Highlander's Forbidden Lass (Lasses 0f Tweeddale Book 3), page 1
part #3 of Lasses 0f Tweeddale Series
Highlander's Forbidden Lass
Trapped between war and peace, the road to their destiny may just be the battle that defeats them both…
Fiona Faris
Contents
Thank you
About the book
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
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Prologue
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Extended Epilogue
Afterword
Do you want more Romance?
Highlander's Dark Pride
Never miss a thing
Thank you
About the Author
Thank you
I want to personally thank you for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me. It’s a blessing to have the opportunity to share with you, my passion for writing, through my stories.
As a gift, I am giving you a link to my first novel. It has more than 160 reviews, with an average rating of 4.4 out of 5
It is called “A Maid for the Grieving Highlander”, and you can get it for FREE.
Please note that this story is only available for YOU as a subscriber and hasn't been published anywhere else.
Please click on the cover to download the book
About the book
Lady Emily Caldwell has been raised all her life dreaming of the perfect gentleman, a noble knight that will sweep her of her feet.
When her father and the king announce that she is to be married, Emily is overjoyed.
Enchanted by Philip Edenhall's green eyes and handsome face, little does she know that her intended is not her dream man, but the frightening Scotsman next to him.
All Alexander MacTavish wanted was safety, peace and a roof above his head. At last, he is so close to winning them all and more. But in order to secure his future, Alexander must marry the last woman on earth he would choose.
As they come together, they are buffeted by their personal prejudice, and by the longings and desires deep within their own hearts.
Emily will have to learn the truth before she makes a dreadful mistake...
He wasn't supposed to be with her, now he can't live without her...
* * *
Prologue
A fine spring mist fell almost imperceptibly from heavy, gray clouds above the rugged rocks and sturdy foliage of the Highlands of Scotland, landing translucent on the woolen cloak of a young woman riding an enormous stallion.
The horse’s hooves made no noise as it strode over the grassy hollows of a small valley in the center of rolling hills. The tall trees around the pair swayed slightly in a breeze; their leaves dancing and quivering in the light, chill air. The young woman eyed everything around her keenly, though she was focused most of all on the reddish-hued creek that was bubbling and churning near them. The spring rains had swollen the waters there and changed the bank line at its sides.
The woman stopped the horse and dismounted, leading her steed by the reins to the water’s edge. The stallion drank from it, and the girl washed blood from her hands in the cold current. Hanging over her saddle were four pheasants she’d shot with arrows. When her hands were pink and clean, she stood up and ran her fingers through the horse’s mane.
“We’ve had a braw hunting day, haven’t we Bruce?” She asked with a smile. She caught her reflection in the moving waters at her feet. The long, dark curls of her hair had been pulled back into a thick, loose braid, but several strands had come free, falling to frame her fair-skinned face, and emerald-green eyes. She regarded herself for a moment; the full red lips, high pink cheeks, and graceful features. They were her mother’s. She might look as though she had been crafted from porcelain by the hands of a master sculptor, but she was anything but delicate. Though her generous curves were womanly, she was stronger than any woman she knew; she had the might of her father.
Bruce nickered and nudged her gently. Madeleine smiled and ran her hand down the length of his nose, rubbing his soft fur. “We should get back.” She moved to mount him, and he jumped slightly, his wide eyes moving to the trees nearby. Madeleine turned instantly with one hand on the rein. She saw the slightest movement of leaves where there should be stillness, and she drew in a deep breath, reaching her free hand to the quiver of arrows on her back.
“What dae we have here?” came a low voice, sounding almost as if it were taunting her.
One man, and then another, stepped from the thick stand of trees that Madeleine was watching. They stared at her curiously.
“I stopped to water my horse. I’m leaving now.” She answered, her heart beginning to beat faster. Bruce stayed at her side.
The second man shook his head as the two of them drew nearer to her. “Well now… would ye look at that. I believe that’s the tartan of a Campbell. Are ye a Campbell?” he growled menacingly.
Madeleine lifted her chin proudly. “Aye. I am. What does it matter to ye?”
