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Highlander's Curse
A Highlander and Contemporary Romance Story
By: Numees Collins
Table of Contents
Highlander's Curse
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Highlander's Curse
Description
Aengus MacLachlan's life had been perfect. He's a respected warrior in his clan and the heir to his father's title and lands. Everything changes in a blink of an eye. Suffering a severe injury, Aengus' loses everything that matters in his life. And when he is on the verge of desperation, young witch Tara lures him out of the castle at night to save him.
The feelings that develop between the two of them might be magical and foretold long before their births, but no magic can spare them from a curse that Aengus earns betraying the woman he loves.
The curse will follow every firstborn son of the MacLachlan family until the day when a pure love between a highlander and a witch will have the power to undo it. Now, it is Connor's turn as the firstborn son in the family to either fight his curse or accept the destiny of his ancestors.
Chapter 1
The flames in the fireplace jumped cheerfully, fighting the cold air in the room. Aengus set in his armchair staring at the fire. That was about all he did in the long, lonely nights inside his chambers. Usually, watching the flames devour the dry wood calmed his thoughts. Tonight, though, unease crept into his soul, gnawing at it, not giving him rest. Behind the narrow window of his chamber, the sun was bleeding in the darkening sky. Tonight, the celestial fiery giant was as wounded as him.
Aengus MacLachlan's life had been perfect. He was the son of Laird Brodrick MacLachlan and had been a respected warrior of his clan, the heir to his father's lands and betrothed to a lovely lady who was soon to become his wife. It seemed as if the future was laid right in front of him. And then, in a blink of an eye, he was ripped of all of those dreams.
Since suffering from a serious knee injury while defending the borders of his father's lands, Aengus was now stuck in his hateful armchair. At times, he felt like a caged, wounded beast, who spend his days roaring at others, getting mad and cursing his destiny, yet unable to change his faith.
These dark days had tested the loyalty of many of his brethren. Those who once swore to be by his side in peril were now keeping a safe distance from him. His own younger brothers had already taken charge of his men and disregarded Aengus' advice and mentorship.
Lady Nessia did not break their engagement. Yet. Aengus knew that it would be for the better. He hated to see the sadness and pity in her eyes. Once, she saw a brave warrior in him—someone who could protect and take care of her. Now, she had limited their interaction to her brief visits in the evening when she offered him a cup of freshly brewed tea and a kind smile.
Tonight, when she knocked at his door, Aengus thought to pretend to be asleep. He couldn't bear lying to her that he was fine while his knee hurt like hell and his wrist felt too weak even to hold that mug of tea she was going to offer him. He had not spoken to anyone during the last two days. Just to make sure he had still not lost the ability to form coherent words, he invited her in.
"I hope ye feel better tonight, Laird?" she asked avoiding looking him in the eyes.
She looked pretty. There had been a time when Aengus thought it would be more than enough to love her. Now, he could barely exchange two words with her. He knew he had to free her from her promise. She could still find happiness with another man.
"Would ye like some tea?" the lady hurried to add without waiting for Aengus to reply regarding his well-being.
No, he did not need that damned tea. He never even liked tea. What he needed was to be able to hold a sword in his hand again, to ride his horse, to breath the air of freedom as he rode across the fast lands. He needed her to look at him with admiration for his courage. Could he give any of that to her? Aengus grabbed the mug in a death grip and was surprised it did not shatter into hundreds of pieces.
"Thank you, my lady," he forced the words out of his throat. "Are my father and brothers in the castle?" He had not seen them for two days.
"Ah, they..." she paused and shifted from one leg to another. Aengus narrowed his eyes at her. He knew he could be enough intimidating for her to get confused and tell him the truth. "They... there has been some disquiet in the villages on the border," she said and quickly looked away.
"I see." Before, it had been his duty to care for the safety of their villages. Now, Aengus was a useless burden that needed to be hidden in the dark corridors of the castle and left to be forgotten. There was no glory and no adventures left for him. The centuries to come would not remember his name or his deeds.
"Shall I stay and play chess with you?" she asked. Probably having mercy of the poor, abandoned cripple.
"I dinnae play chess when my land is under attack!" Aengus spat. He realized a moment later, that he sounded too rude. The lady had nothing to do with his injury.
She bowed and left the chamber without another world. As silence sank onto him, Aengus knew this was the moment he needed to make a choice. He was either to continue sitting here until his bones rotted and the death had mercy on him to take his life away, or he needed to get up now, straddle his horse and ride.
Pain blazed in his knee as he tried to pull his body up. He was a tall man with broad chest and carrying all of that weight leaning on one good leg he had, turned out to be a challenging task. Gritting his teeth and welcoming the pain, Aengus forced himself to move. This pain made him feel alive. This pain was the line between life and the oblivion of death.
