty dignified to me.”
“Oh, put your tongue away, Rose. He’s hardly an eligible match after charging down here from the Highlands.”
Georgina was tiring of Eunice’s arrogant comments. Georgina defended this man despite his being a stranger, and she didn’t know why.
Georgina opened her mouth to retaliate against Eunice’s ill-formed judgments but felt the wind get knocked out of her. She watched as Morgan Bolton approached the mysterious red-haired stranger and stiffly shaked his hand. Instinctively, she ducked behind the pillar by her side, not wanting Morgan to see her and stake some sort of claim upon her to this handsome stranger.
“There’s no use in hiding, Georgie. If Mr. Morgan can lead the British Army to battle, then he can just snatch you up and marry you.”
Georgina loathed the shortening of her name and stalked off, unable to listen to a second more of their chatter and fits of giggles. She wished more than ever to just escape her life before she was trapped forever in the arms of a man she despised.
Chapter 2
Marcas McGowan was attending the wedding mainly to focus on his brother. Conall’s temper against the stinkin’ Brits had only gotten worse over the last days and Marcas was doing his best to keep an eye on him. He didn’t expect to lock eyes on a pair so beautiful as was this stunning lass, and it blew him away. He didn’t hear Conall talking to him.
“Marcas! Marcas — ye still awake, lad? Stop gaping at that fine English filly will ya, we’ve got company approachin’.”
“Ach hald yer wheest.” Marcas tore his gaze away from the dark-haired beauty across the room and told his brother to shut up.
They stood there boldly, intimidating and watched the tall uniformed officer drawing near.
“Ah, the McGowans. He nodded at each man in turn. Marcas…Conall.” Marcas could see his brother’s jaw tense into a fierce lock as the leader of the British Army acknowledged their presence.
“Good evening Bolton.” His brother’s voice was cold and harsh as they greeted the English bampot. Marcas dutifully nodded.
Bolton’s face remained unruffled by this chilly reception. “And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”
Conall continued his frosty tone. “As the Laird, the duty now lies wi’ me to counsel with the Earl. We’re here to raise a glass tae the newly married man and wife and be on our way.”
Marcas stayed firmly at his brother’s side. I have tae make sure this piece of English filth ken he’d picked the wrong clan tae mess with.
Neither brother wanted to be there, especially after what happened to Alistair and Sarah Campbell. Marcas knew Conall was still grieving for his closest friend and his wife. They’d had a lifelong friendship, and Alistair had been fiercely loyal to the McGowans.
That bastard Bolton got personal when he tracked down the Campbells and viciously slaughtered them. It was a cowardly move tae come after folk Conall cared about. Any decent man would have stood proud and faced his enemy during battle, and spared any lass involved.
The brothers saw another English fool sidled into the conversation, holding out his hand as a formality for an introduction. “Good evening Mr. Bolton, gentlemen, I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Conall McGowan, sir and this here’s me brother Marcas.” Conall and Marcas took turns shaking the man’s hand.
“You must be the late Laird McGowan’s sons. I’m Mr. Andrews. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Marcas nodded politely at the introduction. It felt plain wrong to be standing here in the midst of the Brits and act civil, but their father had put in a lot of hard work to maintain this diplomatic relationship with their clan and the Earl of Aylesford, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize that.
Mr. Andrews spoke up, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I require a word with Major Bolton here.”
Marcas was grateful for the chance to escape their company.
Morgan snorted, “Gentlemen? I reckon that’s pushing it, Mr. Andrews. They’re nothing more than Highland brutes dressed up in finery.” Marcas felt his patience snap and it took greater control not to lash out at this comment.
Conall flared up at this, and snarled, “that’s no way to talk to a Laird, and you lot say we hae no manners?”
“Save it for the battlefield Conall,” Marcas whispered in his brother’s ear, willing him to calm down and remember why they were here.
“Well, nice to meet ye, Mr. Andrews, we’ll take up no more o’ Mr. Bolton’s attention.” Conall turned to Mr. Andrews as he spoke and politely excused themselves from the men’s company.
“Ach, let’s get a wee dram doon us lad, afore I run that bastard doon wi’ me sword.” Conall was angry as he spoke of them getting a good stiff drink, but there was a hint of playful banter underneath.
“Right ye’ are Conall, ye’ reckon they’ll have a decent whiskey or two or will it all be watered doon English pish?” They shared a laugh as they moved through the room, Conall on the lookout for the booze, but Marcas was avidly scanning the room for the girl he’d laid eyes on only minutes a
go.
They caught sight of the Earl up ahead and made to go over and congratulate him.
“Ah, fellas, glad that you could make it.” His round face was glowing pink with drink which could only be a good sign that there was some nearby.
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