Reluctant Highland Bride

By Scarsky

Olivia never wanted to be a laird's wife, especially not Alastair's—a rugged, domineering Highland laird with a dark past. Yet when politics and fate conspire to bind them in matrimony, she's transported to a world far removed from her English comforts—a world of clan rivalry, strife, but also unexpected beauty.

As Olivia grapples with her new life, a different battle brews—between her heart and the walls Alastair and his troubled son, Ian, have built around theirs. The Highlands might be a place of raw splendor, but the real wonder is the journey Eleanor embarks upon; a journey that transforms a house into a home, a contractual obligation into a passionate, enduring romance, and a fractured family into a united force.

"Reluctant Highland Bride" isn't just another tale of forced marriage leading to love. It's a deeply moving and emotionally charged saga that explores the complexities of the human heart, the healing power of second chances, and the indomitable spirit of love.

If you're a fan of soul-stirring romance laced with intrigue, set against the magnificent backdrop of the Scottish Highlands, this book is your next must-read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pup Books
• Release date: Nov 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9789811886447

Book preview

Reluctant Highland Bride

Scarsky

image-placeholder

Pup Books

Copyright © 2023 Scarsky

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

To request permissions, contact the publisher at [e-mail]

ISBN: 979-886-72-1946-8 (Paperback)

ISBN: 978-981-18-8644-7 (Ebook)

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

First printing edition 2023

Scarsky

www.scarsky.com

Contents

Chapter 1: A House No Longer A Home

Chapter 2: A Cold Welcome in the Highlands

Chapter 3: Thawing the Ice

Chapter 4: Cracks in the Armor

Chapter 5: Winter's Warmth

Chapter 6: Thawing Hearts

Chapter 7: The Arrival of Spring

Chapter 8: A Day of Revelry

Chapter 9: Unveiling Layers

Chapter 10: Whispers and Worries

Chapter 11: The Gathering Storm

Chapter 12: Reunion and Revelations

Chapter 13: Building Alliances

Chapter 14: Trials and Tribulations

Chapter 15: Holding Down the Fort

Chapter 16: The Tipping Point

Chapter 17: The Return and Reckoning

Chapter 18: New Beginnings

Chapter 19: Spring's Awakening

Chapter 20: Epilogue - The Legacy

About Author

Chapter 1: A House No Longer A Home

Olivia moved gracefully, her hands gently folding the linens with a care that spoke of her love for the little rituals that made a house a home. Her fiery eyes, always so full of spirit, found a kind of solace in these simple domestic routines. Each fold was a meditation, each crease a small piece of order in a world that felt increasingly chaotic.

The door creaked open, and her mother, Lady Edith, stepped into the room. Olivia glanced up, and immediately, her eyes narrowed. Her mother's face was a tight knot of emotion, lips pressed together as if she was holding back a flood. In her hand, she held a letter, its seal unbroken but weighty, like a verdict not yet spoken.

Lord William, Olivia's father, stood behind his wife. His face, normally a study of composed authority, showed tinges of something Olivia couldn't quite put her finger on: a mix of resignation and resolve. That small crack in his façade unsettled her more than the unread letter on the table.

Without a word, Lady Edith laid the letter on the oak table in front of Olivia. It felt like a heavy stone, pulling all the lightness from the room. Her eyes landed on the seal—a Celtic knot—intricately designed but foreboding. An icy finger traced the length of her spine.

Lady Edith broke the silence. Her voice, usually so warm and comforting, was tense as she spoke. You are to marry Alastair MacGregor, a Scottish Highland Laird.

The room blurred as Olivia's hands curled into fists, her knuckles turning as white as the linens she had just folded. A strange alchemy of emotions churned within her—a blend of anger, disbelief, and a betrayal that stung like a winter chill. Those linens, so recently a comfort, now seemed like a mockery, a symbol of the domestic cage she was about to be thrust into.

You can't be serious, Olivia spat, the fire that everyone admired in her eyes now becoming a blaze. Neither of her parents met her gaze, their eyes downturned as if to avoid the sharpness of her words.

Lord William cleared his throat, the sound grating against the tension in the room. This alliance is not just about marriage, Olivia. It is about securing peace, creating bonds between Scotland and England that are stronger than the treaties written on parchment.

Before he could say more, Olivia turned, her crimson dress whipping around her like a flag on a battlefield. The confines of the room had become too much, each wall a barrier closing in on her freedom, each word from her parents a chain pulling tighter.

She stormed through the house, her footsteps a rapid drumbeat on the wooden floor. Arriving at her personal chamber, she slammed the door behind her with a force that reverberated through the room, through her bones, echoing the turmoil that churned within her. The room, filled with the trinkets and memories that had once offered sanctuary, suddenly felt like a prison.

Olivia moved to her window, her eyes sweeping over the gardens she had once played in, the maze where she had dreamed up a thousand imaginary adventures. All seemed to wither under the heavy knowledge of the life plotted out for her. She rested her hand on the cool glass, her breath coming in uneven spurts, as if the air around her had thinned.

This room, this house, it could no longer be her true home if it was just a stepping stone to a life she had not chosen. Her gaze hardened, her thoughts racing even as they started to crystalize around a single, unwavering decision.

No matter what her future held, Olivia knew one thing—she would not walk into it meekly. If she was to be thrust into a new world, a new role, she would do it on her own terms. And God help her husband-to-be if he thought she would be just another obedient wife.

