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The Highland Chieftain
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By Amy Jarecki
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After being unceremoniously jilted by her betrothed, Lady Mairi MacKenzie is humiliated and heartbroken – but she’s not desperate. As the daughter of an earl, she won’t give her hand to just anyone, and she definitely isn’t swayed by a last-minute proposal from Laird Duncan MacRae. The powerful clan chieftain may be disarmingly handsome and charming, but he’s not a nobleman. Mairi doesn’t want his pity or his charity – even though his dark smoldering gaze makes her melt with desire.
Dunn may be a battle-hardened clansman, but he’s always had a soft spot for Mairi. For years, she tormented him with flirtation – only to reject him. But he’s not giving up. When Mairi is attacked by redcoats, Dunn goes after the woman he loves. Through brute strength and fierce action, he will protect her life at any cost. But to win her heart, he will have to show her the tenderness in his own.
Excerpt
Acknowledgments
To all the amazing people who have helped with this novel, I am truly grateful. To my agent, Elaine Spencer, who shares my love of well-bred dogs and who is the only woman I know who can make miracles happen. To my fabulous editor, Leah Hultenschmidt, who is not only tactful, she is right most of the time. To the Grand Central Publishing Art Department, especially Craig White and Elizabeth Turner Stokes, for their brilliance in creating smoldering Highlander covers that ooze masculinity and foreboding. To Estelle Hallick for donning her armor and guiding my books through the tempestuous marketing maze, and to Mari Okuda and Angelina Krahn for their fastidious and diligent copyediting, without whom all my typing faux pas would be shamefully on display.
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I would also like to thank the volunteers at the various museums, castles, and estates I have visited in Scotland, especially the Highland Folk Museum for giving me a realistic glimpse into Highland life in the eighteenth century and more.
Chapter One
En route to Urqhart Castle, midsummer 1711
Bless it, you look worse than a rheumy-eyed ragamuffin.â Mairiâs father folded his gazette and slapped it on the bench beside him. âIâve had enough of your moping. âTis time to sit straight and wipe away those confounding tears. There will be many influential men at the gathering, and I expect you to show the aristocracy of Scotland that the House of Cromartie is undaunted by your recent misfortune.â
Her insides hollow and drained, Lady Mairi MacKenzie wiped a hand across her face, her gaze shifting to her father. Theyâd been riding in the coach for hours upon hours, yet the Earl of Cromartie looked as crisp as when theyâd set out at dawn. His long, curled periwig framed the hard angles of his face, his lace neckerchief tied perfectly beneath his chin. Da expected her to be thus composed regardless of if she was disgraced, ruined, and too mortified to ever again be seen in society.
How can I possibly face everyone and pretend nothing is amiss?
Sheâd pleaded with her father to allow her to remain home at Castle Leod, but nay, Mairi was given no choice but to hold her chin high and behave as if all was well. In the past, sheâd enjoyed attending Highland fetesâthe food, the dancing, meeting old friends, especially those of the male variety. But today, she was merely doing her duty. She didnât want to laugh or dance or be sociable. She wanted to hide in her bedchamber with the shutters closed.
She could envision it now. As soon as she alighted from the coach, everyone would stare and the ladies would whisper behind their fans about her woeful state of affairs. Mairi could hear the gossip as well: Redheads are the devilâs spawnâŠPoor Cromartie, heâll be lumbered with a spinster for the rest of his days.
All too soon, the coach rolled to a stop outside the crumbling gates of Urquhart Castle. Mairi closed the shutter, sat back, and crossed her arms.
