Highlander’s Honorable Oath (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Read online

  Highlander’s Honorable Oath

  She was his best friend's wife, but his desire was always there...

  Fiona Faris

  Contents

  Thank you

  About the book

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Afterword

  Do you want more Romance?

  Her Broken Highlander

  Never miss a thing

  Thank you

  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.

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  About the book

  She was his best friend's wife, but his desire was always there...

  Gretchen has always been torn between her love for two men. After her marriage to one of them, she buried all feelings for the other deep in her heart.

  But in the aftermath of a bloody battle between the English and the Scots, Gretchen loses her husband, Laird Fraser, and is left alone to raise their daughter Ava...

  Callum was never one to care for responsibilities. Now he finds himself thrust in a position he never wanted, being the Laird.

  While overwhelmed by his new responsibilities and power, Callum must also honor his best friend's dying wish: protect his widow.

  Being at Gretchen's side awakens feelings that Callum thought dead long ago, but with malicious enemies surrounding them and threaten everything that he is trying to build, will this love have a chance at survival?

  He has to fight for his clan, but he only wants to fight for her...

  * * *

  Prologue

  Clan Glenbogle Lands, south of Inverness, Scotland, 1603.

  The wind whistled through the tree branches as the river slapped against an empty rowboat tied to the weathered dock. Gulls squealed to each other as they took turns diving through the air and snatching tasty morsels from the waters of the great river. A knot of toads belched from within the reeds, and the chirps of crickets mixed with the ravens’ mournful calls, filling the atmosphere with the sounds of life. The mighty river ran north-east from the misty waters of Loch Ness to Inverness, where it emptied into Moray Firth. It was said to have been graced with a bounty of fishes: brown trout, grayling, stone loach, and flounder — such that many people traveled from far and near to fish. Most times, the river doled out so much joy to them, since they always went home with their baskets and carts filled with the day’s catch.

  The rustling of the wind was soon mixed with euphoric cries of three persons who now stood on the riverbank, casting their lines and hooks into the river with the hope of catching the largest fish, thereby winning the crown of the “Fish lord.” Fishing had been a game of joy among the people of Clan Glenbogle and was occasionally played by everyone, from high lords to crofters, and the children, too. History recorded that the idea was to create a sense of camaraderie and convey an important message that life in the Highlands was mostly filled with beauty and friendly competitions.

  Now was the time for the three competitors to find the winner of the game as they laid down their fishing hooks and the caught fish on a marbled stone, which stood behind a large tree just a few steps away from the river. One could begin with the smile on the lady’s face, whose name was Gretchen, twin pink spots blooming on her pale cheeks as she stared at the two men who seemed to be having fun arguing about who had caught the largest fish. One might even begin with the two men, the first of whom went by the name Fraser — a man who had a warrior’s body and the face of a baby. He was driving away humming flies from the dead fish. Or perhaps the second, who was called Callum — a well-built man with curly, flaxen hair and a slight beard. Judging from the look of the two, one could easily identify them as warriors by the swords hanging on their hips.

  As the argument went on, Gretchen was having a hard time placing the two men on the same scale as she watched them from the tree, she had taken to leaning her back against. Gretchen’s gaze moved from Fraser’s face to Callum’s and was much surprised to have had much trouble hiding her feelings from Callum. Maybe it was because she was already betrothed to Fraser, who was the Laird of Clan Glenbogle, a marriage arranged by her family and his from when they were babes just out of the womb. Another reason was that should she reveal her feelings now, it could shatter the beautiful friendship Fraser and Callum had. For one reason or the other, she let the worries slip by as she tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and continued her silent watch from her vantage point.

  “Aye! Aye!! I won the crown, after all! Let the world rise to their feet for the new Fish Lord who has beaten the Laird of Clan Glenbogle in the river contest! I shall make a do tonight in my enclave tae have my title known to all!” Callum bellowed as he threw his hands in the air, beaming a smile across to Gretchen, who now had a slight smile touching the corners of her lips.

  “Don’t be pompous yet, Callum, my laird shall have his crown back on the next fishing day. And I shall laugh so hard at ye!” Gretchen scowled playfully as she swished her skirts toward the two men.

  “Haha! May I have my reward of the warmest of embraces now! That’s trophy and prize for my hard work!” Callum said, ambling toward Gretchen and stretching his hands wide, obviously waiting for her to fall into them.

  “My laird, shall I?” Gretchen looked to Fraser, seeking his approval.

