Kilted Abduction (Preview)
Chapter One
A woman’s wedding was supposed to be the most beautiful, joyous day of her life. It was something Ciara MacDougal had spent countless hours dreaming of when she was just a lass. She had planned everything out to the last detail, and it had brought her immeasurable joy. With the day of her wedding drawing near though, joy was the last thing she felt. Instead of feasting, and music, and beautiful gowns, Ciara found herself plotting how she was going to escape into the green, misty Highlands and run away from it all.
Ciara tucked a long strand of her golden hair behind her ear as she gazed at herself in the looking glass wondering, not for the first time, how she’d ended up in her predicament. A long, pained sigh passed her lips.
“Ye look beautiful.”
Ciara turned to her handmaid and closest friend, Elspeth and smiled. “Ye’ve said that about every gown I’ve tried on.”
“That’s because ye’ve looked beautiful in each of them.”
Despite her sour mood, Ciara laughed. Elspeth always had a way of bringing a little light into her darkest thoughts. Her good humor quickly faded though as she returned her gaze to the looking glass and to the gaudy blue gown she was wearing.
“I look like a bleedin’ strumpet in this gown,” she complained.
“Language,” Elspeth chided her. “A proper lady—”
“I dinnae care about me bleedin’ language or bein’ a proper lady,” Ciara growled. “This gown is too tight and leaves me breasts hangin’ out fer everybody tae see. Ye tell me what’s proper and ladylike about that, eh? I suppose it’s fine enough fer the English, but it I dinnae like it.”
“Come now, Ciara,” Elspeth said. “You’re marryin’ an English lord. How terrible can that be? Think of all the balls ye’ll attend with all that finery and—”
“Ye sound positively besotted. Maybe ye should marry him,” she said.
Elspeth’s full lips curved upward. “Believe me, if I was a lady instead of yer handmaiden, and suitable tae marry a lord, English or nae, I would be skippin’ down the aisle.”
“Have ye seen the man?”
“I have. I snuck a peek at him when he arrived,” she teased. “Tall and handsome he is. I swear tae the good Lord I dinnae ken what ye’re winging about.”
Ciara scoffed. “He’s prissy and pale. Reminds me of a walking corpse he does. Nae only that, I’ve heard stories about him—”
“People love tae wag their tongues, they dae. Ye shouldnae believe everything ye hear.”
“They say he’s cruel. Evil,” Ciara said.
“They say, they say,” Elspet cut in. “Who says? And have they seen him dae anything cruel and evil with their own bleedin’ eyes?”
“Language, Elspeth,” Ciara teased.
The short, waiflike redhead waved her off. “I’m nae lady and can speak any way I wish,” she said. “Anyway, like I said, people love tae wag their tongues. Ye ken the English arenae well-loved here and people make up all kinds of stories about them eating Scottish babes. Am I really supposed tae believe they’re spitroasting babes fer supper?”
Ciara knew Elspeth took a more favorable view of the English than she did simply because she was in love with an Englishman. She had been clandestinely seeing a soldier from the local garrison for some time now. Elspeth didn’t think anybody knew her secret, but Ciara did. She gave thought to mentioning that just to blunt her handmaid’s arguments but held her tongue.
“Try seein’ all the good that can come out of this marriage. Ye can only see the bad because that’s all ye’re lookin’ fer,” Elspeth urged.
Ciara fixed her with a sober gaze. “Because there is nothin’ good that can come out of this arranged marriage. I dinnae want tae marry this man. I dinnae want tae marry an Englishman at all, especially nae by me faither’s will.”
“Nae, I ken. Ye want tae marry yourself some big, strappin’ Highlander.”
“Is it so wrong tae want tae wed one of me own people?”
“It’s nae wrong. But that big, strappin’ Highlander isnae going tae be able tae secure yer family’s future the way hitchin’ yerself tae a nobleman will, even if he be English.”
“And that’s the problem, Elspeth. I dinnae want me marriage to be part of some political game. I dinnae want tae marry somebody just because he can secure me family’s future. I want tae marry a man because I love him.”
Elspeth frowned. “But ye ken that’s nae the way the world works. Nae fer womenfolk. Nae even yer mother, God rest her soul, had a choice in who she married. But she eventually came tae love yer faither.”
