Highland Wolf Bride

By Scarsky

Taken by the Scottish Highland Wolf...

In medieval times, born to the Earl of Carlisle, Lady Brooke Howard lives in a beautiful castle that her family owns. Sheltered from court life, she thinks of her life as utterly boring until a horde of barbaric highlanders invade her castle. Their intent to destroy and plunder Carlisle is altered when their leader discovers a greater prize: Her.

Malcolm Sinclair, laird of clan Sinclair of the highlands, is known as Wolf for his ruthlessness. When Brooke is forced to wed the Scottish barbarian, she insults him from the moment she first sets her eyes upon him. To her consternation, he appears to be undeterred. Her anger gives way to a peculiar thrill when she beholds his rugged warrior form. His gruff gentleness and devotion arouse tenderness within her, and that frightens her more than anything else in the world.

Can Brooke really fall for her enemy?

If you enjoy Diana Gabaldon's Outlander, Karen Marie Moning's Highlander, or Julie Garwood's Lairds' Fiancées series, you will love Highland Wolf Bride.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scarsky
• Release date: Apr 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9789811413285

Scarsky

Hello, I'm Scarsky!I’m a fiction author who enjoys writing romance, fantasy, and contemporary stories. It's my sincere wish that these books of mine will leave you, my beloved reader, with heartwarming, beautiful memories that'll stay with you long after the last page has been turned. I currently reside in sunny Singapore with my lovely puppy dog, Nicky.Be sure to keep an eye out for my newest books!www.scarsky.com

Book preview

Chapter One

May, 1717, Carlisle, England

Patches of light illuminated the sparse foliage of the wood, merging with black and gray silhouettes, shielding the small creatures from predators. A small stream gurgled somewhere nearby, concealing the sounds the rabbits made as they scampered to their little burrows, their feet tapping lightly on the soft ground.

There was a sudden snap. What was that?

Lady Berthilda Brooke hastened her pace, her ears twitching in the direction of the northern wind. The rabbit she had been hunting for the better part of the morning must have stepped upon a piece of dry wood. She pulled the string of her favorite bow, holding the arrow with the other hand, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of her arm. Her azure eyes squinted in the dim light. It was a particularly hot day. The sun was the highest in the sky, leaving the back of her dress dampened with sweat. The thick canopy sieved most of the light away, making it difficult to see.

There was a movement!

She saw a flash of white against the dark green undergrowth and a brown discarded log. Breathing quietly and deeply, just as her father had taught her, she released the taut pull of her arrow. It whooshed through the air, and her eyes followed the arc until she heard the tiny squeal that told her the deed was done. She averted her eyes from the pinned little creature, feeling the pangs of guilt as she murmured a silent prayer for forgiveness. She always felt sorry when she hunted by her own hand, even though she knew where all the meat was coming from.

Upon binding the three rabbits caught that day, she trudged through the woods to the horse tied near the stream. Mad Joanna, her mare, snarled at her. She had gotten used to the greeting from the ferocious mare that made even some of the bravest men hesitate to approach and ride her. She patted her mare on the head affectionately before taking out an apple from her saddle bag for pacification.

″There, there. Be a good girl, she mused to her mare. You are the only sane one here in this mad, mad world."

While Mad Joanna crunched on the apple, she tied her rabbits to her saddlebag and secured her quiver of silver-tipped arrows. She mounted her mare and rode toward Castle Howard beyond the wood.

The vast manicured lawns afore the magnificent gray stone fortress known as Castle Howard came into view, giving way to the famous gardens bordering the east and west. The Great Lake was calm and murky gray nearby, reflecting the rays from the sun.

She smiled as the castle loomed closer, the grand central dome effulgent between the two wings of the structure. Arthur, the stable master, emerged from the back as she settled the mare in her stall.

″My Lady, he spoke, bowing low. It is not good for you to go about hunting in the woods. If you were needing rabbits, you could have sought the assistance of a kitchen hand and they would gladly hunt them for you, as many as you please."

