Read Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 Online
Authors: Ceci Giltenan
Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3
Forgiving Hearts Collection
Three Duncurra Inspirational Novels
Highland Solution
Highland Courage
Highland Intrigue
By
Ceci Giltenan
Duncurra LLC
www.duncurra.com
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Copyright 2015 by Ceci Giltenan
Cover Design: Earthly Charms
ISBN: 978-1-942623-17-5
Produced in the USA
To my beloved husband and children, thank you for your love and support.
To the readers who “liked the story” but prefer a book with no explicit content, this is for you.
When I started writing fiction, I wanted to ensure that the values I hold dear, among them faith, forgiveness, loyalty, compassion, and the redeeming power of love, were expressed in my work. The genre I have always loved is historical romance…particularly medieval romance…even more particularly medieval Highland romance.
So with all of this in mind, I wrote my first book, Highland Solution, intending it to be “Inspirational” from the start. However, it was also a mainstream romance, so it contained intimate scenes. While I considered these scenes mild, I have come to realize the people who might most enjoy my novels, might also prefer to read fewer details about the bedroom.
Therefore, I have reedited all three novels in this series to remove the more explicit content. I prefer not to think of these as the “sweet” or “clean” versions, words commonly used in publishing to describe a book with no explicit content. I just don’t think “sweet” applies. Likewise, “clean” implies that the first one was “dirty” and I don’t think intimate relations between married adults are “dirty.”
So, dear reader, I offer you the complete collection of the revised, Inspirational editions, of Highland Solution, Highland Courage and Highland Intrigue.
Inspirational Version
Duncurra Inspirationals Book 1
By
Ceci Giltenan
Duncurra LLC
www.duncurra.com
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Copyright 2015 by Ceci Giltenan
Brathanead | BRA huh need (the MacLennan stronghold) |
Ceana | SHAW nuh |
Cnocreidh | Kuhrock RAY (The Matheson stronghold) |
Duncurra | Doon KOO rah (The MacIan stronghold) |
Eithne | EN ya |
Fingal | FINN guhl |
Tadhg | TIEg |
Turcuil | TURR cool |
Bairn | (BAIRn) A baby |
Brèid | (BREEdt) Also called a kertch, this is a square of pure white linen that is folded in half and worn by married women to cover their hair. It is a symbol of the Holy Trinity, under whose guidance the married woman walks. |
Léine | (LAY in ah) A full tunic-like garment. A woman’s |
Wheesht | Hush, shhh |
Cotharach Castle, Central Scottish Lowlands, June 1359
“Lady Katherine, oh! Lady Katherine, there you are,” said an ashen-faced chambermaid as she rushed into the kitchen. “You must come quick. There are two Highlanders in the great hall with your uncle. Sir Ruthven bid me fetch you there now.”
Hot, flushed, and certainly not prepared to receive visitors or face her uncle again so soon, Katherine sighed. “You stay here. I’ll go to the great hall alone. It never pays to keep Uncle Ambrose waiting.” At the look of panic on the girl’s face, Katherine added, “I’m sure it’s nothing. Don’t worry.”
Katherine froze when she saw at least a dozen rather imposing Highland warriors waiting in the courtyard. An even larger group of Ruthven soldiers kept their distance, observing the strangers cautiously. Knowing she’d pay for it later, she stepped back into the kitchen and asked Moyna to offer them food and ale. Then, fearing she had already kept her uncle waiting too long, she hurried into the great hall.
She entered with her head down. Sometimes a show of subservience tempered his anger. He read from an unfurled scroll and didn’t acknowledge her immediately so, with her eyes still downcast, she took a quick look to her right.
Two sets of feet in the open leather shoes Highlanders wore caught her attention. Unbidden, her eyes followed the nearest thickly muscled bare legs up the length of the man’s tall, powerfully built body. He wore typical Highland clothing, a belted linen tunic that barely reached his knees, with a plaid fastened by a brooch around his massive shoulders. She had to tilt her head back to see his face. The grim expression he wore startled her. Clearly this man was not happy, and she suspected Uncle Ambrose had something to do with it.
Katherine realized eventually that her uncle didn’t intend to acknowledge her. Unable to stand the tension any longer, she said, “Uncle Ambrose, you sent for me?” Chancing another quick glance at the Highlander, she saw his grim expression replaced first by confusion, followed very quickly by anger.
When she turned her attention back to her uncle, his barely concealed glee worried her. Finally he replied, “Yes, Katherine, my darling, we have received a missive from the king and it concerns you.”
This is definitely not good.
She carefully kept her emotions masked. “Me?” she asked calmly.
“Yes, my sweet. This is Niall MacIan, Laird of Clan MacIan.” He gestured to the angry warrior she had eyed. “And the commander of his guard, Diarmad. Our king has requested that you become Laird MacIan’s wife.”
Katherine took a breath and, with supreme will, continued to appear calm and emotionless.
