Claimed by a Savage Scot (Preview)
Chapter One
September 1608
Pluscarden Priory, near Elgin, Moray, northwest Scottish Highlands
“Phew, the weather is certainly warm for the time of year, even indoors,” Catriona Grant murmured to nobody but herself as she stood working at one of the herbarium’s long tables.
With a stone pestle, she pounded rhythmically at the fragrant clutch of fresh medicinal herbs in a large mortar, grinding them into a satisfyingly smooth, green paste. She enjoyed the work of preparing medicines and helping the nuns heal the sick as much as she did cool tranquility of the herbarium, where she could let her thoughts roam without censure.
So when that tranquility was abruptly shattered by a loud bang behind her, she dropped the pestle and almost jumped out of her skin. She turned and was taken aback to see the door flung wide open and none other than old Sister Mairi rushing into the room. At eighty-two and with a bad case of arthritis, the tiny woman was now bearing down on her at startling speed.
That was worrying, although not as much as the unfamiliar tight expression on the gentle old nun’s face.
Somethin’s wrong.
“Sister Mairi, whatever is the matter?” she asked, rushing to meet the woman. Mairi clutched her hands in her dry, papery ones and tugged at them, pulling her towards the door.
“Torcall Sinclair is the matter, lassie,” Mairi answered bluntly. “He’s somehow heard a rumor that yer braither’s got ye hidden here with us. He’s sent men tae find ye.”
Torcall Sinclair!
At the sound of the dreaded name, Catriona’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. The danger that had felt so distant only moments ago, almost forgotten after five years despite being the reason she was at the priory, suddenly leapt into life in front of her as if it were the monstrous man himself. Just the thought of him was so terrifying, her knees threatened to give way beneath her.
“Oh, dear God! Has he really come fer me after all this time?” she managed to gasp, for her throat was closing up in panic.
Mairi shook her head. “Nay, that accursed devil’s nae here himsel’ yet. But a rabble of his men have just ridden intae the courtyard out front, so he’s likely nae far behind.”
Cold with fear, she did not resist when Mairi gripped her arm with surprising strength and pulled her out into the long corridor outside. Turning right, she hurriedly started towards the rear of the building, heading for the far stairwell, towing Catriona behind her.
“Sister Glennis is goin’ out tae talk tae them, distract them while ye escape. Now, hurry up and follow me, lass!”
“Escape?” Catriona exclaimed, stunned. Familiar guilt stabbed at her, and she tried to slow and pull away from Mairi’s grip. “Sinclair’s men are here because of me. I’m the one puttin’ ye all in danger just by bein’ here. I’ll nae abandon ye after ye’ve all protected me fer so long. I must stay and help.”
But Sister Mairi would not let go and kept on dragging her forward. “Yer braither gave us strict orders tae get ye tae safety if Torcall Sinclair ever came here lookin’ fer ye. We’ll obey them, and so will ye. Now, hurry, lass.”
The mention of her brother and her longing to be reunited with him after five long years apart immediately overcame Catriona’s guilt at escaping and leaving the nuns to face Sinclair’s brutal mercies. Besides, she was honor bound to obey Duncan’s orders.
“Where are we goin’?” she asked, suddenly breathing in an acrid scent that caught the back of her throat. Glancing up, she gasped to see tendrils of smoke curling along the ceiling. Fire!
“Sister Mairi, there’s a fire!” she exclaimed, truly shaken by the reality of it.
But Mairi only gave a sharp nod in acknowledgement and continued on down the corridor, away from the encroaching smoke and the seat of the commotion.
“Aye, I expected as much, the wicked men have set the place afire. Even more reason to hurry now, lass,” she said matter-of-factly.
A few moments later, Catriona startled when the church bells next door suddenly erupted into a frantic cacophony, adding an air of alarm to the reverberating pounding coming from the front doors. Mairi, however, appeared not to hear them.
“What is that awful noise? It sounds like someone’s tryin’ tae batter down the front doors,” Catriona asked.
