Highland Secret - Historical Highlander Romance

By Kyra Johnston

The last thing Meredith MacDonald wants is to be married off to someone in a clan friendly with the infamous Campbell's. After a night of drink, she gets it into her head to run off and make her way to distant relatives in England. On the road a gunshot startles her horse, and in pursuit of it Meredith stumbles, almost literally, across a man called Ethan. He appears to be running away as well, and agrees to accompany her to the next inn. 

Her father's men are close behind, however, and it doesn't take long for them to catch up and drag Meredith and Ethan, who she discovers was the man she was set to marry, back to the castle. While Ethan is far from what Meredith imagined her husband would be, she still hides a secret that could turn his affections away from her and ruin the alliance that their marriage has bought. 

A Standalone Short Story with No Cliffhanger! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Special Highland Romance Club
• Release date: Nov 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386068624

Book preview

Highland Secret

Chapter 1

July, 1650

Y e canna' make me marry tha' man.

Aye, I can, an' I will. 'Tis for th' sake o' yer clan, lass. This fighting must end.

Meredith groaned and threw up her hands. Behind her, her father sighed. Meredith heard the rustle of his clothing as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Dougall MacDonald had been trying to convince Meredith of the merits of an alliance between them and the MacArthur clan. The constant petty squabbles and conflicts between the two clans over everything from land to a spilled beer in a tavern was wearing heavily on her father's shoulders. She knew that. As the local clan leader it was his responsibility to keep everyone in line. Had he sons he surely would have made arrangements to marry them off to MacArthur daughters, but his sons had died in infancy, and Meredith was the only one who had managed to make it to adulthood, and barely at that. Throughout her childhood her constitution had been fragile, and she had had several close calls with God and his angels. Through his Grace she had survived to see eighteen, but now that her father was growing more insistent about this marriage, she was beginning to wish that she had succumbed to one of her many illnesses after all.

What if he's old? she asked, spinning back around to face her father. Dougall had settled in the low, wide chair to the right of the bedroom door and had dropped his hand from his broad face and was fiddling with the pin on his kilt. He didn't look up when she spoke. Or ugly? Or cruel? He's a Campbell, after all.

He's a MacArthur, Dougall corrected.

Is tha' no' the same thing?

Dougall hesitated. "Aye, perhaps it is, but that does no' change the fact that our people, your people, need th' security that this union will give them. Surely ye can agree tha' is something worth sacrificing this one thing for?"

One thing that' will lead t' another and another, if this MacArthur has his way. Have ye heard how they treat their wives? They—

Stories are just stories, lass, Dougall said. Now I've tried t' be respectful of yer wishes, but there's no other way I can see, least no' one tha's as permanent. The family is set to arrive in a week's time to discuss and settle the details and give ye and this MacArthur lad a chance to meet and get t' know one another.

I have no wish t' get t' know him. Meredith was unsure if it was the tone of her voice or if he had grown tired of her constant arguments, but Dougall abruptly got to his feet, using his greater height to look down on his daughter, and fixed her with a ferocious stare.

I am yer father, yer lord an' master, an' this is my wish, whether ye like it or no', so ye had best come t' terms with it all before the week is out. He spun on his heel and left the room and shut the door very firmly behind him, just short of slamming it hard enough to rattle the hinges but still hard enough to make Meredith jump. She threw a pot after him, the first thing that came to hand. It clattered loudly to the floor. Meredith let it sit there for a good minute, pouting with her arms crossed over her chest, then reluctantly went to retrieve it and put it back in its place.

She could run away. Yes, that would work. Meredith went to find a blanket she could wrap up her belongings in then stopped before she could get far enough to unfold one. She could run, but where would that get her? Her father's men would come after her as soon as they noticed she was gone, and even if she could get a full night's head start on them they were expert trackers, and with her constitution how it was she wasn't likely to get very far. What an impression that would leave when the MacArthur's