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She can save his son, but can she resist the Highland warrior?
A Highland Feuding story
Famed healer Anna MacKenzie is moved by Davidh of Clan Cameron’s request to help his ailing young son.
She wants to help—and the commander has unknowingly provided the introduction to the clan she’s been looking for. But Anna has a secret, one that could jeopardize the fast-growing, heated passion between them…
A Highland Feuding miniseries
Book 1—Stolen by the Highlander Book 2—The Highlander’s Runaway Bride Book 3—Kidnapped by the Highland Rogue Book 4—Claiming His Highland Bride Book 5—A Healer for the Highlander
“A cleverly woven tale with lots of action and surprises, guaranteed to keep Highland fans happy.”
—RT Book Reviews on Claiming His Highland Bride
“Another fast paced, non-stop action, mesmerizing riveting starcrossed romantic adventure!”
—Tartan Book Reviews on Kidnapped by the Highland Rogue
TERRI BRISBIN is wife to one, mother of three, and dental hygienist to hundreds—when not living the life of a glamorous romance author. She was born, raised, and is still living in the southern New Jersey suburbs. Terri’s love of history has led her to write time-travel romances and historical romances set in Scotland and England.
Also by Terri Brisbin
A Highland Feuding miniseries
Stolen by the Highlander
The Highlander’s Runaway Bride
Kidnapped by the Highland Rogue
Claiming His Highland Bride
A Healer for the Highlander
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
A Healer for the Highlander
Terri Brisbin
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-07422-3
A HEALER FOR THE HIGHLANDER
© 2018 Theresa S. Brisbin
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
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I lost two of the most important women in my life
this last year—my sister and my mother-in-law.
They were both amazing, strong, loving women
and I will miss them terribly.
To MaryAnn, my sister, who fought valiantly to live
but died with grace. Mar, I miss you.
To the other Theresa Brisbin, my mother-in-law,
who gave me her eldest son to marry and who was
one of my very first readers. Mom, I learned so much
from you and appreciated your help and guidance
all these years. You’ve earned your rest, lady.
Acknowledgements
I want to thank the Editorial staff at Mills & Boon for all their support, patience and understanding as I wrote this book. Thanks to Linda Fildew, my editor, for always being kind and having my back, and to Bryony Green for understanding the difficult challenges and losses that life has thrown at me these last two years.
Thanks to my agent, Pam Hopkins, who calmly answered my panicked calls and emails as I wrote this book. And for her guidance and support while I struggled to find the story that grief had almost destroyed.
And a special thanks to Susan Zen-Ruffinen, my stalwart companion, who travelled with me to Scotland to find all the Clan Cameron places. She became my research assistant, my videographer (on some hysterical travel videos!) and allowed me to take any turn-off on any road in the Highlands and Islands except one—Bealach na Bà, over the mountains to Applecross! Next time, Susan!
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
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
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Extract
About the Publisher
Prologue
The Lands of Clan Cameron, Loch Arkaig, Scotland —the year of Our Lord 1358
Anna Mackenzie watched as Malcolm walked to the edge of the falls and began the long and dangerous climb down the slippery rocks. She tried to stop herself, but she ran to the edge when his head disappeared and she kept him in sight until he reached the bottom. He turned and waved to her before moving off into the forest towards the village and keep near the loch.
Sighing as she wrapped her arms around herself, Anna closed her eyes then and allowed the memories of the last hours to surround her once more. They had laughed and run and kissed...and loved. She loved him more than her own life.
For Malcolm, the only son of Euan Cameron, had braved the rumours and stories about the witch of Caig Falls and come to find the truth. And he’d found Anna, not her mother. She sighed again for they’d found love. It mattered not if she was the daughter of the ‘witch’ and he the son of the chieftain. It mattered not if they were young. It simply mattered that they were in love and would be together. They made vows to be together and he’d given her a sign of that promise which she carried now close to her heart.
After several moments, the sound of footsteps behind her shook her from her reverie and she turned to find her mother there in the shadows staring at her. How long had she been there?
