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“Are you a witch to be feared?”
She looked up and he felt the smoldering heat of her anger. “Are you like all the others, my lord? Eager to use my gifts when it suits your purpose, then resorting to cruel names to brand me different?”
He reached for his goblet, avoiding her eyes. Her words were too close to the mark, and shamed him. But he’d be damned if he’d ask forgiveness of this…this tart-tongued female.
“We waste time talking, woman. We’ll eat, and then you can return your attention to my son.”
Allegra shivered as cold settled into her bones. Whatever tenuous truce they’d attempted, it had dissolved like the wisps of fog that often drifted over the Enchanted Loch until banished by the sun.
The man across the table was once more the demanding lord. And she, like it or not, his unwilling captive.
Highland Sword
Harlequin Historical #654
Acclaim for USA TODAY bestselling author
Ruth Langan
“Ruth Langan is a true master at involving your
emotions, be they laughter or tears.”
—Romantic Times
“…another tautly written, fast-paced and sensual
romance. A fine example of why this author is
such a successful romance writer.”
—Romance Reviews Today on The Sea Sprite
“Ruth Langan makes us believe in the beauty
of true love.”
—Romantic Times
“…characters so incredibly human the reader
will expect them to come over for tea.”
—Affaire de Coeur
#651 LADY ALLERTON’S WAGER
Nicola Cornick
#652 MCKINNON’S BRIDE
Sharon Harlow
#653 ADAM’S PROMISE
Julianne MacLean
Highland Sword
Ruth Langan
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Available from Harlequin Historicals and
RUTH LANGAN
Mistress of the Seas#10
†Texas Heart#31
*Highland Barbarian#41
*Highland Heather#65
*Highland Fire#91
*Highland Heart#111
†Texas Healer#131
Christmas Miracle#147
†Texas Hero#180
Deception#196
*The Highlander#228
Angel#245
*Highland Heaven#269
**Diamond#305
Dulcie’s Gift#324
**Pearl#329
**Jade#352
**Ruby#384
Malachite#407
The Courtship of Izzy McCree#425
Blackthorne#435
§Rory#457
§Conor#468
§Briana#480
One Christmas Night#487
“Highland Christmas”
‡The Sea Witch#523
‡The Sea Nymph#545
‡The Sea Sprite#565
††Badlands Law#620
††Badlands Legend#628
††Badlands Heart#636
◊Highland Sword#654
Other works include:
Outlaw Brides
“Maverick Hearts”
Harlequin Historicals Christmas Stories 1990
“Christmas at Bitter Creek”
For Maureen, who puts the bubbles in champagne to shame.
And of course for Tom. Always.
Contents
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
Prologue
Scotland—1540
The pewter sky was boiling with clouds threatening rain. A chill wind ruffled the tall grass growing across the meadow. The weather didn’t deter the populace from enjoying market day. Those on foot cast a wary eye on horse-drawn carts and hay wagons vying for space along the narrow roads leading to Edinburgh.
Nola Drummond, a young widow, threaded her pony cart through the crowd. Her mother, Wilona, was seated beside her. In the back were Nola’s three little daughters, sitting atop the bundles of dried herbs, skeins of yarn and baskets of eggs, which the women sold at market. Crowded in beside them were Bessie, a withered old crone with a hunched back, and Jeremy, a fat little troll dressed in a tiny top hat and frock coat. Both Bessie and Jeremy had been shunned by others before being taken in by this family.
“Look, Mum.” Six-year-old Allegra pointed to the crowd of people gathered around the banks of the loch.
When their little cart drew closer, they could see women and children weeping as they stood watching a group of fishermen hauling the body of a young lad from the water.
Nola reined in the pony, bringing their cart to a halt. She and Wilona, helped five-year-old Kylia and three-year-old Gwenellen to the ground before starting toward the others.
Unable to control her curiosity, Allegra was already out of the cart and running ahead. Once she’d reached the shore, it was an easy matter to inch her way through the crowd until she could see and hear everything.
