Highland Daydreams

  Highland Daydreams

  The MacKinnon Clan Series

  Book Three

  April Holthaus

  Edited by: One More Time Editing LLC

  Cover Design by: Leanne Edwards

  Printed in the United States

  First Printing: September 2014

  ISBN-10: 1500179124

  ISBN-13: 978-1500179120

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2014 April Holthaus

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events or persons are purely coincidental. No part of this publication is allowed to be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the Sandberg Family of Minneapolis, Minnesota (descendants of Carl and Helen). I would not be the person I am today if it were not for my family.

  To my husband and son, your love and support encourage me to reach for my dreams!

  Acknowledgement

  I would like to give a special thanks to all of my readers and Facebook friends. Your support and encouragement have been greatly appreciated. Thank you for taking a chance on me!

  I would also like to send out a special thank you to my beta readers who have helped make this book be the best it can be! Thank you, Nicole Laverdure, Jennifer Green, Kimberly Court, Barbara Cooch, Rhonda Kirby, Maria McIntyre, and Stephanie Kennedy! And of course, Thanks to Helen, my editor for all of the last minute details and changes!

  Content

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Author’s Notes

  Preview: The Honor of a Highlander

  Preview: Escape to the Highlands

  Dear Readers Message

  About the Author

  Prologue

  July 22, 1298

  Falkirk, Scotland

  The sky darkened. Rain had fallen for more than an hour causing the ground to become slippery and muddy beneath Bram’s feet. Holding his sword high, he waited for Wallace’s battle cry. His breaths became labored and each exhale more intense. The noises around him were muffled over the sound of his heart beating loudly in his ears. Squeezing his grip tighter to steady the hilt of his broadsword, he waited. Clutching the strap of his shield, he pulled it firmly against his chest. Over the assembly of men and commotion, a call echoed.

  A sea of men on each side of him barreled down the hill toward their enemy. Bram had no time to think and he acted on instinct alone. Thrashing his sword, he cut down the first few men charging towards him from the left and then the right. He raised his shield when the whistling sound of falling arrows came closer and louder but he did not slow his pace. He used his shield to push past a group of warriors to advance further towards his enemy.

  For a brief moment, Bram stood in the middle of a clearing. Men had fought and fallen around him; both comrade and enemy. With eyes looking wildly about at the scene before him, he searched for his next victim. To his right, a soldier dressed in chainmail ran towards him. Sword drawn, he yelled out all sorts of blasphemies. Lowering his weapon with the blade directed towards Bram, the soldier readied himself to slice Bram through.

  Bram turned to fight off another opponent, who violently swung his sword harder and harder, forcing Bram to take short steps backwards. Bram leapt to the side, able to dodge the first blow, but met the second with the pure force of his blade. A forceful shot to Bram’s ribs sent ripples of pain throughout his body. He cried out in agony. Dropping to his knees, Bram wrapped one of his arms tightly around his chest and attempted to rise. But just as he was about to stand, the man took a sharp dirk out of his boot and slashed it across Bram’s abdomen.

  Bram could feel the heat of the blade as it sliced through his skin down to the muscle. Blood spilled down the front of him. Unexpectedly, a sudden dizzy spell overcame him. Bram doubled over and fell into a small puddle. Lying on the ground, he waited for death to take him. His eyes closed, the blackness came, and then there was nothing but silence.

  Chapter 1

  August, 1298

  Cumberland, England

  Dragging the heavy weight of the iron chain secured to her ankle, Lara scurried across the floor of her cell. She tucked her knees under her chin, and wrapped her arms securely around her legs, sitting quiet and still. As her stomach growled once more, Lara pressed her hands firmly against her stomach, wishing away her hunger. The boniness of her ribs beneath her hands told her that if she did not die of illness, she would certainly die of starvation.

  Lara was uncertain if it had been weeks or months she had spent within the bowels of the dungeon, for time did not exist within the darkness. She could no longer hear the desperate cries of her fellow cell mates, nor could she feel her own wounds or pains.

  Lara hid her face within the folds of what was left of her dress when she heard the guards making their way down the stone stairwell. As they entered this room in the dungeon, they yelled profanities at a prisoner they dragged with them. They threatened that if he didn’t walk faster they would pitch him down the stairs.

  She felt her body quiver with fear when she spied Roland, the heavier of the two guards. Roland had once visited Lara in her cell trying to satisfy his needs before he was reprimanded by another guard and forced back out of her cell. Angered by Roland’s attempted rape, the Earl of Cumberland had struck him so hard it created a grotesque scar across his face that left him almost unrecognizable.

  Since that wretched day, Roland accused Lara for what had happened, swearing that he would take his revenge out on her. He often tried to put the fear of God in her with his abhorrent threats. At times, Lara wished he would just get it over with so he would leave her alone.