“That’s because that’s exactly what it is, lass. Sinclair’s men are impatient tae get inside and search fer ye,” Mairi replied.
Catriona went cold and quickened her pace. Sinclair’s men were breaking in to hunt her as if she were an animal!
By this time, the previously empty hallway had rapidly become a scene of chaos. Doors stood open along its length, knots of clearly agitated sisters and novices clustered around them. The anxious buzz of female voices joined the cacophony of steady thumping and a low roaring Catriona feared was the fire gaining ground.
“Dinnae stop,” Mairi told her, pushing through the bottleneck, keeping a tight hold on Catriona’s arm as she pulled her through the crush. They reached the end of the long hallway and veered off down the stairs.
From that point onwards, they steadily descended to the sub-basement, where the smoke had not yet penetrated. Eventually, they emerged onto a wide landing in front of the entrance to the priory’s crypt.
A small shrine to the side held several burning candles. Sister Mairi took one of them as well as an unlit half candle.
“Ye’ll need it. ’Tis pitch black in the tunnel, lass. I ken how scared ye are of the dark,” she said, gesturing for Catriona to open the vault door.
The vast, echoing vault was the final resting place of twelve former abbesses, whose stone coffins lay on plinths in neat rows that stretched away into resolute darkness. The flickering light provided by Mairi’s single candle barely touched it.
Catriona’s eyes were immediately drawn to a faint matching glow coming from the other side of the vault. She drew in a sharp breath of fear. Someone as yet unseen was standing over by the opposite wall, which was crammed with memorial plaques for the dead. “Is that one of Sinclair’s men?” she whispered, her feet slowing.
Mairi jerked her forward. “Nay, that’s the Maither Superior waitin’ fer us at the tunnel entrance,” she informed her, speeding towards the light. “Come along.”
Surprised yet also relieved by the knowledge, Catriona hurried after her.
The Abbess was indeed waiting for them. “They’ve set the byre afire,” she told Sister Mairi with supernatural calm.
“May they burn in hell,” Mairi cursed under her breath. Catriona watched as the Abbess produced a large iron key from inside her habit and press it into Mairi’s hand.
“Ye ken what tae dae, Mairi,” the Abbess said, nodding to the old nun, who wordlessly pressed a carved stone rose on one of the plaques. It popped open to reveal a hidden keyhole. Mairi slid the key into the lock, turning it swiftly and tugging the edge of the plaque.
It opened like a door onto a hole in the wall, and mind-numbing blackness beyond. One peek inside struck terror in Catriona’s heart.
The women started as loud male shouts, crashing doors, and thundering footfalls echoed from the upper floors.
“They’re gettin’ too close. Go, Catriona, while ye still can!” the Abbess urged her, shoving her towards the tunnel entrance.
Befuddled by mounting panic, Catriona hurriedly murmured a few inadequate words of gratitude to them both before climbing awkwardly into the tunnel. The musty air made her sneeze, and the gritty floor felt rough against the thin soles of her house slippers.
“Good luck, lass, I’ll miss ye. God bless ye and keep ye safe,” Mairi said, her voice cracking as she passed the lit half candle through the gap to Catriona.
“Thank ye.” Catriona took it gratefully, shielding the fragile flame with her cupped hand. It would be a blessed relief to have the small light with her while navigating the tunnel’s stultifying darkness.
Without it, despite the lure of her brother’s presence, she feared she might go mad before reaching the end.
“I’ll write as soon as I can,” she promised, hearing her voice break, feeling tears pressing at the back of her eyes.
“Dinnae be afraid, Catriona, dear,” the Mother Superior told her, anxiety edging her soft tone. “Hurry along now. We’ll pray fer ye, and God will protect ye. All will be well, ye’ll see.”
The little door began closing, shutting out the light. Panic leapt in Catriona’s breast, her heart thumping as the Abbess added, “Remember, just follow the tunnel where it leads ye for a short while. A man will be there waitin’ fer ye at the end. He’ll protect ye and escort ye tae safety.”
