Hi there!
Popping in today to share the first chapter to my highlander book, Bound To a Highlander! I just loved this book from the very moment the plot came to me. It released in 2013 and since then I've had SEVERAL requests for the next book and I've made the mistake of telling readers it would be soon, but soon has turned into a year and a half unfortunately. However, I will say this, the next highlander book is currently in the works :)
I do want to clear up some confusion though. My highlander books are all stand-alones, but they are related. So there is no sequel to Bound To a Highlander. The next book has characters from the first book, but there is no plot relation to the first book. The second and third books will actually relate more than any of the others (as they are currently plotted) but they will all remain stand-alones.
As the next book progresses I will post more. Until then, happy reading!
-Kerri
Chapter
One
“Rosin!”
Donnal McPherson called after his daughter, but she didn’t stop nor heed him.
“By God,
you will come back here and obey our father, Rosin!” Roark bellowed after her.
“Why?”
She whirled atop the stairs leading up from the great hall. “No word of mine
will he hear,” she yelled down at her older brother. “No matter what I feel,
what you two conspire at will still be done and to no avail!”
“Sister,”
Roark began again, reprovingly, crossing a set of steely arms across his chest,
leveling a hard gaze on his fiery tempered sibling. “This is merely talk. Do
you truly think we care so little for you?”
Rosin tilted her chin defiantly in answer,
light-green eyes beseeching him. She would wish for death before she agreed to
their plan!
For years a feud had raged between her clan and
the McBray, dwindling down to an occasional lifting of livestock, a
practice in the Highlands as common as breathing. However, this last year, when
the idea of a marriage to unite the clans had first been talked of, the raiding
had gotten much worse. For a time her father gave up any thought of wedding her
to the McBray, but now they were desperate for any recourse.
Rosin’s gaze fell on her father then and he met
her with quiet entreaty.
“Come
back down, child. I am an old man. Canna you see this vexes me?” Donnal crossed
to the hearth, bracing himself against the breadth of chiseled stone, both arms
stretched wide, his graying head hung low. “We’ve little choice, daughter. You
must be reasonable for the sake of our clan. You are the daughter of a laird,
what else did you expect in life but an arranged marriage?”
Rosin’s eyes flared with the sting of her
father’s uncaring words. With a gasp, she took flight up the stairs.
They thought to barter her, to put a stop to the
lifting and the bloodshed. As Roark said, the wellbeing of their clan rested
squarely on her shoulders. Well, she wouldn’t stand for this. Not when it
wouldn’t do a thing to help their plight. All this marriage would do was see
her dead.
She fled, rushing through the corridor.
Surely she could accept such if she trusted the
McBray would hold their word, but this was not the way. The McBray would never
honor a marriage between the clans.
Aye, she wanted to help her people. Yet, how
could she do this when it might be their very undoing? And to hear Roark speak
of going into their midst-to speak of a treaty-filled
her with sheer terror she’d never experienced before. Her chest tightened so
much Rosin had difficulty breathing as she reached the end of the hall.
All she could think about was of what had
happened to her grandmother all those years ago. The McBray had returned her to
them injured and nigh starved.
Rosin threw the door open and rushed to the top
of the keep. She breathed deep, looking over her Highland homeland. A momentary
reprieve came with the freedom carried on the brisk late-Autumn air, at the
utmost heights of the keep, where she braced herself there at the edge.
Yet, despair crept back into her heart as she
happened upon the sight of the burnt huts still heaped on the edge of the
forest which surrounded their walls: remnants from the McBrays’ last raiding.
She thought of those who had lost their homes.
Her heart sank low as she remembered those who lost their lives this last year.
Aye, she would give her soul if it would help
her people. Alas, she feared what the McBray might do to use her against her
people once they had her in their midst. Not for her own well-being, yet that
her kin could not withstand any more bloodshed or treachery.
