The Blazing Glen
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About this ebook
Janet Mackay dislikes all Englishmen, especially the Marquess of Sutherland who intends to evict them from their croft to make way for sheep. So when handsome Alastair Fenton arrives, she is far from friendly.
Then, after they are made to leave their croft, her grandmother Mary dies. Janet is free to go to Canada to join her brother, who fled after the Jacobite rebellion in Forty-five.
On the journey to Glasgow, however, disaster strikes. Janet has to accept Alastair's help, unwilling to turn to her old friend Murdo who wants to marry her.
Previously published under the pseudonym Livvy West.
Marina Oliver
Most writers can't help themselves! It's a compulsion. Getting published, though, is something really special, and having been so fortunate myself I now try to help aspiring writers by handing on tips it took me years to work out. I've published over 60 titles, including four in the How To Books' Successful Writing Series, and Writing Historical Fiction for Studymates.I have judged short story competitions, been a final judge for the Harry Bowling Prize and was an adviser to the 3rd edition of Twentieth Century Romance and Historical Writers 1994. If you want to find out more about your favourite authors, consult this book. I once wrote an article on writing romantic fiction for the BBC's web page, for Valentine's day.I have given talks and workshops for the Arts Council and at most of the major Writing Conferences, and helped establish the Romantic Novelists' Association's annual conference. I was Chairman of the RNA 1991-3, ran their New Writers' Scheme and edited their newsletter. I am now a Vice-President.As well as writing I have edited books for Transita, featuring women 'of a certain age', and for Choc Lit where gorgeous heros are the norm.I was asked to write A Century of Achievement, a 290 page history of my old school, Queen Mary's High School, Walsall, and commissioned to write a book on Castles and Corvedale to accompany a new circular walk in the area.Most of my Regencies written under the pseudonym Sally James are now published in ebook format as well as many others of my out of print novels which my husband is putting into ebook format. Our daughter Debbie is helping with designing the covers. For details of all my books and my many pseudonyms see my website.
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The Blazing Glen - Marina Oliver
THE BLAZING GLEN
BY
MARINA OLIVER
Janet Mackay dislikes all Englishmen, especially the Marquess of Sutherland who intends to evict them from their croft to make way for sheep. So when handsome Alastair Fenton arrives, she is far from friendly.
Then, after they are made to leave their croft, her grandmother Mary dies. Janet is free to go to Canada to join her brother, who fled after the Forty-five.
On the journey to Glasgow, however, disaster strikes. Janet has to accept Alastair's help, unwilling to turn to her old friend Murdo who wants to marry her.
The Blazing Glen
By Marina Oliver
Copyright © 2016 Marina Oliver
Smashwords Edition
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Cover Design by Debbie Oliver
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
First published under the pseudonym Livvy West by Ulverscroft 2004 and by Linford large print 2005.
See details of other books by Marina Oliver at
http://www.marina-oliver.net
Author note.
I wrote two much longer novels set in Scotland (now also ebooks), and became engrossed in the tragedy of the Highland Clearances. This short novella of lives disrupted by the greed of landlords was the result.
THE BLAZING GLEN
BY MARINA OLIVER
Chapter 1
She saw him coming from a great distance, for the air was clear. A gentle breeze blew in from the sea some miles away, bringing with it a faint tang of salt and fish. The path from the south was in full view as it descended the gentle slope. The turf, with morning dew long dried, shone with new growth, a pale bright green in the sunlight, then black as the slope rose into the rocky shadows of Ben Kilbreck, silhouetted against a pale blue sky. Automatically Janet assessed the few fluffy clouds, and decided there would be no storms today. Since living here she'd become aware of the weather as never before.
He was riding a good horse, a bright chestnut which stood out against the grass, far superior to the few rough-coated ponies the local people had for their needs. That she could tell from the size of it, the way it pranced, the nervous sidling as a sheep, disturbed, bounded out of its way. He would no doubt be visiting a Minister, or a tacksman further along the Strathnaver. No one else of wealth or importance lived in this part of Sutherland.
