A Highland Secret: A Medieval Highland Romance: Bastards of Cawdor

By Avery Maitland

The Thane of Cawdor was a busy man, and his bastards grew as wild (and as numerous) as the thistles on the hills.

 

Nathan Ros, Thane of the windswept isles in the northern sea, has been eager to find any reason not to return to the cold stones of his keep. Five years ago he lost his beloved wife in childbirth. His young children need the warmth of a mother's love, but he cannot bring himself to remarry, even if it is only in name alone.

 

"Some secrets are meant to be kept… Even from the likes of you."

 

The Thane of Cawdor's half-sister, Liona Duncan has been content in the knowledge that she would never be the mistress of her own keep. There was enough excitement in Cawdor to keep her busy without the distraction of the Thane of Orkney's cold presence.

But when her brother commands that she leave Cawdor to accompany Nathan Ros north to Birsay, everything Liona thought she knew about him, and herself, will be thrown out of balance.

 

Cawdor is not Orkney, and the demands of her new position as nursemaid to the laird's children consumes every waking hour of her life—and every secret corner of her heart. But there are secrets to be found behind the salt-crusted walls of Birsay, and Liona is determined to discover the truth behind the whispers in the stone corridors, even if the discovery of it puts her very life in danger.

 

Reader beware — "A Highland Secret" features lots of plaid, possible historical inaccuracies, a curious, high-spirited heroine, and a cold-hearted Highlander to sweep her away. There is no cheating to be found here, NO cliffhanger, and a Highland HEA is guaranteed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FireHive Media
• Release date: Jul 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201948092

Book preview

1

Nathan Ros — Thane of Orkney

I f ye stand by the window much longer, ye’re liable tae turn intae a bird.

Nathans Ros turned to glare at his friend. 

Andrew Duncan, Thane of Cawdor, was sprawled across a large wooden chair that had been pulled away from the banquet table to be closer to the large fire that crackled in the great stone hearth that dominated the main hall of his keep.

Nathan was unaccustomed to the warmth of the southern lands and Nairn’s late summer heat was prickly and uncomfortable. 

It would be worth it tae ‘scape this heat, Nathan grumbled.

Andrew raised his cup of mead in a salute. And easier tae travel back tae Orkney.

Aye. Nathan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the stone window frame to look out over the Thane of Cawdor’s lands.

When d’ye plan tae return?

To Birsay?

Andrew smiled at his friend over the rim of his cup before he tilted it back and drained its contents. Where else?

Damn him. 

I should leave before the weather turns.

The loud scrape of iron over stone sent a chill down Nathan’s spine as his friend stoked the fire. Aye, that crossin’ is a terror even in summer.

Maybe for you. D’ye even need the fire? It’s too hot already.

Andrew snorted and spat into the fire. You northerners have seawater in y’er veins.

Aye, probably.

A jug of mead stood on the table, and Andrew rose from his chair to fill it. He held it out to Nathan, who frowned and shook his head.

You drink too much.

And you dinnae drink enough, Andrew laughed. He slammed the jug down on the table and held up his cup. All you do is complain! Is Birsay so terrible? D’ye dislike yer own keep so much?

Y’know very well why I stay away, Nathan growled.

Andrew flung himself down into his chair once more and propped his feet upon an empty mead barrel that had been discarded by the fireside. A remnant of the previous night’s meal, no doubt.

His disdain for his friend’s habits were not a secret, but Nathan suspected that Andrew kept him around to remind him of his responsibilities. The Thane of Cawdor had always been a wild bastard, and the acquisition of his titles had not quelled that streak of rebellion. 

It was not Nathan’s duty to keep Andrew Duncan in line—but it was certainly a facet of their friendship.

Ye cannae leave those children in the care of servants forever, Andrew began. He gestured with his cup of mead, casually, as though it was a conversation they had had many times. 

They had, of course, but Nathan would sooner forget them.

Who are you tae lecture me on what I can and cannae do with my children? he snarled.

"Who am I? Andrew laughed and took a gulp of his mead. I have more sons than I know what tae do with!"

Aye. Bastards, all of them. Just like you.

And?

And nothing.

Andrew snorted and stared into the fire. Fortunately, unlike you, they are all loyal tae their father.

I am loyal—

"You are a stubborn fool."

Nathan glared out the window at the rolling green fields of Nairn. So much grass. He did long for the crash of waves and the screams of the gulls that wheeled high above Birsay and the tammy norrie that nested in the cliffs below the keep.