The men shared a momentary glance. “Oh lassie… it matters a great deal to us. Ye see… yer on Arthur lands. Yer goin’ to have to pay us a price for bein’ here… and for huntin’ on our lands.”
“I didn’a take these birds on yer lands! I was still on Campbell lands when I shot them!” Ire rose in her, burning at her core as her blood began to race.
The first man laughed and shook his head. “And we’re just supposed to believe a woman? I dinna think so. Yer goin’ to pay the price, lassie, and ye’ll pay it out of yer flesh.”
“I will dae no such thing!” She fired back at them furiously.
“I have no’ seen a woman so fine as this one in a long while.” The second man let his eyes travel slowly over Madeleine’s body.
“I’ve no’ seen a woman as fine as this one,” his mate answered, “and I’m having her.”
“Ye mean yer sharing her!”
Madeleine dropped the arrow she had pinched between her fingertips back into her quiver, and reached instead into her cloak at the hip, drawing a long, sharp, broadsword. “Ye think ye can have me for the taking?” she challenged them angrily, “Then come and get me!”
Chapter One
The sound of a heavy wooden door banging against a solid stone wall echoed through the massive halls of Inveraray Castle. It was a beautiful place, almost out of a fairytale, with twin towers at the front and back corners of the edifice and a massive face three stories tall before an even more elevated center. The castle of Clan Campbell was one of the most beautiful in Scotland.
Following the thunderous bang of the door, there came the quick shuffle of feet and the rustle of skirts along with it. Lady Claire Campbell stopped short when she looked upon her daughter standing before her; her dark curls askew, sweat glistening along her hairline, her pale face flushed pink, and a wide smear of blood across her cheek.
Lady Claire shrieked in horror and panic as she rushed to the young woman. “Madeleine! Oh, my lass! What happened to ye? Are ye hurt badly?”
The thud of heavy footsteps followed the woman’s scream, and in moments Laird David Campbell was standing near his wife, taking in the state of his daughter. “What in the name of all that is holy has happened?” He demanded, his eyes wide as he held his hands out toward Madeleine.
Madeleine raised up the pheasants she had shot. “I was out huntin’. I’ve brought these back.”
Laird Campbell’s eyes bore into those of his daughter. He was a big man, with the same dark hair as hers, and the same stubbornness and strength, though much of the physical resemblance stopped there. “The blood on yer face and yer skirts is no’ from hunting. What happened to ye?” he insisted. “Are ye hurt?”
Madeleine sighed, knowing that her parents would not be pleased with the truth. “Oh, I’m fine,” she began matter-of-factly. “It’s no’ my blood. I should have washed
Laird Campbell furrowed his brow as his gaze grew keener. “Whose blood is it then?”
“I was set upon…,” she told them, her tone little more than explanatory, “attacked by two men of Clan Arthur. They wanted a bit o’ me, but I took a bit o’ them instead.”
The Laird closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. “Clan Arthur,” he said quietly. When he opened his eyes again, there was sorrow in them. “Things have been so tense with them lately. I have been trying to broker peace with them.” He eyed his daughter curiously. “How badly did ye wound them? Or did ye kill them?”
Madeleine rolled her eyes. “They’re no’ dead, though maybe they should be. I only wounded them a bit.”
Lady Claire stared in utter disbelief at her daughter. “Ye… ye wounded them? What does that mean?”
A smirk played over the young woman’s face. “Oh, they’ll live. They will no’ be havin’ bairns, but they’ll live.”
Laird Campbell shook his head. “This isnae good. Things will be more difficult between us now.”
Madeleine shot her father a dark look. “They would have been worse for me if I had no’ defended me’self!”
The Laird nodded and opened his arms out to her, and she went into them. “Aye, I’m sure they would have been. I’m glad ye can defend yerself. I just wish it had no’ happened at all, especially with them. Things have been g’tting worse of late. They are pushing further into our lands, past our old boundary, killing farm animals, burning crops, injuring and killing our clanspeople. It seems that they want more, and they are willing to take it by force. I have wanted tae keep a peace between them and us, so we have only defended, and no’ sought any attack against them, but they keep coming. I’m afraid it’s going tae come tae a head. I am glad that ye were no’ hurt today. That would have been a breaking point for me.”
