The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “How did ye find me?”

  He held her at arm’s length. “Petro left a missive in his chamber letting me know where ye’d gone.”

  “Have ye found Petro yet?”

  “What do ye mean, lass?”

  “Struan hit him on the head with a club and left him for dead. I had to beg him to send someone to check on him. Struan promised he would see that Petro got home safely.”

  Alex frowned. “The man will pay.”

  Keely lowered her gaze to the ground, guilt and shame consuming her. “I-I am…”

  She dinna have a chance to apologize, for Alex slanted his mouth over hers, swallowing her words. Desperation unraveled inside of her as she clung to her husband for dear life. The fear that she would never get to see him again, feel his arms about her, taste him, love him … it was too much to hold in. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she kissed him back, hoping in her heart that he’d forgive her stupidity, that he’d understand why she’d left again.

  “Keely…”

  “Alex.”

  “There’s little time to sort this out right now. Ye’re safe here. Hide in the trees and doona come out for anyone but me. I must finish what Struan Sutherland has started or this will never end.”

  “I understand, milord.”

  He tipped her chin up. “I forgive ye, Keely. But there will be recompense for yer actions.”

  She nodded, and would accept any punishment he handed down so long as he was the one administering it.

  “Take this.” He shoved something solid into her hand and then disappeared into the night.

  It was a dagger, sharp and long and deadly. And she’d use it if she had to. As her husband had commanded, she found a hiding place under a cluster of trees. She held the knife with both hands, too scared to move or even breathe loudly. How her husband managed to find her and get her out of Struan’s tent without getting caught or waking Struan, she’d probably never know. But she owed Alex and God a lifetime of gratitude and obedience. And she’d give it, so long as Alex loved her.

  Alex entered the Sutherland camp again. This time he dinna try to be quiet, he made all the noise it would take to rouse the drunks from sleep. He wanted to fight and kill every man he could get his hands on. No one stirred from their tents, so he picked up a discarded cup and started banging it against the rocks around the campfire.

  “Come out and face me like a man, Struan Sutherland.”

  The first signs of dawn lit the sky. All the better, for Alex would look the man directly in the eyes as he buried his sword in Struan’s black heart. To steal a maiden from her father’s house was one thing, but to take a married woman from her husband–that crime carried a death sentence. No king or court in Europe would condemn Alex for having his revenge.

  “Struan Sutherland!” he screamed for him again.

  Finally, several tent flaps opened, and soldiers filed outside but dinna make a move against him.

  “Who are ye?” one of the men asked.

  “Laird Alexander MacKay.”

  “Jesus Christ,” one of the soldiers muttered. “I told him not to take another man’s woman.”

  “I willna fight for him,” another said.

  “He kept most of the gold we all worked equally hard to get last time,” the first soldier added. “And now expects us to die for him?” He sized Alex up. “If we doona raise a weapon against ye…”

  “I doona care who ye are or where yer loyalties lie,” Alex said. “I have one man on my mind. If ye leave now…”

  That’s when Struan appeared on the other side of the fire, his sword at the ready. “How nice of ye to visit, Laird Alex.”

  Alex gave him an evil grin. He had never met the man before, but he hated him on first sight. Despised his slithery voice, his skulking face, even the way he held a sword. The way he hid on the other side of the firepit told him all he needed to know about the man’s character. He was a coward. A true bastard in every sense of the word. So he’d die like a man without honor, not on his feet but on his back.

  Alex dinna go around the fire, he ran through it like the devil himself, purposely loosing his sword on the way. He tackled Struan, who had no time to think or defend himself. The Sutherland bastard landed on his back with a loud thud and dinna move.

  Instead of beating him, Alex slapped his face hard. When that dinna rouse him, he lifted one of the man’s arms—it was limp.

  “Bring a torch over here,” Alex commanded whatever soldier stood closest.

  “Aye, milord.”

  The torch was delivered immediately.

  “Hold it above his head.”

