Enchanted by the highlan.., p.1
Enchanted by the Highlander, page 1
Enchanted by the Highlander
A Guardians of the Isles Romance
Gerri Russell
A Little Highland Magic
Copyright© 2024 Gerri Russell
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2024
Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AI was not used to create any part of this book and no part of this book may be used for generative training.
ISBN: 978-1-962707-96-1
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Dedication
This novel, born from my imagination and fueled by countless cups of tea, is dedicated to my husband, my sons, and my daughters. You are all an unwavering source of inspiration and joy.
And to my readers, may these pages transport you to realms unknown, ignite your curiosity, and remind you that magic exists even in the mundane. As you read, know that every word carries a piece of my heart.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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
Author’s Note
Guardians of the Isles series
Special Preview of Taming the Highland Beauty
More books by Gerri Russell
About the Author
Prologue
London, England
Thursday, April 18th, 1743
“Come now, Rosalyn,” Lieutenant Long said, his wide grey eyes pleading with her for a small boon. “I am leaving for Scotland tonight, and I would take a kiss from you to keep me company on the frigid Scottish nights.”
In the morning light, Rosalyn de Clare looked around the small London park. Her gaze shifting from their horses, grazing on tendrils of fresh spring grass at the base of a tree to beyond, where fashionable men and women strolled along the path. “I would not want to cause a scandal.”
“One kiss. After all the attention I have given you as of late, it is at least my due.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him.
Rosalyn struggled in his arms. “I did not ask you to pay any particular attention to me. Please, James, release me now before someone sees us.”
“Everyone on the path has moved on. No one is near at present.” Lieutenant Long’s gaze shifted from her face to the parted edges of her collar before descending to where the fabric of her riding habit moulded over her breast.
Heat flooded Rosalyn’s cheeks. “Truly, James, you must release me,” she said tartly, starting to feel very uncomfortable with how alone they were behind the ancient oak tree. She never should have agreed to come with him on this outing without a maid or a footman.
He shifted closer, and Rosalyn’s heart jammed in her throat. His mouth descended towards hers. His hand drifted from her waist to the nape of her neck. Instead of fear, curiosity flared. She had never kissed a man before. His lips were hard as they slid against her lips, claiming her, marking her as his.
Uncertain of what to do with her hands, she left them to dangle at her sides as the kiss became harder, more insistent. It was then that she felt an unaccountable prickle of alarm scratch down her spine. She brought her hands up and pushed hard against James’s chest when a hot, hard part of him pressed against her. He gripped her arms and with one hand, tried to shove her down, while the other hand fumbled with the fall of his trousers.
For an instant, Rosalyn was paralysed by shock and fear, until a spark of rage erupted inside her. She twisted her shoulders, trying to free herself from his grip, but instead of freedom, his fingers dug into the fabric of her gown. The sleeve tore, exposing her shoulder.
Lust filled his gaze as his hand slipped from her shoulder to cup her partly exposed breast.
“No!” This man wanted more than a kiss from her. Rosalyn jerked her knee upward with furious strength, and she landed a blow to the most vulnerable part of him. His eyes flared as he howled and jerked back. She pulled out of his arms, her heart racing.
“What in heaven’s name is going on here?”
Rosalyn’s breath hitched as she looked to the left, horrified to see that what she had hoped to have been a private moment, was seen by none other than the Duchess of Leeds and several ladies and gentlemen in her company.
James, recovering far more quickly than Rosalyn, smiled at the great lady then nodded, as though nothing untoward had just happened. “Good day, Your Grace.”
The duchess returned the lieutenant’s smile, but when she turned to Rosalyn, her eyes narrowed with disdain. “Scandalous behaviour. Your brother will not be pleased.”
Rosalyn clutched the torn edges of her gown, trying to conceal her exposed flesh. Her heart pounded in her ears. The world swam before her eyes as she swayed on her feet.
“I should have expected such behaviour from you,” the duchess continued to berate her. Behind that woman, Rosalyn could hear the swelling of whispers that rippled on the morning breeze. Unable to bear their comments a moment longer, she forced her dizziness away and darted to her horse, jumped up onto the saddle, then fled past the startled, staring duchess and her friends.
Her heart thundering in her chest the entire journey home, Rosalyn raced to her room, locked the door, then buried her head in her pillows. Why had she ever agreed to go to the park with Lieutenant Long today? And why had she not run away when he had asked her for a kiss? Rosalyn knew, without a doubt, that whatever events happened next would not bode well for her.
Three hours later, she was summoned to the library by her brother. Upon entering the chamber, she saw his eyes narrow with annoyance and her stomach sank. She sat in the chair across from his desk. “You wished to see me?” Rosalyn tried to keep her voice from trembling.