Da reached over and tucked a curl under her bonnet. âCome, lass, âtis time to put the past behind you. Square your shoulders, and hold your chin high.â
Mairi gulped. Sheâd rather be facing a smithy with a pair of tongs and submit to a tooth extraction than show her face. âMust I? If the coach turned around right now, weâd arrive home byââ
âAbsolutely out of the question.â Da opened the door, climbed down the ladder, then thrust his hand inside. âCome, dearest, show the vultures you have a backbone of iron.â
She stared at the outstretched palm and drew a stuttering breath. Now she knew how a caged lion must feel, wanting to pounce but powerless to do so. Indeed, creating a scene would double her humiliation. With no other choice, Mairi took Daâs hand and climbed outside into the blinding sunlight. She swiftly opened her parasol, blinking rapidly.
Keeping her gaze downcast, she started for the drawbridge.
âTake heed!â a rider bellowed, reining a horse to a skidding stop as dirt and stones flew. The enormous black horse snorted and grunted, sidestepping. Mairi leaped out of the way while her parasol caught the wind, ripped from her hand, and flew to the ground.
âMâlady?â boomed the rider in a deep brogueâa familiar, rumbling voice that sent a shiver across the back of her neck.
Before she could stop herself, Mairi looked up. A tempest of butterflies swarmed in her stomach. Gooseflesh rose across her skin, making those tingles skitter down her spine. As far back as she remembered, Dunn MacRae had an unnerving effect on Mairiâs insides. The laird was braw and rugged, his midnight-blue eyes arresting and haunting. When standing, he towered over everyone with shoulders as wide as a horseâs hindquarter. He rarely smiled, and his shoulder-length hair was coarse and darkâjust like the man. This day, heâd clubbed it back with a ribbon, but an errant strand hung to the side of his face, making him look dangerous and menacing.
But those eyes grew narrow and filled with bitterness. He bowed his head. âAre you well, mâlady?â he asked, his tone gruff.
âWhat were you thinking, MacRae?â demanded her father, collecting the parasol. âDid you not see the coach?â
âForgive me, mâlord. My mind was elsewhere.â He tipped his hat to Mairi. âGood day.â
Mairi nodded, watching the backside of Laird MacRaeâs stallion disappear, tail swishing while horse and rider crossed the old drawbridge. Sighing, she took the parasol from Da and reassembled the shreds of her pride.
âLady Mairi!â A happier voice came from the crowd. As she turned, Janet Cameron grasped her by the elbow. ââTis so good to see you. I was afraid you mightnât come.â A close friend, Janet had charming blue eyes and a delicate face framed with blonde curls.
Wishing she were still home in her bedchamber safely concealed from society, Mairi gave the lass a look of exasperation. Everyone kens Iâve been cast aside and disgraced.
Da stepped in and clasped Janetâs hands. âIt is good to see you as well, Miss Cameron. My daughter is in sore need of companionship. I trust you can impart some of your bountiful cheer.â
âOh my.â Janetâs eyes grew wide. ââTis usually Her Ladyship who keeps me up all hours laughing.â
Mairi forced a smile. âIâm afraid Iâve lost my ability to make merry for the rest of my days.â
âRubbish. If I ken your nature, mâlady, youâll be dancing reels afore the gatheringâs end.â Janet pulled her away and toward the drawbridge. âTheyâll be serving the evening meal soon. Clan Grant have outdone themselves. Even my father was astonished.â
Grateful for something new to talk about, Mairi arched her eyebrows. âIs he not still feuding with the Grants? Iâm surprised you are here.â
âMe as well, but Da pushed aside his differences for the gathering.â Janet leaned closer while she lowered her voice. âThe cause, ye ken.â
Mairi nodded. Presently she couldnât give a fig about the Jacobite cause or plans for the succession.
Janet didnât seem to notice as the lass stepped up the pace. âYou absolutely must see the great hall. Theyâve made it look so medieval, âtis like traveling back in time two hundred years at least.â
Twirling her parasol, Mairi rolled her eyes. âDo not tell me there are knights wearing full suits of armor.â
Janet winked. âI havenât seen one as of yet, but thereâs still hope.â
Mairi tried not to laugh, but stifled a snort before it blew through her nose.
