Highland Vow

Book 4: Murrays

by Hannah Howell

Genres: Historical Romance; General Fiction

Synopsis

Ten years ago, young Elspeth Murray rescued a wounded knight and lost her heart forever. Now a stunning beauty and gifted healer, she is reunited with Cormac Armstrong when he saves her from an unwanted suitor. But Cormac is promised to another, a woman who has blinded him to her ruthlessness. Now Elspeth must battle against the odds to claim a man and a love she will not be denied.

Cormac is stunned by the desire Elspeth's kiss awakens-and cannot resist the temptation she offers. A man of honor, he is torn by his pledge to another and his growing need for Elspeth. Blinded by duty and indecision, he is unaware that he is a pawn in a clever and deadly trap from which Elspeth is desperate to save him. But by the time he understands her gift of selfless devotion will it be too late to claim this perfect love?

Release date: March 22, 2013

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Scotland—Ten years later

“My fither will hunt ye down. Aye, and my uncles, my cousins, and all of my clansmen. They will set after ye like a pack of starving, rabid wolves and tear ye into small, bloodied pieces. And I will spit upon your savaged body ere I walk away and leave ye for the carrion birds.”

Sir Cormac Armstrong stopped before the heavy door to Sir Colin MacRae’s private chambers so abruptly his muscles briefly knotted. It was not the cold threat of vicious retribution that halted him, but the voice of the one who spoke it. That soft, husky voice, one almost too deep for a woman, tore at an old memory—one nearly ten years old, one he had thought he had completely cast from his mind.

Then doubt crept over him. There was no reason for that tiny Murray lass to be in Sir Colin’s keep. There was also the fact that he had not had anything to do with the Murrays since they had so graciously aided him, nothing except to send them word that he had cleared his name, and sent a fine mare for a gift. He could not believe the little girl who had saved his life was not still cherished and protected at Donncoill. His memory could be faulty. And how could Sir Colin have gotten his hands on her? And why?

“Weel, we ken that at least one of your wretched cousins willnae be plaguing us again,” drawled Sir Colin. “That fair, impertinent lad who rode with you is surely feeding the corbies as we speak.”

“Nay, Payton isnae dead.”

Such deep pain, mingled with fervent hope, sounded in those few words that Cormac could almost feel it, and he cursed. It was hard to recall much after so many years, but the name Payton seemed familiar. The name and that voice—a voice that brought forth a very clear memory of a tiny, well-scrubbed hand thrust out for a kiss—finally made Cormac move. He was not sure what he could do, but he needed to know what was going on. This was clearly not a friendly visit, and that could mean that the tiny Murray girl was in danger.

In the week since he had brought his young cousin Mary to Duncaillie for her marriage to Sir Colin’s nephew John, Cormac had made an effort to learn every shadowed corner of the keep. He did not like Sir Colin, did not trust the man at all. When his cousin’s betrothal had been announced, he had been almost the only one to speak out against it. He had not wanted his family connected by marriage to a man he had learned little good about.

After assuring himself that no one could see him, he slipped into the chamber next to Sir Colin’s. No guard had been placed at the connecting door between the two rooms. Sir Colin was either too arrogant to think anyone would dare to spy on him or the man simply did not care. Cormac pressed himself against the wall next to the door and cautiously eased it open. He glanced quickly around the room he was in, carefully noting several places he could hide in the event that someone noticed the door was cracked open. One thing he had learned, and learned well, in two long years of running from the wrath of the Douglas clan was how to hide, how to use the shadows and the most meager cover to disappear from view. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he peered into the room.

“That untried lad is of no consequence now,” snapped Sir Colin.

“Untried?” The scorn in that husky voice made Cormac flinch. “Even the beardless amongst my brothers and cousins has had more women than ye e’er will.”

When Sir Colin bounded out of his heavy oak chair and strode toward his tormentor, Cormac had to tightly clench his fists to stop himself from doing anything rash. To his relief the man halted his advance directly in front of the woman, raising his hand but not delivering the blow he so obviously ached to inflict. Cormac knew he would have lost all restraint if Sir Colin had struck the tiny, slender woman facing him so calmly.