The door shut completely. In the circle of weak, flickering light from the candle, Catriona shivered at the sound of the stone plaque swinging closed, sealing her in.
Think of Duncan, she told herself, pushing down her fear as best she could. Finally, with a final steadying breath, she set off hesitantly into the darkness.
Chapter Two
Trailing one hand along the rough stone wall to steady her shaking limbs, the other holding the candle aloft, Catriona made her way slowly along the tunnel. Under her breath, she murmured a heartfelt prayer that her little light would not go out.
The unnerving sounds of Sinclair’s men methodically scouring the building for her seemed to intensify, each resounding thud or crash or bellowed command making her heart contract. Imagining seeing Duncan kept her going.
She was making good progress when she stumbled over a large stone. Though she managed to stay upright, in the upset, the candle slipped from her fingers.
The precious little flame winked out, plunging her into utter darkness. She froze, her breath catching, blood pounding in her ears. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to suppress the panic threatening to burst out of her, knowing that if she started screaming she would not stop and Sinclair’s men would find her.
“Keep calm, Cat,” she whispered shakily to herself. Reaching out a hand, she breathed a small sigh of relief when it encountered the reassuring solidity of the cold stone wall. “Ye can dae this. Ye’re nearly there. Think of Duncan and Elaina and home.”
It could have been five minutes or five years before the surrounding darkness began to lighten slightly. Catriona could not tell because she had lost all sense of time. All she knew was that there finally was enough blessed light for her to make out an opening up ahead.
I’ve done it, I’ve reached the end of the tunnel!
She sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward and quickened her pace, almost breathless with excitement to think that Duncan himself could be just a few feet away, waiting to take her home at last.
“Catriona, is that ye?”
The deep baritone whisper echoed off the walls and stopped her in her tracks, head tilted like a bird’s, listening. Up ahead, a large figure, unmistakably masculine, stepped out into the open from the shadows. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
“Catriona,” the harsh whisper came again. “Are ye there?”
“Aye, Duncan, ’tis me!” With her heart feeling as though it might explode with joy, she picked up her skirts and ran towards him.
Tears came as she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him with all her might, resting her head against the broad, hard expanse of chest, longing to feel her brother’s arms about her. Reassuring scents of wet leaves, horse, and leather filled her nostrils as she pressed her face into him, expecting him to return the embrace with equal enthusiasm.
Instead, a pair of large palms gripped her upper arms and moved her firmly backwards a few steps before releasing her.
“Braither?” she queried tremulously, peering up at the man in front of her in confusion. Something was off. In the dim light, she slowly made out his features. They were familiar all right, but they were not Duncan’s.
Her heart sank. “Malcolm? Malcolm Gordon. Is that ye?” she asked, unable to keep the naked disappointment from her voice.
“Christ, woman, keep yer voice down, will ye? Ye’ll have Sinclair’s men down on top of us in nae time,” he hissed. “Aye, ’tis me.”
“B-but what are ye daein’ here? Where’s Duncan? I thought—”
“Duncan couldnae get here in time himsel’, he’s too far away,” Malcolm replied tersely, his voice low. “So he asked me tae come and get ye in his place. There were rumors of Sinclair’s men sniffing around the area, so as soon as yer braither heard them he asked me tae come. Looks like I got here just in time! Now, hurry and give me yer hand. His men are all over the place. We need tae move fast before they find ye.” He held out a large hand towards her.
She eyed it with suspicion, unsure whether to trust him or not. The Malcolm Gordon she recalled from younger days was rather reckless and unreliable.
His brow creased with annoyance, as if reading her thoughts, but he did not withdraw his hand.
“I’m actin’ on Duncan’s orders,” he ground out. “Ye have a clear choice, come with me or go with Sinclair. Take yer pick.”
