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Claimed by the Highland Warrior
Michelle Willingham
HE WILL CLAIM THE WEDDING NIGHT THEY NEVER HAD!Bram MacKinloch has spent seven long, torturous years in captivity, with only three things to keep him alive: pure brute strength, a thirst for revenge and the memory of his pretty wife’s face. Shock is only one of the emotions coursing through Nairna’s body when she sees Bram again.His scars tell of suffering, and the hunger in his eyes speaks of a burning desire so raw it could consume them both. But a lot has changed since they so innocently wed…The MacKinloch Clan Highland warriors prepared to fight fiercely for their country…and for love
‘You’d better eat more than that, MacKinloch,’ Nairna ordered him. ‘You need to get your strength back.’
‘And what will I be needing the strength for, a ghaoil?’ Bram asked, taking her fingertips.
Her face coloured, and she held out a bite of fish, offering it to him. When she pushed the food into his mouth, her thumb brushed against his lip.
The soft touch brought him into a deeper awareness of her. He ignored the clan members gathering, and the sounds of their conversation grew muted. He looked into Nairna’s worried green eyes, and kept her fingers locked in his.
‘Bram, are you all right?’
No. He was tired, irritated at having to be around so many people, and his mind couldn’t stop thinking about the night he would spend with Nairna. The bawdy conversation was doing nothing to alleviate the sexual hunger he felt for her. He remembered her silken skin and the sweetness of her kiss. Even more, the way she’d clung to him when he’d kissed her only deepened his own arousal. He wanted to be alone with his wife right now. He wanted to explore her body, to learn the mysteries of a woman’s flesh. Unless she kept her hands off him, his control was going to break apart.
When her hand came up to stroke his cheek, all semblance of reason snapped.
AUTHOR NOTE
Ever since I saw the movie Braveheart I’ve longed to write a Highlander story of my own set during the era of William Wallace … only with a happy ending! Bram MacKinloch is a prisoner of war during this troubled time, and he must save his brother from the English who captured him.
After seven long years Nairna believes she’s lost her childhood sweetheart. But Fate gives her a second chance at love and a family. She tries to help Bram overcome his sleepless nights and horrifying memories, despite his belief that he doesn’t deserve happiness. It’s a story of healing and hope, and how two people can rekindle a lost love.
A friend of my father’s was a prisoner of war in the Vietnam conflict. His wife never knew what happened to him and he was believed dead until his shocking return years later. I can only imagine the feelings in her heart, and CLAIMED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR was inspired by their true-life love story.
There are a few additional things I want to note. During the early fourteenth century the Scots did not wear kilts, plaids or tartans; these came centuries later. Also, though they likely understood English, amongst each other the Highlanders would have spoken Gaelic. This is why I’ve left out the Scottish burr that’s common to many romances, since it wouldn’t have been part of a Highlander’s speech.
This past summer I visited the Scottish Highlands, and took many pictures that inspired my new mini-series. You’re welcome to view the photos at my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/michellewillinghamfans. You can also visit my website at www.michellewillingham.com for excerpts and behind-the-scenes details. I love to hear from readers and you may e-mail me at michelle@michellewillingham.com, or write via mail at PO Box 2242, Poquoson, VA 23662, USA.
Look for Alex MacKinloch’s story in
Seduced by Her Highland Warrior Coming soon
About the Author
MICHELLE WILLINGHAM grew up living in places all over the world, including Germany, England and Thailand. When her parents hauled her to antiques shows in manor houses and castles Michelle entertained herself by making up stories and pondering whether she could afford a broadsword with her allowance. She graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame, with a degree in English, and received her master’s degree in Education from George Mason University. Currently she teaches American History and English. She lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. She still doesn’t have her broadsword.
