Her Highland Secret: Steamy Historical Scottish Romance Read online

  Her Highland Secret

  Only she can save him... Only he can protect her…

  Fiona Faris

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Afterword

  Do you want more Historical Scottish Romance?

  Abduction of a Highland Rose

  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.

  As a gift, I am giving you a link to my first novel. It has more than 130 reviews, with an average rating of 4.47

  It is called “A Maid for the Grieving Highlander”, and you can get it for FREE.

  Please note that this story is only available for YOU as a subscriber and hasn't been published anywhere else.

  Please click on the cover to download the book

  About the book

  Running from a fate that was thrust upon them, Ella Pearson and Lucas MacGille find their lives intertwined.

  Ella finds her self fleeing from an arranged marriage when she stumbles upon a Scottish couple's farm.

  She quickly learns that they are protecting a secret; a heavily wounded Highlander warrior. Can she save him?

  Lucas MacGille, heir of Clan MacGille, barely survived the brutal battle against the English.

  Finding himself in the healing hands of a Sassenach Lady, he must now protect her even if it means going to war all over again, this time for his heart.

  Can sworn enemies learn to trust and protect each other?

  Chapter One

  Early August, 1689, Carlisle Castle, Cumberland, England

  Ella Pearson silently cursed her father as she felt her way along the corridors of Carlisle castle. Her candle wasn’t giving off nearly enough light. Her shadow, normally a bold reflection of her slim frame, looked weak against the cold stone walls. Her long blond hair was starting to loosen from its braids and she thought the shadow of her loose tendrils looked like faint snakes against the aging rock. She was looking for the room where her father had retired with the soldiers after the evening meal. Something warm and furry scurried across her slipper. Ella dropped her candle and moved her hand to her mouth trying to stifle a scream. Her father should have known better than to bring her and her sister to this place.

  To hell with father, the military, and the Scots! To hell with the lot of them, she thought.

  She may have been on a fool’s errand, but she was too curious and angry to turn back. Her father had said it was love for his children that compelled him to travel with the girls. Ella was beginning to doubt that love. They had not left the castle in almost a fortnight. No parties, no social gatherings, and there were at least three social calls that she knew of that he had passed on in favor of the company of the military garrison that stayed within the castle walls.

  Every night for the past month she watched him leave with the soldiers. Her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her. Until now Ella wouldn’t dare question her father on how he spent his time. She’d felt it wasn’t her place to inquire as to her father’s business dealings or nightly pursuits. But lately his disinterest in his daughters and their well-being had reached a fevered pitch. Each morning when they would break their fast, he would reek from the previous night's whiskey, looking forlorn and apologetic. He didn’t ask about their day or how they spend their time. She was at a loss. There must be something going on, she thought. There seemed to be no good reason for him to ignore her and her sister. Daughter or not, the time had come for her to demand answers from her father, but she needed more information before confronting him.

  At first, when she had asked her ladies maid, Gwen, if she had heard anything about father from the other servants, the woman didn’t want to talk; refusing to speak ill of her lord and master. But Ella persisted, finally wearing the woman down. Through tears, Gwen told her everything she knew. Her father had garnered quite the reputation as a foolish man who was more than happy to spend their family’s slight income on lavish clothing, brothels, and gambling. Lord Pearson's loose purse and losing streak at the tables seemed to be common knowledge to everyone but her; humiliation consumed her. At twenty-two, Ella was already an old-maid, but if her father kept on with his current patterns, they would all end up in debtor’s prison and there would be nothing left to secure her sister’s future.

  Proceeding through the corridor, relief flooded through her as she heard the sounds of men talking and cheering. She was on the right path. A shaft of light flickered into the corridor from an open door at the end of the hall. That must be where they are, she thought. As she approached, she was able to make out her father’s voice above the other men.

  “Come now, Commander Evans—surely you aren’t afraid to lose another hand. I have the most to lose in this round. I have put my daughter on the pile,” he said. Ella could scarcely believe what she was hearing. She must be mistaken. He put his daughter on the pile? What pile? Realization hit her like a boulder. He was gambling with her as part of his pot. No, she thought, he wouldn’t.

  “Afraid to lose?” Commander Evans said. “Hardly, Pearson. I’m simply not interested in looking upon your face when you realize you’ve lost your daughter’s marriage bed to me in a hand of cards.” The other men laughed and clapped at the pronouncement. Commander Evans’s voice sounded full of slime and vinegar. Of all the men her father could be gambling with, why did it have to be the commander, she thought.

