Deception (Highland Brides of Skye Book 3)

by Tarah Scott

  Deception

  Highland Brides of Skye Book Three

  Tarah Scott

  April Holthaus

  Scarsdale Publishing

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Sneak Peek of Claimed By Tarah Scott

  Claimed Blurb

  Chapter 1

  About the Authors

  Deception: Highland Brides of Skye Book Three

  Copyright © 2018

  Tarah Scott & April Holthaus

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art: dreams2media

  Edited by Casey Yager

  www.scarsdalepublishing.com

  A Scarsdale Publishing Half Hour Read

  Chapter 1

  Linnae kept her attention on the scenery passing outside the carriage and pretended not to notice the other two maids’ giggles.

  “Cook said that Jacob MacKinnon can make a lass swoon simply by looking at her,” the younger maid, Rebecca, said.

  Lady Alison shifted on the carriage seat beside Linnae. “Perhaps it is true,” her mistress said. “Such a man would only marry a beautiful woman.”

  Linnae hid a smile. Lady Alison referred to herself, of course—and failed to add that her grandfather, Laird MacKenzie, had betrothed her to Laird MacKinnon in order to bind the MacKenzie and MacKinnon clans. Lady Alison could have been horse-faced and Laird MacKinnon would have married her. Lady Alison, however, was not horse-faced. No doubt, Laird MacKinnon would be more than pleased to have the flaxen-haired beauty as his bride, even if she was only fifteen.

  “I believe Linnae is laughing at me,” Lady Alison said.

  Linnae looked at her and said in an innocent voice, “Nae, my lady, I would never do that.”

  Lady Alison arched a haughty brow. “Do you know the penalty for laughing at your mistress?”

  Linnae dropped her gaze. “A lashing.”

  “A tongue lashing, ye saucy maid.” Alison bumped Linnae’s shoulder with her own.

  Linnae looked up and widened her eyes. “And you are very good at dosing out tongue lashings, my lady.”

  Lady Alison grinned. Linnae didn’t miss the roll of Rebecca’s eyes and Dina’s answering look, but didn’t care. They were simply jealous of the friendship that had sprung up between Linnae and her mistress. No one was more surprised than Linnae that the spoiled noblewoman had taken to her with such force. After nearly two years of Linnae’s service, Alison rarely went anywhere without Linnae.

  When Lady Alison had received the message from her brother David that their grandfather had betrothed her to Jacob MacKinnon, her one condition of acceptance was that Linnae go with her. He’d sent Dina and Rebecca, as well, for David MacKenzie wouldn’t have it said that he’d sent his sister to marry the MacKinnon laird without at least three maids in attendance. Of course, he didn’t accompany them, just as he hadn’t been home for more than a few weeks during the last two years.

  “ ‘Tis warm for that cloak you’re wearing, do ye not think, Linnae?” Dina said.

  Before Linnae could answer, Lady Alison said, “Hold your tongue, Dina. Ye are just jealous because I gave the dress and cloak to Linnae.”

  Dina’s eyes widened.

  Alison tossed her head. “I might decide to send ye back to my brother’s home.”

  Tears filled Dina’s eyes.

  Alison rolled her eyes. “Good heavens, do no’ cry. ‘Tis your own fault for being cruel to Linnae.”

  “She wasnae really cruel,” Linnae said gently. “And she is right. The carriage is warm. But I admit, I like the brush of fine cloth against my arms.”

  Alison’s eyes narrowed and Linnae feared she had miscalculated. Alison was loyal to a fault, but that fault often came in the form of a childish demand to be obeyed. She might insist Dina had been cruel and deserved punishment.

  Dina stared at her hands clasped in her lap and said in a small voice, “The rich purple of the dress does flatter your hair, Linnae.”

  “Just as I knew it would,” Alison said. “Linnae and I have the same fair hair.”

  Dina looked up, eyes wide, but said nothing.

  “I saw Laird MacKinnon once,” Rebecca said, in an obvious attempt to divert Alison’s attention. “He is perfect.”

  Linnae sighed. More talk of Jacob MacKinnon wasn’t wise, at this point.

  “He can break a tree in half with his bare hands,” Rebecca went on.

  Linnae snorted. She knew nothing of the man save the gossip that had swept through the castle when word of the betrothal had reached them a month ago—and would wager neither did Rebecca. It was irrational to believe that a man—or a beast, for that matter—could break a tree in half with his bare hands or make a woman swoon at the sight of him. If such a man existed, he wouldn’t live among mortals. As long as a man had a good name and a good family, an honest woman needed nothing more. Lady Alison should be so fortunate to marry such an esteemed laird.

  Rebecca giggled. “Ye are very fortunate, mistress.”

  Alison’s fingers groped for Linnae’s on the seat beside her. Linnae grasped Alison’s hand and gently squeezed. True to her station in life, Lady Alison was a maiden. Her apprehension about arriving at her grandfather’s home to immediately marry and be bedded by a man she hadn’t seen since she was six years old had grown into an anxiety that had kept her awake the last two nights.

