Highlander's Betrayed Princess (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Read online

  Highlander’s Betrayed Princess

  Alisa Adams

  Contents

  A Free Thank You Gift

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Highlander’s Trusted Traitor

  Chapter 1

  A Free Thank You Gift

  Also by the author

  A Free Thank You Gift

  Thank you a lot for purchasing my book.

  As a thank you gift I wrote a full length novel for you called Rescuing The Highlander.

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  Click here to get you FREE book

  Or use this link directly in your browser.

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  alisaadams.com/free

  Prologue

  Her heart was in her mouth. At any moment she expected a shout to go up and a horse to come galloping after her to block her way and force her back, but nothing happened. She passed the guards and broke into a trot as she went over the moat, then she took one last look over her shoulder. Annie was standing in the courtyard gazing at her. She was not weeping; she wanted to do nothing to give Eilidh away, but as soon as they were out of sight she knew that she would probably cry for hours.

  Eilidh looked at the place that had been her home for her whole life; it was magnificent, with battlement after crenellated battlement wrapping themselves around a central tower. It had a twenty-foot granite wall with a massive wooden gate in it and a mighty portcullis made of six-inch thick iron bars, and a forty-foot wide moat that was deep enough to drown a man and a horse together.

  She loved it; she had always loved it and was proud to call it her home, but not anymore. If she stayed any longer it would become a condemned prisoner’s cell, and she was much too young to die.

  Eilidh’s tears were swept away by the wind while riding. A hundred yards away was a forest, where she would be out of sight and after that, she would find the road to Inverness, but she could not take it since her father’s guards would be after her the moment they realized she had gone, and Inverness was the obvious choice. She would go to the other place.

  The thought spurred her into action and she urged Lettie into a canter. She breathed a sigh of relief as she gained the shelter of the overhanging tree branches. It was a moment before she realized that more tears were rolling down her face. As she had turned away to move into the forest, the castle—her first and only home—had disappeared, and that was the moment when she realized what she had done. She felt her heart shatter.

  1

  When had it all gone so horribly wrong? Eilidh did not want to remember the day, but she forced herself to because she needed to keep reminding herself about what would happen if she stayed behind.

  * * *

  A few weeks earlier…

  * * *

  Fearchar Mackie was the kind of man who took authority with him wherever he went. He was a tall and wiry redheaded man, with piercing blue eyes that looked as though they could bore holes in a stone wall. Eilidh had inherited the eyes, but not the fierceness of her father’s nature. However, he was known to be firm but fair, did not believe in cruelty to man or beast, and all of these qualities had earned him the respect of his peers and his tenants alike.

  Now, he was staring at his daughter across the dining room table, having just made an announcement that would change her life forever.

  “You are to be betrothed to Laird Cormac McClure,” he had said evenly, then held up his hand for silence as Eilidh began to protest. “I know that he is older than you, but he is a good man and you will want for nothing. It will give me peace of mind knowing that my daughter is under his care.”

  “But...but Father!” she cried. “This is so unfair! He must be fifty-five, and I hear that he is not only very ugly but cruel to women too.”

  “Laird McClure is but forty years old,” Fearchar informed her, his face set in a frown. “I need his help on the estate, and he needs a son. He cannot help the way he looks. It is what is inside, not outside that matters. Surely you know that?”

  “I know it. But Father, there are so many worthy younger men!” She was desperate. “He has buried one wife and he has no children. He is obviously not capable of fathering any.”

  Fearchar sighed. “His wife died in childbirth,” he informed her patiently.

  Malvina, her mother, chimed in. “The labor came on too early, and both of them perished.” She sounded sad, but brightened up as she looked at Eilidh. “So you see, he can father a child.”

  For a moment, Eilidh could find nothing to say, but just as Malvina and Fearchar relaxed again, thinking that she had given in, she tried something else.

  “I hear that he drinks a lot, and that he can be very cruel to his servants,” she remarked. “I do not know how true that is, Father. It may be a rumor that some malicious person is spreading, but if it is true, are you not putting my safety at risk by asking me to marry him? He may hurt me too.”

  Fearchar sighed again then ran his hand over his forehead for a moment. When he looked up again, his eyes were like chips of blue ice under his lowered brows.

  “Listen very carefully, Eilidh, for I am not going to say this again.” He paused, and fixed her with his fierce gaze. “I am not asking you to marry Laird McClure, I am telling you that you will, no matter what he looks like or how old he is. I am told that he has gone on retreat to St Bede’s monastery for a few weeks to prepare himself for marriage. So you see, he is taking his responsibilities very seriously. You are in no danger.”

  “Not the kind of danger you mean, Father,” she replied angrily, “but have you given a thought to my happiness? I am young, and I want to spend my time with young people and do the kinds of things they do. All of Laird McClure’s friends will be older, and I will be stuck among people who have nothing in common with me. I will be miserable!”