  As he entered, Roland peeked around the bars and gave her a half smile. Lara looked away and clasped onto the hem of her skirt a little tighter. Roland turned and instructed the other guard to string up their prisoner by his wrists. The man stumbled forward as the guards dragged him to a wooden pole where a thick rope dangled from a beam on the ceiling. Wrapping the rope around his wrists, the guard tied the knot tightly. The prisoner was hoisted up and stretched from limb to limb.

  When they turned him to expose his bare back, the side of his face became visible in the soft light of the torch on the wall. It was him. He was the only one who never fought back or struggled when the guards came for him. Lara was unsure where his unbreakable strength came from, but knew that only a warrior could be so brave. The only spark of life Lara had left within her was the empathy she felt for this warrior who shared the cell next to hers. Lara shuddered as the crack of the whip bit into the man’s flesh. The prisoners around her yelled in the man’s defense, but no sound came from the captive himself. He just clenched his teeth and endured the pain. Lara could not tell how many times they struck him for she tried to block it out.

  In a chilling and raspy voice Roland demanded that
he be cut down. Lifting her head up, Lara watched as the warrior hung from the rafter, limp, his head hanging to one side. Sweat and blood glistened off his body. The guard took his blade out of its sheath and sliced the rope in two. In that instant, the warrior plummeted to the ground. The portly guard picked him up by his arms and began to drag him back into his cell.

  “Get in there!” the guard roared as he shoved him inside the small space.

  Roland held him down as the warrior was once again chained to the wall in iron shackles.

  Still curled up in the corner, Lara looked at him through the bars, tears streaming down her face. He looked broken, not only physically, but in spirit as well. She carefully watched the guards as they returned to their posts. She knew that one of them would head back up the stairs with the others while her tormentor would sit down on his chair outside her cell, tilt it back against the bars and slam back a tankard or two of whiskey. Their routine had become predictable the last several nights, and Lara had taken notice.

  “Hello, my beauty,” Roland whispered to her through the cell bars, so low that no one else could hear him.

  His breath smelled like rotten food and stale ale.

  “My body is aching for the sweetness between your thighs and I promise that you will enjoy it,” he threatened.

  “Perhaps ye would like a matching scar across the other side of yer face,” she threatened.

  Roland chuckled.

  “Oh how I love a woman with some fight in her.”

  Lara looked away from him and hugged her knees tighter into her chest. She prayed God would take her from this place. She would rather die than stay here another night. Resting her head upon her knees, she chewed her bottom lip, in an effort to keep herself from falling asleep. If she were to drift off, she would be left vulnerable, and Roland would surely have his way with her. It would be no different than what had been done to her by that despicable man Dermot, her husband.

  Married for no more than a sennight, Lara was still angry with herself for believing his sweet and flowery words. She had become so easily blinded by hope that she missed the obvious signs of treachery. She, like her father, had believed that the marriage of Lara and Dermot would end years of feuds between their clans. By uniting them there should have been peace. That is what Errol, Laird of Clan Moray swore his life upon with his very last breath; but no, in truth, his son Dermot proved to be a most vicious and vile man. He had chosen not to keep his father’s promise. But still, she never could have imagined that this would have happened.

  As if it were yesterday, she recalled the morning she pleaded with her father to void the contract and marry her off to another; any other. She had only met Dermot once, many years ago, but his rude and selfish behavior left a bitter taste in her mouth. Having to marry him made Lara’s stomach twist and churn.

  “Lara, ye are meddling in things in which ye should nay be meddling. Ye are ten and seven years old. ‘Tis time ye were married,” her father croaked.

  “Meddling? Is my life no’ my business? I will do my duty and marry the swine. But ye are sacrificing me to the wolves. How do ye ken ye can trust ‘em? Even their own priest had been condemned for treason. The Morays’ have ne’er kept their word or their promises. Surely ye can find me a better suitor and our clan a better ally.”

  Her father’s eyes darkened like the night sky and his brows furrowed. In a deep and lowered tone he replied, “We need this alliance, Lara. We have far too many enemies. Ye will do the Laird’s bidding if he so wishes it. Ye will marry the son of Laird Moray and that is the end of it. Ye will no’ defy me again. I have found ye a suitor who has the means to care fer ye. God only hope he can handle ye. I will no’ hear another word.”

  Lara’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud snore coming from outside her cell. With the guard asleep, Lara was sure that this time she would be able to slip her thin, bony wrists out of the shackles without notice. Lara reached out and wet her wrists from a small puddle of muddy water that had been leaking from the ceiling onto the ground. She began to vigorously twist her right hand back and forth successfully popping it out of its binding. Repeating the same thing with the other hand, she was able to free herself from the irons. Now she only needed the key to unlock the one around her ankle.

