The Maid of Lorne

Praise for Terri Brisbin:

‘A welcome new voice in romance…you won’t want to miss.’

—Bestselling author Susan Wiggs

SURRENDER TO THE HIGHLANDER

‘…a carefully crafted plot spiced with a realistic measure of deadly intrigue and a richly detailed, fascinating medieval setting.’

—Chicago Tribune

‘…a seductive, vivid love story.’—Romance Reviews Today

TAMING THE HIGHLANDER

‘…a lively, frolicking tale of life in the Highlands; truly a must-read.’

—Historical Romance Writers

THE COUNTESS BRIDE

‘The author uses a time in history that is fraught with war, deceit and uncertainty to move her characters into love, conflict and danger. Brisbin woos her readers with laughter and tears in this delightful and interesting tale of love.’

—RT Book Reviews

“Who is the Maid of Lorne and what does she desire?”

“I am a woman with no father and no family and no home to call her own. I am a woman who gave herself to her enemy. I am the Maid of Lorne no more.” Her voice shook in its desolation.

Sebastien walked up behind her. Reaching out, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back against him. Lara did not pull away. He whispered in her ear.

“Do not despair, Lara.” The emptiness in her gaze unsettled him, and he acknowledged that he would rather face her anger or her confusion than this melancholy.

“You asked me once what I want. What does Sebastien of Cleish want? I want you, Lara. I want to hold you and feel your body as it heats to my touch. I want you to open to me and I want to fill you with myself.”

He took a step closer and she took one back. Finally he pulled her into his arms and kissed her the way he’d wanted to all night. Indeed, the way he’d wanted to since the night they were wed.

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 led her to write time-travel romances and historical romances set in Scotland and England. Readers are invited to visit her website for more information at www.terribrisbin.com, or contact her at PO Box 41, Berlin, NJ 08009-0041, USA.

Recent novels by the same author:

THE DUMONT BRIDE

LOVE AT FIRST STEP (short story in The Christmas Visit)

THE NORMAN’S BRIDE

THE COUNTESS BRIDE

THE EARL’S SECRET

TAMING THE HIGHLANDER

SURRENDER TO THE HIGHLANDER

POSSESSED BY THE HIGHLANDER

BLAME IT ON THE MISTLETOE (short story in One Candlelit Christmas)

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my travel companions, Sue-Ellen Welfonder and Lisa Trumbauer, who said, on that fateful day in May 2002 as we drove down the western coast of Scotland, ‘Turn here and check out this castle—it’s called Dunstaffnage and Robert the Bruce took it from the MacDougalls.’

Thank you for being a part of my magical first trip to the Scottish Highlands and for introducing me to the special place that would inspire this story. Slainte!

I would also like to dedicate this book to my former agent, Linda Kruger of the Fogelman Agency. She retired from the business in February 2005 to tend to her family and, although I am not happy for me as I write this, I am very happy for her and those important people in her life.

Linda—thanks for your support through seven and a half years and twelve books!

Prologue

The 11th day of August

In the Year of Our Lord, 1308

The stench of blood and sweat and death permeated the air around the field. The victory here had assured Scotland’s embattled king that he would gain the foothold he needed in the west, and break the power of some of the more dangerous “lords of the isles.” Thinking to ambush his troops as they made their way toward the coast, the MacDougalls had underestimated his abilities and those of his supporters.

As he stood before the man who had handed him victory at the battle of Brander Pass that morning, the Bruce was covered in not a little blood. Robert smiled grimly.

“You have your orders, Sebastien. Carry them out. Those who will accompany you to Dunstaffnage know their duties and will support anything you do there in my name.”

His most trusted warrior and spy simply nodded as he always did, and turned to leave. Sebastien of Cleish had presented him with their enemy’s ambush plans and a clever strategy in response to it.

“Wed or dead by nightfall, Sebastien, and I’ll be wanting proof of either one.”

“Aye, sire. Wed or dead.” The warrior bowed to him and was already on his way out of the tent when he spoke the words.

Robert took a deep breath before calling his squire to help him undress. Dunstaffnage Castle, the MacDougall’s lands and his eldest daughter, the Maid of Lorne, would be within his grasp before the sun set this evening.

Chapter One

She’d closed the gates against him.

In spite of the messenger sent with the news of the Bruce’s victory over her father, she refused him entrance into Dunstaffnage Castle. Sebastien was definitely leaning toward the “dead” portion of his orders from the king as he sat outside the main gate. Letting out an exasperated breath, he motioned to one of the men surrounding the three sides of the castle facing the land, and nodded.

