The Highlander's Runaway Bride

Rob laid the things aside and shook his head, watching her sleep there.

What kind of woman would run away when given the news of her impending marriage? Especially a marriage that would hold benefits for both families involved?

She shifted on the furs and mumbled some words in her sleep. Though he could blame some of her restlessness in sleep on her illness and fever, she never seemed to be at peace when she slept. She called out names, mostly just one, throughout the time when sleep claimed her.

Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

If she did not know him, or the Mackintoshes, then they could not be the reason for her refusal to accept the marriage. Yet she had done the unthinkable and left the safety and protection of her father’s keep to avoid it. Was it just maidenly fear or something more?

Though clearly fear was not something that seemed to rule her life if she was brave enough to do what she’d done …

Author Note

I knew halfway through writing Stolen by the Highlander that Rob Mackintosh would have his story told next. He was quite vocal, and rather loud, and … ahem … insistent about it, really. So it did not surprise me when I wrote the epilogue and he told me how to set up his book!

Rob has become used to people wanting to use his influence with his friend and chieftain Brodie since their clan triumphed over treachery. So the fact that someone doesn’t want him is a shock to him.

Eva has her own problems, which have come from youthful follies and falling in love with the wrong man. She is certain that Rob is not the right man and now is not the right time. So she runs away for many reasons.

Two proud people who fall in love in spite of themselves. Sigh … I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Next? Well, since the feuding between the clans Mackintosh and Cameron lasted more than three hundred years, I’ve got lots of ideas and stories planned.

Happy reading!

PS I’ve wanted to use the name Eva for a heroine ever since seeing the film WALL-E. There is a Gaelic form, but it would have had you all tripping over it every time you saw it on the page. So I compromised and used Eva—but, FYI, the original form is ‘Aoife’ pronounced ‘Ee-fa’ or ‘Ee-va’ … So it worked for me!

The Highlander’s

Runaway Bride

Terri Brisbin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TERRI BRISBIN is wife to one, mother of three, and dental hygienist to hundreds when not living the life of a glamorous romance author. She was born, raised, and is still living in the southern New Jersey suburbs. Terri’s love of history led her to write time-travel romances and historical romances set in Scotland and England.

This story is dedicated to friends and writing brainstormers extraordinaire Jen Wagner Schmidt and Lyn Wagner.

I began this story knowing only that the bride would be kidnapped on her wedding day and little else. With their pointed and relentless questions I ended up with an entire story plotted out. And I will always be grateful for their help!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Scourie, northwest Scotland

Eva MacKay was utterly in love.

The exhaustion and pain and fear of the last days faded as she stroked her finger down the soft cheek of the baby lying on her chest. The perfect rosebud mouth pursed and the tip of a tiny pink tongue could be seen. And when the wee bairn’s eyes opened and seemed to meet her own gaze, Eva was lost.

She leaned down and kissed the babe’s forehead, whispering soft words against the damp skin. Through the hours of labouring to give birth, Eva could only think of the man who should be at her side. He would never see his daughter. Never see their daughter. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over as she whispered his name to their child. The babe squirmed a bit and closed her eyes then, drifting to sleep. Eva then whispered the name they’d chosen if a daughter was born to them.

Mairead.

Eva moved her closer, tucking the blanket tighter around the little body and holding her close. The only way out of this would be to throw herself on her father’s questionable mercy and beg to be allowed to keep the bairn. Yet, from her mother’s cold response so far, she knew she would have no allies for her argument.

Her body needed rest now before she could make her plans. She ached deep inside, both from the birth’s trauma and her broken heart. The babe sighed and Eva closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the little one’s warmth. Drifting off to sleep, Eva woke when someone lifted the bairn away.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked the unfamiliar woman.

The woman said nothing. She simply wrapped the blanket around Eva’s babe and began to leave.

‘Who are you and where are you taking her?’ she asked louder.

Struggling against the pain and the bleeding, Eva pushed the bed linens back and tried to get out of bed. No one would take her bairn. Not now. Not ever.

‘Here now, my lady,’ Suisan, the woman sent along by Eva’s father, said as she entered the chamber. ‘I need to see to you, and the bairn will be well cared for while I do it.’

Suisan was efficient in her actions and within a short time, Eva found herself bathed and wearing a clean shift. The bed linens had been changed and all evidence that she’d given birth was removed from the chamber. Sipping a hot concoction that Suisan gave her, Eva felt the pain and anxiousness ease.

‘You can bring her back now, Suisan,’ Eva said, handing the cup back to the woman. ‘I should try to feed her.’

‘All of that is being seen to, my lady. Nothing for you to worry over now,’ Suisan whispered as she moved around the bed, smoothing and tucking the bedcovers in tighter.