“You have humiliated me to the depths of my soul with your wanton behaviour in the park today,” Hugh de Clare said brusquely.
“Hugh, I—”
“I do not want to hear your excuses. You played fast and loose and now you must suffer the consequences.”
“No, Hugh. You do not understand—”
His fist came crashing down against the table. “No, it is you who does not understand. You are ruined. Beyond repair. All of London is gossiping about your little indiscretion, and as a result I have done the only thing I can.”
“Which is?” Rosalyn tried to gather her wits, to find a way to reach through her brother’s anger, to the young man who had raised her since the death of their parents.
“I have acted within my rights as your guardian,” he bit out as his face flushed. “I’ve convinced Lieutenant Long that it is in his best interest to marry you, immediately.”
“You what?” she gasped, clutching the arms of the chair to control her shaking.
Her brother did not seem to notice or, more likely, did not care. “The only concession the military man asked was that you meet him in Scotland for the ceremony because his regiment was heading north forthwith.” Hugh narrowed his gaze on her. “You have two days to pack your things. I have arranged for several of my finest men to accompany you on your journey north.”
“Why are you doing this, Hugh?” Rosalyn asked with a shimmer of tears in her eyes, trying to understand her brother’s persistent cruelty to her. “I have done everything you ever asked of me, all while trying not to be an imposition.”
He stared past her at the wall with blank indifference. “I have asked Miss Amelia Jenkins to marry me, and she has accepted on the condition that she would not have to share this house with you. So, this arrangement with Lieutenant Long is auspicious for both of us. You will have a husband, and I will no longer be responsible for you when I take a wife.”
Rosalyn swallowed hard, trying to force back the tears that fell onto her cheeks. “Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind?”
“Not a damn thing,” Hugh bit out. “The arrangements have been made. You will join Lieutenant Long in Scotland in two days’ time.”
Chapter One
Dunvegan Castle, Isle of Skye, Scotland
Saturday, April 20th, 1743
As the sun set in the window behind him, Keiran MacLeod moved to the door of his chamber, hesitating for a moment. This evening marked that it had been a fortnight since he’d returned to Dunvegan Castle and his clan. He drew a tight breath. And every day since, his marriage-minded sisters and sisters-in-law had been parading at least one local lady before him with the hopes that she would catch his eye.
Tonight, he was certain they would bring forth Arabella, Gwendolyn’s sixteen-year-old sister, as a potential mate. At least that was what Gwendolyn, his brother Alastair’s wife, had intimated early in the day. Drawing a fortifying breath, he stepped from the chamber and was met by his sister Rowena.
“There you are. I was just coming up to look for you,” Rowena said. The fact that she had been leaning against the wall belied her statement. She’d been waiting for him to emerge. “What took you so long?” Her dark eyes narrowed.
It gave him a start every time how much Rowena looked like their mother. Dark hair, dark eyes, but with a kindness that seemed to shine from within. “I had a little trouble with my tartan.” It was a partial truth and as good an excuse as any for why he had lingered in his chamber so long.
“Come.” Rowena looped her arm through his, trying to pull him forward. “Arabella waits in the great hall for you.”
Keiran remained where he stood, resisting. Stolen by the fairies as a child, he’d been magically aged from only a month old to three and twenty by the fairy king who had no liking for infants. Oberon had aged him maturity-wise as well, though at times he still felt childlike in that he wanted to rage sometimes against all that had happened to him. He was a fairy, yet he was human. He belonged to two different families, two different worlds. His human family wanted so much for him to be like them, to pretend he’d never left them. But he had. He’d been a fairy for a while. Could he ever fully leave that part of himself behind and be the MacLeod they wanted?
Every day he tried to adjust to his new life among not only his kin, but also humans and their strange ways, such as why all the women of the castle seemed to want him to marry before he even figured out who he truly was in this realm. “Why are all of you so eager to see me wed?”
Rowena’s features fell. “We simply want you to be happy.”
“Wouldn’t I be happier if I was allowed to choose a bride myself? And in my own time?” he asked.
“It is just that since you’ve returned you have been so aloof, so sullen. I know all of us and this castle are unfamiliar to you, but we . . .” Rowena’s features pinched. “I want to see you settled or at least happy before Marcus and I leave on the morrow.”
There was a long silence before Keiran spoke. “I have been away a long time. I need more than another evening to readjust to my new life. Please give me the freedom of discovery at my own pace without rushing me into marriage.”
A pink tinge stained her cheeks. “But—”
“Sail off with Marcus to follow your dreams, Rowena. Mine will be found elsewhere and on my own time.”
