Highlander’s Lost Pearl: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Read online

  Highlander’s Lost Pearl

  She found safety in his arms but brought him danger...

  Shona Thompson

  Contents

  Thank you

  About the book

  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

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Afterword

  Do you want more Romance?

  Highlander’s False Identity

  Never miss a thing

  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.

  About the book

  He was her chance at freedom; she was his way to revenge...

  Peigi, daughter of the notorious Sire, leader of the Black Stags, can’t continue living her life being thus mistreated. She never knew her father’s love, only his violence and cruelty. She has to flee, but first, she will make him pay for her new life…

  And suddenly she meets him, the man who takes her breath away…

  Hendry Dunbar was a scarred man who became a leader far too young. Now, he is a half-blind Laird, with a thirst for revenge for his parents’ death. His past actions, brought his clan to its knees, until a mysterious benefactor became the answer to his prayers.

  Being suspicious of anyone and everyone, Hendry closed off his gates until a lass asks for shelter. An unusual woman, who isn't repulsed by his deformity and comes to offer goodness and awake his passion.

  But Peigi has to refuse him to protect herself and Hendry from the Sire, even if it means breaking the heart of the man she loves...

  She found safety in his arms but brought him danger...

  Chapter One

  Peigi cursed under her breath as the needle pricked her finger. It was not ladylike by any means, but she thought that she would be forgiven since she had spent her entire life among a group of men whose kindest words were a good morning. Surely, one expletive every now and then would not condemn her to an afterlife in hell.

  One stitch to go and the bust of her dress would be ready to accommodate everything that she would need to take with her once she would leave, the pockets that she had just finish sewing there being big enough to carry several bags of coins.

  There were goosebumps on her skin. The cold draft came through the cracks in the walls, washing over her bare skin, and Peigi could not wait to put her dress back on, desperate for some warmth. Once she was dressed, she stood up and made her way out of her chambers.

  Her father would be furious with her if the supper for him and his men would not be ready soon, and Peigi didn’t want to have to face his wrath once again. She had had enough of it in her one-and-twenty years in the world, and she had recently decided that she would not tolerate any of it anymore.

  That was why she was leaving, after all. A life among violent criminals was no life at all, especially when everyone treated her like their personal servant.

  As Peigi walked to the kitchen, she saw one of her father’s men, Asgall, his clothes askew and dripping wet, leaving puddles behind him as he walked down the hallway. It could only mean one thing, Peigi thought; he had just returned from the cave where her father kept all the stolen gold and goods that he acquired from his incessant pillaging, which also meant that the waters had subsided enough for her to be able to reach it that night.

  It was time for her to leave, but first, she had to make supper.

  Peigi busied herself with the food, chopping vegetables in silence, when her father barged into the room, accompanied by a small group of his men. They were looking for alcohol, Peigi knew, but she let them search for it instead of bringing it to them; one last act of defiance while she still called the keep her home.

  “Where’s the wine, lass?”

  Her father’s thunderous voice echoed in the room, but Peigi paid him no mind. She simply kept chopping the vegetables with the intensity of someone trying to pull a thread through a needle.

  Then, she heard her father’s steps behind her, heavy and loud enough to make her feel trapped, even though he was nowhere near her yet.

  “I said, where is the wine?” her father repeated. “Black Stags are celebrating tonight! We’ll have all the wine in the keep, and then we’ll go out, and we’ll steal some more!”

  Peigi knew all about her father’s celebrations, which came after every particularly successful fight or pillage. It was more reason to drink than anything else, but that day her father and his brigands had returned in such high spirits that it could only mean one thing; they had gotten more gold and goods that they knew what to do with, and they had raped every woman who had had the misfortune to be near them.

  The thought made Peigi sick to her stomach, and her hand began to tremble where it was holding the knife. For a moment, she had half a mind to kill her father right then and there, to stab the blade through his heart and leave his men without their ‘Sire.’

  Peigi had always hated that honorific. She never understood why he wouldn’t allow them to simply call him Murdo.

  Killing her father would only end up getting her killed, too, though, and Peigi had no intention to die at the hands of such vile men. So, instead of jamming her knife through her father’s chest, she pointed at the corner of the room, where they kept the wine.

  “Get it, then.”