  “A laird always fulfills his promises! Embrace him, but nae for long, that’s his medal!” Fraser said. “Come here, my lady! That’s enough, already! Come, let’s find our paths home. There’s a meeting at the court. The MacLaren has sent a scroll through an envoy. Tis sealed!”

  “Sealed? We’ve not been in good shape with the MacLaren! Could it be a call for war? They have been talking about territory expansion. We will never let them expand their territory intae ours, but we do nae look like we are ready fer a war at the moment” Callum said as he mounted his horse with the others and rode across a field where flocks of fat sheep grazed. They crossed through the forest to the southwest of the Glenbogle Keep, where another stream cut through white hills and lemon crags. The ground was smooth and fine there, more soil than rocks, but the location was a defensible position for a fortified warrior-home.

  As they continued riding in companionable silence, Gretchen was aware of a contradictory mixture of feelings toward her betrothed. Although he was a warrior, skilled with the sword, arrows, and spear — and possessed a considerable measure of charm — she found so little in him worthy of her attraction.
If the engagement were not arranged, she would have gone along with her wish to marry Callum, who was the object of her true affections. Although it was apparent that Fraser had a keen mind employed for good purposes, and he was much better at warfare than Callum, she still found Callum much more attractive and learned in the ways of women.

  Sometimes, she found herself staring at his long-limbed body, toned by frequent training in riding, swordplay, and fisticuffs. His back and shoulders were well-developed, with muscles bulging through the shirt he wore. “Oh, heavens save me from such flimsy thoughts!” she said under her breath and clutched her right hand on her forehead, her other hand grasping the reins and turning the horse towards the nearby stable.

  * * *

  As they approached the stable, Callum paused to observe Gretchen. She was slim and beautiful on horseback, guiding the horse with a smooth skill of a soldier. What a graceful lady! Elegant, lovely, and sweet in nearly everything she did. Yet, when another woman would have been pompous about such qualities, Gretchen went to great lengths to avoid drawing attention to herself. Of course, he knew in some way she liked him. Sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and he could guess what thoughts would be running through her mind.

  “Be safe, my lady! Callum and I will ride to the court for a brief meeting. I shall see you on the morrow.” Fraser said as he watched Gretchen climb down the horse. Callum’s eyes were all over Gretchen while he sat on his white horse, nurturing every thought wandering in his mind. He wasn’t too sure of his feelings for Gretchen, or maybe he was trying his best to hide it. Fraser had been a good friend to him from childhood, and they had both done a lot of things together. Having close feelings for his friend’s intended would be dirty to the ears, so he would rather be quiet about it and let it go. Although he loved to spy on Gretchen’s green eyes, her brown hair, glimmering in the sun, and her beautiful, radiant skin, which always sent shivers down his spine, he could still hide what he felt and silently hope that fate might bring them together, perhaps in the next world if there ever was one.

  Some six years after

  It was bitterly cold; the wind was biting such that it penetrated Fraser’s heavy armor as he sat on horseback with Callum behind him, gazing at the MacLaren army standing across the broad field. Fraser took a moment to think again about the wife and daughter he had left at home. He remembered their parting words and the promise he had made to them to return safely.

  “Come home tae me, my love! I will pray tae the God tae watch over ye steps.”

  “I love ye, Papa! Come home tae us! We shall welcome ye with a do!”

  Gretchen and his daughter, Ava’s voice played in his head. He cast a swift glance at his soldiers with a grim look and raised his steel sword. “Tis a war for yer clan! A war for the nobles, th’ children, the wenches, yer wives and families. Fight tae the last. Fight with yer mind and heart! Attack!!!!” he shrieked and dropped his sword. Fraser, Callum, and other warriors took up their horses’ reins and drove them forward toward the MacLaren soldiers, who were also racing toward them.

  Fraser, the Laird of the Clan Glenbogle, watched as his men fell from their horses, their death cries filling the air. He saw Callum fall and roll away from his injured horse, bringing up his sword to meet the MacLaren attack. He knew that without help, Callum might soon be shot down by a distant archer, or perhaps dropped by MacLaren steel, so he fought his way toward Callum, urging his horse forward as he swung his sword at the horde of enemy soldiers closing around his position.

  He saw three men surrounding Callum — by the grace of the Lord, he got there in time to fight two of them off Callum. The three dead, he smiled at Callum and nodded at him proudly. As he was about to turn back to mount his horse, the business end of a sword pierced his midsection. He fell to his knees, clutching at his stomach as blood poured from the wound and oozed out of his mouth.