  The Commander was a tall man, his pale skin and thinning hair made him look sickly. He had a reputation for being odd and willing to do anything to win. Ella had witnessed his odd behavior first hand. At almost every meal since they had arrived at Carlisle, his beady eyes would seek her out. When he was able to corner her in conversation, he only spoke of himself and his accomplishments. And where she expected to find softness in a man who showed her so much interest, instead she saw an empty blackness that made her skin crawl.

  “Ahh, my good friend, that is where you are wrong. I feel the luck of the King himself coursing through my veins. Let us have a go.” Ella crept closer to the door’s entrance, her breath caught in her throat as she waited to hear Evans’s answer. Apparently, the rest of the men felt the same as the room fell silent as death. It felt like an eternity before Evans’s responded, giving Ella a slight hope that he would be decent.

  “I’m not your friend Pearson. Know this before the cards are dealt, all debts owed to me will be paid, in full. And I am not kind to those who welch. There will be no attack of conscience on my part come the morning. I’m in want of a wife, and your brat will do to warm my
bed as well as any other wench. That is…should you lose.”

  “I won’t lose. Deal the cards.”

  Ella held her breath, afraid to let any precious air escape her lungs. Even through her fear she wished she could see into the room to truly know what was happening. It had been silent for far too long. Suddenly a groan went up in the room, and the next sound Ella heard was her father’s anguished moan. The door to the parlor crashed open. Evans’s burst through wearing an evil grin. She saw the surprise on his face when confronted by her small, slender form. Before she was able to get one word out, he grabbed her arm. Tears pooled in her ice-blue eyes at his tight grip.

  “Well, well, well…it seems my betrothed has paid me a visit,” he snarled, hot stale breath filled her nose. The scent of old cigars and whiskey rolled off him, causing her to gag.

  “I’m no such thing, you brute! Let me go,” she spat, turning her head away, disgusted. He laughed and pulled her tightly against him. She squirmed, trying to get away.

  “Sneaking around the castle at night, eavesdropping on the men, tisn’t proper for my soon-to-be wife.”

  “I’ll never marry you,” she said through angry tears. Her father came into the corridor. His face froze in horror as he realized she had heard what he’d done.

  "Father, how could you?" she pleaded, finally wrenching herself free from Evans’s grip and running to her father. He turned away, cold. Shrinking from his rejection, her world turned upside down as she realized her father had abandoned her.

  “Ahh, she has spirit, Pearson,” Evans said turning back toward Lord Pearson. “It will be a shame when I break her.”

  Ella backed away, horrified. She was on her own. She was to be married to this man, and her father looked as if he didn’t care at all. The commander’s eyes filled with pure evil as he cornered her against the cold stone wall. There was no way to curb her trembling as he raised an arm to either side of her, blocking any hope of escape. She closed her eyes tight as he pulled one golden lock loose from her hair and twirled it around his bony finger.

  “Would you like to give your future husband a kiss? A token to hold me over until we meet again?” He sneered. Before she could object, he crushed his mouth against hers. His were lips dry and rough. The more she fought against his assault the harder he pressed himself to her. Ella kept her mouth tight, refusing to give in to the Commander’s aggressive attack. This wretched man is giving me my first kiss, she thought. A tear slid down her cheek as she prayed silently for the moment to be over. There was nothing in his kiss that made her feel safe or loved. Instead she was filled with disgust and anger. She was ruined. She would never agree to be his wife, but no man would have her after this. He pulled away and laughed. “That’s not quite what I had in mind, but you’ll learn.”

  Then as suddenly as he had appeared Commander Evans was gone. Ella watched as the other men all filed out of the parlor and away to their own rooms. Not one of them came to her defense. Her father avoided her eyes as he walked away. She slid down the wall, her body wracked with sobs.

  “Father did what?” Amelia’s look of shock and horror mirrored Ella’s feelings exactly, as she replayed the disgusting events of the night before to her sister over their morning meal. She would have given anything not to burden Amelia with her plight, but she had no other friends. She had been up most of the night and could tell without seeing her reflection that her face was puffed and red from crying.

  “He bet me in a game of cards to Commander Anton Evans and lost,” she repeated.

  “Surely you must be joking, Ella. Tis not something father would ever do. It’s unkind to play such a cruel joke on me.”