Catriona wavered for a moment before relenting. “I suppose I have nay choice but tae trust ye,” she murmured, reluctantly placing her hand in his. It was immediately lost within his long, strong fingers warmly closing firmly around it.
A loud crash suddenly sounded somewhere behind them, echoing through the tunnels. Catriona almost jumped out of her skin.
“Och, what was that?!” she exclaimed, heart pounding.
Malcolm’s hand squeezed hers, an attempt at reassurance she supposed.
“Shhh,” he whispered softly, still as a rock next to her. In the dim light, their eyes met, and he pressed a finger to his lips, listening intently for a few moments.
There was another bang, and a loud male voice yelled, “Search below in the tunnels!”
Malcolm suddenly pressed his lips to her ear, which sent a strange shiver running up her spine. “They’re gettin’ too close. We need tae move fast,” he whispered harshly. The warmth vanished. Before Catriona could react, he snatched his dirk from his belt with his free hand and tightened his hold on hers with the other. “Come on, this way.”
Catriona followed with the effort of running to keep up with his long strides as he pulled her along the tunnel for several more yards. She noticed it was growing progressively lighter as they moved forward and guessed they were nearing the exit. Fearfully, she wondered who or what would be waiting for her there. Freedom? Or Sinclair’s soldiers and lifetime of horror as Torcall Sinclair’s captive wife?
The growing clamor behind them indicated that Sinclair’s men were hot on their heels, but they had not so far encountered anyone. Malcolm suddenly swerved to the right, yanking her after him down another tunnel. Catriona looked down its length as she ran, relieved to see it was deserted as well. Luck seemed to be on their side so far.
Or perhaps the nuns’ prayers fer me are workin’.
They had not gone far down the new tunnel when men’s voices and the clang of steel echoed from the darkness ahead. Malcolm halted instantly, causing Catriona to run into his back. The leather-clad expanse was as hard and unforgiving as a barn door, leaving her winded.
“This way is clear, but that could change at any moment,” he murmured, dragging her along as if she were a rag doll, her feet barely touching the floor. “Ye must dae exactly what I tell ye if I’m tae get ye out of here in one piece as yer braither wishes, all right?” he added.
Not waiting for a response, he continued moving them with rapid stealth along the tunnel, clearly alert to the men behind them searching for her.
It grew lighter still, and Catriona could see a little more clearly. She could tell from the cold, smoke-tainted air blowing over them that they were fast approaching the exit. But loud voices and the trampling of booted feet close behind pressed on her.
Malcolm whispered, “They havenae seen us yet. With a bit more luck, we’ll get away clean.”
“God’s willing,” Catriona murmured, not reassured at all. Her doubts about his reliability as a protector had not gone away.
The neared the opening, which looked like it emerged into some bushes at the rear of the laundry. She knew the layout of the grounds well and considered breaking away from him once they were outside.
Duncan sent him tae fetch me and might be angry with me if I run. Ach, I’ve nae choice but tae trust him!
A few feet from the exit, Malcolm slowed their pace and crouched close to the wall, pulling her after him. To her relief, he loosened her wrist from his iron grip, but the next moment, she found herself pressed back against the wall, pinned in place by a disturbingly muscular arm that stretched across her belly like a belt. She could feel its heat penetrating her cloak, making her skin tingle. In those tense moments of impropriety, she was more afraid of it than Sinclair’s soldiers.
Afraid to breathe, she tried to shrink away from the arm, but there was no room. Her instinct was to shove it away, but she could not seem to move. It felt like God had intervened when sounds of her pursuers grew louder, spurring Malcolm to action. He removed his arm, and she let out the breath she had been holding.
He turned to her, his eyes dark pools, and whispered, “Jaysus, we need tae get out of here fast.” He grabbed her hand again. “We’ll be vulnerable outside so keep low and stick close by me. Come on!”
***
Malcolm pulled Catriona after him towards the opening leading outside. At the point where some light appeared against shadow, he halted them, keeping her behind him. He listened for a moment but heard nothing. So, he hesitantly stuck his head out and scanned the area around the thicket of bushes where he had entered earlier.