  Glancing around the room, she saw no one had noticed her actions, except for the nameless warrior whose heavy gaze sent chills down Lara’s spine. He watched her like a hawk watching his prey, but remained silent. On her hands and knees, Lara silently crawled towards Roland. Sliding her small hands through the bars, she slipped Roland’s dagger from his belt. With one forceful thrust, she stabbed the man in the back.

  Roland howled in agony. Lara twisted the blade and pulled it back out as blood gushed from his wound. It took only moments before his body became motionless and fell from his chair onto the ground. Lara promised herself that she would not mourn this loss of life though she would be dutiful and ask God for forgiveness.

  Lara’s arm ached as she stretched it as far as she could through the bars for the key ring latched to his belt. Once she retrieved it, she removed her ankle chain, staggered to the door of her cell, and swung the door open. The loud creak of steel echoed throughout the chamber. The prisoners around her had remained silent until now. Whispering in low voices they begged for her to help release them, but her time was precious and she knew that she could not save them all.

  With little time to escape, Lara crept towards the stairs. Putting one foot on the first step, she felt an unnerving tightness in her chest. She looked back over her shoulder to the injured warrior. His body was slumped to one side and his worn out arms hung lifeless from the chains. Seeing his helplessness, she knew she had to save him. She could not let a man as brave as he, die in here. Inspired by his valor and strength, Lara took courage. If it were not for him, she may never have had the bravery to take a man’s life to save her own.

  Quickly, but as quiet as a field mouse, she ran to his cell, turned the key in the lock, and unlatched the door. The warrior raised his head to her but said nothing. For a fleeting moment, Lara wondered if perhaps the warrior was a mute. For the past two weeks, he had not said one word. From above the staircase, Lara heard a noise from the guards. Worried that her escape would fail, she tossed the key ring at his side and prayed her small token of freedom would help him escape as well. Lara took off running up the long staircase.

  Once she reached the top step, Lara looked around and saw two guards sitting at a small round table in heavy debate. Their distraction and conversation made it easy for Lara to take the opportunity to examine the large open room. On each side of the room were two wooden support beams that held up the ceiling; just wide enough for Lara to hide behind, unnoticed, if she could get to them. When the guards weren’t looking, she held her breath and quickly advanced forward to the first beam.

  Pressing her back up against the first beam, she waited to see if the guards had noticed her presence. She could feel her chest rise and fall with each unsteady breath. Lara felt her knees start to buckle and she could not stop her hands from shaking. After a few minutes, she peeked around the wooden beam to see if all was clear. The guards continued to be distracted. Taking in another deep breath, she ran as quietly and swiftly as she could to the next one, stepping as light as a feather.

  Lara could feel the hairs on her arms rise and her heartbeat quicken. She had made it this far and now freedom was only a few more feet away. She prayed her attempt would be successful and not in vain. It had been a long while since she breathed in the crisp, fresh air and felt the earth beneath her feet. She was determined to do so again even if she had to kill every guard that stood in her way.

  As soon as she was able to look back at the guards, Lara heard the jingling sound of a chain coming from the stairs that led to the dungeon. The guards jumped from their chairs and ran over to the staircase to inspect the noise. Lara used the distraction to run to the alcove which framed the door.

  Carefully, she be
gan to turn the handle.

  “What do you think you are doing?” one of the guards yelled from across the room.

  Lara panicked; so frightened her body went stiff. Unexpectedly, she heard a loud painful moan followed by several grunts and heavy breathing from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the two guards engaged in a brawl with the nameless warrior who had managed to escape his cell as well. A crack to the jaw, a jab to the stomach, the warrior fell to his knees. His two attackers circled around and mocked him for his failed attempt to escape.

  Lara’s heart ached for him. He was in no condition to fight. But just as she thought his luck had run out, the warrior grabbed onto the back of one of the guard’s knees and pummeled him to the ground. Bringing his fist up high into the air, he swung down making contact with the guard’s nose knocking him out cold. Blood trickled down the guard’s face and spilled onto the floor.

  The other guard grabbed onto the warrior’s arms, but the warrior twisted his upper body, tossing the man over his shoulder and slamming him onto the ground. After a few more swings and punches, the warrior was able to render the second guard unconscious as well.

  Lara could feel goose bumps creep along her arms as the warrior limped toward her. He was taller than she had expected. From the dim light, all she could tell was that he had long hair with a matching beard, broad shoulders and a thin waistline. Still unable to make out his features, she watched as he looked past her out the door.

  “Run towards the trees, and follow me close,” he whispered, as he pushed her through the door and started running towards the dense forest.

  Chapter 2

  The blackness of night blinded Lara from seeing the low branches as she ran past them. Small twigs slashed across her face, stinging her cheeks. Too dark to see even a few feet ahead of her, Lara was uncertain where they were heading. Deep inside, she wanted to trust him, but still had reservations. Even though they had shared more than a week together in the same hellish pit, she knew nothing of him. And she had no cause or reason to trust him.