″Dear old Arthur, Brooke said, beaming brightly. You sound an awful much like my mother. I thank you for the suggestion, though. In truth, I do not mind fetching food for the table, and I quite enjoy the hunt. Being able to seek fresh air away from the confines of the pervasive isolation of my four walls is a blessing I dearly cherish. The constant embroidery and womanly tasks that my parents would have me do would sooner drive me into an early grave."

She ignored the disapproving look from Arthur as he shook his head, turning away just in time to spot someone coming toward them. It was a man who appeared to be around her own age. Arthur looked at the new stable boy, whose jaw fell open as he stared at the lady standing beside Mad Joanna. Arthur scowled at him.

″Lad, what are you doing with your mouth open? Get back to work! Arthur shouted before turning sheepishly to Brooke. That is Lassie, our new stable boy."

Lassie reddened as he went on his way, fumbling for the stacks of hay to lay out for the horses.

″Do feed Mad Joanna well, Brooke told him. She was quite cantankerous on our ride to the woods, but she becomes much calmer when she is full."

Arthur shook his head. No, my lady. Only you should be feeding this mare. None other. She has quite a hankering otherwise, being fond as she is of taking a chunk of flesh off the stable boys.

Brooke frowned. You must not be too firm with Mad Joanna. She is but a gentle soul.

″Do not let the king’s men hear you call the king’s mare ‘Mad Joanna’, he admonished. For they shall think you are disrespecting His Majesty."

She grinned. Joanna was the Queen of Portugal. I am certain such a noble association is no less befitting the status and title of His Royal Highness.

″If you say so, my lady, Arthur said. Before I forget to mention it, your lady mother was looking for you."

Brooke grimaced at the thought. I shall meet her after the changing of my gown.

Arthur glanced at the muddy hem of her yellow gown and shook his head disapprovingly. With a swish, she winked at him and left for the kitchens.

Brooke’s mother was not at all pleased. Sipping tea from a beautiful cup inherited from her forefathers, she regarded her eldest daughter sourly. Brooke shifted on her feet under her mother’s scrutiny. The pair of almond-shaped tawny eyes, blue as the sky, and bordered by thick, dark lashes, were a feature she had acquired from her mother. She did not, however, share the same penetrating gaze that caused grown men to swelter in their boots.

″Mother? You called?" Brooke asked after a moment of silence.

″Sit down, daughter," Lady Erline Howard, Countess of Carlisle, said briskly.

With a timid curtsy, Brooke sat, her hands folded primly in her lap.

″Where were you this morning?" her mother inquired, her gaze narrowing at her daughter’s less than clean heels.

″In the wood," Brooke answered, shifting nervously.

She knew it would be easier to lie, but her father had ingrained honesty in her since childhood. It made her squirm with guilt every time she fibbed. It was pointless in this situation anyway, since her mother always intuitively knew the truth. 

Lady Erline raised a brow, Hunting again?

″Yes."

Her mother sighed. When will you learn to behave like a lady? Your potential suitors are not—

″Mother, Brooke interrupted firmly. I shall not stop hunting just because you believe it may hurt my marriageable prospects. I do not want to get married now. We have been arguing in circles for years. It has become pointless. I shall not back down, and you know it."

Lady Erline was perhaps the most beautiful woman the county of Cumbria had seen. Her auburn hair, tawny eyes, and aristocratic elegant features were still sung about in many ballads and sonnets. She had passed on her exotic beauty to her younger twin daughters, however, and not to the eldest. Brooke knew she was considered pretty in her own right, with her golden-brown hair and tall physique, but she would never be as lovely as her mother and sisters.

″You are the eldest daughter of the Howard family, my dear, Lady Erline said, choosing her words carefully. It is one thing to know how to use the bow and arrow as an artful trick to amuse the court. But a future countess hunting game in the wood? That is simply not appropriate and is unacceptable in my eyes."

Brooke lashed out, defiant. You are wrong! Hunting is something that I love, and I refuse to give it up. Not for you, and not for anybody!

