Banished & Welcomed: The Laird's Reckless Wife (Love's Second Chance Book 14)
Page 1
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
About the Book
Free gift
Prologue
Chapter One – A Witch in their Midst
Chapter Two – A Favour Asked
Chapter Three – A Rare Day
Chapter Four – A Rare Woman
Chapter Five – Gift of the Old Ones
Chapter Six – A Laird’s Duty
Chapter Seven – A Yuletide Season
Chapter Eight – Over the Edge
Chapter Nine – Burdens
Chapter Ten – Open Words
Chapter Eleven – A Call for Aid
Chapter Twelve – An Abyss Awaits
Chapter Thirteen – A Price to be Paid
Chapter Fourteen – The Eastern Tower
Chapter Fifteen – For the Good of the Clan
Chapter Sixteen – Hope & Fear
Chapter Seventeen – A Friend’s Return
Chapter Eighteen – A Giant of a Man
Chapter Nineteen – Return to Seann Dachaigh Tower
Chapter Twenty – Window of Opportunity
Chapter Twenty-One – Welcome Home
Chapter Twenty-Two – Into the Night
Chapter Twenty-Three – Heart & Mind
Chapter Twenty-Four – A Moment of Surrender
Chapter Twenty-Five – Intruder
Chapter Twenty-Six – A New Morning
Chapter Twenty-Seven – A Mother’s Call
Chapter Twenty-Eight – A Matter of the Mind
Chapter Twenty-Nine – A Futile Confrontation
Chapter Thirty – The Essence of Life
Chapter Thirty-One – Just Because
Chapter Thirty-Two – A Mother’s Interference
Chapter Thirty-Three – A Fool for Love
Chapter Thirty-Four – For Better or for Worse
Chapter Thirty-Five – As One
Chapter Thirty-Six – A Fateful Night
Chapter Thirty-Seven – To Sense Another
Chapter Thirty-Eight – Wrong All the Same
Chapter Thirty-Nine – Deeper than Blood and Clan
Chapter Forty– The Shadow
Chapter Forty-One – Light & Dark
Chapter Forty-Two – A Future Foretold
Epilogue
Overview Love's Second Chance Series
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Prologue
Overview A Forbidden Love Novella Series
NEW: Happy Ever Regency Series #1
About Bree
Banished & Welcomed
The Laird’s Reckless Wife
(#14 Love’s Second Chance Series)
by Bree Wolf
Banished & Welcomed - The Laird’s Reckless Wife
by Bree Wolf
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, media, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Art by Victoria Cooper
Copyright © 2019 Sabrina Wolf
www.breewolf.com
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To Family
Acknowledgements
A great, big thank-you to my dedicated beta readers and proofreaders, Michelle Chenoweth, Monique Takens and Kim Bougher, who read the rough draft and help me make it better.
Also a heartfelt thank-you to all my wonderful readers who pick up book after book and follow me on these exciting adventures of love and family. I love your company and savor every word of your amazing reviews! Thank you so much! There are no words!
About the Book
A reticent Highland laird
A banished woman with a powerful gift
And a love that was meant to be
Scotland 1808: As laird, CORMAG MACDRUMMOND knows his duty to his clan. All his life, he has put their needs before his own, silencing his heart’s deepest desires. But then an allied laird makes a request that Cormag cannot refuse. Duty-bound, he offers the man’s fair cousin a place among his people, vowing to keep her safe from the dark rumours that follow wherever she goes. However, the moment he lays eyes on MOIRA BRUNWOOD, Cormag knows that he has made a grave mistake.
Her soulful, blue eyes and unyielding pride soon steal into his guarded heart, and before long, Cormag finds himself falling under her spell in a way he would never have expected.
Moira has the Sight. Always have her dreams shown her glimpses of the future, and always has she acted upon them. However, one wrong step sees her banished from her own clan, her family, her home and thrust among strangers, who look at her with suspicion and mistrust. Whispers abound of her otherworldly abilities, and some even believe she is a witch. Moira is determined not to cower, not to yield; yet, she finds that loneliness is a fate worse than death.
Her heart aches for comfort, for closeness, longing for a chance at redemption…but even more so longing for the laird who granted her sanctuary.
Despite the cold distance that rests in his grey eyes, Moira soon learns that a warm and caring heart beats in his chest as Cormag comes to her aid time and time again. His strength makes her feel safe while his gentleness unwittingly steals her heart and stirs her pulse.
However, not all are willing to see past Moira’s transgressions, and soon Cormag finds himself torn between claiming the woman he loves and staying true to his people.
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Prologue
Greystone Castle, Scottish Highlands, Autumn 1806 (or a variation thereof)
Two Years Earlier
The key turning in the lock sent a deafening sound through the small chamber, a chamber that had been hers for as long as she could remember. Never had it been a prison cell though.