âIs this the latest fashion?â asked Janet, flicking the scalloped brim of the parasol. ââTis bonny.â
âAye, Da brought it from Franceâsaid all the ladies of the gentry are using them on the Continent.â
âYour father dotes on you. Iâm lucky if mine remembers my saintâs day.â
Mairi shook her head. Janet didnât know the half of it. âMine is a little too overbearing, Iâm afraid.â
Once inside the curtain walls, noise came from the enormous hall on the shore of Loch Ness. Mairi had only been to Urquhart once, and Janet was right. It was a relic from ages past and it bore many a battle scar. The sound of boisterous laughter made her stop short and grasp her friendâs arm. A hollow emptiness swelled in her chest. âI cannot go in there.â Dear Lord, she might swoon.
âOh my, you are melancholy, are you not?â
Blinking back sudden tears, Mairi drew her hand to her forehead. âEver so much.â
âCome, you must tell me everything afore the evening meal. I ken just the spot.â
Janet pulled Mairi through the grounds to the abandoned dovecote. Inside it was cool and the light dim. After folding the parasol, Mairi sat on a stone shelf while Janet joined her. Exhausted by the journey preceded by days of crying, Mairi allowed her shoulders to droop. Quite possibly, Janet was the only soul at the fete to whom she could pour out her woes. âIâm ruined,â she whispered as her throat constricted.
âOh, my dearest, I hate seeing you so miserable.â Janet patted Mairiâs hand. âPlease tell me what happened. Gossip is rife that the Earl of Seaforth married his ward.â
âAyeeee,â Mairi cried, hiding her face in her hands, trying to keep her tears at bay. âI still cannot believe it.â
âGood riddance, I say.â Janet waved her hand through the air as if breaking an engagement was but a trifle.
âGood riddance?â Unable to believe her ears, Mairiâs spine shot to rigid. âHeâs an earl, the man my family expected me to marry. Our fathers agreed to the betrothal when I was still in the cradleâa pact sealed by two great men.â
âOver a dram of whisky, rumor has it.â
âCurses to those scandalmongers!â
âI am truly sorry you have been hurt. It pains me to see you so melancholy.â
âThank you. Your concern means a great deal to me.â
Taking Her Ladyshipâs hand, Janet rubbed the back of it soothingly. âAs I recall, you once complained to me that the earl was never overly cordial toward you. Certainly, he was well mannered, but no more so toward you than anyone else.â
Forcing herself to swallow against her urge to sob, Mairi dabbed her eyes. âI have no idea what I did wrong.â
âThe fault does not lie with you. Not in the slightest.â Janet huffed. âRemember what you said last summer? You were worried about marrying Seaforth because you felt him distant. He was forever away and you scarcely had a chance to speak with him.â
Shaking her head, Mairi refused to listen. âBut Da always said the earl was acting like a typical bachelorâsaid heâd face his responsibility once he was ready to wed.â
âMm-hmm.â Janet looked away.
Mairiâs breath caught. Daâs reasoning had always been so convincing, and sheâd just blindly accepted it. Had Seaforth meant to rescind the agreement all along? Good Lord, sheâd made a fool of herself time and again. âWhat must everyone think of me?â
ââTis not you the clans are gossiping about. âTis Seaforth who must atone for his behavior. Everyone kens ye are a witty, bonny, and vivacious young woman who has limitless potential.â Janet clapped her hands. âAnd I hear youâve already shunned one suitorâa most braw Highlander at that.â
âDuncan MacRae?â Mairi asked, using his given name rather than the moniker of Dunn, which everyone knew him by. âOch, the man offered for my hand hours after Seaforth took his nuptialsââtwas merely an act of charity. My father avowed he only offered out of loyalty to the earl.â
âI think not. Heâs a chieftainâone who can wield a mighty sword, with lands and riches of his own. MacRae has earned the respect of Clan Cameron for certain.â
âAye.â Mairi heaved a sigh, her heart heavy. No matter how tempting MacRaeâs offer may have been, Da had already imparted her refusal, and there was no use harboring regrets. âThe Highlander has always been rather imposing.â
âImposing? Iâd say he looks like a gladiatorâalmost as handsome as Robert Grant.â
âAlmost?â Mairi might be melancholy, but she wasnât blind. Dunn MacRae was as handsome as he was brawâfar more fetching than Grant.
