The Highlander's Lady

A Highlander tamed…

Laird Daniel Murray seeks adventure, battle and freedom for his countrymen. Putting off his duties
as laird—with a promise to his
clan he’ll return come spring—Daniel sets off with his men to fight alongside William Wallace and the Bruce. But soon he stumbles across an enchanting lady in need. She tantalizes him with an offer he simply can’t refuse and a desire he attempts to dismiss.

A lady’s passion ignited…

Escaping near death at the treacherous hands of a nearby clan, Lady Myra must find the Bruce and relay the news of an enemy within his own camp. Alone in a world full of danger and the future of her clan at stake, she must trust the handsome, charismatic Highland laird who promises to keep her safe on her journey—and sets her heart to pounding.

Together, Daniel and Myra will risk not only their lives, but their hearts while discovering the true meaning of hope and love in a world fraught with unrest.

The Highlander’s
Lady

Book
Three
: The Stolen Bride Series

By

Eliza Knight

*****************************

FIRST EDITION

October
2012

Copyright 2012 © Eliza Knight

THE HIGHLANDER’S
LADY
© 201
2
Eliza Knight. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part or the whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, and punishable by law. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product of the author’s imagination.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Cover Design by Kimberly Killion @ Hot Damn Designs

*****************************

Also Available by Eliza Knight

The Highlander’s Reward – Book One, The Stolen Bride Series

The Highlander’s Conquest – Book Two, The Stolen Bride Series

A Lady’s Charade
(Book 1: The Rules of Chivalry)

A Gentleman’s Kiss

Men of the Sea Series:
Her Captain Returns, Her Captain Surrenders, Her Captain Dares All

The Highland Jewel Series:
Warrior in a Box, Lady in a Box, Love in a Box

Lady Seductress’s Ball

Take it Off, Warrior

Highland Steam

A Pirate’s Bounty

Highland Tryst (Something Wicked This Way Comes Volume 1)

Highland
er
Brawn (
Sequel to
Highland Steam)

Coming soon…

A Knight’s Victory (Book 2: The Rules of Chivalry)

The Highlander’s
Warrior Bride
(Book
4
: The Stolen Bride Series)

Behind the Plaid (Book 1: Highland Bound)

Writing under the name Annabelle Weston

Wicked Woman (Desert Heat)

Scandalous
Woman (Desert Heat)

Mr. Temptation

Hunting Tucker

Coming soon…

Notorious Woman (Desert Heat)

*****************************

Visit Eliza Knight at
www.elizaknight.com
or
www.historyundressed.com

Dedication

For
Peepa
,
who used to sit me on his lap and sing me Irish ditties, would run with me through the fields, swearing there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  For inspiring in me a love of all things Celtic and especially a belief in magic and make-believe. May you forever dance upon the plush clouds of dreams as you sleep in eternal bliss.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Lizzie, A
ndrea, Vonda, Kate and Kim
!

Thanks
,
my dears
,
for all of your help in making this book possible!

Thank you to my family for suffering a diet of grilled cheese, pizza delivery and various other take-out gastronomies while I physically attached myself to the computer—oh, wait a minute, you guys love that stuff! lol

Chapter One

Early December

Highlands
, 1297

A
loud crash sounded from below stairs, startling Lady Myra from her prayers
.
What in all of heaven was that?

Sh
e’d been sequestered in the chapel for most of the morning—penance for her latest bout of eavesdropping.

The chapel was dark, lit only by a few candles upon the alt
a
r. A fierce winter gust blew open the shudders, causing the candle flames to waver. Myra rushed to the windows, securing the shudders once more, feeling the wood rattle against her fingertips.

Her stomach muscles tightened with unease. There were not often sounds like this at Foulis. In fact, she’d never heard such before.

The very floors seemed to shake
. I
magination going wild, she picture
d
the boards beneath her feet splintering and falling through to the great hall below.