Never.
But that had changed the day Moira Brunwood, once a proud daughter of Clan Brunwood, had betrayed her own kin.
Swallowing, Moira rose from the chair she had occupied for the past hour, her gaze directed out at the land she loved, but would be forced to leave that very day. Her hands brushed over her gown, suddenly obsessed with smoothing out even the smallest wrinkle as she turned toward the door.
Slowly, it swung open, revealing the tall stature of Alastair Brunwood, Moira’s brother. His features were hard as his blue eyes settled on her, anger burning in their depth as she had never seen before. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and the muscles in his neck were rigid as he jerked his head toward her. “Come,” he all but growled, his voice harsh, revealing how deep her betrayal had cut him.
Still, Moira rejoiced at that single word for it was the first one she had heard him utter in many weeks. Or had it only been days? Moira could not say. Time had lost all meaning as she had been locked away, her heart and mind retreating from the world, from what she had done. How often had she sat in this chair, staring out at the land that was no longer hers?
She would never know.
; And it did not matter, did it?
Her hands trembled as Moira stepped forward. She could feel tears stinging the backs of her eyes, and yet, she did not dare look away for this was her last day.
Her last day at Greystone Castle.
Her last day with her clan.
With her brother.
Bracing herself, Moira drew closer to where Alastair stood, her heart twisting painfully at the sight of his taut face. The way his eyes refused to meet hers almost brought her to her knees, and in that moment, all she wanted was to sink down and weep for the mistakes she had made, the illusions she had entertained. How had she not seen this coming? How could she have been so wrong?
Brushing a blond strand behind his right ear, Alastair stepped from the room, waiting for her to follow. He stood like a sentinel, eyes directed forward as though he did not even see her.
Or did not wish to.
For the first time in weeks, Moira stepped out into the corridor, the grey stones of the walls surrounding her as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Her whole life had taken place in this castle, and now it would have no place in her future. It was hard to believe, and a part of Moira felt as though this was no more than one of her dreams.
Dreams that showed her things that were not real but could be one day. They had been her downfall, and not a day passed that she did not curse the Fates for allowing her glimpses of a future that would now never be hers.
With her head bowed, Moira followed her brother down the back staircase. The day was still young, and only a dim glow of the autumn’s light reached inside the thick stone walls. A chill crawled up her arms, and she drew her shawl more tightly around herself.
All was silent as they stepped out into the courtyard and turned toward the stables. Fog lingered all around her, shrouding everything in a thick blanket, and the air smelled faintly of salt, whispering of the sea nearby.
Her eyes swept over the familiar courtyard where they had danced not too long ago, celebrating their laird’s happy marriage.
Connor’s marriage to an English lady.
With her lips pressed into a thin line, Moira picked up her step and hurried after her brother. Not even now could she think of Henrietta Brunwood, Connor’s wife, without feeling a stab to the heart. After all, it had been the slender, pale Englishwoman who had brought about Moira’s downfall. She had bewitched Connor, stolen his heart as well as his hand, so that he had no longer been able to see Moira.
A lone tear escaped and rolled down her cheek as Moira quickly reached up and brushed it away. There was no point in falling to pieces now. She had cried all the tears she had possessed for the loss of her future.
The future she had seen in her dreams.
The future she had been promised.
And although it was lost to her now, her dreams still stayed with her as though to taunt her.
Every now and then when sleep took her, she would travel to the moment that had urged her to act, to conspire against Henrietta, the moment that had led her down a path of betrayal.
Again, she would see herself standing atop a lush green hill, Connor by her side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as her head rested against his strong chest. Together, they gazed across the land, their eyes sweeping over the men and women and children of their clan, preparing for the Highland Games. Moira could see the Brunwood banner flapping in the strong breeze, and a smile would come to her lips.
Again, and again, she had seen this in her dreams. Dreams she knew to be a whisper of the future. It was a gift she had had since she had been a wee lass. A gift of the Old Ones. A gift she was to use to secure her clan’s future.
And so, Moira had acted.
She had taken steps to rid her cousin Connor of his new English wife, believing − no, knowing! −that she −Moira− was meant to lead their clan by his side, not Henrietta. After all, her dreams had told her so, and never once had her dreams been wrong.
Until now.
Stepping into the stables, Moira breathed in the warmth of the animals mingling with the strong scent of hay and manure. She watched her brother lead two horses from their boxes, their saddles in place and a few belongings tied behind them.
Alastair kept his gaze firmly fixed on the task at hand, never once even glancing in her direction. He was a seasoned hunter, trained in combat, and had the instincts of a warrior. He knew without looking where she was and what she was doing. He always had, and Moira had always felt special because of it.