I can hear ye thinkin’,’ ‘ Andrew mocked him, but when Nathan did not react, he changed his approach. How long have y’been away?"

Three years, he replied stiffly.

That’s a long time for a man tae be away from his home.

Anger surged in his chest as Nathan turned to face his friend. "Aye, ‘tis. But I’ve been away from home fightin’ wars for you and your lands, with your bastards at my side. Ye’re the last man who should be lecturin’ me about anythin’, Andrew Duncan."

These wars bought you a keep, and a title, Andrew snapped. He leaned back in his chair and flipped his hand dismissively in Nathan’s direction. If ye dinnae want them, I can take them away just as easy.

I’m the only reason you have titles tae give away, Nathan roared.

Aye, and ye willnae let me forget it, Andrew shouted back.

His cup of mead smashed to the floor, spraying honeyed liquid and chips of pottery over the rush-covered flagstones, as Andrew jumped out of his chair.

Nathan was the taller of them, and he stood his ground as his friend marched toward him and jammed a finger into his chest.

All of my fightin’ is over and done wi’, he said. It’s time ye went home. Ye cannae stay here. Go back tae Birsay and be wi’ ye’er children. They need their father just as surely as they needed Aimil—

White-hot rage blinded Nathan’s vision as he shoved his friend back. Andrew stumbled, but caught himself against the edge of the banquet table.

Ye dinnae get tae speak her name, Nathan growled.

The crunch of an apple broke through the heated tension between the two men and Nathan glared at the doorway. 

A young woman leaned against the doorframe, a pale yellow apple in her hand and a look of smug disdain upon her face. She chewed thoughtfully as she looked at them and then brushed her red-brown braid over her shoulder.

D’ye know what time it is? 

Nathan stared at her, dumbfounded. What?

"What time, she repeated. Are ye still drinkin’ from last night?" She pointed at the empty mead barrel by the fireside that had recently been the thane’s footstool.

What business is it of yours, girl, Nathan snapped. Get back tae the kitchens where ye belong.

Nathan— 

Andrew’s tone held a warning, but Nathan did not have time to register it before the girl’s dark sapphire eyes narrowed.

The kitchens.

Aye, get ye gone, Nathan snapped.

Her apple struck him in the chest before he realized she had thrown it. He looked down in surprise at the wet spot on his jerkin where the piece of fruit had struck him and then at his friend.

Andrew Duncan’s face was red with the effort of holding in his laughter.

If you’ll not be disciplinin’ yer own servants, then I will, Nathan snarled. 

I’d like tae see ye try, the young woman shouted. 

Nathan rounded on her, but Andrew jumped up and pushed his friend back. As much as I’d like tae see this little—discussion—

Aye, hold him back. Easier for me tae push him out the window, the girl called out. I didnae even finish my apple.

What are ye doin’? Nathan growled. D’ye allow yer scullery maids tae talk tae ye this way? I’ll grant ye, she’s got a pretty figure—

Scullery maid!

Andrew Duncan coughed, but it sounded more like laughter and Nathan’s anger tightened his chest once more.

What—

Nathan, d’ye not remember my sister?

The young woman’s arms were crossed over her chest as she glared at him, and realization dawned upon him. Of course he recognized her. The determined set of her chin and the chaos of freckles that were splashed across the bridge of her nose that was so like her brothers’.

Liona Duncan. 

She had been a hellion when she was a girl. Always underfoot and demanding to fight and come riding. When she was seventeen, she had almost joined her brother on the battlefield before she was discovered and dragged back to the camp by the captain of the guard. But almost ten years had passed since that day, and he had not seen her since then—

He swore under his breath and stepped away from Andrew’s hold on him.

Oh aye, the girl laughed. "Now he remembers me."

Nathan glared at his friend. Why did ye not tell me—

Andrew laughed. I wouldnae miss a reaction like that for all the world.

Are ye finished? Liona’s arms were crossed over her chest as she glared at them. 

What d’ye want? Andrew barked. His tone was harsh, but there was fondness in it, too. 

Nothin’, Liona said with a shrug. I just heard shoutin’ and thought I’d take a peek. Ye’ll wake the whole keep at this rate. She looked between them and a wicked smile spread across her face. So, who started it? It was my brother, to be sure. What d’ye say, Nathan?

Nathan’s jaw tightened. What kind of game was she playing?