****
“Chriost’s blood!” Donnal swore,
tossing his head back with closed eyes. His face mottled with anger and pain as
he whirled on his son. “She acts as though I am offering her up to the devil
himself, as if I want to do this. As if I have the choice! It gives us all
a black rage to be the first to bend to their will,” he blustered at Roark,
spittle catching on his beard. The older man threw his arms wide.
Despising their predicament as much as the next
man, even Roark would agree there was little else to be done, especially since
they knew not what had begun the more intense raiding of late. Just yestreen
they lost two crofters when a hut had been burned. All swore it was McBray
colors the raiders wore. Their stocks were already low after losing the north
fields to fire, timed just before the harvesting too. The bastards! But should
they attack the storehouse next . . . .
Roark drew a hand over his eyes and then crossed
his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels.
Alas, after losing so much over the years, they
were not strong enough for a decent retaliation. And whether or not he liked
his sister being wed to a man more likely to mistreat her than not, this thing
would have to be done. Rosin would have
to marry a McBray. Not the laird himself, old and decrepit and already long
wed, but one of his sons. Most likely, the eldest of them as Gorath McBray
remained unwed, despite no longer being considered a young man, nor was he
considered to be looking for a wife.
Roark sighed heavily, hearing a door slam
somewhere above. He scanned the rafters, silently shaking his head. Oft Rosin’s
actions were rash and much too feisty for the daughter of a well-respected
laird.
A heavier sigh rushed from him as all her antics
rushed through his mind. He rather pitied the unlucky bastard wed to her for
this treaty, and wondered, too, if this were the wisest course of action.
Roark turned to regard his father. “Were there
McBray daughters I would take this task, Father.”
Donnal straightened from leaning against the
hearth. “She’s only a girl, we canna expect much more. She probably fears the
marriage bed or some such thing,” he muttered. “Without her mother Rosin has
lacked feminine guidance. Did’na you have Lillith explain to her these things?”
Roark winced, his cheeks heating a degree.
Speaking of his sister’s marriage bed was not
a subject he liked to discuss. “Aye. Methinks she believes this will’na change
our circumstances for the better.” Roark started from the room. “I will speak
with her,” he assured.
With long strides, he left the hall and cursing
their misbegotten luck all the way, he took two stairs at a time. Above, he
began searching out his sister. “Rosin,” he called into the empty chambers as
he passed them. Seeing she wasn’t in any of the rooms down the length of the short
passage left nary other place for her but the top of the keep.
“Fool-headed,
willful, red-haired . . . .” His muttering trailed off as he opened the heavy
door and hurried up a short flight of steps banked into the open stairwell
which led up to the top of the keep.
Roark’s shoulders slumped as he stepped into the
coolness of the late fall morning. A cool pink-gray brushed the sky. Mist clung
around the ground, blanketing the land like a plush cloud, bringing a softened
veil to swathe the rugged terrain around them. His eyes remained on the wee
back facing him as remorse swelled within. Roark took a shuddering breath,
braced for his sister’s anger, reminding himself that what his father proposed
was simply the way of their people.
Just as taking his father’s place as laird would
be his birthright someday, wedding whomever their father chose for her was
Rosin’s.
Nay, marriage that would end bloodshed and
suffering was more than a birthright.
It was her duty to her clan.
This union would liberate their people if the
treaty went well. Doing so could very well be their last hope. She was all they
had to offer for a truce after these past years, and he would say they offered
more than their enemy deserved. How he wished she were ugly or an old spinster,
but alas, Rosin was a jewel.
Their father, by God’s teeth, the old man still
insisted on riding into battle, no matter the consequences to his health.
Couldn’t she see her selfishness alone was an unjust burden upon him? Aye, she
saw and she knew.
Roark shook his head at the stiffness of her
back and narrowed his eyes, hardening himself.
It was this, or they would all perish.
Rosin must see this is the only way for them,
and he would be the one to convince her of what she must accept. Mayhap in
time, she might even come to like her new life among the McBrays and her
husband too.