Visit her website at: www.michellewillingham.com, or e-mail her at michelle@michellewillingham.com
Previous novels by this author:
HER IRISH WARRIOR* (#ulink_3c67bef2-f84a-52f8-acef-ad31dd721290)
THE WARRIOR’S TOUCH* (#ulink_3c67bef2-f84a-52f8-acef-ad31dd721290)
HER WARRIOR KING* (#ulink_3c67bef2-f84a-52f8-acef-ad31dd721290)
HER WARRIOR SLAVE† (#ulink_c504e08b-1b5c-5442-9928-26d1caa17105)
THE ACCIDENTAL COUNTESS** (#ulink_3f019b31-77e5-5c9a-8092-25352d0de023)
THE ACCIDENTAL PRINCESS** (#ulink_3f019b31-77e5-5c9a-8092-25352d0de023)
TAMING HER IRISH WARRIOR* (#ulink_3c67bef2-f84a-52f8-acef-ad31dd721290)
SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR* (#ulink_3c67bef2-f84a-52f8-acef-ad31dd721290)
* (#ulink_d4643e93-a55e-5c96-8002-7f19af31987c)The MacEgan Brothers
† (#ulink_025fa27e-3e8d-5943-8e24-5419c76f0945)prequel to The MacEgan Brothers trilogy
** (#ulink_795761fc-1ac0-548a-b214-37522ed4afea)linked by character
Also available in Mills & Boon
Historical Undone! eBooks:
THE VIKING’S FORBIDDEN LOVE-SLAVE
THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN
AN ACCIDENTAL SEDUCTION**
INNOCENT IN THE HAREM
PLEASURED BY THE VIKING
Also available in Mills & Boon
Historical eBooks:
LIONHEART’S BRIDE
part of Royal Weddings Through the Ages
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Claimed by the
Highland Warrior
Michelle Willingham
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Acknowledgements:
With many thanks to Sharron Gunn for her help with researching the medieval Highlands and for being willing to answer so many of my questions.
Thanks to my editor Joanne Grant and to my agent Helen Breitwieser for their continued support and for challenging me with each and every book.
Both of you have helped me to grow as an author, and it’s deeply appreciated.
Chapter One
Ballaloch, Scotland—1305
Bram MacKinloch couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten or slept. The numbness consumed him, and all he could do now was keep going. He’d been imprisoned in the darkness for so many years, he’d forgotten what the sun felt like upon his skin. It blinded him, forcing him to keep his gaze fixed upon the ground.
God’s bones, he couldn’t even remember how long he’d been running. Exhaustion had blotted away the visions until he didn’t know how many English soldiers were pursuing him or where they were now. He’d stayed clear of the valley, keeping to the hills and the fir trees that would hide him from view.
His clothing and hair were soaked, after he’d swum through a river to mask his scent from the dogs.
Had there been dogs? He couldn’t remember anymore. Shadows blurred his mind, until he didn’t know reality from the nightmares.
Keep going, he ordered himself. Don’t stop. Not now.
His footing slipped as he crossed the top of the hill and he stumbled to the ground. Before he rose, he listened hard for the sound of his pursuers.
Nothing. Silence stretched across the Highlands, with only the sound of birds and insects breaking the stillness. He grabbed at the grass, using it to regain his balance. After he stood, he turned in a slow circle in all directions. From the top of the hill, he could see no one. Only the vast expanse of craggy green mountains and the clouded sky above him.
Freedom.
He drank in the sight, savouring the open air and the land that he’d missed these past seven years. Though he was far from home, these mountains were known to him, like old friends.
Bram steadied his breathing, taking a moment to rest. He should have been grateful that he’d broken free of his prison, but guilt held him captive now. His brother Callum was still locked away in that godforsaken place.
Let him be alive, Bram prayed. Let it not be too late. If he had to sell his own soul, he’d get Callum out. Especially after the price he’d paid for his own freedom.
He started moving west, towards Ballaloch. If he kept up his pace, it was possible to reach the fortress within the hour. He hadn’t been there in years, not since he was sixteen. The MacPhersons would grant him shelter, but would they remember or even recognise him?
Cold emptiness filled him, and he rubbed at his scarred wrists. The days without any rest had taken their toll, causing his hands to shake. What he wouldn’t give for a dreamless night, one where his mind no longer tormented him.
But one dream held steady, of the woman he’d thought about each night over the past seven years.
Nairna.
