Stirling Desire: "They Were Enemies. the Highland Laird Haunted Her Dreams, the English Lass Captured His Heart."

By Michelle Qameron

Laird Simon Lockhart escapes a siege on Edinburgh castle and spies upon a vulnerable English lass who needs saving from a ruthless lot of English soldiers. Unable to turn his back, he risks the lives of his clan, and jeopardizes his political stance of his sworn allegiance to the relentless English King.

Lady Alyssa Percy flees Northumberland to the barbarian lands of the Scots in a quest to discover the truth behind her fathers death and the threats of doom dispelled by Baron Cressingham bent on revenge.

As their journey unfolds secrets will come unraveled, death will beckon, battles will be fought, and their love will ignite. Both have responsibilities to their families, both have strong ties to their homeland, and both believe their sacrifice is for the better of the other. Is their love strong enough to endure so many heartfelt atrocities?

I could not put it down, great action, spellbinding landscapes, rich in historical content, and of course sizzling romance.

Visit my website at: StirlingDesire.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 13, 2009
• ISBN: 9781477259870

Michelle Qameron

Michelle Cameron is a true romantic. Since reading her first historical novel at age twelve she was hooked. A prolific reader thirty years later she finally put pen to paper and has written her first period romance. She lives in the beautiful Rocky Mountains with her lionhearted husband, renaissance daughters, and three miniature Dachshunds.

Book preview

Chapter One

England, Alnwick Castle

The Year of Our Lord 1297

Open the portcullis, Lady Alyssa Percy, by orders of King Edward I. As Baron Kris Cressingham, I have been given these lands by the king.

Alyssa shielded her eyes from the penetrating rays of the sun as she stood atop the crenellated walls of Alnwick Castle.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled to this man who sat upon a war steed, his helm in one hand and reins in the other, Tell me again why I should open my gates? Alyssa’s curls swirled about her face screening the stranger’s view from her. Tossing her head back and forth to clear her vision, she stared more intently. She needed to discern this stranger’s purpose. She noted that his face held marks of war and sun. She watched his horse paw the ground while waiting for his reply.

The man repeated his claim. Baffled, she staggered back a step. Looking to Girard, she queried, Did you know of this?

Her personal guard for ten years nodded his head. My lady, I heard whisperings in court but did not consider giving heed to such outlandish rumors.

You should have informed me, Girard. Alyssa dropped her silk overdress skirts, leaving them bent and crinkled from her tight hold. Friar Malcolm, what would the consequences be for us if I keep my great doors closed?

The friar’s crucifix swayed away from his large muscular frame as he bent forward and placed his hand to his temple. Your brother’s death has not been confirmed within the church, and so these landsare still bequeathed to him. I am as confused as you are by this turn of events, my lady. But, for now, if this baron’s demand is legitimate, you have no choice. I must inform you that this man is no stranger to Alnwick.

Baron Cressingham’s bark stirred the silence. I hold King Edward’s decree. Now open the portcullis or you will pay for your insolence.

Girard looked to her for orders. My lady?

She nodded. Do as he says. Open the doors. We can’t disobey the king’s orders or we will pay with blood. There has been no fighting at my gates since my father’s death and I plan on keeping it that way. Friar Malcolm hesitated as if to say something but refrained. Noticing the heavy sigh that accompanied this restraint, she demanded, Friar, speak up. What say you regarding this Cressingham?

Your father spoke of this before he died. The friar’s statement was cut short by the sound of hooves clattering beneath the bridge overlooking the inner bailey. The guards and sergeants at arms were readying for battle within the walls. Orders were hollered and archers weaved between Alyssa and the friar with bows in hand. The scraping of the metal bolts across heavy timbers seemed to rattle ominous intentions. Goose flesh rose on her arms and at her nape.

Alyssa turned to the friar as she descended the stairs. What are you talking about? she hollered over the clamor of impending battle.

Before a reply came, Baron Cressingham’s mercenaries had positioned themselves face to face with her soldiers. Bows were pulled taut and the clatter of hooves echoed off the stone walls of the inner bailey. Alyssa forgot her question and bolted down the remainder of the stairs to intervene before her men displayed quixotic efforts of protecting the Percy namesake. The baron’s voice boomed above the eerie silence that now settled over the castle as if a gyrfalcon’s wings had smothered all light from its quarry. Alyssa pulled her broadsword from a leather scabbard at her hip as she reached the bottom of the steps, and without considering the consequences she touched the baron’s collarbone with the cold tip of steel.

With a deep and slow drawl she said, Stand back. Many of those before you are mere boys and no threat to you. Show me this decree. Her knees shook for she had never been so scared in her life.