“Nay! Not my Jamie.” A woman threw herself upon the body of the lad, her voice hoarse from sobbing. “I’ve already buried my man, and three of my babes. Jamie is all I have left in this world. Oh, no. Please. Not my Jamie, too.”
One of the fishermen laid a big hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mary. But the lad is gone. We were too late to save him.”
A wave of terrible sadness swept the bystanders. Even the fishermen, hardened by years at sea, could no longer hold back their tears as the woman gave in to a fit of sobbing.
Caught up in the emotion of the crowd, Allegra crept forward until she was standing beside the distraught woman. Before anyone could stop her she knelt and placed her hands on the lad’s chest.
At once she was seized with a violent tremor as the icy shock was absorbed into her fingertips and passed through her body. The water of the loch had been cold. So very cold.
Shivering, Allegra looked up at his mother. “Your Jamie isn’t dead.”
“What are you saying?” Caught between surprise at the child’s boldness and a need to believe, the woman narrowed her eyes on her.
“He isn’t dead. He wants to come back to you, but he needs help.”
With jaws slack, the crowd watched in horrified fascination as this wee stranger pressed her palms hard against his chest.
Water spilled out of the lad’s mouth. His mother let out a scream, but Allegra didn’t seem to hear. She was like one in a trance, her gaze fixed on him with such intensity, her green eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire.
It was a shocking image. This tiny lass, like some wild creature, fiery hair falling in tangles to below her waist, ignoring the cries of the crowd as she began to speak to the lad in an ancient tongue that even the oldest among them had forgotten.
When the words ended she bent low, pressing her mouth on his.
Suddenly his body began to twitch.
“What trickery is this?” someone shouted. “Take the lass in hand and spare this poor mother.”
But before the crowd could react, the lad’s body gave a violent shudder and his eyes opened.
“Oh, Jamie! Sweet heaven.” His mother let out a cry, sweeping him into her arms and crushing him against her chest. “It’s my Jamie. Back from the dead.”
As the crowd surged forward, Nola pushed her way through and caught her daughter by the arm, hauling her roughly aside. “Get into the cart now, Allegra.” Nola’s eyes darted with nervousness. “Hurry now, child.”
Up ahead, Allegra could see her grandmother already bundling Kylia and Gwenellen into the back of the cart, where she hurriedly covered them with furs.
As soon as Allegra and her mother climbed up to the seat of the cart, Wilona flicked the reins and the horse took off at a run.
Allegra glanced from her mother to her grandmother, who wore matching looks of fear. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Nay, child. But there were many watching. You’ve been warned that we’re not like others.”
The little girl hung her head. “I’m sorry. But Jamie’s mother was crying. And in my head I could hear him crying, too. He wanted to come back to her. He said as much.”
Nola gathered her daughter close and hugged her. “You did nothing wrong, Allegra. But there are some who don’t understand our gifts.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ve forgotten the ancient ways. They’ve turned away from the healing powers within their hearts.”
The little girl looked solemn as she folded her hands in her lap. “I’m glad we haven’t turned away from the power.” She closed her eyes and leaned against her mother, giving in to the weakness that laid claim to her.
Nola sighed and glanced over her daughter’s head to meet her own mother’s shadowed gaze. “I hope you’ll never have cause to regret it, Allegra.”
The midnight moon was obscured by heavy clouds that swirled in an angry sky. A lone rider clattered over the cobblestones of the courtyard. The sound of his approach had the hounds leaping at the barred door.
Wilona slipped out of bed and hushed the animals before throwing the latch and peering into the darkness. Her unbound hair, laced with gray, spilled around a face stiff with concern.
Recognizing the man as a distant cousin, she opened the door wider and stood aside. “What brings you here at such an hour, Duncan?”