  Linnae once again turned her attention out the window and Lady Alison rested her head on Linnae’s shoulder. Their carriage curved along a steep incline and Linnae peered out the window into a deep ravine. Patches of bluebells, primroses and hyacinths colored the landscape.

  Linnae’s stomach churned. Her own anxiety had grown along with Lady Alison’s.

  After the wedding, Jacob MacKinnon would take Lady Alison away from Eilean Donan Castle to his home on Skye. Linnae hadn’t been on Skye since she ran away from Glenwood Abbey two and a half years ago. In truth, she hadn’t planned on ever returning. Dunakin Castle, seat of the MacKinnon clan, commanded the strait of Kyle Akin between Skye and the mainland. From the tower, she would be able to see the loch and hills as far as the eye could reach. That would be as far into Skye as she dared venture for—

  A deafening cry drowned out her thoughts, causing Linnae to jolt in her seat. The carriage listed to the right and the other three women slammed against Linnae’s side of the coach. One woman crashed into her. Linnae’s head struck the side of the carriage and dull pain throbbed. The vehicle righted and the women scrambled back into their seats.

  “Holy God, what happened?” Lady Alison demanded as she leaned toward the window.

  Linnae reached for her. “Nae! My lady,” she cried, but her warning came too late. The carriage began to tip.

  The other women screamed and slid against the wall again. The carriage crashed onto its side—then began to tumble.
Linnae’s head slammed the cushion, then she was thrown against Lady Alison. Her ladyship flailed. They struck the front of the carriage as it came to a grinding halt. And silence.

  Her head pounded. Linnae raised her hand to her head and drew a breath at the pain. Her heart thrummed in her ears. What had happened?

  Angry male shouts mingled with the clash of steel. She tried to concentrate on the noise, but it seemed to come from a distance. Linnae grasped the door handle and dragged herself to a sitting position. Her head spun. She squinted in an effort to discern her surroundings. The interior of the carriage swam into blurry focus. Two of the women—one Lady Alison—lay motionless beside her. Linnae groped for a pulse at Lady Alison’s neck. Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes when she detected no heartbeat.

  “Ye cannae be dead, my lady,” she said through tears. “Wake up.” But the young woman remained motionless.

  Linnae brushed Lady Alison’s hair from her face and searched for any signs of life in the eyes that stared up at her. This wasn’t possible. Her mistress couldn’t be dead. Tears streamed down her face, but she forced herself to examine the other two women. Dina lay with her neck at an odd angle. Linnae wasn’t surprised when she felt no pulse in Dina’s neck, but her stomach churned and she forced back tears as she felt for a pulse on the young Rebecca’s neck. She, too, was dead. Linnae rose and realized she stood on the roof of the carriage. She edged past her mistress to the door and shoved it open, nearly falling out. She caught herself and straightened. She gasped at sight of the carriage walls crushed inward like paper.

  Shouts yanked her from the shock. She stumbled around the side of the carriage, then stopped. The horses lay in a tangle of leather and harness. Shouts yanked her attention up where a dozen men fought atop the hill. Her eyes tracked the skid marks the carriage had carved from the top of the hill to the steep ravine. Sweet heaven, how had she survived?

  Two men dismounted their horses and began scanning the ravine. She ducked behind the carriage, then stilled for three heartbeats until her head cleared. Carefully, she peered around the edge. Her heart beat wildly. The men had started down the hill.

  Her mind muddled. What was she to do? She thought of her female companions—and Lady Alison’s bag, which carried her mother’s ruby necklace and the gold band she was to give Laird MacKinnon when they married. Linnae forced back tears and sent up a quick prayer for the women’s souls, then quickly retrieved Lady Alison’s satchel. She pressed a kiss to Alison’s forehead, then climbed out of the carriage. With trembling fingers, she felt for the knife sheathed and strapped to her belt and nearly burst into tears when she found it hadn’t fallen out during the accident. With a prayer that she wouldn’t have to use it, she stumbled toward the trees.

  Keeping out of sight of the road, she stayed inside the tree line and continued away from the clang of steel-upon-steel. Sounds of the fighting waned, and the thunderous pounding of horses’ hooves racing along the high road above drew nearer.

  The trees began to thin and she reached a stone arch bridge that crossed a creek. She started across then froze at the sound of riders approaching. Cloak gripped tightly about her, she scurried down the incline and under the arch. Her heartbeat matched the thunder of hooves as they galloped past. Loose dirt fell like rain into the rapid waters below. With trembling hands, she clung to the cloak until quiet reigned.

  Fear cramped her stomach, but she picked her way back up the incline and ran across the bridge. Night would soon be upon her and sleeping in the woods without food or protection wasn’t a fate she wished to consider.

  “This way!” a man shouted.

  Linnae whirled. Three men trekked through the brush toward her. How had they found her? She caught sight of her small footprints in the moist ground.

  Oh, sweet Heavens!

  Linnae whirled and barreled into a broad expanse of plaid. She leapt back and jerked her gaze up to the face of a tall man with stormy blue eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. She froze. Bootfalls sounded behind her. Linnae clutched the satchel close to her breast. Three other giant brutes came into view.

