Highlander’s Veiled Bride: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highland Seductresses Book 2) Read online

  Angus had tried to pay no attention to all the rumors, but they seemed to have reached the edges of his land, and the last thing he needed was for his subjects to think he was a deranged murderer.

  Still, he could hardly defend himself without the woman and everyone around them, realizing who he was.

  “What else do they say about the Laird?” Angus asked, unable to stop himself. He needed to know what people were saying about him, even if knowing would sting.

  “Are you not from these lands?” the woman asked him, and Angus hesitated, but she didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer, thinking that her assumption was correct before she continued. “Well, some, like my uncle, insist that he’s a good man, but others . . . others say that he will ruin the clan. They don’t trust him.”

  Angus hummed to himself, trying to show indifference, though judging by the fists that were clenched by his sides, he doubted he had any success.

  “I canna say I ken the man, but a Laird is a Laird for a reason,” Angus said. “If people didnae trust him, then he wouldnae be their Laird.”

  “Tayvallich is too far away from the castle,” the woman pointed out. “The people here are helpless. They can’t rise up against the Laird. Just his guards are enough to destroy this entire village.”

  “And ye?” Angus asked. “What do ye think?”

  The woman hesitated for a moment. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again, as though she changed her mind before she spoke.

  “I trust my uncle,” she said. “He is a clever man, a wise man. If he believes in the Laird, then I’d like to believe in him, too.”

  Angus’ chest felt tight, then, for a reason he couldn’t explain. Simply hearing the woman, a stranger, put her faith in him made the air leave his lungs, and it felt as though something invisible inside him was expanding, filling up his chest with pressure.

  “Sometimes, it’s hard, though,” the woman added then, making Angus deflate once more. “When I see the people in this village go hungry and fall ill, knowing that the Laird does nothing for them, it’s hard to believe in him.”

  Angus bit down hard on his bottom lip, and he clasped his hands behind his back to try and hide the fact that they were shaking ever so slightly. He had to do something. He had to save his people and ensure that they would never go hungry again, that they would not suffer under his rule.

  “Weel . . . I ken one thing,” he told the woman. “Everything will be better soon.”

  The woman looked at him then, a small, curious yet fond smile on her lips.

  “I hope it will,” the woman said, and then, she leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, leaving him flustered and blushing, the blood rushing immediately to his head.

  With that, she was gone, and Angus was left alone, watching her as she walked away. Then, he decided to leave, too, and head back to the castle. He didn’t want to avoid his responsibilities anymore, and he didn’t wish to waste more time, whether that meant roaming around the market in Tayvallich or doing anything else that took time away from helping his people.

  If he was going to save the people who called his land their home, he needed to get to work.

  Chapter Two

  Ishbel kept thinking about the stranger at the market on the way to the cottage, where she lived with her uncle. He was not from the village, that much she knew, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had brought him there and whether she would see him again.

  She had to admit that his kind gesture had warmed up her heart. Ishbel relied heavily on first impressions, and the man had made a very strong one on her, one that made her want to see him again, and perhaps talk to him a little more.

  She had had to leave, though, a little sooner than she would have liked. She had to return and grab some money if she were to purchase food for the week.

  When she got to the cottage, she was greeted by her uncle, who was carrying firewood inside the house.

  “Yer back already, lass?” Cormag asked as he kicked the front door of the house open so that they could both go inside. “I didnae expect ye so soon. Where is the food?”

  Ishbel closed the door behind them and followed Cormag to the fireplace, where she helped him with the wooden logs. “I forgot the money, Uncle,” she said. “I’ll hurry back, and I’ll bring everything that we need.”

  “Ach, ye’d lose yer head if it weren’t on yer shoulders,” Cormag said, though he sounded fond rather than upset. He smiled at Ishbel, reaching over to ruffle her hair, much to her dismay. Her frustrated grunts of disapproval always made him laugh. “So . . . did ye find yer way around the market?”

  “It’s not that hard, Uncle,” Ishbel pointed out. “Clermont is much bigger than Tayvallich.”

  Ishbel spoke the name of her hometown with a soft sigh, one that Cormag didn’t seem to miss. He dusted the dirt from the logs off his hands, and then placed one on Ishbel’s shoulder, making her look at him.

  “You miss it,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. Still, Ishbel nodded, confirming Cormag’s suspicions. “Lass . . . if ye dinnae like living in Tayvallich—”

  “Don’t say any more,” Ishbel interrupted him, shaking her head. “Tayvallich is my favorite place in the world, and do you know why? Because you’re here, Uncle. Yes, I love France, and sometimes I miss home more than I think I can handle, but I would never dream of leaving you here alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” Cormag said.

  Ishbel didn’t need to inquire to know what Cormag meant. Sure, Vika was staying at a monastery close to Tayvallich, but Cormag hadn’t seen her ever since Laird MacMillan had placed her there after she had broken his heart and conspired against his childhood friends. As her father, it was no wonder that Cormag wanted to stay near her, even though Ishbel knew that he felt guilty on her behalf.