Olivia sighed, drawing her focus back to the room she was about to leave. She needed to pack, to prepare for this new chapter, however reluctant she was to turn the page. With a deep breath that did little to settle her racing heart, she moved toward her wardrobe, the space around her seeming to close in with every step.

She watched her reflection in the gilded mirror, her image framed by intricate carvings of roses and ivy. She stared into her own eyes, seeking the familiar spark that defined her, but seeing it dimmed, clouded by a fog of uncertainty. Who would she be in this new life? Could she still be herself if every choice was being stripped away?

Sarah, her maid and confidante since childhood, moved quietly around the room, folding gowns and tucking away small trinkets. Olivia observed Sarah's hands, usually so steady, tremble as they touched the fabric and lace. Each fold, each neatly packed item, was like a note in a dirge for Olivia's former life.

Olivia walked to her dresser and picked up a locket. Opening it revealed a miniature portrait of her late brother, James. His warm eyes seemed to look back at her, a reminder of simpler times, of allies lost. She clutched the locket to her heart, as if trying to draw strength from it, her fingers pressing into the cool metal.

Breaking the heavy silence, Sarah spoke cautiously. Milady, I heard from the kitchen maids that Laird Alastair was married once before. His wife passed on, but he has a son.

Olivia's eyes snapped up, locking onto Sarah's reflection in the mirror. Another surprise. Another complexity in a day that had already upended her life. She felt a strange hollow sensation, unsure if this news made her impending marriage more or less daunting.

Sarah sensed her mistress's inner turmoil and, in an effort to divert her thoughts, began speaking of the Highlands. They say the mountains are like nothing we have here, milady. Covered in heather and mist, they are.

But her words, meant to comfort, fell flat. Olivia turned, her eyes meeting Sarah's. They were misty, as if on the verge of spilling over, but she held them back, a reservoir behind a dam.

The room seemed to shrink, each object in it—her books, her small collection of art, even her harp in the corner—becoming a symbol of what she was leaving behind. Her eyes lingered on the bookshelf that held her most treasured companions. She had devoured volumes of poetry, philosophy, and history, her mind always yearning for more. Would her new home offer any sanctuary for her thoughts, her dreams, her relentless intellect?

With a finality that felt like an executioner's axe, Olivia closed the lid of her trunk, locking it and, in a symbolic gesture, sealing away a part of herself. Her hand lingered on the latch, her body almost recoiling from the finality of it.

For a brief moment, Olivia considered taking pen to paper, drafting a letter to Alastair MacGregor. She imagined her words flying like arrows, each sentence a declaration of her will, her spirit, her non-negotiable terms. But what would it achieve? Her hand moved away from the stationary, her resolve hardening into something more formidable.

No, she would not write. She would not telegraph her punches. Olivia clenched her fists, her nails almost biting into her palms. She would face this Laird, this stranger to whom she was bartered like chattel, and he would know her strength by looking into her eyes, not by reading her words.

Yet, even as she steeled herself, resolve doing little to quell the storm inside her, Olivia felt the tug of all she was leaving behind: her home, her freedoms, her dreams not yet realized. Her eyes met Sarah's one last time, the unspoken weight of the moment shared in a gaze.

Olivia took one last glance around her room, her sanctuary that had now turned into a stark reminder of a life she was being forced to leave. She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, straightened her shoulders, and took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale the very essence of her past life, tucking it deep within her soul for the journey ahead.

As she descended the grand staircase, each step felt like a notch on a timeline, marking her progression from a woman of agency to a pawn in a political game. Her footsteps echoed on the marble floors, punctuating the gravity of the moment.

She passed through the foyer, once a space filled with laughter and joy, now tense and heavy with unspoken words. Even the servants who had been her constant companions looked away, as if her changed circumstance had altered her very being in their eyes.

Her mother, Lady Edith, stood beside her father, Lord William, at the entrance of their family manor. They stood at a respectable distance, the gap between them feeling like a gulf she could never bridge. Her mother's eyes met hers—so similar in hue but worlds apart in experience. Had her mother ever felt this trapped? Had she ever yearned for something more?

Her father's gaze was more opaque, tinged with a combination of guilt and regret. Yet it was too late for second thoughts; the die was cast, the wheels in motion. Their eyes met briefly, an exchange that conveyed both resignation and an acknowledgment of irrevocable decisions.

Olivia approached the carriage waiting outside, its ebony exterior polished to a reflective sheen. The horses, sensing the tension, shifted nervously, their hooves pawing the cobblestone courtyard. She looked at the animals, their restlessness a mirror of her own tumultuous emotions.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Olivia lifted her skirts slightly and stepped into the carriage. The movement felt like a surrender, each inch of upward motion pulling her further from her will, her choice, her home. The footman closed the door behind her, sealing her fate with the latching of a bolt.

As the carriage jerked into motion, Olivia looked back at her family estate through the small window. The manor, with its rose bushes and ivy-covered walls, had once been her sanctuary. Now, it looked like a prison, its comforts now bars that caged her spirit. And oddly enough, she felt a sense of relief at leaving it behind, as if she were shedding an old skin that no longer fit.

The wheels spun faster and faster, each rotation taking her further from her past, from the life she had known. The distance was not just physical, measured in miles,