Peering up to the battlements, he could see the eldest daughter of John MacDougall watching his every move. He pushed the helm and mail off his head and waited for their weapon to be brought forward. His horse danced beneath him, probably feeling the strain of the battle of wills going on around it. Sebastien was certainly feeling it. With the glare of the sun behind her, he could not quite get a clear look at his adversary.

Hearing the noises behind him, he moved over a few paces so that their hostages were clearly visible to all watching from the upper levels of the castle. The commotion behind him increased and he watched as Lara MacDougall drew nearer to the edge of the crenellated wall and looked over. She grabbed hold of the stone as though she needed support.

If he’d been the one watching his younger siblings wrapped in chains and dragged by the heavily armed warriors of their deadliest enemy, he might react badly, too. The young boy and girl were also screeching loud enough to be heard by anyone within miles.

His quarry stepped back from the wall and he lost sight of her for a minute before she leaned out again. Sebastien could hear the argument going on, but could not make out the words. The only thing he could tell was that not everyone was in agreement with whatever she planned to do. He realized that he had not heard her voice yet, for earlier her steward had called out her responses to his demands.

“What are your terms?” she called now.

Sebastien laughed aloud before answering. “Terms? I will not kill these two if you open the gates immediately. Delay and I will not even promise that.” He dismounted and his squire ran forward to take control of the horse from him. “I am tired and not in good humor, lady. If you make me fight my way in, I also promise that you will bear the consequences.”

The air was filled with expectation as everyone waited. Sebastien had no doubt that she would order the gates open. Her brother and sister had told him that much on the ride here. They’d revealed that she’d always stood between them and danger, but this time, in trying to send them away from danger, she’d inadvertently placed them in the path of it.

Sebastien had been honest, though; he was tired and wanted to bring this to an end. He wanted nothing so much as a hot bath to rid himself of the odors and filth of battle and blood, and the sooner he got inside, the sooner he might have exactly that. Of course, depending on her actions, he might have one more messy task to accomplish for his king before he bathed.

She disappeared from the battlements and he heard her calling out orders as she ran. He put his helmet back on and mounted again, for it was better to face enemies well-armed and from the back of a horse than on the ground. With a wave of his hand, his men regrouped around him and the children were moved to the back, out of danger from misfired arrows or misguided men.

Would she feel humiliated when she discovered the truth of his treatment of her siblings? How would she react when he offered her the choice that Robert had demanded only hours ago—wed or dead? Now, after seeing her valiant efforts to defend her home, he was certain it would not be an easy thing to carry out her execution. He would, of course, if she did not consent to the marriage, but it would be more difficult than following other orders from the Bruce.

The scraping of wood and metal filled the air as the portcullis was raised and the gates pulled open. Then, with loud squealing, the drawbridge was lowered to the ground. Two guards marched forward with one woman between them. Sebastien was tempted to laugh again, but spared his adversary the humiliation. As if these two men could protect her against anything he wanted to do…The small group stopped after crossing the bridge and stepping onto the rocky ground surrounding the MacDougall fortress.

“Secure the castle,” Sebastien called out without ever lifting his gaze from her face. A troop of his men rode forward, the hooves of their horses clattering on the wood of the drawbridge.

She looked as though she wanted to say something, but hesitated. Now that he could see her features, he realized she was younger than he’d first thought. She wore a plain gown and had her blond hair pulled back and woven into a long thick braid. But the hautiness and arrogance of the MacDougall was etched on her face.

Sebastien dismounted once more and approached her. Her expression displayed a hint of fear as he drew near, and then she seemed to control it.

“How many years have you?” He scrutinized her face and form as he asked. ‘Twas difficult to tell from just looking. He reached up and removed the helmet he wore and pushed his hair and the mail over it back off his head.

“Enough to know that only one of the Bruce’s minions would use children as his shield…”

Her words drifted off as he dropped his helm and reached out to take hold of her face. Pulling her by her chin, he dragged her close enough so that only she could hear his words. Staring directly into her cold blue eyes, he clarified her new position so there would be no mistake.

“Speak carefully, lady. To insult me is to insult the Bruce. And he now rules Dunstaffnage—and you.”

Her face blanched and she reached up to pull his hand away. Although her touch sent shivers down his spine, the look of hatred in her eyes shocked him. Was it meant for him or for Robert? Sebastien released her and sent her stumbling back a few paces.

“I would see my brother and sister.” It was a demand, with no acceptance in her tone that he was the victor here.

“I think not.” They had business to conclude before he would surrender his leverage.

“You think to keep them prisoner? Will you throw them in the cell that opens to the ocean’s winds? Will you keep them wrapped in chains…?”

He grabbed her once more. She challenged him with every word she spoke and, in spite of a certain exhilaration he felt because of it, he could not allow that to happen. This time he used both hands to take her by the shoulders.