  Before he could fall, Callum saw the man who killed his friend charge at him, sword arm outstretched. He immediately raised his sword and took his head from his neck, screaming. Callum quickly dropped his sword and dashed toward Fraser. “Stay with me, Fraser! Do not die! Do not die!” Callum growled, grasping Fraser by his shoulder.

  “Say me w-well t-tae my wife and lass. Farewell!” Fraser stuttered out and breathed his last

  “Aaaaah! The Laird is down! Fight with no mercy! Kill them all! Aaaaaahhh!” Callum bellowed, swinging his sword at the approaching MacLaren soldiers. His clansmen came to him, blood in their eyes.

  By dawn, there was unusually heavy rain coming down in stinging sheets. The Clan Glenbogle warriors were now riding back home after defeating the MacLaren clan. Callum was badly injured. His body weaved from side to side and back and forth as he clutched at the saddle, scarcely able to remain on horseback. As wounded as he was, he could still remember Fraser’s words, the blood spluttering out of his mouth. If only he hadn’t saved him, he’d still be alive. How would he tell his waiting family that Fraser was dead? “May I nae survive this injury!” he prayed silently as his eyes gradually closed.

  Chapter One

  Gretchen woke up shivering. She lay still, trying to recall the dream she had just had. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, but she did recall that she had been worried about the war her husband and his best friend had gone to fight. She remembered that he had promised her to be back soon to take care of her and their daughter. She remembered the look on Callum’s face as he’d flashed her a coy smile, flattering her about her gown, which he’d complained looked too light to wear during the cold of the coming winter before riding off on his white horse with Fraser.

  Now, she remembered the dream. She had seen Fraser and the Glenbogle warriors ambushed at the border between Glenbogle and MacLaren lands. She saw Fraser screaming as an arrow pierced him from the back and Callum falling into an endless pit dug by the MacLaren soldiers. She hadn’t intended to be so worried. She knew that the two men in her life knew swordplay well and the art of warfare, but part of the problem was that she hadn’t heard any news from them, not even rumors from gossipers, or an announcement from the clan elders. She lay still for a few more minutes, hoping for some sun to brighten the room. Then, she heard the footsteps of her daughter, Ava drawing closer to her bed.

  “Mama, when will Papa be back? I want him tae play with me,” Ava asked, causing Gretchen to struggle to hold back her tears. She stood in her nightdress; her eyes were squinting beneath the glare of the lit candle burning at the far corner of the room.

  “He will come home soon, my wee lass! He’ll be back tae us and play with us till the moon comes!” she answered, rubbing her feet together. She knew the birth of this little girl contributed immensely to the growing bond she now shared with Fraser. Still, she wished silently for Callum to be near. She enjoyed watching him from a distance, but whatever the case was, she hoped both would return safely to her. She turned her thoughts away and stretched her hands toward the little girl. “We will be fine,” she said, drawing Ava closer to her and patted her softly on her back.

  The cloudy dawn had given way to a bright morning, as the pale orange sun glared at the Earth’s surface. Gretchen walked briskly through a fruit orchard behind the keep. The tree branches were weighted with large apples. Fallen fruit had been half-eaten by squirrels and deer and left to ferment and spoil.

  Plucking an apple from a low-hanging branch, she wiped it on the fabric of her dress and took a bite. The flavor was amazingly sweet and soothing.

  Some flies buzzed close by, leaving the spoiling fruit to investigate the succulent apple Gretchen held. She jerked back, disgusted, and ran away from the tree. She had always hated flies, although she had tried to reason with herself that as long as the fruit trees were out of sight, she didn’t have to worry that the flies would follow her.

  Hurrying from the orchard, Gretchen crossed through a sunken lane that led past a field. Despite the crisp morning’s portent of the coming winter, dew still settled on the blades of the green grass that stretche
d from the keep to Glenbogle Village, a mile or so distant. As she meandered toward the keep, she saw some people gathered by a nearby tree. She knew if she walked toward them, she was sure to get news from the war. She approached the assembly with a faint smile on her lips. The people seemed to have recognized her, and their faces changed quickly from smiles to grim looks.

  “We hail thee, milady. How do ye fare?” one of the men said to her, feigning a smile.

  “Well, sir. Have ye any news from the war?” Gretchen asked, arching her eyebrows and anxiously waiting for an answer.

  “Our army has returned this morn. Our clan has vanquished the MacLaren! The war was won!”