″Soon, you shall be married to the young and eligible bachelor, Lord John, her mother pressed, ignoring the earlier outburst. You shall become the ambassador for the entire lineage of our family."

John Howard was Brooke’s cousin. He was handsome and an amiable fellow. Nonetheless, as a romantic match, he was anything but suitable. Brooke found him utterly boring—a man of decorum and old traditions, which represented everything that she hated.

″Mother, Brooke spoke in short and measured breaths. If you must insist that I be wedded soon, then I ask that you allow me to enjoy what little freedom I have left. For I suspect dear John would hardly indulge me any of my hobbies, especially hunting."

With those words, she left the room. She knew she had been rude to her mother, but she would be damned if she was to allow her brief freedom to be taken away before she was to be wedded into a completely austere and prosaic family.

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July, 1714, Keiss Castle, Scottish Highlands

Laird Malcolm Sinclair stood on the second floor of the Keiss Castle, looking at the rain forming ripples in the blue waters of the sea. The building was almost in ruins. His clan had made a temporary keep, not far from the original castle, at the heart of the village, where he and two elders resided. The previous chiefs of the Sinclair clan had begun repairs decades ago, yet never seemed able to complete the construction required. Unfortunately, his clan was drowning in the debt which had been undertaken by two previous lairds preceding his father. A debt which was yet to be repaid.

He wanted to rebuild his home, not waste time waging war in a foreign country. He had learned of the new methods of trade, yet his elders had advised him that their clan should not trust the foreigners that encircled their borders. The Highlanders had long memories. They often reminisced about the bloodshed and war fought with their enemies over the years. When James the ‘Bonny Prince’ gave the Highlanders a purpose to unite and fight against England, Malcolm’s elders had leaped at the chance to go into battle, forcing him to acquiesce against his better judgment and join the war effort.

″What are you doing here, cousin? Rory Sinclair emerged, giving a brief nod in reverence. The training is almost complete, and the men are asking for you. We need strategic guidance from your brilliant mind if we wish to succeed in our raid on Carlisle."

Malcolm did not turn around. Inform my men that I shall address them at nightfall. Be ready then.

Rory waited for his laird to say more, but when he did not, he nodded and departed.

Malcolm was deep in thought. He knew that his clan required more wealth and resources and needed them desperately, especially if they wished to survive the winters. It was true that the Sinclair clan was the mightiest and the most feared of all, yet the coin in the clan treasury was low and their present and future needs far surpassed the funds he could raise in taxes from the peasants. Despite his temporary alliance with Prince James, his people would indulge in raids on the MacKays and MacKenzie in retaliation for the thievery of their own crops and cattle. Malcolm did not consider it wise to have such terrible relations with neighboring clans, as the Sinclair lands were surrounded by them. He was working on negotiating a treaty with both clans that might bring his people peace while simultaneously endeavoring to appease the elders.

The raid to Carlisle was a significant endeavor. The Earldom was known for its wealth and power, though their defenses were lowered because it was rumored that King George suspected Earl Howard of dealing with the Jacobites.

If his clan was not the first to loot Carlisle, some other clan would. All the clans were waiting for a chance to begin the silent rebellion against Prince James, which would spark the flames of a much larger war that could consume them all.

Chapter Two

Late July, 1714, Carlisle

Bertie! John Howard stopped. He frowned, running his fingers through his golden hair in frustration. Care that you do not slip and fall.

Do not call me that, Brooke said crossly.

Bertie was short for Berthilda. It was a silly name John had created when they were children to tease her. She despised it still.

Brooke had lost a slipper in the gurgling stream of the woods while trying to outrun John. She played this game with her cousin every time he came to visit. John was the son of Baron Theodore, her father’s brother, and only five years older than her. The girls in the castle, daughters of her father’s highest-ranking soldiers, were most envious of her closeness with John. Of those who were not, they did not share similar interests to her, perhaps apart from Judith Jackson.