She was his little sister, and he was her big brother.
At least, they had been.
Once.
“Goodbye, Moira.”
Spinning around, Moira stared at Connor standing only a few feet behind her, his bear-like stature blocking the door. He was tall and broad, but he moved with the same ease and precision as Alastair. His black hair and full beard gave him a somewhat darker countenance; however, Moira knew that Connor was a man full of laughter and mirth.
Only now, his eyes were hard, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he regarded her with the same sense of disbelief and disappointment she had seen in his gaze since he had learnt of her betrayal. Since he had realised that she had been the one to almost cost him his life. That she had been the one to threaten his wife.
A wife he loved with all his heart and soul.
Moira knew that now, but she had not known it then.
To her great dismay, fresh tears shot to her eyes, and she clenched her teeth, willing them to not show themselves. After all that had happened, all Moira had left was a small bit of pride, and she would fight to keep it. “I’m sorry,” she said nonetheless; her voice, however, was even and free of the deep regret she felt. “I swear I never meant for ye to be hurt…or her.” She swallowed. “I didna know what he had planned. I swear it.”
Swallowing, Connor nodded. His gaze momentarily slid to Alastair standing somewhere behind her, tending to the horses, before he drew closer, his dark eyes fixed on her face as though he hoped to read her thoughts. “I believe ye, Lass, as Old Angus made no secret of how he used ye for his cause.”
Moira drew in a shuddering breath at the memory of the hateful, old man who had seen Connor’s English wife as a threat to the clan, a threat that needed to be eliminated. He had gathered men and led them in an attack against Connor, thinking him weak for allowing the British to infiltrate their home.
And to her shame, Moira had believed his lies and aided him in his quest.
In the end, it had been Henrietta’s courage and Alastair’s loyalty that had saved Connor’s life. Moira still felt sick at the thought of how close he had come to dying that day.
And she would have been responsible.
“But ye betrayed me,” Connor told her. “Ye betrayed all of us. I understand how Angus could have done what he did.” He shook his head. “After the horrors of Culloden, he hasna been right in the head. But ye?”
Moira nodded. “I know. I canna believe it myself. All I can do now is apologise.”
“And make amends,” Connor told her, his eyes hard as they held hers. “Yer past is sealed. It canna be changed, but ye’re still the master of yer future.” Taking a step closer, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know ye’ve been misled and that ye’re sorry, but that isna enough. Ye need to find a way to lead a good life.” He sighed, “Ye know ye canna stay here.”
Swallowing, Moira nodded.
Connor glanced over her shoulder, his eyes no doubt meeting Alastair’s before he looked down at her once more. “For yer brother’s sake, I give ye this chance. Use it wisely for it shall be yer last.” Then he took a step back, and his hand slid from her shoulder. “Goodbye, Moira. May yer dreams not lead ye astray again.” Then he turned and walked away, severing the bond that had connected them since childhood. Their lives would now lead them down different paths, and Moira wondered if she would ever see him again.
As she followed Alastair out of the courtyard, feeling her mare’s strong flanks beneath her legs, Moir
a drew in a deep breath. Her body shuddered with the weight of the moment that was finally upon her, a moment she had dreaded for the past weeks, and her eyes filled with tears.
And this time, she let them fall for her heart broke anew as they rode out of Greystone Castle, leaving behind a life, a family, a home.
Outcast.
Banished.
Exiled.
All these terms that had been coursing around in her mind these past few weeks spoke to one deep-seated fear: loneliness. Now, Moira was alone in the world with no one to care whether she lived or died. She would live among strangers, strangers who would no doubt look upon her with disgust and mistrust for her deeds had spread throughout the lands, even reaching the ears of those far away.
And Moira could not blame them. She had no defence, no justification, no excuse or explanation. Aye, she had been misled; still, the decision had been hers.
She had failed them as well as herself.
Glancing over her shoulder, Moira watched Greystone Castle vanish a little more with each step their horses surged forward, a heavy fog settling around its walls and upon its towers. It was as though the Old Ones, too, were punishing her, hiding those she loved from her view.
Always had Moira had the Sight, and now, she could not see.
Days passed in silence as they travelled onward across the land, and Moira’s heart grew heavier. Her limbs felt weak, and it was a struggle to pull herself into the saddle each morning. Her mind was numb, clouded with guilt and fear as well as another moment of loss she knew would come.
When they spotted Seann Dachaigh Tower, home of Clan MacDrummond, around midday on their fifth day since leaving Greystone Castle, Moira felt an icy fist grab her heart and squeeze it mercilessly. She shivered against the cold that swept through her body, gritting her teeth as she fought for control.