  In the light, Alex found the reason Struan had been knocked unconscious. Blood stained the rock he had hit his head on when he fell.

  “Is he dead?” the soldier asked.

  “Nay. He still breathes. Bind his hands and bring him to his tent.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  Everything in the camp now belonged to Alex, including the Sutherland retainers. If they dinna swear fealty to him, he’d have every one of them executed. As he walked the distance to Struan’s tent, men on horseback swarmed the encampment.

  “Where is Alex MacKay?” he heard Laird Oliphant demand.

  Alex grinned as he turned around and walked back to where he’d come from. “Matthew,” he greeted his father-in-law by his Christian name.

  The laird snorted. “Ye have bollocks aplenty,” he praised as he swung down from the saddle. “Sacking this camp by yerself.”

  Alex lowered his head out or respect. “I had God on my side.”

  “Ye’ve suddenly found the Almighty again?”

  “Somewhere between my home and this place.”

  “Good to know, MacKay. Bloody good to know. Where is my daughter?”

  “Safe.”

  “And where is the bastard that took her?”

  “Nay, no this time,” Alex said. “Struan belongs to me.”

  “A kick in the ribs never killed a man.”

  “Yer kick in the ribs very well could.”

  His father-in-law chuckled so hard he coughed. “Best get my daughter. I wish to see her.”

  Alex wanted nothing more. He walked the half mile back to where he’d left her, calling her name softly. “Keely. Ye can come out now.”

  “Is it over?” she asked, creeping out from the underbrush.

  “Aye, Struan willna be bothering us again.”

  She ran into his open arms, and Alex buried his face in her long hair. “Can ye find it in yer heart to forgive a sinner?”

  “What sins has he committed?”

  “He’s sure he’s broken every commandment.”

  Keely lifted her head. “Ye coveted yer neighbor’s wife?”

  “No exactly,” he said. “My neighbor’s daughter.”

  That made her smile—that beautiful, delicate smile he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. “I’ve killed, stolen, havena kept the Sabbath, and lied countless times.”

  “About what?”

  “Ye,” he whispered.

  “Me?”

  “Aye.”

  “Tell me what ye’ve lied about exactly.”

  Alex kissed her forehead, then her soft lips. “About how ye make me feel. There’s so much love inside my heart right now, I think it might burst, Keely.” He kneeled before her and took her hands in his. “I doona want to relive the past ever again. But I will tell ye this one time … I left the Highlands a broken man. And returned five years later still a broken man. Not one day has gone by when I havena thought of ye, craved ye in my mind and heart, in my bed, in my arms, in my life. And this time, Keely Oliphant, I am asking ye to marry me the right way.”

  He gazed up at her, waiting patiently for her to give him an answer.

  “If ye doona want me, I understand. I know how many dreams ye gave up for me, for John, for my sire, and yer father. Men are swine, Keely. We doona consider the feelings of the people around us when we want something. If ye doona w
ant to stay here, I will give ye my ship, and Petro and my men will take ye wherever ye wish to go. Italy. France…”

  “Constantinople?”

  That caught him off guard. But he’d decided to lay his world at her feet—whatever she wanted, she could have. “Aye, even Constantinople.”

  “Aye,” she said. “I’ll marry ye, Alexander. With all my heart. I love ye.”

  He slowly rose to his feet. “Say it again, lass.”

  “I love ye.”

  He tugged her into his arms. “I love ye, Keely. Always.”

  With the promise of a second chance at life with Keely in his heart, Alex carried his bride back to the encampment.

  Epilogue

  Two and a half years later…

  “Havena I told ye a dozen times ye canna go in the birthing room?” Laird Oliphant blocked the doorway.

  Alex heard his wife scream for the hundredth time, and was ready to do anything to get through his wall of a father-in-law. “Get out of my way. Please.”

  “Nay.”

  “I asked nicely.”

  “I doona care if ye beg like a woman. Ye’re not going in there.”

  “She’s my wife!”