‘Anna, I need your help,’ her mother said. Had she seen Malcolm there? From her tone, Anna could not tell. Her mother did not wait for her agreement or refusal, but simply turned and walked back into the forest.
She followed her mother back along the hidden path to the garden she tended in a sheltered place in the thick growth of trees there. Though she could see it plainly, no one else, not the villagers who came searching or Malcolm ever seemed to find it. Until he did.
‘We must finish picking the last of these,’ her mother said, pointing to several rows of herbs and other plants.
‘You have plenty of that already, Mam,’ Anna said. ‘We dried it just a fortnight ago.’
‘We will need more,’ her mother said, walking over and picking up one of the baskets that always waited there. She held it out to Anna and motioned for her to begin.
It did not make sense. There was a timing to harvesting the plants and herbs that Lara Mackenzie depended on for healing and treating ailments and afflictions. No one knew that better or more accurately than her mother and yet, here she was, picking things ahead of their time.
* * *
Anna did her mother’s bidding and, over the next hours, they gathered everything that was at or near readiness. A strange wariness filled Anna as night came and her mother continued to gather and sort and wrap all the plants and herbs they’d collected. When her mother sat at the wide, worn table and just stared into the dark corner of the cottage, Anna went to her and finally asked the question that had haunted her all day.
‘Are we leaving here, Mam?’
‘Aye, on the morrow.’
The few and simple words tore Anna’s heart apart. Her hands shook as she thought on the possibilities facing her now. Had her mother discovered her secret? Her secrets? Anna had been so careful not to bring Malcolm close to the cottage or the hidden garden. What did her mother know?
‘Why? Why would you leave this all behind? Where will we go?’ Anna stood and walked to the window. Resting her hands on the shutter, she stared past the rough wood and out at the forest surrounding their dwelling, waiting on her mother’s explanation.
‘Ye’ve been caught, Anna. Are ye three months gone now?’
Anna’s hands slid down over her belly in a movement she could not stop. She did not want to turn to face her mother and see the disappointment and disapproval in her gaze. But when she did she saw sadness, a touch of pity, but mostly the glimmer of love there.
‘Aye, Mam. Or close to it.’
‘When were ye going to tell me, lass?’
Anna swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She’d never kept secrets from her mother...until Malcolm. Keeping the knowledge of him and their love felt right. Or it had before this moment. ‘I would have told ye, Mam. He... Mal said he would tell his father and then we could...’
‘Malcolm Cameron, the chieftain’s son?’ Anna nodded. ‘Ye thought to marry him? The chieftain’s son would marry the penniless bastard daughter of the witch of Caig Falls? Ye ken better than that, Anna.’
Her mother’s words forced her to see the harsh and stark situation as it was—not as she’d hoped or pretended it could be. It was much more romantic to believe his promise that they would be together and the vows they’d made to each other. To believe that the child they’d made would be welcomed by his kin. To believe that she would be, too. Anna let out a sigh, releasing all the pretences she’d built around the sad truth of the matter.
Her mother walked to her and gathered her close. ‘All will be well, lass.’ They stood in silence for a few minutes until her mother released her, clutching her by the shoulders and searching her face. ‘My kin will take us in until we sort this out.’
Anna nodded, fighting the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I want to tell him before we leave.’
‘Nay. ’Tis too dangerous. If he kens, he will do something foolish and we will face more trouble than we could manage. I have seen this before, Anna. If a woman is called a witch, which is what Euan Cameron will do to me before his clan if it suits his purposes, she dies. Our only choice is to leave. Leave now. Leave quietly.’
Anna would have argued and protested, but the stony expression in her mother’s eyes told her she would fail to soften or sway her decision. The happiness she’d felt, the sense of love and anticipation, fled and a deep despair filled her. Her child would never know their father or their kin. Anna shivered as a wave of dread passed through her. Somehow, in that terrible, sad moment, she kenned she would never see Malcolm again. Never hold him. Never love him.
* * *
The next days and weeks passed in a blur as Anna and her mother packed and fled the glen and their home above Caig Falls for the north. Her mother’s kin, the Mackenzies, did take them in and her child, a boy, was born among them six months later. When word reached them of Malcolm’s death at the hands of Brodie Mackintosh three years later, Anna remembered the portent of it she’d felt that day.
