The Stolen Bride (Lions of the Black Isle Book 1) Read online

  The Stolen Bride

  Book One

  Lions of the Black Isle

  Sue-Ellen Welfonder & Tarah Scott

  USA Today and Bestselling Authors

  A Drakon Press Half Hour Read

  The Stolen Bride: Book One Lions of the Black Isle

  Copyright © 2017 by Tarah Scott and Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: R Jackson Designs

  Cover Art: Period Images

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  The Convenient Bride

  About the Authors

  Lions of the Black Isle

  Four brothers determined to restore their family’s glory… Four women destined to tame the Lions of the Black Isle… Four brand-new Highland tales from USA Today and bestselling authors Sue-Ellen Welfonder and Tarah Scott.

  Dedication

  For everyone who ever chased a dream... Or wished they had.

  Chapter One

  It is said that when a woman asks a reasonable question, a man should take care.

  “Are ye aware of every challenge you have faced since losing your father?” Brighid asked Aidan.

  Aidan knew his betrothed well enough to know that she wasn’t speaking of rebuilding the crumbling east wall of Kernwith Castle or planting extra winter crops. She meant herself.

  Her question interrupted the addition of a column of numbers in the rolls open on the desk before him. “I must see to the accounts, Brighid.” He noticed and ignored his younger brother Liam’s warning shake of the head. Liam—and their other two brothers who lounged about the room, barely concealing their disapproval—could go to the devil. “Ye know Liam will marry in little more than a month. If his future father-in-law learns we cannae afford a proper wedding feast, he is liable to call off the marriage. We simply cannot afford to return the dowry.”

  “Dinnae bring me into your argument,” Liam said. He tossed a glance at Brighid’s back. She now stared out the window near the hearth. “I am no’ stopping ye from keeping your promise to escort your betrothed to the village to help the local bairns gather eggs for the Pasch celebration.”

  “Never mind, Liam.” Brighid turned from the window. “He prefers to plan your wedding rather than spend an evening with me.”

  Aidan wrote the total of the column. “Would ye have me shirk my responsibility?”

  “God forbid,” she replied.

  “I know what ye are thinking—”

  “Nae,” she cut in. “Ye do no’.”

  He began adding another column

  “What man knows the mind of a woman?”

  “A man need pay attention but three heartbeats to learn what a woman wants,” she said.

  God’s bones, he’d lost count on the column he was adding. “Brighid, I cannae concentrate with you talking.” He looked up at her. “Ye know how difficult things have been since our father died. I cannae spare time—”

  “For me,” she interrupted. Brighid turned and, without a backwards glance, she left.

  ***

  Footsteps approached the stable stall and Aidan looked over his shoulder while keeping one palm flat against the belly of a pregnant mare.

  His brother Liam stepped into view and entered the stall. “How is she?”

  “The foal will come any time.”

  “A perfect wedding gift for my bride.”

  Father John appeared in the doorway.

  “Father, what are ye doing here?” Aidan asked.

  “Aidan.” Liam looked at the priest. “Father John has tidings.”

  “News? What priest delivers good tidings?” Aidan faced the mare and ran a hand down her back. “We lost Father two years ago. Who else can die that matters to us?”

  No answer followed and he glanced at them. Their grim expressions reminded him of the day Father John delivered the news that their father had died in a skirmish only five miles from home.

  Aidan faced them. “Connor—Broderick—they are well?”

  “Aye,” Liam said. “Our brothers are fine.”

  “What is it, then?”

  "Brighid has broken your betrothal.”

  Aidan frowned. “Broken it? What do ye mean?”

  Father John drew a breath. “Under Highland law of marriage and betrothal, Lady Brighid Murray rejects your union by mutual consent.”

  Aidan started. “No by my consent!”

  The priest glanced at Liam, who nodded, then looked back at Aidan and continued. “She hopes for your agreement. Her father will forgo the return of her bride price.”

  Disbelief sliced through him. “This is absurd. She agreed years ago to marry me—and was ecstatic when the betrothal became official. Why do this now?”

  “She wishes to marry another,” Father John said.

  “What?” He swung his gaze onto Liam. “This is her father’s doing. My title is no’ enough. He wants a rich earl.”

  “The baron has always liked ye,” Liam said.

  “Ye think she would willingly turn from me?”

  Liam faced the priest. “Father, will ye give me time alone with my brother?”

  “Of course.” The priest left and Liam faced Aidan.

  “She has lost her wits,” Aidan said.

  Liam leaned a shoulder against the door jamb. “Has she?”

  “What are ye saying?”

  “When was the last time ye bedded Brighid?”

  Aidan scowled. “That isnae your concern.”

  “Perhaps no’, but it is yours. A woman willnae sleep alone forever.”

  “I please her well enough.”

  “Well enough?” Liam snorted. “Christ, Aidan, if that is your attitude, I cannae blame her for looking elsewhere.”

  “Are you saying I should fuck my betrothed?”