‘Seen to?’ Eva asked, trying to push herself up to sit and finding that her body would not obey her commands. ‘I said to bring her to me, Suisan.’ The chamber grew dim and the room seemed to melt away.

‘She is no longer your concern, my lady. You must rest and regain your strength now,’ the woman urged.

‘She is mine,’ Eva argued, but her words came out slurred and confused.

Eva knew she’d been given something to make her sleep, but that was not the alarming part. This woman’s words struck fear deep into Eva’s heart. But her attempts to sit up and to go to find her babe were for naught, as her body surrendered to whatever herb was in that cup.

‘No longer, my lady.’ Suisan drew the sheet and blanket higher and tucked it around Eva’s shoulders. ‘She is gone now. Nothing to worry over now.’

All thoughts fled as she sank into oblivion.

* * *

Days passed as she rose and sank into its depths. Days and nights melded into one blur until the day, three weeks later she thought, when her father arrived to take her home.

It took another week to reach their home in Tongue, far to the north and to the east of Durness, but Eva knew nothing but desolation and misery. Her father, Ramsey MacKay, chieftain of the Clan MacKay, never mentioned the child. He treated Eva as though nothing had happened, and Eva understood that this was his way of erasing the ‘unfortunate incident’ from existence.

Only when the herb-induced haze wore off did the true panic set in—she did not know if her daughter lived or had died. That fear gave her the resolve she needed at her weakest moments, and Eva knew she would find out the truth somehow. If her father would not tell her, she would seek it out herself. That plan gave her a reason to heal and to gain her strength back.

Pretending to be the dutiful daughter, she struggled through the terrible emptiness of loss, while deciding how she should proceed. With no kith or kin to support her, she knew she must do it alone. And she would.

* * *

Three more weeks passed when the news came. Not word of her daughter as she’d hoped and prayed, but instead news about her own fate.

She was to be married off to the kin of a powerful chieftain in the south to bind their families together. Her father’s edict gave her no choice in the matter of marriage. His declaration that it would happen spurred her into action. Refusal was not an option for her in this—her father could be ruthless in getting his own way. If the Mackintosh’s man arrived and Eva was here, she would be wed to him.

So, Eva did the only thing she could do...

She ran away.

Chapter One

Drumlui Keep

Rob Mackintosh, cousin and close friend of chieftain of the powerful Mackintosh clan, glared at that friend and was met by an expression he could only describe as glee. Brodie did not even attempt to hide his enjoyment of Rob’s discomfort.

‘Damn it to hell, Arabella!’ Rob cursed. Brodie’s wife had neatly undermined his argument against this proposed marriage with a few words. ‘How am I supposed to refuse it now?’ He turned and strode out, still cursing under his breath as he left.

The last six months since Brodie had taken his place as chieftain of the clan and the head of the Chattan Confederation had been busy ones for Rob. After struggling to help his friend defeat his treacherous cousin Caelan and undo the damages wrought during Caelan’s rule, Rob had taken a position on the council that advised and guided Brodie. But, everyone knew that Brodie trusted Rob as he did no other, and Rob soon became the one to seek if someone needed or wanted something from Brodie.

Rob nodded to several in passing as he made his way down the corridor away from the chamber Brodie used as his workroom. From the way their mouths twitched, he knew they’d heard either the cursing or the door slam.

A marriage contract.

For him.

To some unknown, unmet woman from the north. To bind her clan and his and expand Brodie’s sphere of influence.

All of that was the normal pattern of events for marriages and contracts, but somehow Rob had wanted something...more. Something or someone different. Always in Brodie’s shadow but not close enough in blood, he’d hoped that would protect him from clan machinations and plans. Clearly, it had not.

Turning the corner, he strode down the corridor and out the doorway that led to the yard. He needed some fresh air to clear his head and think on this matter. Rob did not doubt that Brodie would have his back in this and, if Rob refused outright, Brodie would accept it. But, meeting the gaze of Arabella and saying no would be another thing.

Rob had watched as she, once their enemy, had first given Brodie back his soul and then helped to save their clan. In spite of the long history of hatred and mistrust between the Mackintoshes and the Camerons, Arabella had accomplished what many had thought impossible and, more than that, she’d saved Rob’s closest friend.

If truth be told, Rob knew he would have to come up with a strong objection to allow himself to refuse this arrangement. He let out a breath and looked around. Somehow his feet had taken him into the village, and he stood before his sister’s cottage.

Brodie had said that Margaret approved the match. Rob suspected that she would be in support of any arrangement that ended with him married. She’d long decried his bachelorhood and had tried her own hand at matchmaking, but he’d resisted. She was probably chortling with glee over his situation now.

‘Margaret?’ he said, knocking on the door frame. ‘Are you within?’ She called out to him.