“Until we finish our business, you will go nowhere but where I take you, and do nothing that I do not tell you to do.”

He drew her closer until only inches separated their faces. Suddenly he was fighting an urge to kiss her instead of threaten her. Tamping down that desire, he gritted his teeth and forced out the words of his orders from the Bruce.

“The Bruce has taken your father prisoner and I hold your siblings and this castle for Robert. You have the choice of what happens to them.”

“I have the choice?” Her voice came out as a stuttering whisper. He could see the fear in her eyes now.

“You will be wed or dead by nightfall—it is up to you.”

All the color left her face and she looked as though she might faint. After a few moments, she spoke.

“Wed or dead? Who will carry out this sentence?”

“You will wed me or be dead by my hand, lady. Choose now.”

Lara MacDougall could not speak. As most of those living at Dunstaffnage knew, that did not happen often. She stared up at the face of her enemy and could not believe the words he had just said. Wed him or die? Today?

She shook her head, simply not able to comprehend the reasons behind his supposed orders from the Bruce. Pah! The Bruce? How dare he think he had the right to rule Scotland and especially this area! Her father had held power here for so long she could not remember it ever being any different. And who was this Sebastien of Cleish to think that he was deserving of the hand of the Maid of Lorne? Blinking, she shook her head again.

“Is that your answer? You would choose to die?”

He released her and she watched in horror as he stepped back and pulled a long sword from its sheath. His brows gathered in a mighty frown, but his intent was clear—her death. Before she could protest or say anything, the sounds of screaming emanated from the castle. Lara reacted as she always did when her family or people were threatened—she turned to run back inside to determine the reason. Could the Bruce’s men be killing those within? Her young maid and some cousins had remained inside when she’d left. Were they being attacked?

Her captor’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against his body. She tore at his hands and called out her maid’s name, trying to get free, but the brute’s strength was impressive. He hardly even moved as she struggled. When she stopped for a moment, intending to try again, he took her braid in his fist and pulled her head toward his. His breath was hot against her neck and his words were just as heated.

“You will get back inside either as my wife or in a wooden box. No other way. Until you decide, you stay here.” She finally realized he meant what he said. She shivered in fear as the words sank in. Before she could think about her own situation, she must get his agreement to keep those inside safe during his stay here.

“But the women inside…? What is happening to them?” She almost feared asking the question, knowing what men in battle did to their enemies’ women afterward.

“They will not be harmed as long as they do not resist my control over the keep. That is more than I can say for your father’s methods of occupation.”

They stayed in this position for a few moments as she considered his words. At least alive she could continue to fight for her family. Alive, she could find a way to get her brother and sister away from Dunstaffnage and to the safety of her uncle’s lands. Alive, she would…have to marry a man who cared not if he took her as wife or took her head for the Bruce.

But she would be alive, and that was all that mattered now.

“I choose…” She struggled to get the words out. In her wildest imaginings and worst nightmares she had never pictured this as her future—married on the orders of her father’s bitterest enemy. What kind of life would she have to endure as this man’s wife?

He eased his hold of her and she turned to face him. Her gaze moved over his face and body. He was wellformed, with a warrior’s build. Although he was covered with sweat and blood, she could not see any signs of disfigurement or disease.

“I see no other way than to choose marriage to you.”

Lara did not know what she had expected as a response to her words, but the grunt and nod, followed by him walking off toward the chapel, was not it. He called out orders to those under his command who stood nearby as he strode away. When he realized that she remained where he had left her, he turned back to her.

“Come, lady. The priest awaits us in the chapel.” With barely a pause and a wave at her, he continued down the worn path toward the stone building set off some distance from the castle.

“Priest?” she called out. “Surely you do not mean to carry out the wedding ceremony now.” Lara put her fists on her hips and waited for him to answer.

Her question did stop his progress, for he turned back and walked to her. His long strides made her feel like a stalked animal. Lara forced herself to remain upright and to stay where she was. In a moment, he was towering over her.

“The priest is waiting now, and prepared for wedding or funeral.”

“You jest!”

“Nay, lady. If you walk in, we wed. If I carry your body, he says the Mass for the Dead. Now, does your choice stand?”

She would marry now, without family or friends to stand with her? Lara had envisioned a nicer ceremony and celebration to mark the occasion for the daughter of the MacDougall. Now, she would marry in her worn work gown, to a man covered in the blood of her clan.

“I said I would wed and I stand by my word.”

“Come, then. Father Connaughty will be pleased to see you walk in.”

The barbarian then had the nerve to hold out his arm to her. Looking about, seeing the soldiers surrounding her and noting that her people watched from some of the windows of the towers and from the gate, she pulled her courage around her and placed her hand on his arm. With her head held high, she walked at his side to her fate.