She nodded. “You cannot blame a sister for trying.”
“I am more than certain Gwendolyn, Fiona, Isolde, and Aria will continue in your absence,” he said with a hint of humour.
She smiled as she shrugged. “You are on your own there, for I will be gone soon.” Her smile faded. “You may have been absent from Dunvegan Castle for nine years, but we all love you and only want what is best for you.”
“I can appreciate that, but I am still trying to reconcile my present with my past and learn how to be a human among humans.”
Rowena placed her hand against Keiran’s chest. “No matter where you have been or what has happened in the past, you are a MacLeod and not so different from the rest of your family.”
A jab of pain pierced his heart. If she only knew how different he was from everyone. “They accept me because they must, but I doubt any of you will ever truly understand me.”
“Give it time, Keiran. It was hard for the MacLeods to accept Marcus and even Aria at first, but they finally did.” Rowena offered him an encouraging smile. “Come along, we really must go to supper before the entire family comes looking for you.”
He remained rooted to the floor. “Only if you promise there will be no more matchmaking tonight.”
“I promise.” Without waiting for a response, she took his hand and dragged him down the stairs to the great hall. As expected, he had barely set foot in the chamber before Arabella was paraded before him.
“Good evening, Keiran,” Gwendolyn greeted at the doorway with one of her twin infants in her arms and Arabella at her side. “Might you sit with us tonight?”
Keiran offered the young girl a bow before tossing Gwendolyn an irritated scowl.
Rowena shook her head. “I promised Keiran a night free of entanglements,” she said as she continued escorting him past the pink-cheeked young woman. “Perhaps after a night spent talking about books with Orrick, battle techniques with Tormod, or the affairs of the estate with Alastair, he will be receptive of feminine companionship once again.”
Rowena finally released his arm as she approached the head table where his three eldest brothers—along with Graeme and Marcus—were seated. A large hand-drawn map was spread across the table before them. “I will leave you to your fate.” With a wink, she turned to rejoin Gwendolyn and Arabella.
“What was that all about?” Orrick asked, patting an open space on the bench beside him.
“A desperate attempt by Rowena to make me feel contrite for not falling into the plans your wives have for my future,” Keiran said as he slid onto the bench.
“You are safe with us,” Orrick said, his voice filled with affection as he clapped Keiran on the shoulder.
Alastair, his eldest brother and laird of their clan, poured then passed Keiran a mug of ale. He accepted it gratefully as he glanced at the men beside him. Next to his brothers sat Marcus, Rowena’s husband, and Graeme, Aria’s husband. Their faces were still unfamiliar, but their welcoming smiles were not. These men had been nothing but kind to Keiran since his arrival. They had walked him through every part of the estate, had battled with him in the lists—not going easy on him—for which he was thankful. That he had to work to succeed helped him feel a sense of accomplishment.
“Are you finding your way around the estate well enough?” Tormod asked.
Keiran sipped his ale then nodded. “Aye. I spend most of my days wandering around, since I have little else to do. Today I found a place on the northern side of the castle where the three of you—Alastair, Tormod, and Orrick—carved your initials into the stone.”
“I had forgotten about that.” Alastair laughed as supper was served.
Mrs Honey’s dinner was a simple affair. A fine stew of beef and vegetables braised in ale, with thick slices of yeasty bread, and more ale to wash it all down. When they had all finished, they returned their attention to Keiran.
“Are you feeling more at home?” Alastair asked.
Keiran raised his gaze to Alastair from the map that he had studied all through the meal. “I would feel more at ease if I had something to do besides surveying the estate. There must be some way I can contribute?”
“There is,” Alastair said, glancing once more at the map. “You have proven yourself to be intelligent and resourceful since you arrived here. It is time for us to start including you in the MacLeod family affairs. I would like you to become my estate manager.”
“Truly?” Keiran replied, his excitement growing.
“Aye. I shall go over each estate with you tomorrow and all the tasks managing them entails.”
“Whatever I can do to help.” Keiran smiled. Had his family finally accepted him for who he was? He had a history with the fairies, but the MacLeods did as well. For they all possessed a hint of fairy blood since the time four hundred years ago when Laird Iain Cair MacLeod married a fairy princess. Their child had passed down that trait to all the MacLeods since.
“I am glad you are willing to assist us because we need your help in an urgent matter. The threat of an English invasion grows daily,” Tormod explained, drawing Keiran’s attention back to the moment. “There are reports of the British army stationed here and here.” Tormod pointed to two areas on the map well away from where Keiran presumed Dunvegan to be, based on the shape of the familiar coastline. “The English are sending more troops all the time, growing ever closer to the Isle of Skye. The clans are growing anxious.”