Sweat ran down his face when Aengus finally reached the stables. He ordered the lad to get his horse. The confused lad tried to argue that it might not be reasonable, but one look into his dark blue eyes, and he knew the reason was not Aengus MacLachlan's companion tonight.
"We are back together, my old friend," he greeted his horse. Seemed the beast was the only one who had remained loyal to him. "Now, let us see what a crippled warrior is capable of."
The further they got from the castle, the weaker Aengus felt. His body was on fire, his knee hurt as if thousands of fiery blades pierced it, his vision was clouded and his head felt light.
"Shall this be our final adventure, we shall meet it with pride," he spoke to the horse again, or maybe the silent night was the one to whom he was addressing his words. It wasn't much later when Aengus realized that he had lost his sense of director. He tried to pull at the reigns, but his bad wrist felt completely numb and the horse did not obey him. As if possessed by some wicked power, the horse carried him away—it never slowed its pace. As if lured by a divine force that called for him, the animal took him to the destination that was yet unknown to Aengus.
"Hoy, hoooy!" Aengus yelled at the beast in vain. The silence of the night swallowed his screams. Aengus did not believe in any gods—be those old ones or new—but in his mind, he prayed to all of them. If he was to die tonight,
he did not want to die in a dark pit with no one around to find him. Let him die in a fight, let him raise his sword for one last time.
The horse paused reaching a small valley in the middle of the woods. Surrounded by tall trees and washed in the silver of the moon, Aengus saw a slender figure walk toward him. He blinked several times, but his vision betrayed him. Losing his balance, he fell off the horse. The last thing he felt were icy fingers that touched his face.
"Do not worry," a voice that sounded otherworldly spoke to him. "I shall take care of you, I promise."
Chapter 2
Tara had been sensing his pain for many a night. She knew she had to meet him, and trying to lure him out of the castle had been a challenge. Now as the stranger fell right into her arms, she could feel his strength leaving him quickly. She could feel the scent of decay—his bones were betraying him. The wound was nasty and no man in the castle knew the cure for it. It was her destiny to treat his wounds. She had known it from the very first day her magic came to her. No matter what her family would say about it, she knew she could never let him die.
He was not a match for her. A brutal highlander who knew nothing but to swing his sword. Yet, she had fallen for him from the first time he came to her in her dream.
Tara knelt next to him and carefully pulled him closer, placing his head on her lap. The fever left his body wherever she touched him. The knee wound would take long to recover, but now, as she had physical contact with him, she knew the disease was no match for her healing powers. She was the most powerful healer in her coven. In fact, she was the most powerful caster who was to lead her people one day. So her grandmother had foretold for her unless she chose the one thing that would bring doom to her—love. As she cupped his strong jaw in her palms, her heart began to pound in her chest. She had no doubt he was the only one who would have the power to destroy her.
While he was unconscious, Tara took her time to study his face. Every feature spoke of strength and stubbornness —straight nose, strong jaw, wide forehead, thick brows and those golden freckles that added boyish charm to the man that could intimidate anyone. His long sandy hair was picked in a tail at his nape. Tara ran her fingers through it. The hair added some tenderness to his muscular form. His chest rose and fell heavily. Breathing was still painful for him. She'd need to see him regularly for the wound to heal completely. Yet, she knew she could not reveal her identity to him. Those highlanders were superstitious folks. Magic was one of the few things they feared.
He stirred and let out a groan. Tara caressed the side of his face to ease his pain. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He blinked several times expecting her to be a vision and vanish once consciousness came back to him. She chuckled, and as her body swayed slightly, he hissed. It was probably another jolt of pain striking his wound.
"Shhh," she urged him to stay calm. "The pain will ease now," she promised.
"Ye are real," the man spoke. His voice sounded raw with pain.
"Aye," she nodded. Amused. His dark blue eyes never left her face and she could read a hint of doubt in them. "I am real and I willnae leave ye until yer wounds are healed," she reassured him.
"How do you know aboot my wounds?" he looked around, and suddenly realizing his head was on her lap, jumped up from his place. He winced with pain and fell back on the ground again.
"Ye are indeed stubborn, Highlander," she shook her head. "You'll have to obey to my rules if ye dae not want to die of that nasty knee wound."
"I do not obey to anyone's rules. Especially..." he paused. Right before he said he did not trust women that he had never seen before, Tara laughed. This task was going to be much harder than she expected.
She could read every emotion in his eyes—honest and straightforward. She had never met anyone like him. In Tara's world, everything was hidden behind the mists of mystery. Words never meant what they were, emotions were concealed and spells were all that mattered. This Highlander was the complete opposite of Tara's people and that was what attracted her to him.
At first, he was cautious around her. Tara was not intimidated by his difficult personality. He could growl and snarl at those ladies in his castle and they would tremble with fear, but here in the woods, he trusted her with his life, with his wounds and soon—with his heart.