  “I would no’ have put it that way, but it probably wouldnae hurt.” Liam straightened from the door. “She is lonely, Aidan. Even Broderick saw it last night when ye sent her home alone—again.”

  “If you want to run Kernwith Castle, I will gladly step aside.”

  “We all work hard, Brother. But it is no one’s fault but your own that ye shoulder as much as you do. There are four of us.”

  “Broderick—”

  “Our little brother will do his share—if ye let him.” Liam shrugged. “Do as you like. But remember, everything has a price. Ye might think about all those years Father spent alone after our mother died.”

  Aidan stared at Liam for three heartbeats then pushed past him and strode from the stables.

  Chapter Two

  Aidan ignored his meal—and the looks his brothers sent his way—and gulped the ale a boy set before him on the high table.

  “Do ye no’ think you have had enough?” Liam said.

  “Nae.” He reached for the ale jug and refilled his mug.

  “Leave him be,” Broderick said. “He prefers wal
lowing in sorrow.”

  “Go to the devil.” Ale sloshed over the rim of the mug onto his hand. Aidan set the pitcher down with a thunk and lifted the mug. He gulped the ale then reached for the pitcher again. A large hand covered his.

  “Nae, Aidan.”

  Aidan looked up at Connor.

  “We willnae watch ye kill yourself,” Connor said.

  Aidan shoved his chair back and rose. “Then I will drink elsewhere.”

  He turned toward the stairs at the far end of the great hall. Strong fingers grabbed his shoulder. He whirled, swinging his fist, and made painful contact with his brother’s jaw. At the loud crack, voices rose. Two brothers seized his arms. He charged into the nearest table and collided with the men sitting there. They crashed to the floor and the grips on his arms loosened. Aidan shoved to his feet, fists swinging wildly. He grazed someone’s head with his left fist and rammed his right fist into a belly.

  “Let him go,” someone shouted. Connor, he thought, but couldn’t be sure.

  Aidan staggered backwards, away from the mayhem, and turned this time toward the passage leading to the postern door. He bumped into a man as he stalked past a cluster of men and women gathered for the evening meal. A few more steps and he burst through the door. The chill night air hit like ice water. Still, he continued across the bailey and around the storehouse to the stables. Once there, he saddled his most spirited gelding, then swung up onto the beast’s back and spurred forward across the bailey. The gate stood open. Someone shouted for him to stop, but he kicked the horse’s belly and the animal galloped through the gate.

  * * *

  Brighid stared at the glowing red peat bricks in the hearth opposite her bed. Once, her and Aidan’s love had burned hot like those coals. Now, he barely acknowledged her. He hadn’t been the same since his father’s death. How she ached to take him in her arms and comfort him. But he’d closed his heart to the tragedy. She sobbed and buried her head in her pillow. How could she marry another man knowing that Aidan would always be so close?

  What did it matter? He was a short ride away, but might as well be many leagues from her empty arms.

  Her door creaked open and she held her breath. If her mother caught her crying, she would insist upon sleeping with her tonight. The bed dipped with her mother’s weight. Brighid sighed as if in sleep. The weight shifted and the mattress dipped violently as she was hauled out of bed. She screamed, but the blankets smothered her cries.

  Her cheek struck something hard. Her head whirled as she was spun. Someone—a man—held her in an iron grip against his chest. Brighid screamed and twisted in an effort to break free, but her captor’s hold tightened. A lightheaded sensation caused her stomach to pitch. Nae, don’t panic. She had to keep her wits.

  How had an intruder gotten inside the castle? How did he intend to leave with her wrapped in blankets, and without being seen? Her heart thundered. She screamed again and kicked as hard as she could. Her kidnapper grunted. She kicked again and was hauled over his shoulder, her arms pinned to her sides by the covers. His arms clamped down on her thighs.

  The deafening roar of blood in her ears caused her head to swim. The air in the blanket grew stale and her throat burned from screaming. She choked back a whimper. God help her, someone please hear her and stop him. Where were the warriors who prowled the castle? Someone had to see them. She needed air.

  Brighid dragged in a harsh breath. His shoulder dug into her belly and caused it to ache. Her attacker lurched forward. She cried out before understanding that he’d pushed through a door. Where were they? Tears stung her eyes.

  Her attention snapped onto a sound. Frogs? Impossible. That would mean they were outside. Her captor couldn’t have made it past the guards at the gate with her slung over his shoulder. He halted, then shifted. She swayed and, for an instant, thought they were falling before he righted. The creak of leather was followed by the queasiness of her stomach. Her bare foot bumped something hard, then her attacker lowered himself onto what she now realized was a saddle. He clicked his tongue and they jolted into motion. Sweet God, they were outside and he was riding away with her. How?

  He lifted her off his shoulder. Her relief squashed when her stomach pitched again. Her attacker settled her across hard thighs and drew her against his chest. He clicked his tongue and the horse broke into a gallop. Fear started a trembling that worked its way through her. She had to be dreaming. How had he slipped past the guards? Her thoughts slammed to a halt. The hidden passage that opened into an alcove near her bedchamber. Her mind raced.