  “And she’s my daughter! But some things are sacred, Alex. And that birthing room is no place for a man. The pains will pass, the screaming will stop. My grandson will enter this world like a warrior.”

  Alex dinna give a shite about any of that. He wanted to hold Keely’s hand, to comfort her, to take the pain inside his own body so she dinna have to suffer. “Move.” He shoved the laird’s shoulder.

  Laird Oliphant laughed. “Ye shouldna have done that.” He punched Alex in the face.

  The pounding pain only made Alex more determined to get inside that chamber. He kicked the laird in the shin, causing the older man to hop one leg, but he still dinna budge from the doorway.

  “Father. Alex.” Broc had come abovestairs with Petro.

  “What are ye doing, Alexander?” his secretary asked, shaking his head.

  “This man…” Alex pointed at the laird. “Refuses to grant me access to my wife in my own house.”

  “Is that true, Father?” Broc asked.

  Laird Oliphant nodded. “I’ve sired seven children. And not once did I impose on yer sweet mother when she was in the birthing room.”

  “Alex.” Petro said in his soothing voice. “Perhaps a drink of ale? Some bread? A walk outside?”

  Alex glared at his father-in-law.

  “Yer nose is bleeding, Alex.” Petro offered him a square of linen he pulled out of his tunic.

  Another scream sounded, only this time, silence followed. A deafening, heart wrenching quiet that filled Alex with dread.

  All of the men froze.

  “Is she…” Alex started.

  The cry of a baby broke the spell.

  Laird Oliphant grinned and stepped aside. “Now ye can go in.”

  Alex would deal with the man later. He opened the door and his gaze instantly found his beautiful wife. She was propped up on a pile of pillows, and she smiled at him as soon as she saw him.

  “Alex.” She opened her arms.

  He went to her and knelt beside the bed. “Are ye well, lass?”

  “Aye. Tired but overjoyed.”

  “Lady Keely. Laird Alex.” The midwife approached the bedside with a squirming bundle of linen. “Yer son.” She placed the bairn in Keely’s arms. “He’s beautiful.”

  “Son?” Alex stared at his wife in awe.

  “Aye. Our son.”

  He slowly stood up and leaned over so he could get a better look. Keely folded back the material. He had dark hair like his mother and pudgy, perfect fingers. Alex gently touched his head. “Milady,” he said, gazing into his wife’s blue eyes. “I am forever indebted to ye.”

  “Laird Alex,” the midwife called.

  What did she want now? Couldna it wait until the special moment with his family was over? “Aye?”

  “Yer daughter.” She offered another bundle to Alex this time.

  “My what?” he said shakily.

  “Yer precious daughter,” Keely said. “Take her in yer arms.”

  Speechless, Alex cradled her, fascinated by her full head of thick, black curls. She stared up at him, her tiny mouth making sucking sounds. “Two babes?” he asked.

  “Twins.”

  “No wonder ye were screaming to high heaven. I wanted to kill something because I knew ye suffered.”

  “Nay,” she said, taking his hand. “It isna that kind of pain.”

  “I love ye, Keely. I love these bairns. This clan. The Highlands.”

  “I know ye do.”

  He repositioned his daughter in the crook of his arm and bent at the waist so he could kiss his wife. “Have ye thought of any names?”

  “Rebecca, after my mother.”

  “A fine name,” he approved.

  “And our son?” she asked, arching a brow.

  Alex had thought on it long and hard. He’d spent the last two years of his life mending his ways, loving his wife, and forgiving his father and brother for the mistakes they’d all made. There was only one name that had stayed with him if he had a son. “John Matthew MacKay. After my brother and yer father.”

  “John and Rebecca,” Keely repeated. “Worthy names for our little Highlanders.”

  “Aye.”

  “Now we better open that door, or my father and brothers, and even Petro, are never going to forgive us.”

  Alex did the honor, and when his father-in-law crossed the threshold, he placed the man’s first granddaughter in his arms. “Rebecca,” Alex said.