Leaning down to enter, he watched as Margaret put a pile of clothing aside and stood to greet him. She was always busy, her hands never idle or empty. And though her husband was gone, she worked more now than when he was alive, taking in the strays and the lost and the injured, seeing to their care until they could move on. Just as she had in their mountain camp during their months and months of exile and outlawry.

‘Ah, Robbie...’ She clutched his shoulders and drew him down for a kiss. ‘You have been a busy man.’

‘Is that your way of saying I do not see you often enough?’ Rob asked as he stepped back. She smiled and nodded.

‘Well, now that you are such an important man, seeing to the chieftain’s business and travelling so much, I understand.’ Rob narrowed his gaze and watched for signs that she was teasing him.

‘Aye, Margaret,’ he said as he finally recognised the tiny lines at the edge of her eyes as humour. ‘I am so important.’

‘Truly, Rob, are you well?’ she asked, concern filling her tone. Before he could answer, a knock came on the door and it was pulled open.

‘Margaret? Are you here, lass?’

A man who called his widowed sister lass? Rob turned to see who this man was and was shocked when Magnus, one of the warriors, ducked low and entered. From the man’s startled expression, he did not expect Rob to be here. The glances that passed between Magnus and his sister told Rob the answer to the question he’d not yet voiced.

‘Aye, Magnus,’ Margaret said, walking to the door and the man. The blush in her cheeks both surprised and pleased him in some way. Though he would never have thought of this, clearly there was something more than simple kinship between the two. ‘Rob just arrived.’

‘Rob,’ Magnus said, holding out his hand in greeting. ‘How goes it?’

‘Well, Magnus,’ he answered, accepting the man’s hand. ‘What brings you here?’ he asked, even knowing ’twas neither his right nor his place to ask such a thing.

‘I help your sister from time to time with the heavier tasks at hand,’ Magnus explained. His voice grew gruff and Margaret’s face grew redder. Heavier tasks, his arse! ‘With you being off, seeing to Brodie’s business, I stop by when I can.’ Margaret looked near to choking or exploding, Rob could not decide which, so he took pity on her.

‘I am glad you are here to aid her, Magnus. Especially when I cannot be,’ Rob said.

He meant it. Though from their actions, the shy glances shared between them and their nervousness, Rob understood the relationship that was growing. Margaret’s healing skills had saved Magnus’s life during their exile, and the two had spent much time together.

If it pleased his sister to have this man close at her side, then it pleased him. She did not need his approval to marry again or to take a man to her bed. If she found some joy after the bitter loss of her husband, Rob would not deny or question her. The air around them grew tense, and he felt the odd one here and knew he should go. But first...

‘Speaking of my travels, Magnus, Brodie has offered my hand in marriage.’

‘’Tis about time for that, Rob,’ Margaret said, laughing and pulling him back into a hug. Magnus stepped aside to let her close. ‘I had given up any hope of my efforts working to see you matched.’ She let him go but kept her hand on his arm. ‘So who is the lass?’

The snort he let out was unexpected, as were her words. Margaret had given no approval. Hell, she had not even known of the offer. Brodie would pay for this.

‘A MacKay from the north. Brodie wishes our clans joined, and I seem to be the eligible kinsman to be offered to the slaughter.’

He did not need to see her wince to hear the bitterness in his own voice. If this match did happen, he should not want his resistance whispered around. Margaret leaned in close then.

‘Mayhap this is for the best, Rob? Brodie would not ask someone he did not trust to do something as important as this.’

Rob nodded. ‘Aye, you have it right, Margaret. I had just hoped...’

He paused, not knowing how to explain his feelings to her. Men and women looked at this from different perspectives and, since her marriage—one that resulted in a deep love—had been an arranged one, she would likely not do anything but support it. Some noise outside caught his attention and gave him the excuse he needed to leave.

‘I must see to packing for the journey,’ he said. Kissing his sister, he nodded at Magnus and then could not stop himself from a wee tease. ‘Have a care with those heavy tasks, Magnus. A man could find himself confined to a bed easily if they are not done well.’

Rob walked out quickly then, but not without hearing Margaret’s sputtered curse and Magnus’s deep and hearty laughter. It did his heart good to know that Margaret had found joy again and that Magnus would be there for her.

* * *

The rest of the day passed quickly, too quickly for his taste, as he saw to his duties that involved training the warriors. Fighting at Brodie’s side over the past years had honed his skills with weapons and strategies, and he enjoyed this part of his duties the most.

Then, he gave Brodie, and Arabella, his answer at dinner.

Brodie’s reaction was exactly what he expected it to be—a knowing nod of his head and a satisfied expression in his gaze. Arabella, well, Arabella jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him and clutching him close, regardless of her ever-expanding girth.