  It wasn’t her father who had spoken, but rather one of his men, a short, scrawny boy by the name of Tomag. Peigi always remembered him being nice to her when they were younger when they spent plenty of time together as he was only a few years younger than her, but ever since the brigands had welcomed him in their ranks, he had become one of them. Now, Tomag was nothing more than another cruel, hateful little man, whose only share of glory came from stealing and killing innocents.

  “Why don’t ye get it yerself?” Peigi asked, looking over her shoulder at Tomag. “Ye still have yer hands, dinnae ye?”

  It was the wrong thing to say, but Peigi was used to saying the wrong thing. Suddenly, there was a hand tangled in her hair, and her father was shoving her aside. Much to the amusement of his men, who laughed at her, Peigi wailed in pain when her father all but ripped her hair off its roots, and so she bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, just so that she could bite back her scream. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing it.

  For a few seconds, Peigi did nothing but stand there, her gaze pinned on her father as the air came out in puffs through her nose. She clutched the knife tightly in her hand, fingers itching to trace her own father’s blood, before she eventually dropped it on the floor and did as she was told, bringing the men the alcohol and even pouring it into cups for them.

  It was not time for being brave, not yet.

  By the time that Peigi had finished cooking the food for the men, they were all drunker than they could handle. Peigi watched them as they feasted on roasted meat and even more wine, greedily eating and gulping down the alcohol that seemed to flow endlessly out of the pitchers. The sight brought a small smile to her face, not because she was enjoying the show, but because she knew that soon, her father and his men would be fast asleep, unaware of everyth
ing that was happening around them.

  Peigi’s predictions had been correct. It took a little over an hour for the first men to begin collapsing over the tables and chairs, all of them too drunk to stay awake even a moment longer, and by the time that the plates were empty of any food, all men were snoring in their deep sleep, her father included.

  If she had put a little something in their wine to help them sleep, well . . . then that was just a part of her plan.

  Peigi quickly fled the room, tiptoeing around the brigands, just in case one of them was a lighter sleeper than the rest. Her heart thumped in her chest so loudly that it was a miracle none of the men heard it, and Peigi had to fight back nausea that came with trying to flee and with the thought that, were she to be caught, she would be severely punished. She was certain that a lashing would be the lightest punishment she could possibly get if her father found out that she was leaving.

  Her father didn’t find out, though; no one did. Peigi was soon out of the keep, and though she had no idea where she would go, she had never felt so free, so happy before. The moment she stepped out of the building, it was as though a weight lifted off her shoulders, and she had never felt the same lightness in her feet as she did then.

  Peigi all but skipped her way to the shore. It was dark that night, the clouds obscuring the moon and the stars, leaving the sky looking like nothing more than a black void. She only had a lamp to light her way, but she didn’t need much more. She knew Barns Ness like the back of her hand, after spending her entire life there, and especially after exploring the land as a child.

  The sea was calm, calmer than it had been for days, and the tide had receded enough for her to be able to reach the cave where her father kept his treasure without a problem. The little boat that his men used was there, sitting by the shore, and Peigi pushed it into the sea, before jumping onto it and rowing her way to the secret cave.

  She would be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that she was scared. The waters were just as dark as the sky, uninviting and treacherous, and Peigi kept her eyes peeled for any rocks that could crush her boat to pieces.

  Her arms began to tire soon, but she kept rowing regardless. While she was used to lifting heavy weights, what with her father forcing her to help him and his men and making her clean the entire keep for him, Peigi had not rowed in a long time. The last time her father had asked her to help transport goods to the cave, the strain on her arms was almost unbearable. She pushed through the shaking, though, forcing herself to row even harder, and soon, she was at the mouth of the cave.

  The rocks there were sharp, and as Peigi pulled the boat onto solid land, the stones scraped her legs and made her wince in pain. She paid her injuries no mind because right in front of her was a pile of treasure, all ready to be taken.

  It seemed to her like her father had stolen from the entire area of East Lothian, and he had taken anything from gold to barley and horse saddles. There were even a few clothes there, as well as jewelry that would never see the light of day again unless his father’s men suddenly grew a liking for necklaces.

  There was one that caught her eye, a gold necklace with a large pink pearl at its center. Her father often praised it as his finest possession. It would certainly be a shame for it to stay there, hidden for years, Peigi thought, and so she grabbed it along with three bags of coins, stuffing them all in the pockets she had sewn that afternoon in the bust of her dress.