âMm-hmm.â Janetâs eyelashes fluttered.
Forming an O with her lips, Mairi gasped. âAre you smitten?â
âNever.â The lass blushed clear up to her blonde tresses. âThe Grants and the Camerons are always feuding about something. My admiration for Mr. Grant is simply a distant appreciation of a braw Highlanderâhis character is a different matter, however.â
Mairi almost chuckled. Janet was smitten, whether she believed herself to be or nay. âWhat is your father feuding about now?â
âAnother spat over lands.â
âAye, just like it has always been between men for the past two thousand years.â Mairi stuffed her kerchief back into her sleeve. âDa says the feudal ways of the Highlands are doomed.â
âThat mightnât be such a bad thing.â Janet sighed. âBut it will not happen today. Come, why not cast aside your woes and bat your eyelashes at Mr. MacRae?â
She groaned, giving her friend a look of exasperation. âBecause I have rejected him, thatâs why. Besides, Da insists he will not approve of my marriage to anyone less than a baron.â
âEarls can be inordinately difficult.â
âTell me something I do not already ken. Iâve lived with an earl my entire life, and it hasnât been easy.â
âYou make living at Castle Leod sound like a great burden.â
âAnd what about you? Achnacarry has opulence all its own.â
âAye, but my da leaves me be. He has my brothers to occupy his time.â
âI see. So you do not believe heâs scheming to arrange your marriage this very minute?â
Janet cringed. âHe wouldnât dareân-not without speaking to me about it first.â
Mairi heaved a sigh and looked to the rounded ceiling of the dovecote. âFathers. âTis a miracle they are not the death of us.â
In the distance a bell sounded, announcing the evening meal. Janet grasped Mairiâs hand. âWeâd best not be late. Besides, I wouldnât miss tonightâs meal for a dozen golden guineas.â
âJust so you can ogle the lads?â
Janet gave a wink. âThe men, mind you.â
Mairi took in a deep breath and allowed her friend to pull her toward the rising voices of the crowd. Most often Mairi would be the flirty one eager to join the throng and Janet would be aghast. How circumstances had changed in a mere fortnight.
However, the trip to Urquhart was not a complete debacle. Thanks to her friend, the despair clawing at Mairiâs heart had eased a bitâŠuntil they strode inside the hall.
Chapter Two
After crossing the drawbridge, Dunn, chieftain of Clan MacRae, glanced over his shoulder. Thank God Lady Mairi hadnât followed him across. Heâd naturally assumed sheâd send her apologies for this gathering and stay home. Late for a meeting with Robert Grant, heâd been riding at a brisk canter when the woman stepped in front of him without looking where she was headed. Dunn had almost run right over the lass.
Why Her Ladyship, and not any other woman in the Highlands?
Well, she was Cromartieâs burden, and Dunn wouldnât give the lass another thought.
Robert Grant, laird of Glenmoriston, had planned a fine midsummerâs gathering in the medieval remains of a once-formidable fortress. Presiding over the shores of Loch Ness, Urquhart Castle still commanded a sense of aweâeven with the turret of the gatehouse upside down in the dry moat, having been ravaged by Cromwellâs cannon during his invasion of Scotland sixty years prior.
A cool wind caressed his neck as he searched for Robert inside the grounds. Aye, air cleansed by the waters of the loch gave him a refreshing sense of freedom. There was nothing he enjoyed more than riding the Highlands with a dirk in his belt, a sword at his hip, and a flask of whisky in his sporran. Aye, Scotland pulsed through his blood with the rush of a roaring river.