She turned away, losing interest in someone who could have no business with her, or any of the crofters in the small township down by the loch. Slowly she moved further up the hillside searching for the herbs and plants she needed, ingredients to ease the aches in her grandmother's crippled joints and wasted, twisted body.
'Your pardon, Mistress.' A soft, southern voice made her start in alarm and almost drop the basket into which she was placing the herbs. She'd heard no sound of his approach.
'What do you want?' Surprise, and a quiver of alarm made her curt as she turned to face him. They saw few strangers here, and those who had come of late had been unwelcome. He'd left his horse tethered to a spindly tree lower down the slope, and his soft leather boots had made no sound on the springy turf, cropped close by the roaming cattle.
'I frightened you. I'm sorry. I'm for Syre, but it's so long since I saw any habitations I thought I was lost. It's a vast country, and lonely. I tried to take a short cut, but am afraid I may have missed the way. My name's Alastair Fenton. Am I in the right way?'
'I'm Janet Mackay,' she replied automatically, and brushed the strands of hair which had escaped from beneath her kerchief out of her eyes. He was tall, more so than her brother Iain, who had been tall even for a Highlander. Where was Iain now? It was months since they'd heard from him, apart from that one brief letter, and months before that since he'd had to flee the glen. At least he'd been safe when he wrote that.
'Well, Janet Mackay, am I riding in the right direction? Are you unwilling, or unable to help the benighted traveller?'
She shook her head to clear it of thoughts of Iain, for dwelling on his fate served no purpose, and concentrated on the stranger. He had dark brown hair with a hint of auburn. His clothes were of good quality, rich materials, not the homespun most men wore, and excellently tailored. He looked Scottish, somehow, but his name and his voice were English. What was he doing here? She'd come to fear and distrust the English even more in the past few months.
'You can follow the loch and then the river, and Syre's no more than an hour's ride,' she said abruptly, pointing to where the waters of the loch gleamed dark and mysterious in the glen.
He smiled, and she took a step backwards. He was handsome, she realised suddenly, with his dark, deep-set eyes, hair which had a slight rebellious curl, and regular features, and his smile seemed to show he was fully, even arrogantly aware of it. His cravat was a brilliant white, starched and folded to perfection, in an intricate style rarely seen outside the drawing rooms of fashionable society. The dark blue riding coat did little to disguise his athletic figure. and his breeches were close-fitting, his legs long and muscular.
She swallowed. She'd never seen such a handsome man, so smooth-faced, clean-shaven and fine-skinned. He was tanned, but not like the men of the glen who had complexions weathered by the sun and the wind, hands roughened by hard work, and often beards to help keep out the cold of the Highland winters. Apart from that tan he reminded her of the men she'd once known in Edinburgh, who had no idea what it meant to carve an existence out of unforgiving land, men who lived soft lives, spent their time in gaming and frivolity, and expected others to serve them and provide for their every need.
'You live nearby? I see no houses,' he said, and Janet, though she knew this hillside as well as she'd known her father's garden, glanced round as if to look for what she knew could not be there.
The hillside was deserted of people other than the two of them, there were just a few black cattle grazing on the lower slopes, and sheep and goats. In the distance she thought she saw a fully-antlered stag emerge for a moment from the shelter of some trees, but it was so fleeting an appearance she couldn't be sure.
'I live down by the loch,' she told him briefly. 'The houses are hidden amongst those trees.'
'You needn't fear me,' he said softly.
Janet gasped. She hadn't been aware of her tenseness, her clenched hands and the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach until he mentioned fear, but suddenly she knew that she was wary of him. There was no other soul within sight or hearing, and he had such a confident air about him.
'Why should I fear you?' she demanded angrily, and turned abruptly away. 'I bid you farewell, Mr Fenton,' she said over her shoulder, the training of her governesses forcing her to be polite.
He laughed. 'No reason. Please, sit for a while with me and tell me about yourself, how the people