Steadily, with quiet steps, Roark approached
Rosin where she looked out over their lands. A beam of sunlight filtered
through the clouds, touching Rosin’s hair and lit the flowing skein of tousled
silk like a burst of flame.
“You
must do this for them, sister.” He
gestured to the crofters working in the shadow of the keep. “This marriage will
turn our fortune prosperous once again. Our kin no longer need live in fear.”
She angled her face to him. “Only I should live in fear is what you mean.
You would barter me like a slave?”
“No,
as a wife. How dare you speak of such! You’ve never been a slave, nor a wife.
Don’t attempt to liken them to make me feel worse than I already do,” he spat.
“No need for you to guilt me for what already weighs heavily upon my heart.”
He’d never seen her react so selfishly and if he
didn’t know better, he would be truly angry with her. But deep down, Rosin had
already admitted to herself that this was what must be done, just as he had
admitted it. She loved and cared for their clan, she wouldn’t turn her back on
them now. However, she would give him
the devil’s time while adjusting to the idea of the union.
She
whirled on him. “How can you feel bad? You’re not the one being turned over to
the enemy.”
“Aye,
the McBray are the enemy, but with this truce our freedom from this feud can be
won.”
“Bartered
for!” The bitter rejoinder sizzled the friction between them. Rosin narrowed
her eyes accusingly.
Like
thunder breaking and snapping in the heavens, Roark’s anger exploded. “Do you
want all these people to die by the cut of McBray steel?” He took her arm in
his hand, holding her so she was forced to look him in the eyes as he spoke. “I
know you, Rosin. You are not one to turn away when others need you. And these
people need you desperately. I need
you. Do you want to see our father fall from his horse because he is too
stubborn to let the younger men fight alone?
“He
won’t give up defending them so long as they need him. He has been fighting
this feud his whole life. Let him rest now. Give him peace and let our people
begin anew.” Roark let her go, yet his stare still bored into hers. Pure
condemnation for her defiance against their father and himself charged between them.
“Were it I, I would do this with no hesitance,” he added on a softer note. “But
the McBray has no daughter to be wedded to.”
Rosin
quivered. “It is easier to take a wife than to accept life with a husband you
are being forced upon. Surely there is another way.”
Roark scoffed in response and Rosin turned to
face the land once more, her breathing deep, and if he weren’t mistaken, her
shoulders slightly shook under the weight of her fear.
“What is
this?” he asked, as though halfway teasing to break the barrier and weight of
their strife. “Och, is my wee sister crying?”
“Nay,
you giant oaf!” She swung on him once more to push him back before crossing her
arms, a violent glare storming within her eyes. She again gave him her back.
“Och,
sometimes I swear you’ve the temper of the Irish!” Roark chuckled.
“I ought
to box your ears for that,” Rosin said in a small, but vehement, voice.
“Aye and
there’s the bold Scotswoman I love.”
He quickly grabbed her up in a lopsided bear-hug, then dropped her to her feet
so he could muss her hair. Rosin swatted him away.
She forced down a laugh. “Well, you better be
glad I love you too or I’d never consider forgiving this.”
Her
words sobered him. “Are you afraid then?” Roark asked with all sincerity,
sensing a hint of submission. Lifting a strand of fiery hair, he lightly tugged
the end. He wished she would turn to face him. “You’ve every right to be and I
wouldn’t blame you any. But you must ken I would ensure your safety before-”
“How?”
she interrupted. “Are you going to live with me there amongst the enemy?”
She spat the word so disdainfully the sound made
Roark’s stomach twist sickly. Could she really hate this marriage with so much
conviction?
“What
could you really do, Roark?” she asked. “Throw me to the wolves and then come
to collect the scattering of my bones once I’m dead? Avenge me, mayhap?” She
tsked with a twinge of despair rattling her tone. “It would be too late then,
brother. You ken they will not honor a marriage.”