She had never believed that marrying for love was an option for her. In her position as the eldest daughter, she knew her marriage would be an alliance, but she had never considered that it would be a punishment.

Chapter Two

Like a pig destined for slaughter, she had been washed and seasoned and dressed. And all at the explicit orders of her husband. She had not, however, been fatted yet, for his orders were for the bedding to occur before the meal. In shock over hearing of the agreement between her father and the Bruce for her settlements and the disposition of the castle and the wealth she inherited from her mother, she’d listened to the rest of it with little interest.

Now, she stood staring into the fire in her chamber’s brazier, trying not to think about what would happen next. Oh, she knew about coupling with a man. Nothing much that happened between men and women was secret in clan life. But to have to do that with a complete stranger, a man who had barged into her life and who held in his grasp not only her life, but also the lives of her family and people, was difficult to contemplate.

But, it was out of her hands now. He held all the power. Whatever he ordered was done, either by those men who accompanied him here, or by her people, who had been told of his orders and his marriage to their laird’s daughter. Part of her, deep inside, would remain quiet and wait for a better time to fight back. And fight back she would.

The Bruce might hold Dunstaffnage for now, but there were ways to make certain that his possession was a temporary thing. Allies of her father were no doubt already planning how to recapture the castle and to free him. As the wife of the Bruce’s man here, she could get access to information that might help the fight against him and hasten the MacDougall’s return to his center of power.

“You look quite formidable when you frown like that, lady.”

His voice was deep and rich and it caused waves of unease to pass through her. Did her guilt show on her face? Clearing her thoughts, she turned to face her stranger husband.

Gone was the bloodied warrior she’d exchanged vows with in the chapel but an hour before. In his place was a handsome nobleman with his long brown hair pulled back from his face. Clothed in a long dressing robe as he was, she could see the long gash on his neck, now cleaned and sewn. Lara had noted his height when he had taken hold of her, so that was no surprise, but his piercing green eyes and strong chin and even smile were.

She looked up and realized that she had been gawking…and he had noticed. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her sweaty palms over her own robe.

“Although your maid said you preferred ale, I brought this wine to share with you. ‘Tis a gift from the Bruce to honor our marriage.”

The man walked toward her, carrying two goblets. Lara’s first instinct was to knock the cups from his hands, for drinking the Bruce’s wine would be an insult to those in her clan who had died this day. From the firm set of his chin, she knew that Sebastien would not tolerate that behavior from her. He had promised retribution against those she loved if she did not do as he told her, and she believed that he would seek it.

“I admire self-control.” He made a mock salute after handing her one of the goblets.

“I do not know what you mean, sir.” She lowered her gaze to the cup she now held.

“You wished to knock the wine from my hands at the mention of the Bruce. I am pleased that you exercised control over that wayward plan.”

“Am I so easy to discern?”

“Nay, lady. But as one who struggles with the same weakness, I recognize it quickly in others.” He stepped closer and guided her cup to her lips. “Try the wine before condemning it for its giver.”

Lara sniffed at the goblet, wondering if he had drugged it with some herb to make her more compliant for what he planned.

“Does the wine smell turned?” He sniffed at his own and frowned, then sipped it. “What think you wrong with it?” He gazed into her eyes, and then he nodded as he seem to read her thoughts once more. “You think I have drugged yours? To what purpose?”

Sebastien stepped back and took her wine. He drank deeply from it and then handed it back to her.

“If I want you dead or intend to strike at you, wife, you will see it coming. I do not hide behind the cowardly art of poison. You will know if…when you are my target.”

He turned from her and walked to the window in her chamber. Leaning an elbow on the frame, he stared out at the gathering dusk and drank the rest of his wine. Lara knew he was angry now. She saw it in his stance and in the way that the muscles of his neck tightened as he gritted his teeth.

“Sir, I meant no insult.”

He laughed and looked at her. “You think I would drug you into submission, and then say you insult me not?” His laugh turned sarcastic. “Lady, your barbs are like weapons and you wield them with amazing accuracy.”

Their gazes held this time and he moved closer to her. She knew that her actions determined his treatment of so many of her people. She could live through whatever he planned for her. She was a MacDougall and would not shirk from what needed to be done. If lying with this man was the price for her life and those of her siblings and father, she could do it.

Lifting her goblet to her mouth, she tilted it and drank the contents in one long swallow. Drops of wine collected on her lips when she lowered the cup, and she thought to lick them off, but his mouth was there first. Warm and firm, he pressed his lips to hers. As she felt the tip of his tongue slide over her mouth, and a heated pulsing begin to move through her, she pulled away.