Robert Grant bounded toward Dunn with a grin as wide as Black Rock Gorgeâa grin as sincere as Highland hospitality. âYouâre late, MacRae.â
ââTis still Friday, is it not?â Dunn dismounted and passed his reins to a groom. âGive the big fella an extra ration of oats. Beastieâs a Scottish-bred champion, none faster or stronger.â
âAye, sir.â The lad smoothed his hand along the stallionâs neck. âHeâs a beauty.â
âThat he is,â said Grant, grasping Dunnâs hand in a firm handshake.
âOch, âtis good to see you this fine day.â Dunn tossed the lad a coin before the boy led the horse into the stable. Then he squeezed his friendâs arm, giving him a challenging grin. âAre ye favoring muskets in the games?â
Affecting an affronted grimace, Grant thwacked him on the shoulder. âI can give you a right royal thrashing in the wrestling arena any day, any time.â
Dunn threw his head back and laughed. If ever he had heard a bold-faced lie, Robert Grant just spewed a gross fabrication. Too right, Dunn hadnât been bested since heâd achieved his majority, and everyone knew it well. âForever the combatant, are you not?â
âLife wouldnât be nearly as fun without a healthy feud to keep one amused.â Grant, renowned for feuding with most of his neighbors, gestured toward the manse. âCome, allow me to treat you to a dram of whisky to wash away the dust from the trail afore the others arrive.â
That brought a smile to Dunnâs lips. He wasnât surprised heâd arrived first. And heâd hoped to catch up on the latest news with his old friend. âWords to warm a manâs heart.â
âAnd his gullet,â added Grant.
Once inside the tower, Robert led the way to the old solar. âIâve brought in a table and chairs for meetings during the gathering. âTis rustic, but will do in a pinch.â
Dunn looked between the ancient stone walls while the heavy oak door closed behind them. âI think this is the perfect spot for the gathering. It will remind the Highland Defenders of their purposeâthe reason why weâre still at odds with the English. Tell me, when was Urquhart last occupied?â
âA Jacobite garrison in 1692. Itâs been falling into decay ever since. It would cost a kingâs fortune to make it livable again.â
He looked to the rafters. âWell, at least she still has a roof.â
Grant gestured to a high-backed chair before he moved to the sideboard and pulled the stopper out of a newfangled decanter. He poured two drams. âWhat trouble has the Earl of Seaforth encountered of late?â
Sitting, Dunn scratched the stubble on his jaw. Heâd shaved that morn, but his unruly beard always made a showing in the afternoon, the damnable whiskers. âNow that His Lordship is married, it seems his strife has gone on holiday for the time beingâbut it has only been a fortnight.â
Grant placed both glasses of whisky on the table. âI reckon thatâs a good thing. At least it affords you a chance to tend your own affairs.â
âAnd âtis about time, too. Iâve been watching Seaforthâs back for so long, my rents havenât been collected in two years.â
The shorter but solid chieftain took the chair opposite. âGood Lord, the crofters will never be able to meet the back payments.â
Dunn raised his glass. âI do not aim to make them.â
âWhat? Are you going soft in your old age?â
âOld age? Iâm thirty.â Dunn wasnât soft, either. The harvests for the past two years had been lean, and his kin needed respite. What kind of man was he if he did not give it?
ââTis generous of you.â The Grant laird gave him a once-over. âWhat other news? At thirty the chieftain of Clan MacRae ought to be thinking about settling down.â
The whisky burned all the way to Dunnâs gullet. Moreover, it burned with his friendâs words. When was he supposed to find time to marry? Not that he wanted to marry anyone, especially after Lady Mairiâs quick refusal. He looked at his glass and, rather than replying to his friendâs probing question, took another healthy swig.