And she mourned his death and the end of all the possibilities they’d shared. Mayhap one day she would return to Cameron lands and give her son, Malcolm’s son, the opportunity to be part of his father’s kith and kin.
Mayhap one day...
Chapter One
Achnacarry Castle on Loch Arkaig —spring, the year of Our Lord 1371
Davidh Cameron stood at his laird’s back, listening and watching as the chieftain of their clan heard grievances and pleas. As the man who led the warriors of the Clan Cameron here on their southern lands, it was his duty to attend these hearings. But, more than once, he glanced up as someone or another arrived in the hall and approached in haste.
He let himself relax only when he saw that it was not someone from the village. When his laird stopped in the middle of speaking to a man and looked at him, Davidh understood his actions had been more apparent than he’d hoped.
‘Ye can go,’ the laird said, nodding towards the doorway. ‘This does not need your attention.’
His stomach clenched then, as he realised his inattention had been noticed and acknowledged. Davidh leaned closer to Robert Cameron’s ear.
‘They will send word if I am needed, my lord. I will see to my duties here.’ Davidh waited for a reply and, when none came, he stepped back to his place behind the chieftain’s chair.
He did not wish to shirk his duties. As commander of the clan’s warriors, his place was at his chieftain’s back during his official meetings and when he travelled or carried out other duties. The last thing Davidh wanted was to be absent when he was needed by his laird.
The business of the clan went on for some time and yet Davidh found himself distracted. What if Colm worsened? What if his breathing became even more laboured than it had been last night? It seemed that the boy failed more with each passing day. What would he do if the worst happened? How could he survive if he lost his son after losing his wife and more recently his own parents?
The last years seemed to be filled with only death and destruction for Davidh and his kin. The only good thing that had happened was the ascension of Robert Cameron to the high chair of the Clan Cameron. Thankfully, the laird’s brother Gilbert had ruled for only a few short years, but those years had driven their clan to the brink of a bigger conflict with not only their long-time enemies the Mackintoshes, but also the larger Chattan Confederation. And Gilbert had managed to target his brother in his attempts to undermine Robert’s possible claim.
In the end, it had been a Mackintosh raised as a Cameron who had brought Gilbert down and had placed the clan back on steadier ground with the powerful Mackintoshes and even with the King. In the last year or so, Robert had established himself as a fair chieftain with a good sense of how to oversee his people. The self-serving and utter ruthlessness of Gilbert had been followed by a man content at stewarding his clan’s lands and people while safeguarding them, too.
The sure and steady footsteps across the stone floor broke into his thoughts and Davidh looked towards the person who approached. His worst fears filled him, making it now hard for him to breathe. Colm? Without waiting for the woman to reach the dais, the laird motioned to him.
‘Go.’
Davidh was down the steps before Margaret, the blacksmith’s daughter, could reach him. ‘Is he worse then?’
‘Aye,’ she whispered.
The worried expression on the lass’s face told him more than he wished to know. Davidh ran then, leaving the girl behind and not waiting for her to catch him. Colm could be... He could die this time. The words of some remembered prayers began to flow in his thoughts as he forced the pleas to the Almighty to replace everything else.
Colm was the last person he had and he could not lose him.
Not the boy. Dear God, not the boy.
He did not remember making his way out of the keep or yard or through the gates and village. Davidh found himself at the door to the blacksmith’s cottage and he stopped. Fear kept him from reaching up to knock. Fear paralysed his own breath and made his heart pound within his chest. How could he face the death of his son if that was what awaited him inside?
Davidh tamped all the fears down as he had for months and years and knocked before lifting the latch. Slowly, as he offered one final prayer up, he opened the door and looked for his son. Colm lay on a pallet in the corner near the hearth. The boy was almost lost in a cocoon of blankets and all Davidh could see was the pale face and bluish lips that spoke of a recent attack. He stared now, trying to discern if his son lived or had died.