“There’s talk at the tavern, Wilona.” He fidgeted with discomfort, unable to meet her eyes. His gaze skimmed over the troll asleep by the fire. The creature was rumored to have slept under a bridge until rescued by these good women. At a footfall on the stair he looked over and saw Bessie, the old crone who was thought to be a seer. She, too, had been an outcast until she found refuge in this place.
“You risk too much by allowing the lasses to display their gifts to the world.”
“Allegra has always had a tender heart. We couldn’t stop her. Would you rather she’d let the lad die, Duncan?”
The man flushed. “I don’t pretend to understand how you and yours come to possess such powers. Nor do I hold with those who say it’s the mark of the devil. But I fear for you, Wilona. You go too far when you take in misfits and otherwordly creatures.” he nodded toward Bessie, who eyed him in silence.
“She was turned out by her people. She had nowhere to go.”
He sighed. “These are troubling times. You know that music, dancing and all manner of frivolity are the devil’s own works. There are those who intend to go to Edinburgh on the morrow to report this unholy deed. You and yours could be sent to Tol-booth Prison, or worse, the lot of you could be put to death.”
“What would you have us do, Duncan? Become like others, cruel and uncaring? Turn our backs on our precious gifts? Gifts that can benefit others? You well know that we’ve never used our gifts for our own profit.”
He gave a bleak shake of his head and started toward the door. As he pulled it open and stepped out into the night he paused. “This visit never happened. You never heard from me. If pressed, I’ll admit that we are distantly related, as are all from the ancient clan Drummond. But I’ll not subject my wife and children to the anger of a mob thirsty for blood.”
Wilona nodded. “I understand, Duncan. And I’m sorry for whatever trouble this brings upon your head.”
After bolting the door she turned to see her daughter standing in the shadows. “You heard?”
Nola nodded. “Aye.”
“We feared this day would come.” The older woman’s spine stiffened. “For the sake of the lasses, we must return to the Mystical Kingdom, and we must leave now, so that there is no trace of us on the morrow.”
“But the isolation? It was the reason we left.”
At Nola’s words the older woman held up a hand to silence her. “Indeed. But isolation if preferable to the dangers we face here.”
“What of Bessie and Jeremy?” Nola watched as the troll sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes.
“They are welcome to come with us if they choose. Bessie?”
The old woman nodded.
“Jeremy?”
The little troll got to his feet and began to pull on his frock coat.
While Bessie and Jeremy prepared the cart for a journey to the Highlands, Nola and Wilona carried the sleeping children to a nest of furs in the back. As silent as a summer breeze they set off, with the hounds running alongside.
Before the morning sun had risen, the cottage lay empty. The mother, daughter and three granddaughters, as well as a troll and a hunchbacked crone, had left without a trace.
Some said it was a certain sign that they’d aligned themselves with the devil, and had descended into darkness. Others spoke in whispers about a land in the Highlands that had long been home to their clan. An enchanted land, where those with special gifts would be free to practice their mystical powers, away from the prying eyes of disbelievers.
Chapter One
Mystical Kingdom—1559
“Allegra, you’ve worked long enough.” Kylia wiped a strand of coal-black hair from her cheek and paused beside the garden row where her sister was busy hoeing. “Now come fishing with me.”
“How I’d love to. But I’ve another row to see to.”
“It will keep. And you’ll feel so fresh and cool when you splash barefoot in the stream with me.”
“Aye. I’d like that.” Allegra mopped at the sweat that beaded her brow. “As soon as I finish here, I’ll join you.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
Kylia smiled, for the pleasure was always greater when shared with her sister. As she swung away, her youngest sister, Gwenellen, came racing across the meadow, followed by Jeremy. Though he’d once been known as a fierce troll, exacting payment from all who crossed his bridge, Jeremy had found contentment here in the Mystical Kingdom.
“Allegra. Jeremy and I have found a marvelous berry patch in the forest.”
The little troll nodded. “They’re the sweetest yet.” His voice resembled that of a frog croaking. “Come with us and help us pick them, Allegra.”