Myra
kept a keen ear, waiting for a sign that would reassure her that nothing was amiss. For once she hoped to hear her older brother, Laird Munro, railing at the clumsy servant who’d dropped something, but there was nothing save an eerie silence.
The hair along her neck rose and with it, her skin prickled as an acute sense of
dread
enveloped
her.

The castle was never this silent.

“Astrid?” she called out to her maid—but there was no reply. Not even the scurrying of her servant
’
s feet across the floor.
Where had the maid gone? She was supposed to wait for Myra outside the chapel door. “Astrid!”
s
he called a little louder this time, but still there was no reply.

’Twas as if she were alone, but that made no sense. Foulis Castle was always bustling with people.
Unable to stand the silence, Myra
scrambled to her feet
. She
lit a
tallow
candle by the hearth
to
light
her
way
in the darkened corridor
and slowly crept toward the door
of the family chapel
.
N
othing but a whisper of a breeze from her gown disturbed the areas where she passed—’twas how she was able to eavesdrop so often. Locked away
, supposedly
for her own good
,
since she was a girl,
she learned an important lesson. If she were to find out anything of import, she had to be secretive and slick, so she learned to creep.

She did so now with practiced ease, sidestepping boards
known to creak
and pausing every few moments to listen for sounds.
She strained to hear a whisper, someone’s breathing, anything that would assure her that she had in fact let her imagination get the best of her. But there was nothing.

Fighting hard to keep the fear from suffocating her,
she reached the door, and with tortured slowness
gripped
the cool iron
handle
.
She wanted to throw it open, and ignore the dread that held her hand still. But she had to trust her instincts. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it.
Myra leaned in close, pressing her ear to the frozen wood.
She
remained
motionless,
listening.
Again silence. Satisfied there was no imminent threat, she began to open the door. An earth shattering shriek and another loud crash broke the silence. Myra slammed the door. Was that…? She shook her head. It couldn’t be. Scrambling away from the door, she dropped her candle which snuffed itself out. God’s teeth! Was that a battle cry? Granted, she’d never heard one before, but
’
t
was not just any shout. Nay, this sound was terrifying. A cry that sent her knees to shaking and her lip to bleeding from biting it so hard.

She could barely see, the candles at the altar weren’t putting off enough light.  What in blazes was she supposed to do? How would she protect herself? Damn those guards. Why
hadn’t there been any warning? Shouts of caution. Why hadn’t the gates been closed?

Was it possible that she’d just not heard the warnings? She had been deep in prayer, worrying about her sore knees, and to add insult to injury she’d needed to use the privy for hours. Had she been that preoccupied? Angered? So distracted that if someone had shouted in her ear she probably wouldn’t have heard it? She took a deep breath to figure out her next course of action.

The secret stairways!  Lucky for her, the chapel was located in a tiny corridor off the gallery above the great hall
. A hidden stair, inside the chapel, led up to the master’s chamber.
Embarrassed after her penances
—
which were often
,
Myra chose not to venture into the great hall, instead she preferred to use the hidden stairs. She knew them well. All of them.  When she was just a girl, her father had shown her where they were located, and when she’d once found them fun, she now found comfort in their obscurity. Now they would not only help hide her embarrassment but they might even save her life.

Myra did regret being sent to Father Holden for having listened in on a very private and political conversation. Her ears burned from hearing all the things he and his allies had said.
Worry consumed her.

But this was no time to think back on that conversation. Or was it?

There’d been a warning. Rumors of an impending attack. But who would attack Foulis?
Any why? Such an act was foolish.
They had excellent fortifications
. A
stone
gate tower was built at the front of the castle walls, with at least a half dozen guards on watch at a time. Her brother Byron made sure the gate was always closed
, and most often barred
.
Their walls were thick and she’d thought impenetrable. If they were being attacked, there
sh
ould have been fair warning
. T
he guards could see all around the castle. No hidden spots for an
enemy to hide. H
er brother’s retainers kept guard upon the walls and the lands.
This she knew—so how?