  The first man eyed her like a wolf about to attack. Linnae broke eye contact as the others circled her.

  She yanked the knife from the sheath strapped to her belt. “Take another step closer and I will kill ye.” The trembling inside her stomach began to work its way through her body and she prayed her hand wouldn’t betray her terror.

  “Ye need no’ fear us, lass,” the first said.

  The concern in his voice surprised her. She stared.

  “I am Laird Jacob MacKinnon. My men and I were expecting you this morning. When ye did no’ arrive, we began searching for you. I am only sorry we arrived too late.”

  Laird MacKinnon? Lady Alison’s betrothed. Memory flashed of the women’s description of him, tall, muscular and handsome. Lady Alison would never see him for herself.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she dropped the hand gripping the knife to her side. “The carriage went off the cliff. The others—” She broke off.

  “We saw the others, my lady,” he said in a soft voice. “I am sorry.”

  A lump formed in her throat.

  “We must go,” he said.

  She slid the knife into its sheathe, then remembered the men. “I saw men fighting on the hill.”

  His mouth thinned. “Aye. We chased the curs. They attacked your party.”

  “Attacked us? Why?”

  “I dinnae know, but we will find out soon enough. Come, we will escort ye home. Our horses are just over the hill.” He winged an am arm toward her.

  Linnae slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. He covered her fingers with his large warm hand and squeezed. She clutched close the satchel and was grateful for the warmth of his hand on hers as they tramped through the woods. Linnae hurried to keep up with his long strides until they reached the top of the hill. Half a dozen other men waited with their horses.

  “Let me take your satchel, lass.”

  Before she could respond, he took the satchel and hung it from the pommel, then grasped her waist and hoisted her onto the horse’s rump. He mounted in front of her and clicked his tongue. The horse lurched into motion. Linnae threw her arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his back, and hugged him tight in order to keep from slipping off. The scent of musk and burnt wood filled her nostrils. His stomach muscles flexed beneath her fingers.

  This man would have soothed Lady Alison’s fears. Memory of Alison’s motionless body brought tears. Silently, Linnae gave into her sorrow and cried into Laird MacKinnon’s plaid.

  Chapter 2

  By the time Loch Long came into view, Linnae was certain Laird MacKinnon knew she’d cried herself out. He’d had the good grace to leave her to her tears. For that, she was thankful. They rounded the forested hills of Kintail and she caught sight of Eilean Donan Castle, tall and proud on the tidal island where converged the three great sea-lochs, Loch Long, Loch Alsh and Loch Duich.

  They neared the long bridge that crossed the marshy shallows to the tidal island castle. To the east, a field blanketed with tiny blue flowers stretched clear to the tree line. It was far more beautiful than she had imagined.

  A chill swept through her. With Lady Alison dead, she wouldn’t have a place in Laird MacKinnon’s household. Might she be able to secure a position here with the MacKenzies? Where would she go? Returning to Glenwood Abbey wasn’t possible—even if she wanted to return. She had no doubt that if Malcom Donald, adopted father to the girls of Glenwood abbey, discovered her whereabouts, he would knock her unconscious, return her to Leslie Donald, and tie her to his bed so Leslie could finish what he attempted the night she ran away.

  Linnae had been a babe of five summers when her aunt put her on a cart bound from their home in Bredon to Glenwood Abbey. She would never forget the day her adopted father of eleven years told her she had to go with the strange man waiting in the abbey courtyard.

  “Ye are a woman grown, Linnae. It is
time you put your charms to use.”

  He’d sold her, it turned out, whored her out, for three head of cattle. The hurt she’d felt morphed into rage when they arrived at Leslie’s home and he gave her a cold order to await him in his chambers—naked.

  There had to be a place for her in either the MacKenzie or MacKinnon households.

  They rode through the gates into the courtyard. Linnae combed her fingers through her wind-blown hair and pulled the locks away from her face as Laird MacKinnon slowed the horse. He swung a leg over the animal’s neck and dropped to the ground. When he grasped her waist, she started at the pressure of his fingers as he lifted her down.

  “Ye must be tired,” he said.

  Before she could reply, a warrior emerged from a narrow staircase in the curtain wall and hurried toward them. Laird MacKinnon took her satchel from the pommel and handed it to her as the warrior reached them.

  “Laird MacKinnon, it is good to see ye,” he said. “Where is the carriage? What has happened?”

  Jacob’s mouth thinned. “My lady’s carriage was attacked. We are lucky she survived.”

  Linnae looked sharply at him. My lady? They thought—

  “Attacked?” The man’s expression darkened. “Who attacked them?”

  “The men wore Clan Donald colors,” Jacob said. “I sent half the company to track the bastards.”

  Linnae’s heart jumped. Clan Donald? Dear God, no.

  Malcolm.

  “And Lady Alison survived?” the warrior said. “Ye are fortunate, Jacob.”

  Linnae jarred from her thoughts. Fortunate? Memory rose of Lady Alison’s sightless eyes, Dina and Rebecca…the blood… Tears threatened again.