A wan smile touched Ciara’s lips as she thought of her mother. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t miss her. She just wished she knew what had happened to her. Ciara had her suspicions of course and had forced herself to accept the likely reality that her mother was dead, but too many questions still lingered for her to ever be at peace.
She knew her mother better than anybody and knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, she wouldn’t have just run off with another man and disappeared into the Highlands, no matter how many times her father told the story. No, she was certain that something foul and evil had befallen her. And Ciara knew her father was at the center of it all.
“Aye. Me mother loved him in her own way, I suppose,” she finally said. “But she was never truly happy. That much I can tell ye fer certain. She was a prisoner every bit as much as those poor souls down in the cells beneath me faither’s keep.”
Ciara’s gaze drifted to the bag she’d stored beneath her bed and her heart fluttered as her stomach clenched so tight, it made her wince. She was not going to be stuck living the life her mother had been forced to live. She wasn’t going to live a life devoid of happiness. Or true love. Elspeth followed Ciara’s gaze and spotted the bag beneath the bed, then turned back to her and sighed, her expression one of near grief.
“I’d hoped ye’d come tae yer senses and given up that notion by now,” Elspeth said.
“Ye should ken me better than that.”
“Are ye really going through with it?”
“I am.”
“Nay way I can talk ye out of it?”
“None.”
Elspeth sighed again. “I wish ye’d reconsider.”
“I cannae. I willnae,” Ciara said. “I’m nae some piece of livestock tae be auctioned off tae the highest bidder and I willnae be treated like I am. And if ye loved me as well as ye say ye dae, ye’d understand and want better fer me.”
“I dae love ye and want nothin’ but the best fer ye. I said I’d help ye, didnae I?” she objected. “I just ken this will cause a lot of problems fer ye, yer family, and yer clan.”
“I’m doing this fer me family and me clan. And fer me.”
“I dinnae think yer faither will see it that way. Ye ken he’ll stop at nothin’ tae bring ye back tae marry yer English lord,” she cautioned.
“Thus, proving he only sees me as a commodity tae be bartered and sold.”
As if the mere mention summoned him, heavy footfalls sounded in the corridor outside Ciara’s bedchamber sending a wave of fear washing through her. She looked to Elspeth who, as if reading her mind, darted over to the bed and gave the bag beneath it a firm kick, sending it further into the dark recesses, shielding it from view.
The heavy oak door swung open suddenly, crashing against the stone wall behind it. Ciara’s father, Laird Robert MacDougal, stood in the doorway, his deep-set dark eyes sliding up and down her body as he silently took her in. She’d seen him look at horses he was considering buying the same way he gazed at her, which only reinforced Ciara’s notion that he viewed her as nothing but a piece of livestock to be bought and sold according to his whims. She tried to make her peace with the fact that her father didn’t care for her, but it was a hard pill to swallow.
Dressed in a dark green velvet tunic that bore the family crest, black breeches, and high black boots, her father was a tall, imposing man. His shoulders were broad and his body thick with corded muscle. A neatly trimmed beard framed a strong jawline and his dark hair, lightly dusted with gray, was kept short and trim. His long facial features and high cheekbones lent him an aristocratic appearance, but the scowl that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face made him seem cold and cruel. She cast her mind back in time but couldn’t recall ever having seen her father smile.
“Daughter,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Have ye settled on a dress fer the wedding?”
“I havenae, Faither.”
He sighed, his face etched with exasperation. “Lord Fairfax has provided ye with a trunk full of gowns. Can ye nae simply choose one?”
“This is me wedding, Faither. I would think ye of all people, would want me tae look me best fer yer English lord—”
“Yer English lord,” he corrected. “He is tae be yer husband, after all.”
“Nae by me own choice.”
“We willnae be having this conversation again. I have made the match, and ye will dae yer duty tae yer family and tae yer clan by accepting it.”
“It’s funny, when men speak of duty, they speak of going to battle and fighting tae protect their family and their lands. Tae protect the clan.”
“Believe me, lass, I would be overjoyed tae have sons willing and able tae fight fer our clan. Instead, I have ye. And so, I’m forced tae work with what I have,” he said with a sneer. “And ye should be thanking God above that I was able tae secure such a profitable match given that ye give me very little tae work with.”