  “No, darling.” Malvina put her hand over her daughter’s on the table and shook her head. “I have seen many good marriages between older men and younger women, and more often than not they are better off because of the age difference—he is older and more mature, while she is young and free of spirit. He cherishes her and she makes him younger! And your father and I had an arranged marriage, but we grew to love each other.”

  “But Mother...” Eilidh was beginning to feel that she wanted to bang her parents’ heads together since they did not seem to have a grain of sense between them. “You were eighteen and father was twenty-five. Cormac McClure is more than twice my age.”

  “It will be alright Princess” Malvina said. She was not an actual Princess but her parents called her that often.

  “Enough!” Fearchar stood up and banged his fist on the table, making Malvina and Eilidh jump. “There is to be no more argument.” His voice was now guttural.

  “The marriage will take place when the Laird comes back from his retreat. That should give you enough time to make preparations.”

  Other girls would have been terrified but Eilidh looked him straight in the eyes.

  Malvina broke the silence. “We can get Annie to make the dress!” she said. “It will be wonderful, Eilidh!”

  Eilidh gazed at her mother for a m
oment.

  Fine then, I will do what I must.

  Eilidh then shrugged in apparent resignation. “Oh well, at least I will get a pretty dress out of it!” Then she paused. “I suppose I could always poison him in his sleep. Mistress Daley in the village always has some hemlock.”

  At this, Malvina burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. “No, darling,” she laughed. “Please do not do that! The coffin bearers could not carry him. He is too heavy.”

  Eilidh’s heart sank. This was becoming worse by the minute.

  “That is not funny,” Fearach growled. “We do not make jests like that in this house. I had a friend who was wrongly accused of poisoning his wife when she had, in fact, killed herself. He was hanged for murder.”

  “Very well, Father.” Eilidh felt defeated. “Since I have no choice in the matter, I will accept your decision, but do not expect me to be happy about it.”

  “I think you have made that quite clear,” Fearchar said grimly. Then his tone changed. “Eilidh, marriage is not just about you and your husband. When you wed it is about the joining of two families as well. When you come out of the church you will be Lady McClure, part of the McClure family and the McClure clan. You will be joined to Cormac as closely as if you were blood relatives, so this match will be good for all of us, not just you. So go away and start to prepare.” He gave a mischievous smile. “I know that you ladies love that most of all.”

  You will be joined to Cormac as closely as if you were blood relatives. Well, that was one way to put it.

  Eilidh smiled fondly at her father. “Now that I know the facts and the decision has been made, I will try to be happy,” she said, trying to make herself sound cheerful while she was fuming inside.

  I will not be unhappy because I will never marry him, she thought mutinously.

  Malvina smoothed her hand over her daughter’s shining blonde hair that resembled her own, in a gesture of affection. “Now that you have got over the shock,” she said brightly, “we can go and buy some silk for your wedding dress. There is a silk merchant who lives and works not too far from here. We must get started straight away!”

  “Of course!” Eilidh managed to show a credible amount of excitement as she finished her ale and stood up. “Which color suits me best, do you think?”

  “Red—rust red,” Malvina answered, and that was the beginning of a long conversation about the wedding dress as they walked out slowly, apparently engrossed in the subject.

  Eilidh and Malvina began to walk out and Fearchar followed behind them. Thank God that is done, he thought and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He had known there would be resistance from Eilidh and had steeled himself for it, but he had not anticipated quite so much. Still, it was over...or so he thought.

  But Eilidh had other ideas. The matter was not finished. Now there were plans to be made, but they would not be the kind that her parents imagined.

  Malvina almost danced into Eilidh’s bedroom, where Annie was hanging up one of Eilidh’s dresses, which she had just finished smoothing out with the sadiron she heated up in the bedroom fireplace. Eilidh would trust no one else to do it.

  “Eilidh is being married, Annie!” Malvina announced, laughing joyfully.

  Annie took one look at Eilidh then pasted a smile on her face. “Congratulations, Mistress,” she said with a respectful nod. “Who is the lucky fellow?”

  Behind her mother’s back, Eilidh frowned darkly and shook her head, to show her displeasure.

  “The Laird Cormac McClure!” Malvina said delightedly. “A fine, wealthy man with a large estate who will keep Eilidh in the style to which she is accustomed.”

  Annie’s eyes narrowed fractionally then she smiled again. “I knaw whit ye are gonna ask me next, Milady. Ye will need a wedding dress?”

  “We will!” Malvina replied. “A warm winter dress, Annie, but beautiful nonetheless. Can you do it?”

  Annie laughed and flapped her hand. “Milady, I wis born tae sew! We will hae it done in twa shakes o’ a lamb’s tail!”

  “I must go.” Malvina looked out at the sky. “I need to visit Lady Ross, but I expect you to have some ideas when I get back!”

  She hurried out, leaving Eilidh and Annie to look at each other, each wondering what the other was thinking.

  Eventually, Eilidh sat on the bed and sighed, and Annie stood by her side silently.