Liona rolled her eyes. Ye’re no fun at all, are ye? I should have known that you wouldnae have found a sense of humor in the last ten years.

If ye cannae be of any use, get ye gone, Andrew growled. His playfulness was gone now, and Liona’s back straightened as she noticed the change in his voice.

I live to serve my Thane’s command, she said tartly.

Andrew snorted as she turned away, her red-brown braid flung out behind her with the force of her departure, and Nathan was forcibly reminded of what she had been like as a young girl. She still had the same insolent glitter in her eye, and the same mocking tone in her voice when she spoke to anyone with any sort of rank. She had never had any respect for such things.

Andrew slapped his hand against Nathan’s shoulder, startling him. You look like a fish on dry land, he laughed. It is really such a shock to see her?

I— Nathan shook his head. Why did he care? 

Thought I would have married her off to someone else by now, Andrew said ruefully. I tried. Ye dinnae want tae know what happened tae him, but the horse was fine.

The horse—

Andrew held up his hand. Dinnae ask me what tae do wi’her. She spends all her time ridin’ and callin’ me a bloody fool.

Nathan grunted and moved away toward the window once more. The room felt too hot, and the fire was making him sweat. The sweet smell of crushed apple filled his nostrils and he bent to pick up the fruit that Liona had thrown at him. 

Why d’ye not send her away? he asked before he tossed the apple out the window. He watched it sail through the air, down toward a small stand of trees. It exploded against one of the rough pine branches and he smiled briefly. His aim was still good.

Send her away—

Aye, ye’re the Thane of Cawdor. Send her anywhere ya like. She could be a lady-in-waiting tae one of yer men’s wives—one ye’re havin’ a quarrel wi’ would serve nicely.

Oh, aye?

Nathan spun around and fixed his friend with a glare. No.

Andrew spread his hands and grinned. But ye said it yersel’. Send her away. Ye’ll be headin’ back tae Birsay and yer damned shriekin’ birds before the month is out.

No!

Yer children need a woman’s touch, Nathan. Ye cannae leave them tae the servants forever. How’re ye supposed tae pass yer title tae a boy y’barely know?

Shut your mouth, Nathan growled.

Stop bein’ so dramatic. Ye’ve always liked Liona—

If he could have caught fire and burned down to a cinder, it would have been preferable to this conversation. What! I havenae said so!

 She’ll be good for them, Andrew insisted. She’s cunning, and a rare wit—she’ll have them ridin’ and shootin’ a bow and arrow before y’know it. They’ll forget—

"Forget what?"

Andrew was no fool, and he recognized danger when he heard it. He pushed away from the table and backed toward his chair beside the fire, his hands raised in self-defence. That’s no what I meant.

What did y’mean then? You want my bairns tae grow up as wild as yer bastards? I cannae think of anythin’ worse. Their mother—

Their mother is dead, Nathan, Andrew said patiently. And I’m sorry tae say it, but y’have tae move on. When you can let go, they’ll follow. What ye’re doin’ isn’t a kindness, it’s cruelty keepin’ them trapped there wi’ her memory and nothin’ tae dull the pain.

What would you know about it? Nathan yelled as he turned away from the window and glared at his friend.

He wanted to drive his fist right through Andrew Duncan’s smug face. Sure, he thought he was trying to help, but no one had asked for his help, and Nathan certainly wasn’t in the mood to hear his opinion on anything. Especially how he chose to live his life and raise his children.

Hit me if ye want, Andrew goaded him. Ye’ve always had a weak punch.

Nathan’s hands tightened into fists and he lunged at his friend, but Andrew avoided him easily and sat down in his chair. 

I dinnae care if ye’re angry wi’ me, he said casually. Y’know I’m right. Those bairns need their father, and if y’cannae give them that, give them something else to fill that space.

Shall I send them here, tae Cawdor? Nanthan fumed. Would y’like some more children tae raise like the heathens ye’ve managed tae set loose on the world?

"Ach, they’re not all bad, Andrew laughed. I’m surprised ye dinnae have any bastards of yer own. We had similar tastes in those days—"

Nathan had had enough. Speak for yersel’. We’re nothin’ alike.

Andrew’s laughter was cutting and Nathan’s jaw tightened.

Oh, aye, Aimil made y’a changed man. Andrew was mocking him now, and it took every ounce of Nathan’s restraint to keep from tipping his friend out of his chair and into the fire that blazed in front of them.

The Thane made a dismissive gesture and Nathan froze. "Stay angry