She shook her head. “First I have to finish my chore. Then I promised Kylia I’d fish with her. But if you two are still in the forest when I’ve finished with all that, I’ll help.”
Gwenellen shot her sister a pixie smile. “Here. Let me finish your chore right now.” Before Allegra could stop her she clapped her hands and chanted, “Be gone, weeds. Do as I wish.”
Almost at once a shower of seeds fell from the sky, followed by a net filled with fish.
Gwenellen looked around in dismay, then lifted her head to shout, “Not seeds. Weeds. And I didn’t say fish, I said wish.”
Allegra was convulsed with laughter. “Oh, Gwenellen. You really need to practice your spells.”
“I suppose I do.” Her younger sister’s frown turned into a smile. “Well, it looks like you’ll have to weed your garden after all. But when you’re done, promise you’ll join us?”
“If you’re still in the forest picking berries.”
Gwenellen nodded. “We’ll probably still be there. You know we always eat one for every one we drop in my basket.”
Allegra laughed as she glanced at Jeremy patting his round tummy. “I know. Just try not to eat so many that you can’t make it back in time to sup.”
“Have you ever known me to be late for supper?” With her laughter ringing on the air, the fair-haired lass danced off to the forest in search of her berries, with the little troll racing to keep up.
Just then Allegra’s grandmother, Wilona, made her way along the neat rows of the garden, and paused beside her granddaughter, bent to her hoeing. “You’re doing a fine job, Allegra.”
The lass paused to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. “I enjoy watching the tender shoots breaking through the ground, Gram. The birth of each small plant is such a wondrous thing.”
“Aye.” Wilona smiled at this. It was so typical of her eldest granddaughter. Despite her practical nature, Allegra had the most tender of hearts. She could do the work of three people, then take on another chore, just to give her sisters a chance to swim or bask in the early-summer sun.
The older woman glanced around. “Where are your sisters?”
“Kylia is down by the stream, no doubt already splashing like a fish.”
The old woman shared a smile with her. “Aye. That one does love the water. Let’s just hope she remembers to fetch some of those fish for our supper. And Gwenellen?”
“Off in the forest with Jeremy, hunting berries.” Allegra wisely refrained from mentioning the latest failed spell, for their grandmother had despaired of ever teaching her youngest granddaughter the skills the others enjoyed with such ease.
“The lass does have a fondness for sweets. As does Jeremy.” Wilona frowned. “Still, it isn’t fair to leave you with the garden chores while they’re off playing.”
“I don’t mind, Gram.” Allegra scraped at the earth, dislodging a patch of weeds. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here. This is as pleasant to me as the water is to Kylia, and the soothing forest to Gwenellen.”
“I understand, for it was always the same with me.” The older woman filled her pockets with greens before turning away. “But you’ve already mucked the stalls and collected bundles of herbs for your mother’s potions.”
Allegra smiled at the mention of Bessie. Her gifts were many, including the ability to sing like an angel. Allegra and her sisters had learned a score of lullabyes from the old woman, who’d often sung them to sleep in their young days.
“When you finish here, come back to the cottage and help yourself to the stew Bessie and I have simmering.”
“I will, Gram.” Allegra kissed her grandmother’s cheek before returning to her work.
She had chosen this spot for the garden because it lay in a high meadow, surrounded by forest on either side. Here in the sunlight, under her watchful care, fat cabbages grew to the size of a man’s head. Neat rows of kale and chard grew alongside sage and thyme.
It wasn’t an easy task to keep the wild things from taking over the garden plot. It took diligence on Allegra’s part. She devoted several hours each day during the short summer months to tilling the soil and attacking the weeds that threatened. Her mother and grandmother had taught her how to build a wattle fence of green willow branches and twigs, intricately woven to keep the forest creatures at bay.
