Highlander's Caress: Medieval Romance (The Fae Book 2)
Read Highlander's Caress: Medieval Romance (The Fae Book 2) Online
Authors: Joanne Wadsworth
One soul bound mate...one quest to find her.
Year 1211, Scottish Highlands.
Duncan MacKenzie is the Laird of Ardan House, an honorable and fierce Highland warrior on the chase for a band of enemy warriors who are intent on his destruction, only as he hunts them down, he runs into a lass who poses the greatest challenge. He’s drawn to the dark-haired enchantress who holds the fae ability to compel, a lass also intent on finding her brother who travels with the band of men he currently hunts. At every turn, she challenges his steely resolve, captivates and enthralls him, as well as unleashes his passion when it’s never arisen for another woman before.
Spirited lass Ella Matheson is stunned to discover that the maddeningly rugged warrior hunting down her brother is the very man who makes her heart beat faster and her soul lift higher—a man who is her soul bound mate. Finding her chosen one within the enemy’s ranks stuns her, yet she’s never given up a challenge, and now she’s bound and determined to bind this man who should be her enemy, right to her side.
Theirs is a battle of rivalry and dare, of untamed passion rising strong and true, and of a journey to forge the bond between two mates during a time of war.
The Matheson Brothers Series
Highlander’s Desire, (
Book 1
)
Highlander’s Passion, (
Book 2
)
Highlander’s Seduction, (
Book 3
)
Clan Matheson Series
Highlander’s Kiss, (
Book 1
)
Highlander’s Heart, (
Book 2
)
Highlander’s Sword, (
Book 3
)
The Fae Series
Highlander’s Bride, (
Book 1
)
Highlander’s Caress, (
Book 2
)
Highlander’s Touch, (Book 3) Coming Aug 2016
The Matheson Warriors Series
Highlander’s Claim, (Book 1
) Coming late 2016
Highlander’s Courage, (Book 2) Coming late 2016
Highlander’s Craving, (Book 3) Coming early 2017
Highlander Heat Series
Highlander’s Castle, (
Book 1
)
Highlander’s Magic, (
Book 2
)
Highlander’s Charm, (
Book 3
)
Highlander’s Guardian, (
Book 4
)
Highlander’s Faerie, (
Book 5
)
Highlander’s Champion, (
Book 6
)
Highlander’s Captive, (
Short Story Book 7
)
Regency Books (Standalone)
The Duke’s Bride, Coming 2016
Magio-Earth Series
Protector, (
Book 1
)
Warrior, (
Book 2
)
Enchanter, (
Book 3
)
Hunter, (
Short Story Book 4
)
Bodyguards Series
Witness Pursuit, (
Book 1
)
Bodyguard Pursuit, (
Book 2
)
~∞~
Contents
In the ninth century, the faerie king’s youngest son visited a village along the shores of Loch Alsh and fell in love with the chief’s daughter. The two wed and together created a half-blooded line born with the skills of the fae, a loyal line known as clan Matheson, a line guarded by the immortal fae princess, Cherub.
The Isle of Skye, Scotland, 1211.
“Lower the sail. All to oars.” In the dark of the night, Duncan MacKenzie stood at the helm of his war galley as his men saw to his orders. The sail swished down, and they slashed their oars into the deep waters of Loch Eishort, the wind rushing all around as they cruised ever closer toward Dunscaith Castle, the stronghold of his fiercest enemy.
A horn blasted across the bay, one loud and eerie peal, the point watchman clearly catching their arrival even under the blackness of the night sky. A second blast shrilled even louder and Duncan gritted his teeth. He’d tried to hide his arrival for as long as he could, but now the Chief of MacDonald would surely know his enemy approached, with absolute certainty.
At the stern, he fisted the hilt of his great two-handed claymore sitting snug at his side while up ahead, Dunscaith rose out of the dark, standing tall and strong on a low headland farther along the curve of the bay. The Fortress of Shadows ’twas called. An apt name, the castle always hidden within the murky shadows of the night each time he’d visited. Even now, only the merest touch of candlelight flickered ghostlike from the tower windows, the hefty swell of the sea surging in and battering the cliff-face rising high all around the heavily fortified keep.
With the stronghold built on an off-shore rock connected to the Isle of Skye by a walled bridge that spanned a gap of twenty feet or so, this fortress was near impenetrable. Only a sliver of pebbly sand sat to one side where the sea-gate butted into the stronghold, the guardsmen patrolling the battlements high above able to see with a bird’s eye view out across the bay and along Skye’s coastline to the west.
At the bow, his squire sat with wide eyes on the dreaded keep, the white flag he’d handed the lad when they’d set out earlier this night clenched tight in his fist.
Their time had arrived. He strode up the aisle and halted as he came abreast of Hamish standing at the center mast. Around him, his men continued to power through the rolling waves, their breath heaving and strength immense as they sent their galley cruising swiftly toward their destination. No hesitation. He had none either.
