The Highlander’s Defiant Bride: Romance in the Highlands, #2

By Fiona Grant

Rhona Maclean dreams of being swept off her feet by a highlands hero: a man who is handsome, strong and brave and loves her more than life itself. 

Those dreams collapse into ashes when she is stolen from her home one dark night and delivered into the hands of a warrior from a rival clan.

Calum Stewart has long planned his revenge on the Macleans for the murder of his beloved sister and his brother, and he cares not for the feelings of one frightened lass. 

Rhona finds herself in the hands of people who loved Flora and Jaime Stewart—and who hate her with a passion. 

Warfare breaks out between the Macleans and the Stewarts and other clans take sides, with feelings running high. The King has to intervene, and Rhona becomes a pawn in Highland politics. 

She is forced to wed Calum Stewart, her cold and vengeful captor. Handsome and strong he might be, but the hero of her dreams he is not.

Lonely, heartbroken and baited at every turn by Calum's bereaved mother Moira, Rhona settles into her new life, bleakly certain that things could not be worse. Her new husband does not mistreat her, but nor does he love her. Her fate seems sealed. 

But in the Highlands, tempers run hot, passions ignite and Fate has a way of stepping in…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Gem Publishing
• Release date: Nov 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9780645215113

Book preview

Dreams of True Love

R hona, what are you doing gaping out the window again? Mairi’s bairn shall come whether or no you finish stitching that bonnet and chemise. And I imagine the child shall be most unhappy if it is to outgrow its swaddling clothes before it has something else to wear! 

Margaret Maclean’s voice floated through the solar, snapping Rhona out of her reverie. She had been working on stitching a chemise for her brother Alastair’s baby, but somewhere in the middle of that, her mind had been overtaken by other thoughts. Thoughts, she blushed to admit, of how bairns were made. 

Aye, Mama, Rhona looked down at her unfinished needlework. I am sorry. I don’ know what is in my head this eve.

Well, whatever it is, you had best get it out. She gave her daughter a stern look before sighing and sitting down next to her. I canna be angry with you, Rhona. I just worry. I want to find a good husband for you and, with all this warring and fighting between clans now, that prospect looks bleaker with each passing day. She squeezed Rhona’s shoulder, Be a dutiful sister now and finish that chemise for Mairi’s bairn.

Yes, Mama, Rhona answered. She knew Margaret was right; she needed to concentrate on her work. 

You’re a sweet lass, Rhona. Forgive me if I worry. I want only what is best for you.

Margaret rose and kissed her daughter gently on the top of her head before she quietly glided out of the room, and Rhona was left on her own, unfinished sewing in hand. 

She looked down at the tiny length of white linen in her hands. She had almost finished stitching the body of the chemise. Next, she would have to start the detail, a delicate pattern of flowers and animals. In the past, she had loved tasks like this. Now, her mind was filled with thoughts of weddings and a wish for a bairn of her own. 

She was of marrying age now, and her father had begun allowing suitors into the castle to woo her. But none of them was right. None of them was the tall, dark-haired warrior of the highlands that existed in her imagination. One day, she hoped, he would come striding into her life and sweep her off her feet. 

But that day had yet to come. She sighed and stabbed the unfinished chemise with her needle, pulling through another stitch. 

She knew what she did not want. She would not be one of those women who cowered before their husbands. She would never marry a man who would beat her or force her against her will to do her wifely duty in the bed-chamber. And she would not be one of those women who allowed herself to be nothing more than a heifer for her husband, eternally popping out bairns whilst he pleased himself with other ladies down dark hallways. She would not live a life of boredom and neglect, not Rhona Maclean. She would rather spend her life as a nun in the priory than be trapped in an unhappy marriage. 

Rhona smiled wryly to herself at the thought. That was exactly the decision Alastair’s wife had been forced to make before ultimately agreeing to wed him. It had been rocky at first; Alastair was still mourning his deceased first wife, and Mairi had resented the idea of being wed to a man she did not love. But the couple had grown to love and respect one another and were now expecting their first bairn. If she could have a love like that, she would be happy. 