Around her, the meadow was a sea of heather, the graceful purple blossoms swaying in the gentle breeze. Out of nowhere a shadow fell over her. Puzzled, she glanced heavenward. A hawk, perhaps. Or a thundercloud. The sky was sunny and clear, without a single cloud to mar its beauty. There was no sign of a bird. Alarmed, she looked around to see what had caused the shadow.
Too late, she saw the figure of a blood-spattered giant, mouth set in a tight line, eyes narrowed on her with grim concentration. In his hands was a length of plaid that he tossed over her, pinning her arms to her sides, covering her head to blot out the light and still her cries.
She struggled, and managed to kick her legs until even they were wrapped firmly. Swaddled as helplessly as an infant, she was unable to move.
She could hear the sound of his breathing as he raced through the meadow, carrying her slung over his shoulder. Once in the forest he paused to pull himself into the saddle while holding her firmly in his arms. Then the horse was running, the wind rushing past them as he urged his steed ever faster. Tree branches slapped and snagged, and she could hear the giant’s occasional muttered curse. But though they splashed through streams and clattered over rocks, never once did he pause, or even slow the pace.
Allegra struggled to clear her mind of fear, so that she could get her bearings. But all she could see in her mind’s eye was the giant. Standing as tall as a tree. Hands big and rough and bruising as they bound her. And that one brief glimpse into his eyes. Eyes filled with utter darkness.
How had he bested the dragon? Could it be that this giant was even stronger than the mighty creature that stood guard over their kingdom? The thought terrified her.
The horse slowed to a walk and Allegra could hear the splash of water. Moments later she was shivering as the water soaked her bindings.
Her heart sank. This had to be the Enchanted Loch, the barrier that had always kept her and her family safe from the outside world. Once her abductor made it to the other side, he would be free to take her anywhere, and she would be unable to stop him.
She had to act now, or all would be lost.
Concentrating all her energy, she conjured an image of her mother, and as the image came into focus, called out to her in her mind.
Nola sat at her loom, pleased with the design she was weaving. At her feet sat Bessie. Despite the old woman’s fearsome looks, she was a gentle soul who had long ago forgiven those who had mocked and reviled her. In gratitude for the haven she’d been given here in the Mystical Kingdom, she was devoted to Nola and her family.
The fabric on Nola’s loom looked as though it had been spun by angels. Soft as a spider’s web it was, with fine, intricate spirals that looped one into the other like exotic jewels.
Old Bessie smiled. “This will make a lovely gown for one of your daughters.”
“Aye. I so enjoy making them pretty things.”
“And why not?” Bessie’s smile deepened. “They’re fairer than any flowers.”
At a cry Nola’s head came up sharply. “Allegra?”
She looked around for her daughter. Seeing no one, she glanced at the old woman. “Did you hear that?”
“Nay. But then I don’t have your gifts, Nola.”
At that Nola shoved away from the loom and walked to the door of the cottage.
Outside, Wilona was stirring her stew over an open fire.
“Allegra just called to me. Have you seen her?”
“Aye. Weeding her garden.” Wilona’s sharp eyes narrowed on her daughter’s troubled face. “What’s wrong?”
“Something, though I know not what.” Already Nola was hurrying up the hill toward the meadow. “She needs me, for I heard her calling my name.”
Wilona set aside her wooden spoon and hurried after her daughter, with the old woman trailing slowly behind.
When they came to the meadow, Nola knelt and retrieved the hoe from the dirt where Allegra had dropped it.
Her mother was already examining the print of a man’s boot in the sand. Her tone was low with fear. “An intruder from beyond. He would have to slay the dragon.” Wilona frowned in concentration. “I thought I heard a cry earlier, but because I was surrounded by bleating lambs, I couldn’t be certain just what it was.”
“Is he a barbarian?” Nola’s tone was little more than a whisper.
“Nay.” Wilona straightened, holding a torn piece of plaid that clung to a section of wattle fence. “A Highlander, from the look of this.”
“No Highlander would dare to risk the Enchanted Loch.”