“I dinnae
see
this trip ending well.” Hamish, his second-in-command, eyed him, his man one of the full-blooded fae who held “the sight.” Hamish received visions whenever harm was about to befall them, had been instrumental in ensuring all had gone well for Duncan and his men of late.
“My father has been at war with the MacDonald for far too long, as have I. ’Tis time to lay our disputes to rest.”
“The MacDonald has no desire for peace talks. He wants to rule these isles and all within them.”
“A marriage of alliance could end our warring.” His father had put the proposal toward him, asked him to take it to the MacDonald.
“You too hold fae blood.” Hamish lowered his voice, his words traveling no farther than him. “One day you might discover you’re mated, and then there will be naught you can do about claiming the lass if you’ve gone and wed yourself to another.”
“I would have sensed the bond taking form afore now if I were in fact mated.” He kept his voice low as well. On board none knew of his fae blood which had come to him through his mother’s Matheson line, a mother he’d never known, would never know.
“That isnae always the way of the bond. We can only sense our chosen one once we’ve met them.”
“Then I’d have to set foot on Matheson land for that to occur, which I’ve only done once in all my years.” With one hand raised, he motioned to his squire and gave him the signal to wave the white flag.
At the edge of the sea-gate, a guardsman caught the fluttering cloth on the long stick as the lad thrust it from side to side. The guard hailed a warning shout to the sentry on the winding stairs, the man echoing the shout to the head guardsman on the ramparts above.
“Our time has come.” Duncan drew in a long, fortifying breath. “Let’s see if we can make it past their welcoming party.”
“I’ll be right beside you every step of the way.”
“Aye, as you’ve always been.” From the bow, he cupped his hands to his mouth and called to the MacDonald warriors standing at the sea-gate, “I am Duncan MacKenzie, the Laird of Ardan House, second-born son of Colin MacKenzie and I’ve come to speak to the Chief of MacDonald. I wish to enter into peace talks with him this night.”
Into the water, four of the MacDonald’s men waded toward him then gripped the sides of his vessel, their swords and battle axes hooked at their sides. The head man’s drilling gaze landed on him, a gory red scar crossing his forehead, one that barely missed his eye as it flowed down one cheek. “Ye’ll need to await confirmation from my chief afore being permitted any farther onto our land.”
“Duncan MacKenzie!” The Chief of MacDonald thundered down the winding stairs in his great plaid, his massive claymore holstered to his back, the hilt bobbing and catching the moonlight now peppering through the thick layer of darkened cloud above. The man’s beady black eyes glinted in the yellow torchlight at the base of the stony landing. “You’re fortunate I have no’ yet told my archers to release their arrows. By what means have you sailed to my shores this night with your flag of parley raised?”
“I’ve come at my father’s request. Colin MacKenzie wishes for a reconciliation between our clans.” Over the edge of the galley, he bounded and splashed into the water. He’d come and now would do his best to secure this proposal. Surging through the waves, he cut a fast path toward his enemy, gripped the stone landing and hoisted himself up. Water sluiced to his booted feet, his black battle leathers slick and wet, his weapons strapped to his body in every conceivable place. He might have accepted his father’s challenge to sail to Dunscaith for peace talks, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t protect and defend himself if the need arose. “I ask for you to hear me out this night.”
“There will be no peace talks between us.” MacDonald glared at Duncan’s men who rose to their feet in the galley at his snarl. “If either you or any of your men attempt to take my stronghold, I’ll ensure you’re all slaughtered where you stand.”
“Remain at ease.” He stilled his warriors with one hand then to the MacDonald muttered, “My chief requests a marriage of alliance between our clans, and I hereby ask for a formal betrothal agreement to be made between your eldest daughter and myself. ’Tis time to mend the discord between our clans and to move forward. What do you say?”
“Discord? You call our feud that of a simple discord?” Hands fisted at his sides and the muscle in his jaw ticking, MacDonald seethed with anger. “Naught but decades of warring and bloodshed lie between our clans and I will never, ever shackle my eldest daughter to you.”
“I would treasure her, ensure she remained well cared for and of course free to visit you as often as either you or she wished.” His mission to end this warring and gain a betrothal agreement was too important to walk away from now. “I give you my word that would be so.”
“Your word?” The MacDonald spat at his feet. “That is what I think of your—”
“Chief!” A MacDonald guardsman shouted as he ran along the barbican, one hand waving toward the tip of the bay. “Another MacKenzie galley approaches.”
Duncan jerked around. Hell and damnation. His father’s double-mast galley skimmed the waves toward him, his men slashing their oars through the tumbling waves. At the bow, a marksman stood with his longbow and sent an arrow soaring. It arched high then swished down and
thunked
into the ground, right between him and the MacDonald.
Scowling, MacDonald hauled the arrow from between the cracks in the rocky landing, gripped both ends and snapped it in half over one raised knee. He bellowed to his men on the battlements, “Archers, move into position.” A score of warriors raised longbows and slotted their arrows into place. “Release the arrows. Dinnae allow Colin MacKenzie near our shores.”