“Requested that I become his wife?” she asked slowly.
“Of course it is a request.”
“I can decline this request?
“Certainly you can, Katherine. However, His Majesty says if you choose to decline, it is in your best interest, and the best interests of Clan Ruthven, for me to be named Lord Ruthven and for you to enter the religious life.”
“And what happens to Cotharach and my people if I accept the proposal?” she asked, a note of panic creeping into her voice.
A look of smug satisfaction crossed her uncle’s face, and he spoke to her as if she were a very dull child.
“Oh, my dear, I have bungled this badly. I will start over and try to help you understand. His Majesty feels it is in the best interests of Clan Ruthven for me to assume control as Lord Ruthven and rule Cotharach. He is giving you two options. The one His Majesty prefers is for you to marry Laird MacIan and go with him to his home in the Highlands. As your husband, Laird MacIan will renounce his claim to your title and lands. In return, he will receive an exceedingly generous dowry. However, if this is not acceptable, you may choose to enter the religious life. The good sisters will receive a modest dowry, but His Majesty has determined that Laird MacIan will still receive the bulk of your dowry, because of his willingness to aid his king in this matter. Does that make it clear, my dear?”
Katherine trembled, feeling as if she had descended into swirling chaos. Trying not to reveal her inner turmoil, which would only add to his pleasure, she bowed her head and whispered, “Aye, Uncle. I understand.”
After a moment, she looked directly into the eyes of each of the three men staring at her. In Uncle Ambrose’s expression she read joy, in Diarmad’s pity, and in Laird MacIan’s iron determination. She wanted to run—she needed to think.
Her uncle prodded, “Well, my dearest Katherine, which will it be?”
“You want a decision now? Am I to be given no time to consider?”
In a colder, less unctuous voice, her uncle declared, “You must choose now. You can leave for the convent within the hour or, if you choose marriage, we will summon Father James and you can be married as soon as he arrives. Laird MacIan is anxious to return to the Highlands, so he wishes to depart immediately after you plight your troth to one another. Either way, you leave today.”
Katherine knew her uncle had won, she just didn’t know how he had done it. From the day her father died, Ambrose had wanted the title and lands that were to be held in reserve for her husband. How had this Highlander been convinced to marry her and relinquish all but a portion of her wealth? But the convent? She didn’t relish either option. Finally she said flatly, “I will marry.”
“Very well, I will send for Father James.”
As Katherine turned to leave, her uncle demanded, “Where are you going?”
She glanced down at the old gown she generally wore when working and realized the absurdity of this situation. She lifted her head and stared at him. “For the next few minutes at least, Uncle, I am Lady Katherine Ruthven. This is my keep. I am going to pack my things and dress for my wedding.”
She turned again to leave the great hall, and for the first time, she heard her betrothed’s voice. “Lass, one bag is all ye’ll be bringing.”
She nodded and quietly said, “Aye, Laird,” before leaving. Katherine paused at the bottom of the steps and waited for the messenger Uncle Ambrose would be sending to the priest. Stopping him before he left the keep, she asked him to deliver an additional message on his way. Then she climbed the stairs to her chambers.
~ * ~
Being already in a foul mood by the time he arrived at Cotharach Castle, Niall MacIan’s temperament only worsened at the enforced wait for the Lady Katherine to appear where he stood with her unpleasant uncle. When MacIan saw a servant enter the great hall instead of Lady Katherine, he reached his breaking point. He could not believe his ears when this servant addressed Ruthven as Uncle Ambrose. The lovely lass couldn’t be the one whispered about in Edinburgh Castle. Yet Sir Ruthven’s response indicated that this, indeed, was she. He stared boldly at her, taking in her honey-colored hair and small, willowy frame. The faded gown she wore revealed softly curving hips and full breasts.
Niall could only watch, speechless, as her uncle toyed with her like a cat with a mouse. At first she had appeared poised and impassive, but it didn’t take long for her mask to slip. He heard the panic rise in her voice, but surely she didn’t expect him to believe she was only concerned for her people? If she intended to manipulate his feelings by faking compassion, she would soon realize her folly.
Still, when she captured his gaze for a moment, it shocked Niall to see the fear and confusion in the green depths of her eyes. From out of nowhere, he felt a powerful urge to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he refused to give in to that weakness. Still, while Lady Katherine was likely the same faithless, self-absorbed creature he believed all women to be, at that moment he wanted to crush Ruthven for being an insensitive, manipulative cur.
Feeling it necessary to shake his unwelcome response towards her apparent vulnerability, and also determined to clearly establish his authority after her momentary show of spirit as she turned to leave them behind and ‘dress for her wedding.’ Before she disappeared, he spoke. “Lass, one bag is all ye’ll be bringing.” She immediately became the meek, subservient lass who had first walked into the hall. Although it was what he intended, for some reason he found it disconcerting.