‘Come in,’ Suisan whispered as she opened the door wider for him to enter. ‘He is sleeping now, puir wee laddie. Exhausted from...well, ye ken what he faces when the spells come on him.’
Aye, Davidh understood the terrible attacks that stole his son’s ability to breathe and the racking coughs that strained his muscles, leaving behind bruised ribs from the ferocity of the spasms.
But Colm lived. He’d survived another attack of the breathing disease that had struck him down on a more frequent basis in the last few months. And no tisane or poultice or brew from the last healer had helped. Colm worsened with each bout and Davidh understood that, one day, he would not make it through.
This day, though, Colm lived.
‘I would not have bothered ye this time, but I feared...the worst. I have never seen him like this.’ She nodded at his son.
‘I thank you for caring for him, Suisan.’
The stout woman nodded and then gathered her own daughter in her embrace when Margaret arrived there. Davidh stood over his son, watching and assessing every breath the boy’s frail body pulled in and let out. Running his hands through his hair, Davidh wondered how much more Colm could endure.
‘Margaret, take this to yer father,’ Suisan said. She released her daughter and handed her a small sack. It seemed a strange thing to do, but Davidh watched as the girl obeyed without question. When they were alone but for his son, Suisan walked closer to him. ‘I want to suggest something to ye though I have only rumours to go on for now.’
‘Go on.’ Davidh shrugged. ‘I have always heeded your counsel, Suisan.’
‘There is talk of the witch’s return to Caig Falls.’
Of anything the woman could say, this was completely unexpected.
‘The witch?’
‘Aye, ye ken the stories that have been told for years of the witch living above Caig Falls.’
‘I ken the stories, but have not heard mention of her since...’ Since he himself was but a lad and his best friend Malcolm claimed to have found her. ‘For a long time now.’
‘She was not a witch, but a wise woman, ye ken. She disappeared some years ago and has not been heard of since. But, a few days ago, one of the lads climbing the falls fell and a woman saw to his injury before sending him home.’ Suisan stared at him then. ‘I think she has returned.’
‘You think she could help Colm?’
‘Ye have tried everything else in yer power to try, Davidh. Why not see if she can?’
Suisan knelt at Colm’s side and smoothed the blankets over his frail form. He’d been ill for so long that he was smaller than most lads his age.
‘I will seek her out.’ Davidh smiled and nodded. He felt better knowing he had some kind of plan. The possibility that something or someone could help his son lifted his spirits for that moment and gave him purpose.
‘If ye have duties to see to, I can still tend him.’ Suisan stood then. ‘Come and join us for supper. Ye can take him home for the night then.’
Davidh watched the shallow rise and fall of Colm’s chest for a short time. It seemed even and strong enough for now and every hour that his son did not struggle for breath was a good one. Davidh nodded at Suisan. ‘I should return to the castle.’
‘Go then!’ she said, waving him out. ‘I suspect he will sleep most of the day now.’
Davidh returned to the keep, knowing that Suisan would take good and thorough care of Colm. But, with his sister married and moved to Edinburgh, his father and, more recently, his mother deceased and Mara gone these last three years, he realised this was not a solution to his problem. What he needed was a strong and healthy son.
* * *
Anna Mackenzie stood at the top of the falls, a short distance from the cottage she’d reclaimed, and stared down to the bottom. Memories washed over her, memories made more bittersweet by the knowledge that she would never see Malcolm again. Oh, she had not fooled herself into thinking that being here would be easy, but she owed it to her son...to their son.
Could she do this? Could she live here as her mother had all those years ago? The similarities she noticed over the last few years between her mother’s life and hers were a bit unnerving. Especially as she stood here now while her child explored the hillside and area around the cottage. Had it truly been ten-and-three years since she had stood here in this very place and dreamed of a future with the man she loved?
Suddenly she felt much older than her years.
Iain came around the cottage and she watched his approach. A pang of guilt rushed through her as she realised he was a handful of years off the age she’d been when she’d met his father...and loved him. Iain kenned little about Malcolm other than the barest of details she needed to tell him to pacify his growing curiosity. That interest had spurred her on to return here and seek out his father’s kin. She owed her son and his father at least that.