  The strange weight on her chest made her look down at herself, and she soon noticed that she seemed rather indecent, her breasts bulging over her dress, and she cursed under her breath once more.

  It would be rather unfortunate if she would have to fight off a man who would take her appearance as an invitation, but after living with a group of brigands her entire life, she knew how to fight, and she knew how to win.

  Peigi looked around the cave some more, scouring her father’s treasure for anything else that could be useful, and she found an old, dusty jacket that was too big for her but was thick enough to keep her warm, and it could cover up her unforeseen bust problem.

  Once she had the jacket on, she realized that she would have to put up with the smell of mildew and old saltwater until she could find something else to wear, and the stench forced her to scrunch up her nose in disgust. Still, it was better than nothing, and Peigi wrapped the jacket tighter around herself before she hopped right back on the boat and made her way across the narrow sea.

  It was time to go. She looked at the keep, though it could hardly be called that, with its dilapidated walls and broken glass on the top windows, the ones that always let in the cold breeze and left Peigi freezing in the middle of the night.

  She was not going to miss her home. She was not going to miss her father or his men, and she certainly was not going to miss the way that they treated her, as though she was nothing more than a maid to them.

  Peigi thought back to when she was a little girl. She wondered if things would have been different if her mother hadn’t passed shortly after her birth, if she would perhaps be happier, or if even her father would be a different man, but thinking about such things did her no good.

  There had been a time when she adored her father, like all children do, a time when she didn’t know, or rather didn’t understand, what kind of man he was. There had been a time when she had thought he would raise her to be his heir, train her like he had trained Tomag when he was a child, but her father had never shown that much interest in her.

  To him, she was only a girl.

  Peigi kicked the boat a few times for good measure until her foot went through the rotten wood, leaving a large hole on the side, one last act of defiance. Then, she turned around and began to walk away from the keep, towards the first direction her feet would take her.

  It didn’t matter where she was going, as long as it was far away from Barns Ness. It didn’t matter that she had no horse, or even any food, save for some cheese and bannocks that would last her for a day or two.

  All that mattered was that she was finally on her way to a new life. She had no delusions; perhaps it would not be an easier life since up until then, she had never had to worry about food or board, her father providing both for her despite his other shortcomings. Now, she had no idea if she would even have a roof over her head soon, and she was certain that there would be hardships along the way, but no matter what she would go through, at least she wouldn’t be around those vile, cruel criminals that her father called his brothers.

  Soon, the lamp that Peigi was carrying died out, and she was left plunged in darkness. She had already managed to put a good distance between her and the keep, though, so she didn’t worry too much when she found a small opening in the earth, where some roots were growing in thin soil, and decided to rest.

  The next morning would surely bring travelers with it, people who could give her a ride to the nearest town or village, she thought, and she had the money to reach Dunbar in the following few days; Dunbar, which was her final destination, where she could find some work and be safe from her father.

  Peigi closed her eyes with that thought in mind, praying to the Lord that she would be safe that night in the wilderness. She clutched the sghian dubh, the small blade that she had been given as a young girl by one of her father’s kinder men –Conall, rest his soul –tightly in her hand, just in case her prayers wouldn’t work.

  Chapter Two

  Peigi always detested life on the road. It was better than staying home, though, where the fire she would light in her chambers every night did nothing to keep her warm, and the brigands’ insults and rage were lurking behind every corner.

  Now, she was in the back of a wagon, where some merchants had found some space for her. She had been traveling for days, and her fatigue, paired with paranoia eating her from the inside every time she thought about her father, made her look like a ghost, pale and frail, with large, dark circles under her eyes.

  She hadn’t even managed to sleep after that first night, and
she must have been on the road for about a week, if she had kept track of time correctly. The merchants had taken pity on her, and since they, too, were going to Dunbar Castle, they were more than happy to accept a few coins in exchange for a spot in their wagon.

  When they reached the castle, Peigi was surprised to see that it looked nothing like what she had imagined. She knew that the Dunbar clan was the one who fell victim to her father’s ransacking the most, but precisely because of that, she thought that they would be swimming in riches and treasures. When she saw the place, though, she realized that her father had driven the Dunbar clan to ruin.

  What must have once been a magnificent castle was now in disarray. There were parts of its walls where the stones had fallen, leaving a gap where they used to be, and weeds were taking over the ground, as though no one was bothering to clean them up.