His
eyes glittered dangerously. But she was right. He couldn’t deny such. It would
be too late if her fate came to such ends, and there would be little else he
could do about it. Damn them all, he would fight until his last breath if the
McBray so much as harmed one hair on her head. Especially after seeing Rosin
put up such a fight against this proposal. Continuing with the treaty proposal
weighed heavily on his heart.
“This
doesn’t have to be about life and death. It is about a new beginning.” Roark thrust
his hands into his hair and threw his head back, whispering a curse. “Chriost! Canna you see this is tearing
me asunder? I need your word, Rosin, but I must do this. For our clan. When I
speak to the McBray, if I so much as feel the slightest worry or doubt, you
have my word I will not offer you.”
Rosin
shrugged. “You and Father are set on this, what word do you really need from me
then?”
Roark
clamped his teeth, his jaw working against his building anger. “If you’re so
against this, then I suggest you take up the sword, Rosin! Our people are tired
of fighting and losing the ones they love! You go then and ask your servant
Mary what she thinks. Her husband is still warm in his grave from the last
attack.” He threw his arms and hands into the air. “Ask and see if she thinks
we should continue this madness when we have a chance for peace.”
Rosin
turned and faced him with an expression mirroring all confidence. “I think if
you have to wed me to anyone it should be Liam.”
“Oh,
God above, Rosin! Give those girlish notions up.” Roark placed his hands on his
hips and began to pace. Liam McLoughlin would never be a husband to any woman,
as his tastes lay elsewhere.
“If
you love me as a brother should, then listen. Please, Roark,” Rosin begged, but
even in such a tone, her temper still shone through. “They could strengthen our
clan and the McBray would never dare attack us again. It would be far better
than sending me off to certain misery or even death!”
The
sob that entered her tone tore at his heartstrings. “You are a wise lass and
you ken the McLoughlins are little stronger than we are. All that wedding on of
them would serve to do is piss the McBray off and lengthen an already too long
feud.” He paused, wishing peace between himself and his sister. “You are bonny-perhaps
too bonny-any one of the McBrays will be proud to call you wife. You
needn’t fear for your safety there.” Roark sighed heavily. “It is time for you
to wed anyway.”
“Don’t
do this, Roark!” Rosin stomped her foot, balling her fists tightly at her
sides. “I am begging you! I loathe them all and the only way I will enter their
clan is to kill them. I swear it! Besides, I canna imagine any McBray would
have me.” She poked a slender finger in his chest, unshed tears brightening her
light eyes with hate. “Should you wed me to that barbarian, offering me as a
sacrifice, I swear it, the gods will frown upon you! And let the same which
started the feud happen a second time!” She began to flounce away, but Roark
caught her up by the arm and pulled her about to face him.
“Nay,
take those hagborn words back. Now!” he bellowed so likely the whole clan
stopped in their tasks to see what was about. As they stood on the top of the
keep, they were in plain enough view.
Rosin
tilted her chin, but kept her lips tightly compressed. Her pallor suddenly
faded to ashen.
As
her stare wandered over his shoulder, he lightly shook her once to get her
attention back. He’d not meant to frighten her so, but God above only knew how
she’d just riled him.
“Mark my
words, Rosin-” his tone now chillingly grave, as nothing compared to the
sorrow in his heart for forcing this upon her “-this will
be done. I will send an emissary come the morning.”
Rosin
swallowed hard as she looked away again, her body racked with sobs as she struggled
to breathe. Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head in denial,
clutching his shirtfront as she jerked her gaze back. “You won’t have to,” she
whispered. “The McBray have come here.” Rosin frightfully looked over his
shoulder again as a villager’s terrifying scream resonated to them.
Roark
released her, jerking himself around.
“Och, Chriost above!” he swore, dread filling
him as his hand instantly went for his sword. When he looked over the palisade,
Highland warriors, battle ready, raced the hill leading down to McPherson walls-surely
their number was twice as strong than last they attacked.
©2013 Kerri M. Patterson
©2013 Kerri M. Patterson
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