  Besides, he still had another daughter; he still had Vanora, and he could have gone to live with her when she married Laird Cameron, but he was too stubborn to admit that he needed the company.

  Cormag had refused to follow Vanora to the Cameron clan, simply because he wanted to be close to Vika, as well as to Laird MacMillan, even though he was not the clan’s General anymore.

  It was the guilt that didn’t allow him to move on, Ishbel thought, but if it was enough to keep Cormag there, then he was enough for Ishbel to stay there, too.

  “Uncle . . . after mama died, all I wanted was for someone to be with me,” Ishbel said. “I had no one but you. I may have only arrived in Tayvallich, but you’ve already done more than enough for me. Now let me help you, without telling me that I should go back to France, non? I like it here, I promise. Perhaps I’ll even grow to love it.”

  Ishbel knew her uncle well enough to know that he was still worried about her, but he didn’t try to push her any further, and for that, Ishbel was grateful. She hated talking about Clermont, because it brought her to tears more often than not, and the last thing she wanted was for Cormag to see her cry.

  “Alright, alright . . . as long as yer happy,” Cormag said. “But ye’ll let me ken if yer ever unhappy here, aye?”

  “Aye,” Ishbel said, trying to imitate Cormag’s accent and earning a smile from him for her efforts.

  The two of them stayed quiet for a few moments before Cormag went back to fussing over the logs and the fire that he had lit in the fireplace. Ishbel watched him, and she had the unstoppable urge to ask a question that she knew she shouldn’t be asking.

  “Do you miss her?”

  Cormag froze, then, and Ishbel could see every muscle in his body tensing, as though he was prey that had just been spotted by a wild animal. It was a sensitive question, Ishbel knew, but she also knew that the less Cormag talked about it, the worse it would be for him in the long term.

  There was no point in avoiding sorrow; it always caught up in the end.

  “Which one?” Cormag asked, instead of answering the question. “Vanora? Vika? Their mother?”

  “Any,” Ishbel said. “All.”

&nb
sp; “All,” Cormag said with a heavy sigh, as though all the air left his body at once. “I miss them all verra much, but it is what it is, Ishbel. Vanora is happy, and that is all that matters to me. Their mother . . . weel, I’m an old man, it willnae be long until I meet her again, ye ken that.”

  “And Vika?” Ishbel asked, unable to restrain herself.

  Cormag stopped poking the fire and instead walked to the table, taking a seat. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, before his hand came to settle over his face, the pads of his fingers rubbing his eyes hard.

  Cormag was rarely anything other than cheery, with an attitude to life that could make even the worst cynic smile, and yet there he was, looking like a broken man right in front of Ishbel’s eyes.

  She wished she could take his pain away. She wished that she could carry the burden for him, that she could help him even a little, but she didn’t fool herself; there was nothing that she could do. She could only hope that her presence made Cormag’s days a little brighter, she could only hope that she could bring some cheer back to his life.

  “Ye look verra much like her, ye ken,” Cormag said eventually. “Ye have yer father’s hair and his eyes, but ye got everything else from this side of the family. Sometimes I look at ye, and I think . . .”

  Cormag’s voice trailed off, and he began to stare out of the window, at the horizon. It wasn’t the first time that Ishbel had been told about her resemblance to her cousin, as everyone used to tell her so when she was a child. It was the first time that she had heard about it ever since she had found out about Vika’s despicable actions, though, and so it was the first time that it bothered her that she resembled her.

  She didn’t want anyone to think that she was like her cousin in any way. Just the thought of Vika and everything that she had done to Laird MacMillan and the people around him made her stomach churn, even though she wasn’t particularly fond of the man, much to her uncle’s displeasure.

  Despite having given up his position as the General in his old age, Cormag would always stand by his Laird.

  “Weel . . . it doesnae matter,” Cormag said, suddenly once again bright as a sunny day. It was a façade, but it was a good one, one that no one would see unless they knew Cormag as well as Ishbel did. “Didnae ye say that ye’ll go back to the market, lass? Off with ye, go and get what ye need for the week.”

  Ishbel’s hand found its way on Cormag’s shoulder as she walked by him, and she gave him a quick pat before she made her way to the door. Before she could leave, though, she stopped and turned around to look at him once more.

  “Uncle . . . do many strangers come here, to Tayvallich?” she asked. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of place that invites visitors.”

  Cormag frowned, a hand coming up to scratch at his beard. “Visitors? No . . . no, we dinnae get visitors here. Sometimes, there’s a traveler that stops to rest, and sometimes there’s men that come here from the castle, but I havenae seen visitors in Tayvallich ever since I came here. Why?”