Grant stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. âA tender subject, is it? I heard about your proposal to Mairi MacKenzie. But knowing you, I figured youâd brush it off, go out and wrestle a bull.â
âOch, I was daft to think the lass might favor me,â Dunn said with more of an edge to his voice than heâd intended. At every gathering heâd ever frequented where Lady Mairi had been in attendance, the lass had flirted with him mercilessly. And heâd done nothing but think back on all those encounters for the past several days. Had her favor been a figment of his imagination? All those smoldering looks, those coy glances across the many hallsâher compliments and her light touches on his arm. Had she vexed him because she was promised and therefore unavailable? None of it made senseâbut then Dunn had never met a woman who wasnât confounding.
âIf you ask me,â said Grant, âshe has her head up her arse on account of being the daughter of an earl.â
âBut I always thought her amusing. I reckon her father has soured herâthe bastard is hell-bent on marrying her off to a peer.â
âMairi MacKenzie?â A loud snort rumbled from Grantâs nose. âIt had best be a Scottish peer.â
The sarcasm in his friendâs voice made Dunnâs entire body tense. âWhy do you say that?â
âBecause the wee lassie will be a handful, and I reckon sheâd ride roughshod over any English nobleman. Sassenachs are just too damned soft.â
Dunn chuckled and swirled the liquid in his glass. He wouldnât mind having Mairi MacKenzie ride roughshod over himâor try. It certainly would make for good sport. Then he scowled, internally admonishing himself. I need to erase the woman from my memory.
âWhat you need is a good romp with a sturdy Highland wench.â
He raised his glass. âNow thatâs the most agreeable thing Iâve heard in days.â
*Â Â *Â Â *
After Dunn and Robert enjoyed two drams of whisky, they moved to the hall and switched to ale. The festivities were just beginning. Clan chiefs were expected to lead the merriment, and Dunn never slighted his duty. A stalwart devotion to clan and kin had been ingrained in him by his father from the cradle. MacRaeâs lot wasnât only to protect his own, but to protect and serve the lofty MacKenzies. An oath of fealty had been pledged centuries past, and the two clans had held up their side of the bargain ever since. Though it did chap him a wee bit to always walk in the shadow of Seaforth, Dunn knew his purpose and he would never turn his back on it.
No matter how pleasurable it was to sit in the sanctity of the solar with Robert Grant and sip fine Scotch whisky, social duty called, and ale would have to suffice for the duration of the night. The hall was already filled with shouts and laughter rising above the fiddlers and drummers on the mezzanine. A serving wench swished in from the kitchens, her hips swaying with her every step. She had ample curves both top and bottom, and a saucy smile to boot. The womanâs gaze shifted to Dunn, her expression growing bolder, looking as if she wanted to give him more than one of her frothing tankards of ale.
Possibly Grant was right. Dunn might enjoy a raucous toss in the hay with a buxom lass. God knew he needed it.
The corner of his mouth turned up as he assessed her from head to toe. She wore a corset atop her kirtle with a neckline scooping scandalously low. âIâll have one of those ales, lassie,â he said, beckoning her nearer.
Genre:
- A "fast-paced, expertly crafted romance."âPublishers Weekly
- "I enjoyed every minute of this story. Duncan was just so swoony, heroic, tender, and manly. ... There was a ton of action to keep your excitement heightened, but there was also a lot of heat between these characters as well. ...I highly recommend you get your hands on [it], especially if you are a fan of historical fiction because some of these characters are based upon real people. Overall, The Highland Chieftain was a smoking romance that was both endearing and sexy! I loved it!!"âThe Genre Minx
- "Amazing prose, detailed descriptions...and incredible love scenes that will have you grinning from ear to ear. Great historical detail...well done!âRomancing-the-Book.com
- "The Highland Chieftain is a captivating, romantic tale. If you enjoy adult historical fiction romance, you'll love The Highland Chieftain."âWrite-Escape.com
- "A gorgeous love story for the ages!âTheBookDisciple.com
- On Sale
- Jul 31, 2018
- Page Count
- 352 pages
- Publisher
- Forever
- ISBN-13
- 9781538729601
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