Baron Cressingham pushed the sword from her hand and shoved her to the ground before she could react. His brawny arm was both strong and swift. Gravel tore into the palms of her hands. Mostly her pride had been wounded, she ignored the stinging and stood facing him boldly, recklessly. She looked into his cold angry gray eyes with all the hatred she could muster. She could feel his eyes assessing his quarry and, her legs trembling, she lifted her chin a fraction, refusing to cower. Her people needed to know she would find a way to save them. Refusing to be a victim she brushed a strand of hair from her face and asked with deliberate annunciation, Where is the decree?

Flog her.

Girard and Malcolm stepped forward and said in unison, Nay. Mercenary guards stepped forward with blades drawn to restrain them as another guard tied Alyssa to a perch meant for her bird of prey. Servants had come from within the house and gathered in the bailey. Loyal to her for ten years and more, they fidgeted in place while they waited for her punishment.

Alyssa had been sheltered from violence her entire life, and as she placed her face against the raw wood, she was stunned and speechless. With a wisp of wind, her life was changed forever. She heard the crack and felt the leather tear through her garments and bite into her skin.

A voice bellowed, This one is for your insolence.

She began to pray for dignity as the braided whip whirred through the air and made its mark again. The pain slithered over her shoulders and down her back, and cold pervaded her shaking body. She began to pray with fervent whispers as her knees buckled. Please Lord, for my honor …

Cressingham’s voice drew her from the English mist. This one is for nicking me in the collarbone with your sword.

Tears fell while the third strike ripped at her burning flesh. As the last strike wrapped around her wrist and caught for a moment, the friar pulled from the clutches of the guards, tossed a sword to

Girard, and ran to deflect the brunt of the leather unleashed at Alyssa. Afraid for Alyssa’s life, he jumped into the thrashing and was struck—but not deterred. In his peripheral vision, he watched Girard wound three mercenaries before he slumped to the ground. The friar managed to grab the length of the tawny rough horse-fiber whip and pull. At once, the taut pull of the whip loosened and he fell to his rump.

Enough! As you have witnessed, I will not tolerate disobedience. Baron Cressingham turned from the friar and spoke with a booming voice for all to hear. I am now master of these lands. Friar, rise and cut Lady Percy’s bonds. Have her tended to immediately. I have no interest in watching her die. Take her guard with you. He will not cause any problems for a while. Everyone back to your duties as soon as you tend to the wounds for these pathetic soldiers. Your lives have just been irrevocably changed.

Chapter Two

Scotland, Edinburgh Castle,

The same day in the year of Our Lord 1297

T is time to fight our way out of this siege or die trying. The stagnant air clung to his nostrils, and death stared at him from hollow eyes in every corner of the blasted castle. The smell of fear lingered on every man’s breath, and relentless weeping persisted among the maidens. Hope had all but faded.

God’s teeth, Simon swore. Then he called out to his liegemen. Do I hear affirmation or nay?

Aye, aye to that, came an echoed response.

Simon swayed under the mantle of power, his sturdy warriors following in his wake as he led them to a crenellated tower. He dismissed the soldier standing guard.

What say you, Jonathon? he asked, turning to his second in command and most trusted cousin.

The men looked out upon the masses of soldiers surrounding the castle. Peaks of canvas lay in the distance, and red surcoats blanketed the fields.

Jonathon spat and leaned over the wall. I’d rather die fighting. The English King Longshanks will na’ stop his relentless pursuit of puttin’ Scotland under his bluidy rule.

Aye, and I will never be put in a dungeon by their hands again. He tries to make a statement by slaughtering the innocent bu’ we are a proud lot and will na’ die gently but will defend our sovereignty. Simon crossed his arms in front of his chest. His feet spread wide apart, he turned toward the siege at the base of Edinburgh Castle.

Silence ensued, for his three most trusted men knew well enough about his torture at King Edward’s hands. They had witnessed his return and remembered well his bruised and bloody body.

We might still live for the sunrise tomorrow, he said with firmness. "’Tis a slim chance, if I’ve accurately considered the possibilities, but nevertheless, there remains a slender hope. I came to the castle to give counsel on its ability to withstand attack and to make recommendations for fortifying it, you ken.

"I spent a fortnight studying every nook and cranny, checking the mortar and walls, and scouting the surrounding areas. I can confidently tell ye, we will starve before they can breach this fortification.

So we either starve with the others, fight our way out into the fields and die there with no victory but our pride, or take a chance and flee with the intent of sending reinforcements."

He stared at his men. Actually, I did discover something of interest within the walls.

The knot of men heaved forward slightly in anticipation of his next words. Weel, out with it then, aye! Jonathon finally said.

The well has been dug deep and opens into an underground stream. There are vents beneath this castle that lead to the Forth River, he explained.

Jonathon turned and spat again while Marker and Chase scratched their heads.