  “I’m only curious.” Ishbel shrugged, her curiosity about the strange man piqued once more. “There was this man at the market . . . I know that he is not from here. I’ve already met everyone in Tayvallich, and he wasn’t one of them.”

  “What man?” Cormag, protective as always of his niece, almost growled the question, as though he was preparing to fight the man before he even knew what he had done to capture Ishbel’s attention.

  “Simply some man, Uncle,” Ishbel said, giving the man a fond smile. “Don’t worry so much, or you’ll turn old before your time.”

  “I’m already old, lass,” Cormag pointed out. “I was born with more hair than I have on my head the noo. Whoever the man was, he must have been a traveler. Perhaps he was going up to the castle, I dinnae ken. Why are ye asking?”

  “He did a good deed,” Ishbel said, unwilling to give Cormag any more information. If he found out about how she had put herself at risk, he was certain to be furious at her, and Ishbel didn’t want to upset him. “I was simply wondering if I would see him again to thank him properly.”

  Ishbel had already thanked the man, of course, but she couldn’t tell Cormag the real reason why she wanted to see him again. Tayvallich had several men, but none of them were as noble or as well-spoken as him. No one else had stood up for her, after all, when she had tried to help the children. All the other men in the market had simply watched, leaving Ishbel to her fate.

  The man had been the only one who had managed to stir something deep inside her just with his looks and that simple act of kindness ever since Ishbel had gotten to the village, with his blue eyes and the day-old scruff on his face, the broad shoulders that he carried and that gentle heart of his.

  Perhaps Ishbel should have talked to him a little more, in hindsight. Then again, if he truly was a traveler, then she could hardly allow herself to be with him, not when she had promised herself to be there for her uncle. The only way that she would leave Tayvallich was if Cormag left first.

  Just as she was about to leave once more and head back to the market, Cormag stopped her.

  “Dinnae forget the coins this time, lass,” he reminded her, and Ishbel cursed quietly under her breath – never loudly enough for Cormag to hear her – before she grabbed her little pouch full of coins and headed out.

  The day seemed to be getting worse as the time passed, Ishbel noticed, looking up at the sky and seeing the storm that was over Knapdale rapidly approaching Tayvallich. It would be a cold night, but then again, ever since she had gotten to the village, she had never experienced any warmth other than the warmth of a fire.

  It was what she missed the most about Clermont. She missed the sun on her skin, warm and comforting, she missed the bright days and the night sky that was unmarred by clouds, revealing all its stars and constellations to her. She missed walking without mud caking her shoes and soiling the hem of her dress, and she missed the buzzing of the bees around the flowers that lined the streets.

  It was a train of thought that would get her nowhere, Ishbel thought. It was better to not think about such things, and instead focus on what was ahead of her. After her mother’s death, there was no debate in her mind about whether she should move to Tayvallich, as Cormag was the only family that she had left, save for her two cousins. A life in Clermont would be more exciting, perhaps, but what good was excitement if she had no one to care for and who would care for her?

  As Ishbel walked through the village, heading to the market, she looked around and noticed things that she had missed before. Flowers were growing there, too; they were weeds, it seemed, but that didn’t make them any less beautiful. The people around her may have been simple peasants, but they were kind people, their eyes wrinkled by a lifetime of laughter. There was barely any sun, but the silvery grey above her was the same sky that was over Clermont. That night, she would see the same stars and the same moon, and perhaps it would feel a little more like home.

  Ishbel grinned to herself as she walked by the merchant who had threatened her and the two children earlier, but she had no desire to taunt him. She simply bought all the goods that she needed, and then made her way back home, her arms full of flour and salt.

  Once she was back home, she made supper for her and Cormag, just like she did every night, as even though Cormag was a more decent cook than she was, he insisted that she needed the practice. Then, the two of them played chess until Cormag simply could not keep his eyes open any longer. Ishbel retired to her own chambers, and then she looked up at the sky through her window.

  It seemed to have cleared up during the night, and now she could see the moon shining brightly over the village. Ishbel pulled a chair by the window and sat there, letting the gentle breeze in as she gazed at the stars.

  It was, indeed, the same sky.

  Ishbel gazed at it, her thoughts wandering to the man that she had met earlier that day. There was something about him, something that drew her to him.

  Something that made her decid
e to search for him.

  Chapter Three

  His conversation with the mysterious girl from the village of Tayvallich had left Angus with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was not only utterly perplexed, as he hadn’t known that his people were suffering until he spoke to the woman, but he was also agitated by the news. In fact, ever since he had come back from Tayvallich, he had been unable to sleep, tossing and turning in his bed every night while all his attempts at some peace were futile.

  His mind was haunted by images of starving children and sick men, of women selling their last few precious belongings just so that they could afford some food for their babes. He had been such a fool, sheltered as he was in his castle, with its towering stone walls and its abundance of food and goods, but he would be a fool no more.