Highlander’s Tempted Guard (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance)

by Adamina Young

  The Sinclair clan seal.

  Unable to speak or even move, she just stared wordlessly at him. A similar pendant hung around his mother’s neck. Could it be?

  “From the time I first understood what a union between a man and a woman meant, I learned that I would marry for politics. I watched my friends search for something more, but I wasnae jealous when they found it. There was no reason for me to hope for more until I met ye. My parents and yer parents have consented to a union between us, to strengthen our clans, but Moira, I come here today for yer consent, as a man willing to give himself over completely to the lass who has invaded his mind, body, and heart.”

  Finally, she burst into life, throwing herself into his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Aye,” she shouted in his ear. “Aye! I love ye, Connor, and I want to be yer wife. When can we marry? Today?”

  Chuckling, he whirled her around before he sat her down and placed the necklace over her head and around her neck. “I know others who have married young, but we will wait two years. Ye still have much to learn about yerself, and I will wait ’til ye are ready.”

  Ready? She was more than ready. What else did she need to learn? She already knew that she loved him. Pouting, she reached up and touched his cheek. “If I am to wait, then may I at least have a kiss?”

  “Oh, aye. I intend to give ye as many kisses as ye will allow me, my sweet Moira.” As he lowered his head, she closed her eyes in anticipation of the moment she felt like she’d been waiting her whole life for.

  Unfortunately, before the moment could arrive, they were interrupted by terrified shouts. “Connor!” Grace screamed. “Connor, ye must come now!”

  Gasping, Moira turned and gasped. Grace hadn’t quite learned to live up to her name, but she had never looked as disheveled as she did now. Her dress was torn and tears streaked down the ash that was caked onto her cheeks.

  “Grace!” Connor stiffened. “What in the world happened to ye?”

  “We are under attack! They came from nowhere,” she said and fell to her knees. “Connor...Mother, and Father. They’re…they’re dead.”

  Horrified, Moira rushed to her friend, but Grace just screamed at her in fury and shoved her away. “They are wearing yer colors, Moira. They are Hamiltons.”

  “No.” Moira’s blood ran cold, and she looked up at Connor. “No, ‘tis not possible.”

  “They knew of the secret entrances. They came from the tunnels. I barely escaped, but I cannae find Alec. Connor, ye have to run. If they kill ye…”

  “I will not run,” he said coldly. “We will fight. We willnae let them take our clan. Grace, go to the caves and hide. Do not return until Alec or I come for ye.”

  “I willnae hide! I will fight!” Grace said fiercely.

  “I am now yer laird, and ye will do as I say.”

  “And what about her?”

  Connor turned toward Moira, and she saw not an ounce of the man who’d proposed to her only a moment ago. “Leave,” he said hoarsely. “If I see ye on this land again, then I will have ye executed for treason.”

  “No, Connor, I didnae do this. I would never!”

  “Now!” he roared. “Moira, get out of my sight!”

  His fury propelled her back. Swallowing the large lump in her throat, she turned and ran, the pendant around her neck bobbing up and down.

  Chapter 1

  Seven years later

  * * *

  When Moira first dreamed of what the happiest day of her life would look like, she’d pictured Connor Sinclair standing right by her side. Now that it was the happiest day of her life, it was ruined by the fact that Connor Sinclair was in the room, breathing the same air, and staring at her with that inscrutable expression he’d perfected over the years.

  Determined not to give him the satisfaction of avoiding him, she met his gaze head-on while her uncle droned on in front of her. Connor was here for the ceremony, but he was paying about as much attention to it as she was. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d proposed and she’d accepted. Since he’d exiled her and she ran for her life.

  Seven years and what felt like several lifetimes ago. She refused to allow herself to feel anything as she let her gaze move from him and sweep over the rest of the room. Although the king couldn’t make it himself, he’d sent a representative. Several of the surrounding clan lairds were there, and most of the Hamilton guards were present. As for her own family, she and her Uncle Tyree were it. Her mother had passed many years ago, and she’d lost her father and both of her brothers to a rock slide six months ago. Her uncle, her only living relative, had reluctantly taken over as laird until Moira married.

  The handsome man kneeling at her uncle’s feet was, in everyone’s mind, to be her husband. Hamish Hamilton, or as most of the clan called him, the Hamilton Hero, and he had enough feats under his belt to have earned that title. Just last week he’d saved three orphans from a stampede of wild boars. A month ago, he’d pulled a family from a burning building, and most claimed that he single-handedly ended the Hamilton-MacGregor feud.

  He had a face that made the women swoon, the disposition to handle the unstable political nature of the Highlands, and the kindness and strength to make an excellent husband.

  He would not, however, be Moira’s husband.

  After much pleading and her staunch refusal to marry, the king had agreed to give Tyree leave to name an heir who was not related by blood or marriage. At this very moment, her uncle was declaring Hamish as heir and Moira was free. Finally, after years of pressure, she was free to pursue the life she really wanted.