  He knew her home’s secrets.

  Chapter Three

  When her captor reined in his horse, Brighid strained to catch noises that might tell her where they were. The frogs sounded louder. How long had they traveled? How far?

  Her attacker hugged her close, then shifted, and she realized he was sliding from the saddle. She jolted when his feet struck ground. He strode four paces, then the creak of wood beneath his boots told her he climbed stairs.

  He stopped and dread built to a pitch that threatened tears. Wood scraped and then a door slammed. He strode four more paces, stopped, then lowered her onto a pallet or mattress. Brighid flailed against the constricting blankets. At last, her head broke free of the tangled mess and she sucked in musty air. She shoved the blankets down her arms, kicked them away, and jumped to her feet in the darkened room. She leapt forward and her knee banged something hard. Crying out, she thrust her hand forward to break her fall and landed on the mattress. Tears sprang to her eyes. God help her, she’d gotten turned around when she leapt from the bed.

  Nearby rustling caused her to shove to a sitting position. A large form knelt on the floor mere feet away. She scooted backwards until her hip struck a wall, then froze. An instant later, a tiny fire flared. Fear lanced through her. A large man knelt before a small hearth. He lowered lit kindling to the twigs stuffed below stacked logs. The twigs caught fire. Brighid’s eyes adjusted enough to the darkened room that she discerned the door on the opposite wall. Eyes on the man as he fanned the flames, she carefully rose, then inched toward the door.

  "Sit back down, Brighid.”

  She froze at his voice. It couldn't be. "Aidan?"

  "Sit,” he said in a quiet voice.

  She stared. A long, thin flame flared upward as the smaller sticks crackled. He pushed to his feet and turned. His features remained in shadow, but she knew that jaw line too well. A tremble began in her belly and worked its way outward. Only this wasn't fear...

  Brighid took three long steps, stopped nose-to-chest in front of Aidan and stared up at his face. "How dare ye give me the scare of my life. " She balled her hands into fists. "If I were a man I would kill you. By God, have you gone mad?"

  "I could ask ye the same," he said.

  "Nae, ye can no’. I am no' the one who kidnapped you out of your bed." She slapped his face. Tiny tendrils of pain spiked through her fingers. Striking him had been like hitting a boulder of granite--granite that hadn't so much as flinched. "Take me home, now."

  "Soon enough," he replied.

  She frowned. The word ‘soon’ sounded like 'shoon.'

  A rap on the door caused her to spin in that direction. He strode to the door and opened it.

  "Munro," a man said.

  Brighid couldn’t see the speaker.

  “Aye." He stepped aside and a small man in monk's robes entered with two priests behind him.

  "I havenae much time," the first priest said as Aidan closed the door.

  Aidan nodded and returned to Brighid’s side. "Get on with it."

  The holy men hurriedly joined them—and she finally understood. “God have mercy.” Brighid retreated a step, but Aidan's arm shot around her waist and he pulled her close. He smelled of whiskey. She glared at him. "Release me, ye drunken ass."

  "I may be an ass, but I am no’ drunk,” he replied. “Tomorrow, I will remember every moment of our marriage. Begin, Priest.”

  The holy man cleared
his throat, then ordered them to clasp hands and declare their wish to be joined as man and wife.

  "I do no' wish to be joined as his wife," Brighid said between gritted teeth. The priest ignored her and she swung her gaze onto the other monks. “You are men of God. Ye cannae allow this.” She could have spoken to statues. "Let me go," she snapped as the first priest again asked if she agreed to take Aidan as her husband. "Nae, I do no’ take him, no’ as anything.”

  He released her and she staggered back a pace, breathing hard.

  “Does your promise to marry me mean nothing?” he said in a hoarse voice.

  Brighid stared. “What?”

  He stepped toward her. “Were ye lying to me the times ye called out my name and told me you loved me when you lay beneath me?”

  “What?” Her cheeks heated.

  “Was it all a lie?” he demanded.

  “N-Nae. I just-ye dinnae care for me anymore. Ye are busy and…”

  “And what?” he said. “Because I have attended to business instead of acting as lord of the manor and catering to my own desires.” He stared for a long moment, then said, “What kind of man would I be if I didnae secure our future?”

  “Ye dinnae even look at me anymore,” Brighid said. “Much less…” She glanced at the priests.

  “That will change.” He pulled her to his side. “Finish, Priest.”

  Brighid’s head spun as the priest pronounced them duly wed. Without a word, the three monks left. She stared at the door, still not quite certain exactly what had happened. Aidan abruptly swung her into his arms and tossed her onto the mattress.

  She started to push upward, but he pressed her down.

  She froze when he followed. It had been months since he had touched her and her head spun with the familiar weight of his body atop hers. She hadn’t thought to have him this close again. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Why cry, lass?” Aidan brushed his lips across hers and she tasted the whisky he’d been drinking.