Ciara had long believed herself to be immune to his insults and cutting words. They were such a part of her everyday life that she’d believed she’d formed callouses over her heart. But hearing those words fall from his lips only opened the wounds inside of her all over again. She put her hand to her stomach and tried to stop the pain that tore through her like wildfire through dry brush. Even after all these years, her father could still devastate her with his words. She hated him for it. But she hated herself for her weakness even more.
“There will be time fer ye tae select a proper wedding dress later,” her father intoned. “I hope ye havenae forgotten that his evening we are hosting a feast fer yer betrothal. I expect ye tae be there. And ye will wear something fine, lass. Lord Fairfax needs to see what he’s gettin’ from this deal. And Elspeth, dae what ye can tae make her look… presentable. Ladylike perhaps. We need Lord Fairfax tae think he’s gettin’ something… better.”
Ciara’s gaze fell to the floor as anger surged through her veins. She’d never felt so disrespected before in her life. Her father had said many cruel things to her over the years, but he had never made her feel so insignificant or reduced to nothing as he just had. Her eyes stung as they welled with tears and Ciara bit the inside of her cheek viciously to keep them from falling.
“Be prompt tae the celebration tonight, daughter,” her father said. “And should Lord Fairfax fancy ye and want tae take a few… liberties, I strongly suggest ye let him. After all, we dinnae buy a horse without taking it fer a ride around the stables first.”
And with that, he turned and strode from her bedchamber. Ciara flinched at the resounding boom of her door slamming shut. Her tears of anger finally fell, and Elspeth was there, wrapping her arms around Ciara from behind, gently holding her as she tried to compose herself.
“Ye’re right,” Elspeth whispered. “Ye need tae get away from here. Now.”
Chapter Two
The sun slipped toward the horizon and the air grew chilly. It was yet another reminder that the winter season was upon them, and it would be deathly cold before long. Magnus MacLeod stood on the battlements of Dunvegan Castle, his ancestral home, staring out at the bank of slate gray clouds sweeping in from the east. They looked to him as if they carried the promise of snow. If not snow though, he was certain they would bring bone-chilling temperatures.
His eyes drifted to the land below the wall of clouds in the distance. He gazed even farther to the east, his heart growing heavier with every mile he could see. Though the battlefield was too far away for his gaze, Magnus could see it all too clearly in his mind’s eye. Even now, as he stood safely upon the ramparts of his family home, he could hear the ring of steel and the cries of the wounded and dying. He could still smell the blood in the air. Worst of all, he could still see his father’s broken and bloodied form crumpled upon the ground. He could still see it as clearly as if he was standing right there. Magnus reined in his emotions and pulled his furs tighter around him.
“I thought I’d find ye here, braither.”
“I wasnae hiding.”
Domnhall, Magnus’ eldest brother and Laird of their clan, stepped up beside him and together, they gazed out across the endless sea of green, the mood growing as heavy as the air around them. Magnus was silent.
“I dinnae need yer gifts tae read one’s mind tae ken what ye’re thinking about, little brother,” Domhnall said.
“Today is the anniversary of…”
“I ken.”
They stood together for several long moments and Magnus kept seeing the horrible events of the day their father was killed in battle playing on an endless loop in his mind.
“It’s nae yer fault,” Domhnall said softly.
“Ye keep saying that. Year after year, ye tell me that,” Magnus replied. “And yet, it still feels like it is. It was my plan that led us there. It was my plan—”
“It was yer plan that carried the day and saved the clan. If nae for what ye did, our lands—our home—might have been lost,” Domhnall said gently. “Our family would surely have been put tae the sword. Ye saved our lives, Magnus.”
“Nae all of us.”
“Sometimes, things happen ye cannae control, braiter. As powerful as yer gifts are, ye cannae change the hand of fate.”
“Ye sound like Thora.”
The corners of Domhnall’s mouth and eyes crinkle as he smiles. “For being so young, our sister is wise. Her second sight has given her a wisdom nae granted tae the rest of us. Maybe ye should give her yer ear,” he said softly. “Or perhaps ye should let Enya take away yer hurts and ease yer conscience, little braither.”