  It really was the perfect day, with the exception of Connor’s presence.

  Two years after he’d exiled her, he gallantly rode to the Hamilton keep to end the tensions between them. He resigned the peace treaty and presented his formal apology to the Hamilton family and to her for accusing her of having a hand in the murder of his parents.

  She was conveniently not there for that.

  Three years after that, he passed through the Hamilton lands to attend the celebration of the birth of his niece. Moira made sure not to be around when he spent the night at the keep. Last year, the annual peace treaty was held here, and he returned for that. Once again, Moira was not there.

  If she’d known that he would be here today, she probably would have avoided this as well. As it was, she had plenty of preparations to make, so at least she wouldn’t spend much time celebrating afterward. If she could make it through the night without having to converse with Connor, she would consider the day a success.

  After Hamish finished swearing his oath of loyalty to his people, he stood and he and Tyree embraced. Moira forced herself back into the present as Hamish took her hand and lifted it to his lips. Nodding, she tried not to worry about the fact that his lips lingered a little too long.

  “Now then,” Tyree roared. “Let us eat!”

  Holding her skirts up and her head high, she staunchly ignored the gazes that turned to her as she filed out first and led everyone to the great hall. As she took her spot at the table, next to her uncle and across from Hamish, her heart dropped when Connor took a seat next to Hamish where he could watch her throughout the meal. Perhaps just as worse, the elderly and recently widowed Laird MacSeaver sat next to her. He was as randy as a man forty years his junior and his hands had a tendency to roam, especially when he drank. It was bad when he was married. It was worse now.

  “Hamish, I know that this is in yer honor, but Moira, my dear, I couldnae keep my eyes from ye. Ye were a vision standing up there,” MacSeaver slurred as he took her hand and stroked his thumb over her knuckles. Moira groaned inwardly, but she couldn’t pull her hand away without looking rude.

  “That is so sweet of ye to say,” Moira simpered as she smiled up at him. “I was so pleased to stand up there and support Hamish. I believe he’s an excellent choice and just what we need!” Batting her eyes, she squeezed his hand, digging her nails into his skin until his eyes widen
ed with pain. When she released his hand, he didn’t fight and immediately folded his hands in his lap.

  “Yes, well, that lovely blue suits ye,” he muttered as he picked up his glass and drained it.

  “Moira is a vision in every color,” Hamish chimed in sweetly, and when he smiled at her, it was genuine. His affections for her were real, but she knew that she would never return them, and that was why she needed to take this next step. If she couldn’t stomach a marriage to Hamish, then what was left for her?

  Connor was quiet, but he was watching the exchange closely. The blank look on his face made her far more uneasy than anything else that had happened. “Enough about me,” she said breathlessly. “This is for Hamish.” She raised her goblet. “To Hamish, the Hero of Hamilton, and now the next leader of our wonderful people.”

  Everyone lifted their goblets, cheered, and drank to Hamish.

  An hour later, after grand stories and discussions about the future of Hamilton, music started up outside around a large bonfire, and the talk turned to laughter and dance. Moira did her duty, dancing with all who asked, and by the time Hamish held out his arm to her, she was nearing the end.

  “Ye look tired,” he murmured afterward. “Will ye walk with me during the next turn?”

  “Aye,” she laughed as she took his arm. “My feet most certainly need a break.”

  Away from the crowd, he slowed his pace so she didn’t have to hurry next to him. “Moira, there is something on my mind that I wish to speak with ye about. I know that for some time, ye have been pressured to wed, the selection of yer husband to become the next laird. I know that ye have been bombarded with marriage offers, and some have not been kind.”

  It was true. She’d been bullied, taunted, and in some cases, blackmailed. Quite a few of her clan still believed that she had a hand in the death of the Sinclair laird. For years, no one had dared get close to her until they realized how much power she wielded. “Ye have not asked.”

  “No, I did not. The truth, Moira, is that I didnae want this position simply because of who I married. I wanted to earn it.”

  “And ye have done that. No one doubts yer ability to do this job and do it well.” Her heart skipped a beat, and she hoped that he wouldn’t force her to dampen his spirits. “And I am pleased that I am not forced into a marriage. I doonae think it would suit me.”

  “Ye are wrong, Moira,” he said seriously as he stopped short. “Ye are the most breathtaking woman that I have ever met. Smart, sweet, and loving. Ye would make an excellent wife.”

  Oh, no. He wasn’t going to give up. “Hamish…”

  “Let me speak, lass,” he murmured. “Ye have the freedom to marry as ye wish. Yer uncle has told me that he will never force ye. Now that I am to be laird, I understand the pressure of making the right choice in a marriage. I realize that I have not made any romantic overtures before, but I have watched ye grow up from a lovely lass to the stunning woman that ye are now. Every day, I will treat ye with reverence and respect. I will honor yer wishes and listen to ye in clan matters. If ye consent to be my wife, we will make this clan stronger for it.”