Then Myra remembered—
from a neighboring clan,
Laird Magnus Sutherland had told her brother that they suspected
an attack
would
come
from a trusted ally.
There would be no warning.
Anyone
could
be
the enemy. Except Magnus had warned of one.

Ross
.

Up
on h
er father’
s deathbed this past spring,
he’
d signed a
betrothal
contract
between
Myra
and Laird Ross—despite Ross being
old enough to be her father
.
Myra and Ross’
daughter, Ina—who made Myra want to pull her
own
hair out—w
ere
the same age.
Myra
crinkled her nose. Wasn’t it wrong to be the stepmother of a woman who shared her birth year?

Myra’s
reaction to t
he news of her betrothal
had garnered her a penance too—three days in a hair shirt and her skin had been so irritated she’d not been comfortable in even the softest linen chemise Astrid could find for her
for nearly a fortnight
.

Could it be him? W
as
that
how the enemy had gained entrance without warning
?
If
’
t
was Ross,
the
he probably tricked everyone into thinking he’d come to discuss the impending alliance between their two clans.
Byron wouldn’t have suspected an attack—despite the warning—he was too trustworthy.

Myra backed
toward the center of the room
.
Faint cries of pain floated through the floorboards.
Fear snak
ed
its way around her spine and threaten
ed
to take away her mobility. She
grabbed the wooden slat leaning against the wall to bar
the
door.
The candles flickered.
Whoever was downstairs was not here for a friendly visit.
Heaven help her.
They would leave no room unturned.
Myra
prayed her brother and his wife,
Rose
who was heavy with child, were safe. That Astrid was hunkered
down
somewhere with the other servants.
She
covered her ears f
rom the cries of pain
and anger. There
was little doubt the enemy was causing great
destruction
.

“
Zounds!” Myra tamped
the
candle
s on the alt
a
r, putting the chapel into shadows
and stalked toward the tapestry of a great wildcat on the hunt.
She flipped back the covering, not even a speck of dust
to make her sneeze
since she used it so often.
Pressing on the rock that
opened
the hidden door
, she
slipped into the black
, closing t
he door behind her
. Silent
,
she
welcom
ed
the comfort of nothingness
as she
slid her feet along the landing until she reached the first step.
Finally something positive had come from her many penances, after using
this particular staircase at least a thousand times, she knew the exact measurements of each step. The depth, the height. T
hey fit her feet perfectly now
.

Fingers trailing over the dusty, crumbling stone
wall
s, she made her way carefully but briskly down the stairs until she reached the wall behind her brother’s study.
She
peered
through the imperceptible crack in the wall where she often stood to listen—as she had just the day before
. The room was lit by a few candles as though her brother had been there, but he was not now. The room was empty and undisturbed.

Where was he? And
Rose
?

Myra’s unease was slowly turning into a
n
ac
ute fear. She refused to let her nerves take over.
There had to be another explanation. They
couldn’t
be under attack. She refused to believe it. Her mind skipped over every other possibility.
Perhaps the men were
involved in
another round of betting. Fighting each other to see who
could best who
. That made sense. All the servants
would be
crowded in the
minstrel’s gallery above
to watch, and the great hall would be a raucous room full of shouting, sweating, swearing warriors.

That had to be it
. A mock battle of some sort.

Yet,
this felt different.
Every nerve in her body strained and her teeth chattered with fear. Why was she reacting so physically when it
might possibly
be
nothing more than
a bit
of rowdy warrior fun?
Her overactive imagination? Probably. But, s
he would have to see for herself. Myra continued along her path, winding down and nearly to the great hall when she heard
a
distant
whimpering.
Nothing more than a whisper of a sound, but in the complete and silent dark, it was telling.
Recalling the number of steps she’d taken, she calculated that she must be just outside
Rose
’s solar
. She
ran her hand
alon
g
the wall
searching
for the small metal handle
,
then nudged the door
an inch
ajar. It was
indeed
Rose
’s s
olar
, and the whimpering was coming from inside, but she couldn’t see who it was, since the doorway was hidden behind a bureau that was pushed
a
gainst it.