It was not that Brooke did not like her cousin, far from it. John was her closest confidant and companion for the past several years. One month ago, he had professed that he had loved her since they were children, but for some reason, Brooke did not share the same feelings. She secretly dreamed of the kind of love that she had read about in novels, poems, and witnessed in Shakespearian plays performed in her father’s court. She would sit, wide-eyed, and long for the same passionate romance to sweep her off her feet. It was then that she would know what true love really was. Her parents’ marriage was nothing like that. It was arranged by their families with an eye for preserving the bloodline and their royal lineage. Her father and mother may have developed respect and mutual concern for each other over the years, but those two things did not rise to the kind of love that she wanted. She believed in the biblical verse, Song of Solomon 3:4, I have found the one whom my soul loves.

The feminine intuition in her heart told her that John was not the one for her. Deep down, she knew that she would one day discover the meaning of true love. Her soulmate was the one meant to join with her forevermore. Yet, despite the veracity of her beliefs, she could never once utter her private thoughts to anyone about the matter. When John had talked to her parents about the possibility of marriage between them, Brooke could only show her hesitancy, but no more.

Her mother had inquired as to the reason for her apprehension, saying, John is a good, handsome man, Brooke. He also comes from our bloodline, ensuring his pure lineage. He is the only one who can take care of you and of your father’s lands when the time comes. Do not doubt our sincere intentions, for parents will always know best.

The law stated that a father’s lands must be inherited by his daughters in equal parts, should the man not produce a son as his heir. However, heiresses could sometimes be held under the king’s custody until such time as the king bestowed upon her a suitable man, especially if she was a prize of a bride who had both wealth and lands. It was common practice for a King to reward his subjects with heiresses.

It was under these customary laws of the land that Brooke was henceforth trapped. Should she fail to marry John, she was likely to be betrothed by the king to another, and who knew who that stranger might be? Her mother’s words were wise. At least with John, she would be married to a man whom she respected and had known since childhood. They had an understanding that was akin to friendship. This arrangement was something she had come to grudgingly accept.

Bertie! John scolded again.

She fished the soggy satin slipper out of the water and began to wring it out. But as she did so, she felt his strong hands on her arm as he pulled her up to face him. She was aware that her hair was standing on end from running, escaping the braids that had been arranged in an elegant formation around her crown. She weaved the stray strands of her hair back, feeling a tad self-conscious. His face was inches away from hers, his blue eyes eerily similar to her father’s. He had inherited the same long nose, pale skin, and fair hair that was prevalent in the Howard bloodline. His fingers caught hold of the stray brown lock escaping her coiffure and rubbed the satiny consistency between them.

You have beautiful hair, he whispered into her ear. I cannot wait to see your locks unbound and set free to fly in the billowing winds.

She blushed, unable to meet his eyes. It felt peculiar to her to hear such things from a man she long considered her brother. Stranger still, to think of him as her soon-to-be husband.

John, she murmured. Let go. She swatted him with the damp shoe. Let’s not get overzealous. We are not even properly betrothed yet.

Don’t be a tease. His hands gripped her delicate waist tightly, making her gasp.

She squirmed. This is most inappropriate!

I should think so. He dipped her body, his lips nearing hers.

She let him kiss her, more out of curiosity than desire. The kiss was not unpleasant. His lips were soft against hers. Yet, when the kiss became something more, and his tongue began probing for entrance, she had to gasp, pulling away with an indelicate shove.

John! she breathed. We are in plain view of the battlements. My father shall be angry if he was to be notified of our indiscretions. Even if we are to be wed, I am still a lady, and we cannot just—

John frowned. His ears reddened from the rejection. I know this is not the first time you have courted your father’s disapproval. This is about something else entirely, is it not? Do you not love me, Brooke?

O-of course, I do. She averted her eyes from his gaze and shook her head. I-I am just not acclimated to the idea of us being betrothed, is all. And when you touch me like this, it makes me...

A grin spread across his face. Aye. This is a good start. Your hesitation is natural and should be expected it for someone of modest character as yourself. In time, you shall yearn for my touch.