“I ken how to defend me’self because ye taught me tae.” She hugged him warmly and smiled up at him.
“What are we goin’ to dae with ye?” Her father let out a long breath.
Lady Claire was still staring at Madeleine. She’d barely said anything up to that moment, but in an instant, with wide green eyes, she grabbed at her fanciful skirts and yanked them upward slightly, just over her feet. “I’ll tell ye what we’re goin’ to do! I’m writing tae my sister in France, and I am going tae send ye tae her! We can no’ seem to make a lady of ye here, but mayhap, if I send ye there, she can right these wrongs and get ye married to a French nobleman! Perhaps then ye’ll settle down like ye should!”
“Mother no!” Madeleine protested vehemently, but Lady Claire raised one hand and held it up between them.
Laird Campbell frowned. “Why should she be wed to a French nobleman when she could have a Scotsman?”
Lady Claire was resolute. “There have been a few Scottish lairds who have been interested in her, but she has no’ wanted them!”
Madeleine crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes darkened. “I didn’a like any o’ them!”
Her mother glared at her. “Marriage is no’ always about love! I am sending ye to France so that ye will be away from the danger here, and so that ye can find a match with a nobleman who will bring ye great wealth. The partnership of a man with considerable more power than many of our own Scots here, and havin’ his support, would be a boon to our clan! Noblemen have access to armies, and if these skirmishes grow worse with clan Arthur, we would be able to better defend ourselves if ye were married tae a nobleman! This is about ye rising up in your station and in the ranks of society. ‘Tis about making the most of your opportunities and those of your family. ‘Tis about keeping ye out of so much danger and trouble! I want the best for ye and this is the way to dae it! Ye must marry upward.”
“But I dinna want to go to France! This is my home!” Madeleine insisted as ire burned deeply within her. “I am no’ a horse to be bred to the finest stud ye can find!”
“This is no’ up for discussion! Ye are a lady, and ye’ll go and learn to be one, and ye’ll go soon! No more of this!” With that, Lady Claire held fast to her skirts and sashayed straight up the stairs in complete determination.
“Father!” Madeleine spun on her heel and pleaded with him.
Laird Campbell bit his lower lip a moment and lowered his eyes sympathetically to her. “I’m sorry my dear, but I dinna think there’s anything I can dae to stop her.”
“I dinna want to go to Aunt Margaret’s!” Madeleine insisted stubbornly.
Her father shrugged. “Yer mother obviously has her mind set. Perhaps ye could make the most of it. ‘Tis better weather, and Margaret is a braw woman. She’ll take fine care o’ ye. She has a bonnie home, and it would be a new experience for ye. Spread yer wings a bit and see some of the world. That would no’ be so bad, would it? Be wild and free beyond these lands?”
Madeleine pouted angrily, but she considered it. “I have wanted tae see Paris,” she admitted quietly.
“Make the most of this opportunity, Maddie,” her father encouraged her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“I’ll make the most of the journey and the experience, but dinna expect me to tie me’self down to a husband!” She looked up smartly at him. “I’ve got a home here that I’m comin’ back tae.”
The evening before Madeleine’s departure, she was carefully packing her traveling trunk when a knock sounded at the door to her chamber. A moment later, a beautiful face appeared from behind it. The girl, just a little younger than Madeleine, came into the room and walked over to the trunk, running a few fingers along the edge of it. Long waves of golden blonde hair lay over her shoulders and down her back to her waist. Her eyes were blue, and usually she wore a big, bright smile, but not on this night.
“Maddie, can’t ye make up with mother so that she let’s ye stay? I dinna want ye to go!” She pleaded with a sorrowful voice.
Madeleine sighed and shook her head. “I’ve tried. She will no’ relent. I’m so sorry, Fiona. She will no’ let me stay. I dae wish that ye were going with me, though. This would be a better journey if ye were on it with me.”
Fiona sat on her sister’s bed and watched Madeleine as she finished the last of her packing. “But, I am worried! If ye find a Frenchman to wed, ye will no’ likely be returning here to me! I fear that we will no’ live near each other, and ye and I will no’ get to see each other every day! I dinna want that to happen!”