~ * ~
Upon entering her chamber, Katherine found her maid, Emma, waiting. “I guess good news travels fast,” she said bitterly,
“Oh, my lady, what is going to happen to ye? Those Highlanders are huge. Ye’ll be killed for sure.” With that dire prediction, Emma burst into tears.
Katherine put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Don’t worry so, Emma. This is what the king wants and I will do it. Everything will be fine.” Dear God, she hoped with every fiber of her being that everything would be fine, but she doubted it herself.
“There isn’t much time and I need your help to get ready,” she said, hoping to get her distraught maid to concentrate. Even with the unusually warm day, Katherine would have given anything to slip into a warm, relaxing bath and attempt to come to terms with things, but she didn’t have time. Instead, with a few buckets of cold water, she refreshed herself with a quick wash. Emma helped her dress in a fresh white linen kirtle under her best deep blue linen gown, the neck, cuffs, and sleeves of which Katherine had embroidered with delicate, pale blue forget-me-nots like those growing near the loch by which Cotharach stood. Around her waist she fastened a gold belt that dropped low on her hips and she slipped on soft leather shoes. Emma unbraided and combed her lady’s hair, letting the mass of honey colored curls fall down Katherine’s back.
“I always thought your wedding would be a great event,” Emma said as she gathered Katherine’s things to pack. “We would have two things to celebrate—not only your wedding, but being well rid of your uncle, too.”
Funny, thought Katherine, at almost twenty, well past the age most noblewomen married, she had never given her wedding any thought. However, even if she had given in to such musings, she never would have imagined the one that awaited her. She smiled at her maid and said, “Well, at least we haven’t had ages to worry about it,” at which Emma burst into fresh tears.
When Emma’s tears stopped, Katherine helped her finish the packing. “I am to only bring one bag,” she said with mock sternness, making the maid giggle.
“Oh, my,” Emma said, in the same mocking tone. “How will you ever decide what to pack?”
Although very wealthy, Katherine had few belongings worth taking. Uncle Ambrose had confiscated all her jewelry and anything else of real value, ostensibly to safe-guard it. He only provided her with necessities—“to protect her from the sin of vanity”—so she took very good care of the few worn, faded garments she owned. She selected two white linen kirtles and the two least shabby of her gowns: a gold one made of soft light wool and a heavier, dark green one. Although the summer days had been very warm, she knew they were traveling north to the Highlands, where even in summer the nights might be cold, so she packed a woolen mantle, too. She removed the most important items from her sewing basket, rolled them in a short length of linen, and tucked it into the bag. This left room for several shifts; some linen toweling; the leather bag containing a small supply of healing herbs and other ingredients for potions, balms, and poultices; and her one luxury, a cake of sweet smelling soap imported from Spain. Finally she packed the only belongings holding any sentimental significance to her: her mother’s ivory comb and her father’s jeweled dagger.
“I suppose I’m ready,” she said to Emma.
“Go on, then. I’ll carry your things down.”
“Emma, I might not get to see you again before I leave. I may not be able to say farewell to anybody. Please tell everyone I will miss them and I will keep you all in my prayers. Take care of yourself, Emma, and stay out of my uncle’s way.” Before Emma had a chance to burst into tears again, Katherine gave her a quick hug and left.
~ * ~
After finalizing the business agreements relating to the marriage, Niall and Diarmad waited in the great hall with Ambrose Ruthven while Lady Katherine readied herself. Eventually Niall had to turn his back to stare into the cold hearth because he couldn’t stand seeing Ruthven’s barely contained joy. The greedy bastard’s pleasure sickened Niall, yet he couldn’t deny feeling a certain amount of disgust at himself as well. It took a very desperate man to accept this betrothal. Niall had been beyond desperate. He had no funds to pay even the interest on the crushing debt Clan MacIan held. He had journeyed to Edinburgh to request financial help from the king, only to learn King David II had a significant debt of his own. He owed King Edward III of England a colossal ransom—one hundred thousand marks sterling, with ten thousand marks due yearly on the nativity of St. John the Baptist. Apparently he had no compunction about bartering royal favor for coin, and clearly Ruthven had purchased such favor, inadvertently providing the solution to Niall’s problem as well.
Niall had to admit Ruthven’s attempts to deter his niece’s suitors were particularly effective. He remembered his stepmother’s unpleasant reaction when she learned of his pending marriage.
“Niall,” she had said, “I have heard about this creature you plan to wed. My poor boy, it must be humiliating to know this is the best you can do. Why I have heard, from people who know, mind you, not only is she brainless, but she is practically an ogre. They say she even has fits, and is a hunchback.” When he failed to respond to Eithne’s barbs, she added, “Well, hopefully your brother will find a more suitable wife. He is so good-natured and handsome, we will be able to have a proper wedding. Perhaps he will give me grandchildren of whom I can be proud.”