  With a small smile, she reached up and cupped a hand over his cheek. “Ye are a wonderful man. I meant it when I said that ye would make a great and strong laird, and I know that ye will make a wonderful husband, but ye deserve to marry for love, and I know that ye doonae love me. Ye like and respect me, just as I like and respect ye. It would be enough for some, but ’tis not enough for me, and I believe ’tis not enough for ye.”

  “Ah, Moira.” He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Ye knew that I was going to do this, didn’t ye?”

  “No, but I am no fool. For the past six months, everyone has expected for ye to propose and me to accept. I didnae know what ye would do. In truth, I didnae think ye would ask now that yer position is secure.”

  “Ye already had an answer prepared.”

  “It would be a lie if I said that I hadnae thought it. As far as my choice of husband, ye were at the top of my list.”

  “But ye doonae want to marry.” He sighed and dropped her hand. “Well, I will honor yer wish, and ye will always have a home here, whether ye fall in love or not.”

  But not at the keep. As soon as Moira decided that she would never marry, she knew that she would have to give up her home. At most, Tyree would remain laird for six more months while he transitioned Hamish into the position. Then, Hamish would marry, and the new mistress of the keep would want Moira out.

  It broke her heart a little, but she was ready for the next step.

  “Hamish, ye should return to the party. There are other lovely lasses waiting to dance with ye. I need to rest my feet a little longer,” she said as she stepped away and indicated with her head for him to leave. The fact that he did so with little more than a faint expression of disappointment told her that she’d made the right decision.

  She and Hamish would be fond of each other, but they would never love each other.

  She put her hand on her stomach and took a deep breath. Over the last few years, she’d received a myriad of proposals. Most were tense and abrupt. Some were lavish and over the top. A few were more threats than proposals. Hamish’s was by far the most genuine and sweetest of the recent bunch, and it broke her heart a little to turn it down. It was probably her last chance at finding happiness with a man.

  But she’d chosen a long time ago to be alone. She couldn’t back out now.

  “I do believe ye broke his heart,” a familiar voice said from the shadows. “I hear that ye have been breaking hearts for a while now.”

  There was no movement, and she turned her head. Faintly, in the dark, she could see the outline of a figure. Connor had witnessed the whole thing.

  “’Tis rude to eavesdrop,” she said coldly. “And even ruder to comment on a personal matter.”

  “Ye think that I doonae have the right to comment when a man proposes to a woman who already promised herself to me?” Connor stepped out of the shadows, his face still as unreadable as during dinner. Her mouth dried, and she had no choice but to acknowledge how her body reacted to him. What she’d felt for him as a girl—the flutters in her stomach, the flush of her cheeks, the giddiness in her chest—was nothing compared to the mix of emotions that swirled inside her now.

  Fury. Desire. Sorrow. Pain.

  “That promise was broken when ye exiled me from yer lands,” she reminded him stiffly. There was too much still to do tonight, but this would be her one and only chance to confront him for what he did to her, and she suddenly found that she didn’t want to give that up.

  “I have apologized for that and done my best to make reparations with yer family. I would have done the same for ye, but ye are always conveniently absent during those meetings.”

  “I have been vera busy searching for a husband,” she told him coolly. “And two years is an awfully long time to wait to apologize.”

  “I was still investigating the matter.”

  “Aye, and ye expect me to wait for ye while ye spent two years believing that I orchestrated the murder of yer parents?”

  “Moira…”

  “I amnae the same girl who accepted yer proposal, Connor, and ye arenae the same man.”

  “Still, neither of us have formally broken our engagement.”

  She glared at him. Was he truly standing here after everything that’s happened and attempting to uphold their betrothal? “Then allow me to formally inform ye that I would rather throw myself from the top of the highest peak than to wed myself to ye, Connor Sinclair,” she hissed. “And ye are more than welcome to bring the matter up with my uncle. He will never uphold an agreement that he neither witnessed nor was privy to at the time.”

  The silence grew thick between them as he continued to watch her with that quiet unwavering stare. “Acknowledge me, Connor,” she whispered. “Acknowledge that ye understand what I have said.”

  He didn’t, and her stomach twisted. She was not going to stand ther
e and let him give her hope that there was something still between them.

  “Good night, Connor,” she said stiffly. “I willnae be seeing ye again.”

  He didn’t move a muscle, and she was grateful for the darkness to hide the tears gathering in her eyes. She’d thought she’d grown immune to him, but all it did was serve to remind her of the hollow pit inside of her.

  “Doesnae matter,” she told herself fiercely as she hurried along the edge of the festivities and headed to her chambers. Inside waited the bag that she had packed days ago. In the stables, her faithful mare waited for her. “Tonight, ye are a free woman.”

  And tomorrow, she would never again have to face anyone who knew of the horrors of her past.

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  About the Author

  Since she was a child, Adamina was inspired by stories of true love overcoming every obstacle! So, she started writing her first book at the age of 23!