‘I am glad, Rob,’ she said, wiping at her eyes as she released him. ‘I want you to be happy in this. I pray you will find the MacKay girl to your liking and you will be happy.’

Any desire to argue or correct her dissipated at Brodie’s approach. The look in his eyes now promised retribution and pain if Rob dared ruin Brodie’s wife’s happiness in this matter. Having been at the wrong end of Brodie’s anger more than once, Rob decided to allow her to believe the optimism in her words and he just nodded.

‘When will you leave?’ Brodie asked, as he guided Arabella back to her chair.

‘In a day or two. I have some things to see to before I leave.’

‘How many will you take?’

Rob inhaled and let it out before answering his laird. He’d thought on this all day while finishing up some tasks. If this failed, he wanted no one to witness it. Whether Brodie would agree was another matter.

‘I go alone.’

Silence greeted his words for several long seconds. He met Brodie’s stare, waiting as his friend thought on his answer.

‘I would rather you take at least a small number of men with you,’ he said. ‘But you will be travelling through lands held by allies or kin and can defend yourself,’ Brodie agreed. ‘How long will you take?’

‘If the weather holds, no more than a fortnight to get there and another to get back. I will stay there as long as it takes,’ he said.

‘Rob...’ Brodie began. Rob held up his hand to forestall his friend.

‘I am at peace with this, Brodie. If I cannot tolerate the woman or have some strong objection, I will speak my mind to you.’ Brodie smiled and nodded. ‘I am at peace,’ he repeated, ‘but not happy at all.’

Accepting more wine in his cup from a passing servant, Rob drank it down in one swallow. He’d been truthful with Brodie—if there was something wrong with the lass, he would refuse. If there was some impediment or other reason, he would refuse. And if there was none, he would have to accept her.

* * *

As he mounted his horse and gathered the reins of the packhorse in his hand two days later, Rob rode out of Drumlui Keep, knowing that he would be a different man when he returned.

A married man, for better or worse.

He could only pray that it would be for the better.

But the situation that greeted him on his arrival made him realise, it was only going to get worse.

Chapter Two

Three weeks later—Caisteal Bharraich—Castle Varrich—village of Tongue, Scotland

He should have gone by ship. He should have taken men with him. He should have done many things differently than he had. Rob knew that and more now as he neared the MacKay’s keep outside the small village of Tongue.

Following the winding path up and around the hill on which the castle sat, Rob heard the guards call out as he cleared the last copse of trees and approached. He called out his name and the gates opened. One man motioned for him to follow and he did, aware of those watching his every move. Once he’d ridden close to the entrance to the keep itself, he threw a leg over his horse and dismounted. A gap-toothed boy ran up and Rob tossed the reins of both horses to him. He whistled to the boy before the young one got more than a couple of paces away and tossed him a coin.

‘Mackintosh?’ a man called out from the open doorway. ‘The MacKay awaits you.’

Rob nodded and climbed the steps, leaning down to avoid hitting his head as he entered the keep. It was smaller than the one at Drumlui, but well kept and brightened by windows high up on the walls in the main hall. Glass from the looks of them. With the winds that blew in from the sea to the north and across the Kyle of Tongue, it was clear to him why those windows were small and thick.

Walking towards the large table at the other end of the rectangular chamber, Rob took note of a woman rushing there, as well. Not young enough to be his intended, she arrived there just as he did. He paused and bowed to the large, bearded man before him.

‘My lord,’ he said, as he lifted his head. ‘I bring greetings from the Mackintosh to you and your family.’

He’d brought several gifts that yet remained on the packhorse that he would present formally later. And, something more personal to give the young woman when, if, he accepted the marriage contract. Rob glanced around the chamber and, though he saw several servants and others in the hall, no woman young enough to be the MacKay’s heiress was present. Reaching inside his tunic, he took out a packet from Brodie and handed it to the MacKay.

‘Ye were expected nigh to a week ago,’ the MacKay said, nodding to a servant. ‘We heard of storms to the west. Did ye get caught in them?’

‘Aye,’ Rob said. He accepted a cup of ale from the servant and followed the laird’s lead over to a table. ‘What roads I found quickly became muck and mire.’

‘Not surprising at this time of year,’ the older man explained. ‘And this year the storms seem stronger coming from the north.’

The talk about the weather continued on and Rob knew it was forced. The rains came and went. The winds howled or caressed. The sun shone or hid. And none of that was of enough consequence for a man like this chieftain and a man like himself to dwell upon. It was, however, a perfect way to avoid the subject they should be discussing.

And why would the MacKay be avoiding that?

‘I have been amiss, Mackintosh,’ he now said. ‘I do not believe ye have met Lady MacKay, Morag Munro.’ Rob stood once more as the woman approached them now.