He saw no soldiers, but the air was heavy with smoke and ash. Plumes of smoke curled into the sky. The priory was on fire. He hoped the signs of destruction would not send Catriona into hysterics. If she screamed or ran amok, the soldiers would come running.
Best tae keep her movin’.
“’Tis clear. If we get separated head tae the orchard and wait fer me. Let’s go,” he whispered over his shoulder. Without waiting for an answer, he ducked down and crept cautiously forward through the bushes, pulling her after him.
The bushes formed the border to a narrow pathway, part of a network that traversed the neatly kept priory gardens. They needed to go right and then follow the pathways, weaving through the herb beds and outbuildings until they made the perimeter.
They got onto the path unseen and ran lightly along it until they came to a shed. He yanked her behind it after him and made her flatten herself against the wooden planks as they made their way to the far end of the building. When they reached it he peered around the corner, checking for Sinclair’s men. His luck held: it was clear.
“All right, come on,” he urged her, pushing her in front of him onto the path. They had only gone a few steps further when Catriona let out a gasp and jerked violently backwards, her hand torn from his grip.
Malcolm pivoted on the balls of his feet, dirk posed. A few feet away stood a heavily armed soldier wearing Sinclair colors. He had one hand clamped around Catriona’s neck, while the other held a dagger pointed at her throat. A cold chill ran down Malcolm’s spine, but he remained calm, meeting the soldier’s gaze unwaveringly.
“What have we here then?” the soldier asked, looking from Malcolm to Catriona and back with small, assessing eyes.
“If ye have any sense, ye’ll let her go,” Malcolm said quietly, moving infinitesimally closer.
The soldier grinned through yellowed teeth. “I dinnae ken who ye are, friend, but if ye dinnae back off, I’ll slit her throat,” he said, his blade waving dangerously close to Catriona’s eyes. They were fixed on Malcolm, full of fear and pleading.
Malcolm breathed and stepped forward another pace. “Nay, ye willnae. Yer maister will cut yer ballocks off and feed them tae his dogs if ye harm a hair on her head,” he countered reasonably.
The man’s bushy brows shot up. “So, this is the lass we’ve been searchin’ fer, is it? Thank ye, friend, I’m grateful tae ye. Looks like I’ll be keepin’ me ballocks and gettin’ a big reward from the boss fer findin’ her. I almost feel bad fer killin’ ye.”
“Dinnae be so hasty. How much does he pay ye in a twelvemonth, yer laird?” Malcolm asked, sidling nearer. “I’ll double it if ye give her tae me.”
The soldier seemed to consider it but then shook his head. “Nah, Laird Sinclair has promised a promotion tae the man who brings her tae him. That’s worth more tae—”
He did not finish the sentence because Malcolm’s fist smashed into his mouth. The soldier dropped the dirk and staggered backwards, blood pouring from a split lip. Malcolm wrenched Catriona away from him and pushed her down the pathway, wanting her at a safe distance while the fighting happened.
“Run, Cat, run! Make for the orchard, I’ll meet ye there!” he whisper-shouted, turning to meet the soldier. The man had retrieved his blade and was wielding it as he charged at Malcolm.
“Ye bastard, I’ll cut ye tae pieces fer that!” he roared, stabbing viciously at Malcolm’s face and throat.
Malcolm grunted, dexterously dodging the blows. At the same time, his left arm shot up, blocking the blade’s descending arc, knocking his foe off balance long enough for him to get a solid, two-hand grip on the man’s elbow joint. Using all his bodyweight, he bent the arm backwards. There was a sickening crunch. The soldier roared with pain, dropped his dirk again, then doubled over and vomited.
Malcolm brought up his own blade, and he was about to finish the fellow before he could raise the alarm when a slight movement to his right caught his eye. He flicked a fast glance in that direction, expecting another attacker, and did a double take.