Aye, ‘tis the only way out. The well will lead us underground to the river. He paused. There is one problem. I do na’ ken how deep the stream is, and I do na’ ken if there will be any head room for us to breathe.

I for one will give it a try, Jonathon said as he looked out over the crimson landscape. Fighting the English bastards will probably mean our death, either by the blade or by the noose, and I am not ready to meet my maker yet. ‘Tis risky to go down the well too, but it is a way out of this conundrum. If I die, I die at God’s hand and not by the hand of an Englishman.

Simon grabbed his cousin’s wrist and shook the big hand hard. He had the loyalty of not only Jonathon but of his other cousins as well. Concern stretched across every one of their faces. He knew without a doubt he could be sending them to their deaths. Drowning was not any man’s choice. Their lives depended on Simon’s wits.

To the well, then. Guards will be stationed on the perimeter. I recognize one as a McDaniel. Give me a word alone with him first.

Luck was on his side. There were only two guards posted on the well, and one was still the McDaniel lad.

Thomas McDaniel, ‘tis a long time since I saw ye last. How is Ariana?

My sister still talks aboot ye, McDaniel said with a chuckle.

Och, she has a musical voice and a fair disposition, Simon answered with a soft smile.

Ye ken I owe ye a favor for introducing me to her, aye? Why don’t ye go and grab some stew and ale while I stand watch. ‘Tis nothing better to do.

I could use a break. McDaniel looked to the other guard. Let’s get some ale before ‘tis all gone, Dougal. What say ye? My neighbor here will stand watch fer us. He owes me one.

Drink a flask fer me as weel, Simon hollered out as the two men walked away.

When the guards were gone, Simon motioned for Jonathon to join him. Then they secured a rope to a nearby arch and tossed the end down the deep, dark hole. Simon heaved his bulk over and slowly descended into the well. The air was dank and the walls were slimy, making the descent precarious. Slipping twice, he cursed, Bluidy hell.

After some distance, the small space grew even smaller, and he yearned for more air. His mouth opened in a yawn and he believed he would surely expire, but hand over hand, he kept descending.

The coldness pervaded his soul after a time, reviving the gruesome memories of the dungeon as he made his way ever downward into the dark. There had been no light where he was held prisoner either, and his naked body could not keep in any heat. The only time he had felt the warmth of the sun was when they brought him above ground to witness the demise of his mother. Simon now looked up to seek a shred of light at the mouth of the well, and although he was as cold as if he walked the windswept moors, a trickle of sweat slid down his neck. Fortunately, Jonathon’s foot clobbered him in the ear just as panic began to take hold, bringing him back to his senses.

’Tis my head, cousin. I’d like to make it to the bottom of this miserable hole without tumbling there—if it suits ye, of course.

How much farther, do ye think? asked Jonathon.

I do na’ ken, but I think we need more rope. You will have to slide another length of rope to me while I secure it to the end of this one. He grabbed the rough fibers of the braided cord that dangled in front of his nose. I almost have it. Aye, ‘tis done. The rope is secure and taut. Ease down.

Worry enveloped Simon as they neared the end of the second rope and still had not hit bottom. His nerves were raw and close to breaking.

Do ye hear tha’? yelled Jonathon.

Aye, ‘tis a gurgling noise. Finally, Mary, Jesu’, and Joseph. Thank ye. Away I go. Simon dropped and a spray of water spewed beneath Jonathon’s bare feet.

God save us, whispered Jonathon.

Chapter Three

Northumberland, England

Alnwick Fortress

A fortnight later

What did he do to ye this time? wailed Lorna. Just look at ye. Yer cheek is as blue as death, and yer lip is cut wide open. May that devil of a mon shrivel and die. I do na’ ken what ye are going to do, for ye can na’ stay here any longer. As bats fly and the devil roams the lands, that mon will have his way with ye and then God kens what. I fear for ye, my child.

The woman had raced across the chamber and offered her gnarled hand to Alyssa, helping her to a green velvet-covered chair as she spoke. A gilded mirror leaned against the wall before her chair, reflecting the telltale signs of his ruthlessness. Shaking, Alyssa slumped into the chair.

Heaven help us all, Lorna whispered. Drawn and pensive, she returned with a wet cloth and started dabbing at Alyssa’s face.

God’s teeth! Alyssa pulled back in pain. The baron makes no sense at all. He keeps speaking of revenge, but my beloved father has been dead for seven years. Why now seek vengeance? What could Father have done to him, and besides, how does his malice toward me serve such a purpose? Have you noticed how he searches the rooms? For the life of me, I have no idea what he seeks, Alyssa muttered with pursed lips.

Lorna pulled at her lip and began scrubbing at it with vigor.

Mayhap you could use a gentler touch, said Alyssa.

Och. Lorna released her lip and waved her deformed hand in the air. "This is naught compared to the