  The Oliphant laird took one look at her and tears of joy filled his eyes. “Another Rebecca to love.”

  “And this is John Matthew,” Keely called from the bed.

  Her sire stared at her like she had two heads. “Ye had twins, Daughter?”

  “Aye.”

  Everyone shuffled into the chamber, and the babes were handed around.

  Alex stood back, taking in the happiness, grateful for everything God had blessed him with.

  When Keely looked his way, he blew her a kiss. “Thank ye,” he mouthed to her.

  She smiled and nodded.

  As he was about to join her at the bedside again, someone knocked on the chamber door. Since he was standing nearby, he opened it a crack.

  One of the guards from outside bowed.

  “What do ye want?”

  “Sorry to intrude, milord, but Helen Sutherland is waiting at the gates.”

  Had he heard the man correctly? Alex stepped into the passageway and closed the door behind him. “Helen Sutherland is here? Alone?”

  “Aye.”

  “What does the lady want?”

  “Sanctuary.”

  Suddenly, the past he’d worked so hard to forget was staring him down. “I will go with ye.”

  He walked outside with the guard, through the bailey and to the gates. As the guard had said, a beautiful woman waited.

  “Helen Sutherland?” Alex asked to be sure.

  “Aye.”

  “I am Alex MacKay, Keely’s husband.”

  Helen curtsied. “I know it is late, and I am sorry to disturb the peace in yer home. But my father is a raving lunatic, and I had to get away before he married me off to a decrepit and cruel laird from the isles. This is the only place I thought of—Keely is my only friend. There is nowhere else for me to go.”

  Alex considered it. Helen had been kind to his wife—providing what comfort she could when Keely’s own life was in turmoil. And Helen obviously dinna want anything to do with her family, Clan MacKay’s greatest enemy.

  “Ye are welcome here.”

  “I am?”

  He offered his arm and she took it, her leather boots crunching through the snow.

  “Where is yer escort?” he asked, surprised the lady would be travelling in the middle of winter by herself.

  “Escort?” she repeated as they stepped inside th
e main hall.

  Alex ushered her to the main hearth and offered her a seat in front of it. Helen removed her wet gloves and leaned close to the fire, rubbing her hands.

  “Not one man in service to my sire would dare help me. I am chattel, Laird MacKay, meant for one purpose.”

  “And what is that?”

  “To increase my father’s wealth through a strategic marriage. My heart and happiness have no value in my sire’s eyes.”

  “What man did he choose for ye?”

  “Laird Baran Munroe.”

  Alex’s expression darkened. “No friend of the MacKays.”

  “No friend to anyone from what I hear,” she added morosely. “Quick temper, and a murderer if the rumors are true.”

  “Aye,” Alex said. “His second wife gave birth to a stillborn lass, and he starved her to death soon after. I am sorry for yer misfortune.”

  “As am I.”

  “Surely yer father knows the man’s history.”

  “Aye. That dinna stop him from signing the betrothal contract. Though in my sire’s defense, he made sure to include conditions for my protection—that Laird Munroe would never deprive me of food and water, or beat me to death if I gave him daughters.”

  Alex scratched his chin. “A generous concession on both men’s parts, I am sure.”

  Helen laughed. “My father isna a bad man, Laird Alex. He’s simply unfit to be my sire. I am to blame, too. For I have been too quiet and far too obedient all these years, leading my sire to think that I would do anything he asked of me.”

  Alex’s sly smile reached his green eyes. “Keely wouldna love a lass so much who dinna have spirit.”

  “How is my friend?” Helen asked.

  Alex rubbed the back of his head. “Yer timing is of interest,” he admitted. “Keely has just given birth to twins, my son and daughter.”

  Helen jumped up. “Is she…”

  “Resting comfortably and happy.”

  “Thank God.”

  “May I see her?”

  Alex dinna want to excite his wife, not after what she’d just gone through. “In the morn,” he offered. “After she’s rested a spell.”