Flying high, arrows whizzed over Duncan’s head, one after the other before slicing down and pinging off shields his father’s warriors shoved high over their heads. A roar boomed from his father’s men and the galley caught a peaking wave and glided the whitecaps into shore. As the hull scraped the sea floor, his father and his men bounded over the side and swarmed onto the thin strip of the pebbly shoreline. With a fist pumped into the air, his father released a blood-curdling battle cry. “We take Dunscaith!”
“You are as devious as your father.” MacDonald snarled and snapped at Duncan, thrust his sword high and swung.
Duncan whipped his claymore free and met the deadly blow. Damn his scheming father. He’d placed all their lives on the line this night with his deceitful ways. “I was unaware of my father’s intent to join us.”
The MacDonald’s warriors thundered down the sea-gate stairs and Duncan’s men, left with no choice, bounded from his vessel and flooded the beach. The two clans crashed together with a mighty boom, steel ringing loud against steel.
“Your blood and that of every MacKenzie warrior who attacks my clan will soon soak this soil.” Gaze venomous, the MacDonald swung.
Elbows locked tight, Duncan caught the blow a mere inch from his nose, shoved one foot back and held his position while all around him within the near dark, his warriors fought on. Swords sliced into limbs and blood splattered the ground from both clans. Red swirled within the water and muddied the wash spilling onto the shore and across the slick landing.
“Gavin!” The MacDonald yelled to his nephew who hoisted from the water onto the stone landing behind Duncan. He’d met Gavin on the battlefield before and the warrior was a sly devil, devious and scheming.
Digging his feet in, Duncan met first Gavin’s blow then the MacDonald’s, both well-timed strikes following hard on the heels of the other as they kept him pinned between them.
“I’ll enjoy ridding these isles of you.” Gavin snorted, his red hair lying slick to his scalp and his beady black eyes glinting.
“I’m here.” Hamish heaved out of the water onto the landing next to him and slammed his blade into the MacDonald who caught his strike.
“All here will halt their fighting and listen to me well and true!” A piercing shout broke the battle and halted Duncan’s sword arm. “Every warrior with a weapon will lower it.” High on the battlements, a woman wearing tan pants and a vest over a white shirt stood at the corner crenellation, her dark locks streaming behind her in the wind and her voice rising strong and true. “Those from clan MacKenzie will retreat, and those from clan MacDonald will allow them to leave.”
Her fiercely compelling voice smothered him, drew him deep within her demand. Both the MacDonald and Gavin lowered their swords.
“You have a Matheson compeller in your midst?” Father snapped from along the beach. He scowled as he jerked backward through the swell, the lass’s demand that they retreat forcing his father back toward his galley.
“Aye, and your fight this night is done, Colin MacKenzie.” The lass glared at his father. “I am Ella from the House of Clan Matheson, and you will obey every word I speak. Gather your fallen and leave these shores.”
Father’s warriors slung their fallen comrades over their shoulders and stumbled through the waves and boarded their vessel. Duncan’s own men did the same, returning their injured to his galley.
“Be gone!” Ella’s hypnotic voice rang even louder, the gold flecks in her brown eyes flickering as she moved her gaze to him. “You too, Duncan MacKenzie. Leave, and know that my Matheson kinsmen are allied with clan MacDonald. Never will we allow you to take Dunscaith.”
So captivating. This spellbinding woman radiated such strength and passion. “You have done me the greatest favor this night.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement, lifted it again.
“Aye, I have. I’ve saved your big hide, so make sure once you leave, you dinnae return.” She leaned over the crenellation. “No more shall you fight this night. Am I understood?”
“I didnae wish for this battle, and never would I raise arms against you or any of your Matheson kin.” Not when he too held Matheson fae blood.
“I would win any battle if you did.” A teasing smile suddenly lifted her lips and she winked at him, actually winked. Naught more could have caught him off-guard.
“I would like to see you again.”
“Please, dinnae think to toy and flirt with me.” Frowning, she motioned to his vessel and issued one more command he could no longer ignore, “I said leave.”
“Come.” Hamish dragged at his arm.
Aye, he’d leave since he’d surely outstayed his welcome now. He jumped off the landing and splashed to his galley then along with his men, boarded his vessel.
Out of the bay, they rowed then raised the sail and caught the fresh breeze, the intriguing lass becoming naught more than a mere dot on the ramparts.
As he lost complete sight of her, his chest ached and a deep need to return to her slashed through him. Well, it appeared Ella Matheson wasn’t only a compeller, but an enchantress who could steal a man’s reason as well. “One day,” he murmured under his breath, “I will find you Ella Matheson and when I do, I intend to learn all I can about you.”
Aye, he wouldn’t rest until he’d spoken to her once more. Unraveling all her secrets would surely be a delight.