“Living with these wounds and the pain that lingers is a reminder tae nae make the same mistakes that led tae faither’s death.”
“That’s just the point though… ye didnae make a mistake. It was simply faither’s time. And none of us can ken when our time is—nae even Thora,” Domhnall said. “And were Da here, he’d slap yer head and tell ye tae stop mopin’ around like a bleedin’ mule. He lived a good life. A life of honor. And he died the way he wanted tae die—with meaning.”
Deep down, Magnus knew everything his brother was telling him was true and right. Their father wanted his death to have as much purpose and meaning as his life had. And yet, even knowing that didn’t absolve him of the guilt that had plagued him ever since the day their father had been slain upon the field of battle. The ache in his heart was a constant reminder that he had failed.
“Come, little braither,” Domhnall said. “It is almost time for ye and Kai tae depart.”
“I ken. I just wanted tae pay my respects and honor the day.”
“Ye can honor our father by continuing to protect this family and our clan, just as he’d appointed ye tae do.”
Domhnall gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and Magnus let his older brother lead him from the ramparts down through the castle and out to the yard, which was bustling with activity as servants ran back and forth, loading up the wagon. Others were already putting up decorations to celebrate the coming of the Yuletide season and preparing for the annual celebratory feast they hosted. Magnus turned to his brother.
“I dinnae want tae take the wagon,” he said. “I would rather just ride with Kai.”
“Tis a long, arduous trip. Ye’re going tae need supplies.”
“We’ll take what we can load into our bags and forage should we need anything more,” he said. “There are also plenty of taverns and inns along the road. We’ll nae want for much.”
“I would feel better if ye took a wagon of supplies.”
“And be moving targets for raiders along the trail? Thank ye, but nae. Nae tae mention that storm that’s bearin’ down. Nay, I want tae be able tae move quickly should the need arise.”
“Ye’re a stubborn, bleedin’ mule,” Domhnall said.
“Aye. It’s one of me better qualities.”
“Whoever told ye that lied tae ye, Magnus.”
Magnus laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder. Domnhall stopped Eldrick, their chamberlain, telling him that Magnus and Kai would be taking horses instead, instructing him to load up their bags. Eldrick nodded then scurried off to carry out his orders.
Domhnall looked around the bustling yard. “Now, where is Kai?”
“I’m nae sure,” Magnus replied. “But I’d start looking in the chambermaid’s quarters.”
“Aye. Probably so.”
Magnus grabbed one of the servants that was passing by. “Find me brother,” he said. “Tell Kai to get his bleedin’ breeches on and get out here. Time’s a wastin’.”
“Aye. I’ll send him right along,” the servant said with a nod.
“Ye make sure ye keep an eye on our little brother,” Domhnall said.
“Afraid somebody will try to kill him?”
“If somebody does, it will likely be the husband of some woman he charms,” he replied with a chuckle. “It’s yer job tae keep the lad out of trouble.”
“I havenae been able tae keep that bleedin’ fool out of trouble since he was a lad.”
A couple of moments later, Kai swaggered into the yard with a lopsided grin on his face. His blue eyes—a trait shared by all the MacLeod siblings—sparkled mischievously and he ran a hand through his tousled chestnut locks. Where Magnus and Domhnall were large and strong, Kai was smaller in stature. Wiry and athletic, he was agile and quicker than his older brothers—something else he often took advantage of. But his physical as well as his special gifts were what made him perfect in his role as the clan’s chief scout.
The second youngest of the siblings, Kai had a youthful face and a seemingly perpetual sunny disposition. Most regarded him well, though he had a reputation for romancing the lasses and had caused more than a few hard feelings over his affairs. He had a swagger and bravado to him and projected an outward confidence that was attractive to many. Magnus knew his brother though and knew Kai had insecurities deep within he took great pains to hide, using that confidence as a mask. However, they never spoke about it as it was a touchy subject.
“And where have ye been all morning?” Domhnall demanded.
Kai shrugged. “We’re going tae be gone a while, so I wanted tae say goodbye to Flora. And Aisla. And—”
Domhnall waved him off. “We get the bleedin’ point. Ye’re popular with the lasses.”
“Indeed I am.”
“Maybe ye should get yer head out of the chambermaid’s bedclothes and focus on the bleedin’ task at hand. We’ve got a job to do,” Magnus grumbled.