  “Annie, I need your help.”

  “For the dress Milady?”

  “ No Annie. There will be no wedding”.

  “Mistress!” Annie’s voice was a shout of breathless panic as she burst into Eilidh’s room. Eilidh steadied her by gripping her arms and frowned as she looked down at the little woman, whose pink cheeks were flushed with exertion.

  A couple of weeks had passed after Eilidh had begun planning with Annie, but with the look on her face, Eilidh understood that the time had probably come.

  “Calm down, Annie,” she said gently, a frown appearing on her beautiful face. “Get your breath back and tell me what is wrong.”

  Annie nodded, gulped in a few lungfuls of air, then began to speak. “Mistress,” she puffed, “the Laird McClure has arrived wi’ his sister. We thought he wisnae comin’ ‘til tomorrow!”

  Eilidh was shocked. She tried not to let panic take over.

  “Yes, yes it was supposed to be tomorrow,” Eilidh said grimly. She had not heard much good spoken of Cormac McClure, the man she was destined to marry.

  Annie’s eyes widened. “Mistress...will you...do it?”

  Will I? Eilidh thought.

  She brushed back some strands of hair from her face as she looked out her window. The day was gray and inhospitable, and the sky promised rain later. She had planned to go riding; it was not a good day for it but she had no choice. “A whole day early, the swine.” Her voice was now a growl of anger. “He obviously can’t wait to get his greedy hands on me! This does not bode well, Annie!”

  She was still in her nightgown, but as she was speaking, as if she had read her mistress’s mind, Annie began to lay out her day wear. It consisted of a thick gray wool dress under which Eilidh would wear a linen chemise and petticoat. Over it was a thick shawl that Annie had woven herself on her little handloom, and Eilidh treasured it because it had been made by Annie’s own hands. Annie was almost like a second mother to her.

  “Annie, are those not my traveling clothes?” she asked.

  “Aye, Mistress.” Annie’s voice was quiet, but throbbing with anger. “It looks as if ye’re gaun’tae have tae escape noo. That swine will want tae see ye any minute, an’ ye must be gone.” Annie was a tiny woman, only five feet tall in her boots, with iron gray hair and deep gray eyes. She had been with Eilidh ever since she was a baby, and Eilidh could not remember a time before her. They would have done anything for each other, and she was the only one Eilidh had trusted with her secret.

  Rather than marry Cormac McClure, she was going to run away as fast and as far as she could, and if that meant leaving her home and family behind, then so be it.

  Cormac McClure’s reputation for cruelty and lechery had gone before him, although the local priest Father McLeod had sent him to St Bede’s monastery on retreat for a month of prayer and fasting, and according to him, he was a changed man. It was enough to convince her father, but it was not enough for Eilidh. She had seen the results of fresh-faced young women married to men like this. They became embittered old hags.

  It is not going to happen to me, she vowed, so she and Annie had concocted a plan of escape. However, as if he had read their minds, here was her suitor, a whole day early!

  Annie helped her to dress very quickly, and then Eilidh turned her frightened blue eyes to her dearest friend. “I want to see what he looks like,” she said, “but can you go and tell Mother and Father that I was not ready for the Laird, and I am dressing to look my best for him? Tell them it might take a little while.”

  Annie nodded firmly and went to do as she had been bidden.

  Eilidh wa
s barefoot and crept downstairs as quickly and quietly as she could. She peeped around the door to get her first look at her prospective bridegroom. Maybe he will not be so bad after all.

  When she saw him, she barely managed to stop herself from giving a moan of despair.

  Cormac McClure was a very big man. Eilidh could not guess his exact height, but it had to be well over six feet, she thought. His hair might have been dark brown at one time but now it was more gray than brown and had receded quite a long way from his forehead; he would be bald in a few more years.

  His features were coarse; he had florid cheeks, a big nose, and the beginning of a double chin. His belly was fat from too much good living, but he looked strong, and she shivered. Would he use that strength against her on their wedding night? Judging by what she had heard, it was more than likely.

  His sister Assumpta—What a name! she had thought when she first heard it—was a smaller version of him, and equally ugly.

  Eilidh had seen enough. She tiptoed quietly back the way she had come and ran up the stairs nimbly, two at a time.

  I will do it.

  When she got back to her room, Annie was bundling a blanket into a big leather satchel, around which she had wrapped a large piece of thick linen cloth.

  “A good thing we packed this last night, Mistress,” she said grimly. “The Lord wis lookin’ efter ye.”

  “Thank you, Annie,” Eilidh said gratefully as she slung the bag over her shoulder. She took Annie’s hands in her own. “Now listen to me. My family is not to know you had any part in this. Tell them that after you gave them my message you went to the garden to pick some flowers for my hair and when you came back a short while later I was gone. You looked all over for me but could not find me, and you were just coming to tell the family, but my absence had already been discovered. You must not suffer on my behalf. Understand?”