Despite the nightmares of his imprisonment, he’d kept her image fixed in his mind. Her green eyes, the brown hair that fell to her waist. The way she’d smiled at him, as if he were the only man she’d ever wanted.
A restless sense of regret pulled at him, as he wondered what had happened to her over the years. Had she grown to hate him? Or had she forgotten him? She would be different now. Changed, like he was.
After so many years lost, he didn’t expect her to feel anything towards him. And though he’d never wanted to leave her behind, Fate had dragged him down another path.
He reached to finger the edge of his tunic, touching the familiar stone that he’d kept hidden within a seam. Over the years, he’d nearly worn the small stone flat. Nairna had given him the token on the night he’d left to fight against the English. So many times, he’d clenched the stone during his imprisonment, as if he could reach out to her.
Her image had kept him from falling into madness, like an angel holding him back from hellfire. She’d given him a reason to live. A reason to fight.
Regret lowered his spirits, for it was unrealistic to imagine that she’d waited for him. After seven years, likely she would have put their memories in the past.
Unless she still loved him.
The thought was a thread of hope, one that kept him moving forwards. He was close to the MacPherson stronghold now and could take shelter with them for the night.
He imagined holding Nairna in his arms, breathing in the soft scent of her skin. Tasting her lips and forcing back the painful memories. He could lose himself in her and none of the past would matter.
As he crossed down into the valley, he saw Ballaloch, nestled between the hills like a gleaming pearl. Bram sat down on the grass, staring at the stronghold.
And then, behind him, he heard the sound of horses.
He struggled to his feet, his heart pounding. When he glanced behind him, he saw the glint of chainmail armour and soldiers.
No. The thought was a vicious command to himself. He couldn’t let himself be taken captive. Not again. Not after so many years of being a slave.
He tore down the hillside, his legs shaking. But his weak body betrayed him, his knees surrendering as he fell to the ground.
The stronghold was right there. Right within his reach.
Anguish ripped through him as he fought to rise, to make his legs move.
But even when he managed to run, they overtook him with their horses, dragging him up. Gloved hands took him by the shoulders, and as he fought, they dropped a hood over his head, blinding him.
Then they struck him down, and all fell into darkness.
‘Something’s wrong, Jenny,’ Nairna MacPherson muttered to her maid, staring out her window into the inner bailey. Four horsemen had arrived through the barbican gate, their leader dressed in chainmail armour and a conical helm. ‘English soldiers are here, but I don’t know why.’
‘Probably Harkirk’s men, come to demand more silver from your father,’ Jenny answered, closing the trunk. ‘But don’t be fretting. It’s his worry, not yours.’
Nairna turned away from the window, her mind stewing. ‘He shouldn’t have to bribe them. It’s not right.’
Robert Fitzroy, the English Baron of Harkirk, had set up his garrison west of her father’s fortress, a year after the Scottish defeat at Falkirk. There were hundreds of English outposts all across the Highlands and more emerging every year.
Her father had given them both his allegiance and his coins, simply to safeguard his people from attack.
Bloodsucking leeches. It had to stop.
‘I’m going to see why they’re here.’ She started to move towards the door, but Jenny stepped in her way.
The old woman’s brown eyes softened with sympathy. ‘We’re going back home this day, Nairna. I don’t think you’re wanting to start a disagreement with Hamish before ye return.’
The arrow of disapproval struck its intended target. Her shoulders lowered, and she wished there were something she could do to help her father. They were bleeding him dry, and she loathed the thought of what he’d done for his clan’s safety.
But Ballaloch was no longer her home. Neither was Callendon, though she’d lived there for the past four years while she’d been married to the chief of the MacDonnell clan.
Iver was dead now. And though she’d had a comfortable life with him, it had been an empty marriage. Nothing at all like the love she’d known before.
A tendril of grief slipped within her heart for the man she’d lost, so many years ago. Bram MacKinloch’s death had broken her apart, and no man could ever replace him.
Now, she was mistress of nothing and mother of no one. Iver’s son and his wife had already assumed the leadership of the clan and its holdings. Nairna was an afterthought, the widow left behind. No one of importance.