She breathed a sigh of relief, for he seemed to have accepted her explanation. A small part of her knew that he was right, and in time, she would come to love him as well. Yet, the traitorous heart inside her whispered that John was not the right one for her. He did not possess the fiery heat of passion that she wanted in a man.

No, the annoying whispers had to be suppressed. If she had yet to find such a man for herself in over twenty years, then what made her think it would ever happen? Maybe the man she was searching for only existed in children's stories and fairy tales.

Perhaps, she thought with a tinge of sadness, her ability to settle for a marriage of convenience was an indication of her maturity. She was growing up and setting aside irrational thinking. Was it not what all adults did as they grew older—threw away their dreams and did what was expected of them? It was time that she followed suit.

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That evening, Brooke walked to her parents’ bedchamber, seeking a word with her father about John. She had made up her mind. It was time to tell them of her decision to settle for marriage. When she reached the doors, she noticed that one of them was slightly ajar.

What shall we do if the king is to order an inquisition? She could hear the worry in her mother’s voice.

She waited, listening for more. Her parents had always tried their best to shield her from court-related politics ever since she was young enough to reason, but she could never exactly fathom why.

We shall let His Highness investigate the matter then, her father intoned warily. He shall find nothing, of course. I do not know why he does not focus on Thomas. The bastard is a genius at concealing his trail and framing me for the misdeeds he cannot disguise.

George is a fool, her mother spat. You have been loyal to him from the beginning. You were amongst his first supporters, and yet he would deign to turn against a loyal subject and an honest friend rather than stoop to investigate his new advisers.

Lower your voice, Erline! Her father hastened to hush. Walls have ears, and our enemies are numerous. Should our words reach the king, I fear the manacles of treason shall be upon us all!

Her mother sighed. Should the Jacobites declare war on England, would we not become their first target? If so, should the king refuse to send reinforcements, do we have to break bread with the Scottish?

I doubt it would be so. The king knows that we are at the entrance of England. If we were to fall, all shall be lost.

The king is a fool, Lady Erline declared with a trembling anger but caught herself just as quickly. I am glad that no matter what happens, at least Brooke has been betrothed to a good man. John will take the children under his wing, and the Howard name shall live on. Should the worst come to pass, Brooke’s marriage is our last and final hope. Your brother is in good standing with the king, and no harm shall befall him and his.

Upon hearing those words, Brooke could feel her heart hardening. Despite how she felt about her match, she would have to marry John. It was the right thing to do. This was clear to her now. If there was one thing she loved with every piece of her heart, it would be her family. She would do anything to protect her little sisters. Even if it meant having to give up on all of her highfalutin notions about love.

When dawn came, Brooke made her way to the servants’ quarters and marketplace to gather as much information as she could about the enemies that her parents so feared. It appeared that Prince James of the Stuart House was forging ahead to lay claim on the English throne. The winds of war were brewing on the horizon, that much was certain. She knew that Scotland and Ireland were allied in their support for the Prince, and those were formidable foes indeed.

Villagers whispered in hushed tones of the barbaric Highlanders who resided in the mountains of Scotland. Their guerrilla warrior skills were frightful and elicited bloodbaths at every battle. It was said that these barbarians flavored their oatmeal with human blood, ate the hearts of their enemies raw, and even trained their children to murder their siblings. These were cold-blooded savages coming to invade her home, and she had to do everything she could to protect her family and her people. If her marriage to John would influence the king in any small way to send reinforcements to save her home, then that was exactly what she intended to do.

Chapter Three

June, 1717, Carlisle

Two heads of fiery red curls shone in the bright sunlight, disappearing and emerging periodically from the thicket of wild roses dispersed among the tall, thin trees of the forest. Little Ludella and Kelsea Howard, their elvish features full of mischief, pretended to be woodland fairies in their frilly pink and blue dresses. Their naked feet danced upon the damp ground, worrying Brooke. 

"Do wear your