Days passed by and every evening Laird Aengus left the castle for his secret meetings with Tara. His wounds were healing. The progress was slow but visible. Her magic was getting weaker as she was determined to give it up forever, to turn away from her family and live the simple life of a highlander's lady.
During all those days that he met her in the intimacy of the woods, he never asked about her family, never doubted her intention. Earning this powerful warrior's trust meant the whole world to Tara, yet she feared losing him the moment she opened her secret to him.
"Be my wife," he asked her one night as he jumped off his horse and wrapped his strong arms around her. His strength was back to him. She could feel his heart beating hard and strong in his chest. She loved leaning against it and listening to the rhythmic beats.
Be my wife, his words echoed in her ears as silence hung between them. Simple words that sounded more like a command than a request. Those words would've offended any lady who dreamed of a knight to kneel in front of her and claim words of undying love. To Tara's ears, those words, blurted out in a moment of passion, were the most enchanting song. They meant freedom to her. Salvation from the destiny that she carried as the firstborn of her coven.
"I cannot," she shook her head. Immediately, she felt the sting of disappointment in her heart. She was about the reject the one true love that had been foretold for her by the stars even before her birth.
"Why?" he insisted. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and storms that Tara knew were ahead of her in her life seemed insignificant. All that mattered was this dark night under the starless sky when she stood in the arms of her beloved.
"You do not know who I am," she simply replied.
"I care not," he barked. "All I need to know, I know. You are my destiny and I am yours." His world was so uncomplicated compared to hers. A little bit of physical strength and Laird Aengus MacLachlan was the happiest man in this world. He rode on the back of his horse, took care of his lands and his people. What else did one needed for happiness? A beloved woman? Well, he was holding her right now in his arms.
"Sit down, Laird Aengus," she said, stepping back. And then, as much as she tried to hold her words back, they betrayed her. Tara told him everything. The duty to her coven that was put on her shoulders from the day of her birth, the dangers of her gift and the grieve consequences if she dared to reject her magic, the anger of the whole family of ancient witches that was to fall upon them if she dared to choose a husband without their approval. Her words felt like hot lava that could burn down his naive dreams of love, but if he could take them in and arise from their fires, their hearts would forge an unbreakable bond.
"You still want to marry me, Laird Aengus?" she asked in a voice that was hardly a whisper. Tara's whole body was shaking like a tiny frame that had escaped the explosion of lava.
"Aye," he said calmly. Then, he rose from his seat, took her hands into his and looked her into the eyes—hard and firm. "Aye, you will be my wife. Meet me here tomorrow at dawn and I will take you to the castle with me. Tomorrow you shall be mine."
Tomorrow... a sweet word... so close, yet so far away. Tara knew there were storms yet to come before they could meet that tomorrow.
Chapter 3
That evening, Aengus found his father and two brothers sitting by the fireplace and discussing how to punish a liege laird that had betrayed their trust, causing more disquiet on their lands. Since his recovery, he had stayed away from all the political affairs. Aengus cared not about fighting anymore. All he needed was to bring Tara home with him, to get his father's blessing and to live a peaceful life. Sadly, such a life was not foretold for a highlander. Such a life did not flow in his veins.
; Aengus MacLachlan was never known for making spontaneous decisions. Yet, with the new passions blazing in his heart, he had lost his ability to think calmly before acting.
"Father, I must send Lady Nessia back to her family," he announced as he walked into the hall. Brodrick MacLachlan turned to look at his son. Nothing but cold, hard eyes. No words, no emotions showing on his calm face. His two brothers stirred in their seats, yet, remained silent. "I love another woman. I shall marry her tomorrow and bring here with me."
On his way back to the castle, this plan sounded reasonable. In the endless freedom of the woods with the wind being his only audience, his plan was solid, his love undeniable and his decision honorable. Now, trapped inside the cold walls of the castle, his words sounded like those of a foolish lad who was ignorant of the duty to his family.
"And who shall you marry, pray say?" Laird Brodrick asked. He did not as much as move one brow. So cold and composed, that Aengus felt rage and anxiety storm inside him.
The one I love, the words rang in his mind, the one that means the world to me. The only one who healed me when all of you were waiting for the claws of death to take me away...He did not say those words aloud.
"Tara, the daughter of Breckenridge clan," he said calmly.
If he had hoped that his father did not know who she was, the dark frown that clouded his face crushed Aengus' hopes.
"A witch," Brodrick spat, shaking his head. "Never shall she step into my family." Then, he turned back staring into the fire.
"I knew he was bewitched. His deeds made no sense these last weeks," Doughall, his younger brother, let out an amused bark. "Father, we cannot allow such disgrace!"
Had it not been disgraceful to leave him alone to rot in the cold room while his two younger brothers took his place? How could love so pure and capable of healing be disgraceful?
Alastair, his youngest brother, remained silent. He only stared at Aengus with amusement.
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