Lost in thoughts of romance, Rhona paused again in her stitching and stared at the lengthening shadows advancing on the hills. Imagine, just imagine, if the man of her dreams were to come galloping over that hill, ready to take her away. A man full of life and fire and good humour, wanting Rhona by his side to live a life of adventure and excitement… 

Rhona sighed. The only suitors riding over those hills thus far had been older Lairds who had lost a wife because of disease or childbirth or green youths with dreams of ruling after their father’s death. 

Rhona tossed the chemise on a side table. Nobody ever knew what the morrow might bring, but more than likely ’twould not be an adventure for Rhona Maclean. No, all she had to look forward to was more sewing, more household duties. Her mother had turned many of the household decisions over to her daughter so that Rhona might become adept in the duties that accompanied the position of a Laird’s wife. 

Rhona was bored. 

Time for bed, M’Lady. Her maid, arriving at her side unnoticed, bent to pick up the little chemise from the floor. She shook her head as she rolled it up and clucked her tongue at Rhona. I shan’t tell your mother about the sewing if you hurry along now. The words were mild, and Rhona detected a twinkle in the woman’s eye. 

Mama wouldnae be surprised, Rhona said dryly, watching the maid drop the garment into a basket near the chair. She sighed again, weary with it all. I’m right tired today. I think I shall sleep well. Sleep, she thought, and dream. For my dreams are as close as I am like to get to my true love.

Riding Into the Night

In the Wee Small Hours…

Arough hand clapped over Rhona’s mouth, and she snapped awake in the darkness, instantly in a panic.

Donna speak or move, or I shall rip you from ear to ear and tear your gullet out of your throat! 

Rhona froze, hardly daring to breathe. Something sharp glinted in the moonlight that spilled through the window, sending a flash of light across her face. With horror, she saw the long dagger the man held in his calloused hand. His other hand was firmly clamped over her mouth. 

Rhona’s heart pounded in her chest as her mind reeled with disjointed thoughts. Where were her father and brothers? Was her family safe? Why hadn’t anyone heard this man come in? 

She had heard tales of this before. Roving bands of ruffians and marauders had lately grown dissatisfied with attacking only those who travelled the roads and so had hired themselves out in service to warring clans. But she’d never thought that something like this would happen here, not with her father and brothers nearby. The Maclean clan were powerful warriors, and no band of reivers had been able to defeat them, though a few had tried. Rhona shivered as her mind flicked back to the summer when she and Mairi had been overtaken by marauders on the road. 

She struggled to breathe through his rough fingers, trying not to think of the ugly treatment then meted out to their poor maid. Twas as though every nightmare she had had in the last few months was coming to life in the darkness of her room. 

The man twisted his fingers through her hair and yanked her up onto her feet. Rhona yelped, and she felt her eyes water with tears of pain.

Quiet! her attacker growled, pulling her hair harder. Make a noise, and I shall slit your mother from ear to ear and wear her skin as a coat. And your sister-in-law? What shall I do with her? A bonnie lass, and feisty, I’ve heard. Just how I like them. He laughed, an ugly rasping sound that made her blood run cold. I think I shall have my way with her before I have one of my men toss her over the battlements.

Frightened and with no other option, Rhona bit back her cries. As much as she wanted to fight back, she knew doing so might mean she or her family would be hurt. Nothing about this man’s behaviour suggested that he would care the slightest if she were maimed or killed, and she was not willing to test that out. The best course of action would be to play along for now. She knew this castle better than he did. She would find a way to escape. 

Sucking in another breath, she stopped struggling. 

That’s a good lass, her captor said, and Rhona saw a gleam of white teeth in the darkness. He tossed something at her. A soft pile of clothing hit her chest and then landed on the floor at her feet. Put those on.

Rhona looked down at the clothes on the floor and spoke without thinking. Those are lad’s clothes. I canna wear those. 

The man slapped her hard enough to have her ears ringing. You shall if you know what’s good for you. Get dressed. 

Rhona