  Joking? Ella would give anything were that true. “My sweet Amelia,” she began, unable to complete the thought. What could she possibly say that would be a comfort to the girl. Amelia was not nearly old enough to be subjected to any of this madness. She should be back at their family home, running through soft grassed meadows, frolicking with her friends, and becoming accomplished enough to one day make a fine wife to a lord or even a duke.

  “He can’t do it! Evans is a monster, everyone says so,” Amelia cried. Ella rushed from her seat to comfort her sister. She knew better than anyone what a monster the commander was, the memory of his attack still fresh in her mind. But it was breaking her heart seeing her sister so upset.

  “It’s ok, don’t cry pet. It will all be ok, I promise. I’ll run far away before I’ll marry that beast,” Ella rubbed the young girl’s back as she sobbed.

  “But where will you go? What will you do? What will happen to me and Gwen?” Amelia barely choked the words out. It pained Ella to see her so distraught.

  “Please don’t cry, child. You will be safe, and so will Gwen. I may have to leave you, but before I do, I’ll make sure father is not able to allow you to suffer a similar fate. I swear it!”

  “What is all this blubbering about?” Both girls looked up to see their father rubbing his head in pain as he came into the dining room to break his fast. Amelia broke free from her sister’s embrace and ran from the room, her sobs heard long after she left. Ella stood to face her father. None of Ella’s anger had ebbed from the night before and her slight frame shook in rage.

  “You know full well what the matter is, father,” she said. His rejection still fresh in her mind. She had never wished so hard that she had been born a man so that she would not be subject to the outcomes of her father’s poor decisions. “You bet my life in a card game, as if I meant nothing more to you than a brood mare, and now I am forced to marry that evil man.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic child,” he said his eyes hollow and cold. “We both know you are beyond the proper age for marriage. No offers are coming for you. I simply secured you a solid future, as the wife of a commander in His Majesty’s army.”

  “You mean to tell me you did this to me on purpose?”

  “You know our income is meager. I cannot support you and have a solid dowry for your sister. She is the better catch. And if you ask me, you have made out quite well in the deal. We all have. This is your duty. And you are well past ready to be a wife.”

  A sick shock filled her stomach. Her father didn’t love her at all, he saw her as a burden. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Had her father lost the game on purpose? He wanted her to marry Evans; to be rid of her.

  “I won’t do it,” she said, jutting out her chin in defiance. She would not be a pawn in her father’s games.

  “You will. You’ve no choice. It’s what is best for you, and ultimately your sister,” he replied. “Now be a good girl and go see to your needs. I’ve planned to have you leave in a sennight. That should be just enough time for you to secure new gowns and say goodbye to your sister.”

  “A sennight?” It was…it was ludicrous.

  “Yes, the Commander left with his garrison for Dunkeld before dawn. Those damn Jacobites are making quick work of our troops. It’s a long journey into Scotland and you’ll need time to settle once you arrive. You will meet him there and are expected in three weeks’s time.”

  “And if I refuse?” she asked.

  “You no doubt heard the commander last night, he is a man who expects his debts paid. If you refuse, then I’ll have no choice but to offer Amelia in your place,” he replied, devoid of any emotion.

  “She’s but a child, you wouldn’t dare,” she said.

  “My sweet child,” he said, grabbing a piece of toast and adding jam as if their discussion was regular breakfast chatter and Ella’s life didn’t hang in the balance. “You know nothing of what I would dare. You will marry the commander. Now leave me in peace to break my fast. This discussion is over.”

  There was no affection in his tone. There was no softness in his eyes. His decision was final. He was no better than the commander. Words and pleas would not change his mind. If she wanted to avoid a marriage to Commander Evans she would be on her own and have to use her wits.

  A chill ran down Ella's back. She
looked intently at her father. His refusal to meet her gaze told her everything she needed to know. As soon as the opportunity arose, she would be forced to run, and if she were caught, she would kill herself before she would submit to be the commander's wife.

  Chapter Two

  Late August, 1689 Dunkeld, Scotland

  Lucas MacGille pulled his spare plaid from his horse bag, wrapping it around his broad shoulders to ward off the pre-dawn chill. He was a large man, and usually the cold didn’t bother him, but he had been living on the land, battle to battle for some three odd months, and it was beginning to wear on him. The wind had kicked up and his fire-red hair, which was longer than he liked it kept, whipped around his face, stinging his eyes. It was still summer, but Autumn was finding her way into the Scottish air early this year. He closed his emerald-green eyes and took a deep breath, scratching the battle-weary growth on his chin.