To his amazement, Catriona was standing nearby, watching them fight. Anger at her disobedience flared inside him.
Did I nae tell her tae go?! And why is she starin’ like that?
“I told ye tae run!” he shouted at her, struggling to keep his eyes on her and his opponent at the same time. He noticed she had a small rock clutched in her fist.
What’s she daein’ with that?
Just then, she drew back her arm and flung the rock at the soldier with all her might. In disbelief, Malcolm tracked the missile, which hit the man’s injured arm, eliciting another yell of pain before it bounced off and landed in the bushes.
“What the hell dae ye think ye’re daein’?” Malcolm yelled at her, furious.
“I’m tryin’ tae help,” she shouted back, stooping to find another rock.
“Then dae as I tell ye and get out of here!” he roared, his anger waning for a moment in the face of her incredible, stupid courage. But when he thought of the danger she was in, it flared back up with fresh heat.
She daesnae trust me tae protect her, he realized, furious.
There was no time to check if she had obeyed him this time because Malcolm noticed his opponent was now scrabbling on the ground for his lost dirk. He found it and snatched it up with a snarl. Malcolm braced himself for a renewed attack, intending to dispatch the man quickly before his comrades heard his bellows of agony and came looking for him.
Maddened by pain and rage, the soldier charged at him again, slashing at him wildly. Malcolm directed his fury with Catriona at his opponent and deftly ducked the barrage of blows. He thrust upwards with his shoulder, blocking the blade’s trajectory, ramming into the man and knocking him backwards to the ground. Malcolm was on him in a moment, grabbing a handful of hair, and yanking back his head to expose his throat. With a quick slash of his dirk, he finished him off.
Panting, Malcolm threw the corpse to the ground and squatted next to it, extracting his dirk from its throat. Heedless of the fountain of crimson which spattered his boots and trews, he used the dead man’s coat to clean his blade before rising. The kill had done nothing to quell his anger with Catriona. It bubbled hotly in his belly while he rose to his feet, stuck the blade into his belt with his own.
Figuring it would buy them a little more time, he dragged the body into the concealing bushes and kicked dirt over the pooling blood. That done, he scanned the immediate vicinity for any other enemy soldiers and was glad to see none.
But that could change anytime, so we’d best get movin’.
He turned to Catriona, intending to give her a piece of his mind. But he pulled up short in surprise to find her standing beside him. She looked down at the corpse then up at him, her face partially hidden beneath her hood. He expected her to be shocked, frightened by the sight of blood and killing. But she showed no sign of it.
Is there somethin’ wrong with her? he wondered. Can she have changed so much from the lass who used tae cry over dead rabbits and nurse birds with broken wings back tae health? What happened tae her?
But he knew what had happened to her. Or rather, who.
That mad bastard Torcall Sinclair.
If you liked the preview, you can get the whole book here
Best selling books of Kenna
★★★★★ 266 ratings
This is the story of Gillian, an adventurous English lady who finds herself captured by a mysterious and alluring Highlander. This Highlander will do whatever it takes to save his people from hunger, even abduct the daughter of his enemy. But life seldom goes as planned. What will happen when the Highlander starts falling for Gillian? And will her feelings or her logic prevail in this peculiar turn of events?
Read the book
★★★★★ 208 ratings
This is the story of Julia, an intelligent English lady who runs away to escape her woes and finds herself in the keep of an enticing Highlander. This Highlander, as handsome as he may be, has serious economic troubles, and only a miracle can save him. But perhaps one's answer is closer than he thinks. How will he help her face the past that is haunting her? And how will she save him?
Read the book
★★★★★ 213 ratings
This is the story of Gale, an adventurous English lady who runs away to escape her murderous mother and finds herself in the company of an alluring Highlander. There she is called to change her ways, and he helps her see the world from a different point of view. But her past is catching up with her. How will she elude her mother? And will this be the only obstacle in their relationship?
Read the book