Kai flashed him a wide smile. “Ye really should get yerself a woman, big brother. I bet they’d be linin’ up for a big, strappin’ lad like yourself. Of course, they’ll all be old, withered, and have the temperament of a donkey with a toothache, but I bet ye’d do well enough.”
Magnus turned to Domhnall. “Do I have tae take him?”
“Unfortunately, his gifts might prove useful.”
“More useful than him, tae be sure,” Magnus grumbled.
“Now, that’s just hurtful,” Kai teased.
A grin on his face, Magnus grabbed hold of Kai and put him in a headlock, tousling his hair even more as his brother squirmed, unable to break his iron grip.
“Enough. Both of ye,” Domhnall snapped. “We’ve got business. Nae more foolin’ about.”
Magnus let go of their brother and they both straightened up.
“Ye both understand what’s at stake, aye?” Domhnall asked.
“Aye,” Magnus replied.
“Aye, Domhnall,” Kai said.
“Enjoy yourself, but I dinnae want ye two causin’ any mischief,” Domhnall said. “And above all, I want ye to find her.”
“If she even exists,” Kai said.
“He’s nae wrong. Ye are sending us on this mission based on nothin’ more than a rumor that’s runnin’ around. We dinnae ken if it’s true,” Magnus added.
“Maybe it’s true and maybe it’s nae,” Domhnall said and held Magnus’ gaze. “But ye of all people ken how devastating it could be for us if it turned out to be true. Especially if we sat back and did nothing.”
Magnus ran a hand over the dark stubble on his face. “Aye. I do. Catastrophic is the word I would use, I think.”
“There you go,” Domhnall said. “That is why I am sendin’ the two of ye tae ferret out the truth of it.”
“And if we find her?” Kai asked.
“Then ye’re to bring her to Dunvegan immediately. We will need tae talk to her.”
“Aye,” Magnus said.
“Laird MacLeod, the horses are ready,” Eldrick said.
“Thank ye,” Domhnall said then turned to Magnus. “Any questions before ye go?”
“Aye, just one,” he replied. “Are ye sure there’s nae somebody I can take in Kai’s place? A stableboy or chamberbot scrubber perhaps?”
Domhnall finally cracked a smile and shook his head. “Just keep the lad in line,” he said then grew serious. “And dinnae be usin’ yer gifts unless ye have tae. And if ye have tae, do yer best tae make sure it ain’t in front of other people.”
“What good are gifts if we’re nae allowed to show them off?” Kai joked.
“Do that and I’ll put ye in the stocks for a week,” Domhnall said, unamused.
Magnus understood that if people knew about their gifts, they would not understand. And people tended to fear that which they did not understand. Their father, long ago, had made a point of explaining this as he told them they must do everything in their power to conceal their gifts from other people. Use them to help, of course, but do not make a point of showing them off. Scared people made irrational decisions—irrational decisions that often led to violence.
“I mean it, Kai. Dinnae use yer gifts unless ye need tae,” Domhnall said. “That means, nae using them tae charm the lasses.”
“I’ve never done anything of the sort,” he replied. “My charm is all natural.”
Magnus and Domhnall both rolled their eyes, prompting Kai to laugh. The truth was though, Kai never used his gifts in that way. While he couldn’t outright compel a person to do as he wanted, he could certainly influence their emotions. It would have been easy to abuse such a gift. But their father had made sure that Kai—that all the MacLeod siblings—understood the moral and ethical responsibility of wielding such power.
Magnus and Kai both climbed into their saddles and got themselves adjusted for the journey ahead. It would be a long, hard road but in a way, Magnus was looking forward to it. As the clan’s chief strategist and Domhnall’s closest advisor, he didn’t get out often, so getting out of Dunvegan now and then was nice.
“All right,” Domhnall said. “Safe journey tae both of ye and may God be with ye.”
“We will see ye soon, braither,” Magnus said and clasped hands with his older brother.
Kai flashed Magnus that lopsided grin. “Let’s go, braither. Tae the Isle of Skye we go.”
Magnus pulled his furs around him again. “Aye. Tae the Isle of Skye we go.”
If you liked the preview, you can get the whole book here