There was no denying what his eyes told him, although Cormac tried to do just that for several minutes. It was hard to believe that Elspeth Murray was standing in Sir Colin’s chambers, alone and far from the loving safety of Donncoill. Cormac was not sure he was pleased to see that he had been right all those years ago: Elspeth had definitely grown into a disarmingly beautiful woman.

Thick, wildly tousled hair tumbled down her slim back in heavy waves to stop teasingly at the top of her slim legs. Her hands were tied behind her back and Cormac had to smile. Those hands did not look all that much bigger than they had on the day she had soothed his brow as he had lain bleeding in her father’s dirt. Her figure was almost too slender, too delicate, yet just womanly enough to stir an interest in his loins. The way her arms were pulled back clearly revealed the perfect shape of her small breasts. Her waist was temptingly small and her slim hips gracefully rounded. Elspeth’s face still seemed to be swamped by her thick hair and wide, brilliant green eyes. There was a childish innocence to her gentle, heart-shaped face, from the small, straight nose to the faintly pointed chin. The long, thick lashes rimming her big eyes and the soft fullness of her mouth bespoke womanhood, however. She was a blood-stirring bundle of contradictions. She was so close to the door he felt he could easily reach out and touch her. Cormac was a little surprised by how hard he had to fight to resist that urge.

Then she spoke in her rich, deep, husky voice, and all hints of the child, all signs of innocence, were torn away. She became a sultry temptress from her wild, unbound hair to her tiny booted feet. Cormac felt the sharp tug of lust. It struck as hard and as fast as a blow to the stomach. Any man who saw her or heard her speak would have to be restrained from kicking down the heavy gates of Donncoill to reach her. If his heart was not already pledged to another, Cormac knew he would be sorely tempted. He wondered if Sir Colin had simply succumbed to her allure.

“What? Ye hesitate to strike a lass?” Elspeth taunted the glowering Sir Colin, her beautiful voice heavily ladened with contempt. “I have long thought that nothing ye could do would e’er surprise me, but mayhap I was wrong.”

“Ye do beg to be beaten,” Sir Colin said, the faint tremor in his voice all that hinted at his struggle for control.

“Yet ye stand there like a reeking dung heap.”

Cormac tensed when Colin wrapped one beefy hand around her long, slender throat and, in a cold voice, drawled, “So that is your game, is it? Ye try to prod me into a blind rage? Nay, my bonny green-eyed bitch, ye are nay the one who will be doing the prodding here.” Three of the five men in the room chuckled.

“ ’Tis to be rape then, is it? Ye had best be verra sure when ye stick that sad, wee twig of flesh in me that ye are willing to make it your last rut. The moment it touches me, ’twill be a doomed wee laddie.”

Sir Colin’s hand tightened on her throat. Cormac could see the veins in the man’s thick hand bulge. His own hand went to his sword, although he knew it would be madness to interfere. Elspeth made no sound, did not move at all, but kept her gaze fixed steadily upon Sir Colin’s flushed face. Cormac noticed her hands clench behind her back until her knuckles whitened. Cormac had to admire her bravery, but he thought it foolhardy to keep goading the man as she was. He could not understand what she thought to gain from the man, save for a quick death. When Cormac decided he was going to have to interfere, no matter how slim the odds of success, Sir Colin finally released her. Elspeth gasped only once and swayed faintly, yet she had to be in pain and starved for breath.

“Some may try to call it rape, but I mean only to bed my wife,” Sir Colin said.

“I have already refused you,” she replied, her voice a little weaker, a little raspy. “Further discussion of the matter would just be tedious.”

“No one refuses me.”

“I did and I will.”

“Ye will have no more say in this matter.” He signaled to the two men flanking her. “Secure her in the west tower.” Sir Colin brushed his blunt fingertips over her full mouth and barely snatched them away, out of her reach, before she snapped at them, her even white teeth clicking loudly in the room. “I have a room prepared especially for you.”

“I am humbled by your generousity.”

“Humbled? Oh, aye, ye too proud wench, ye will soon be verra humbled indeed.”

Cormac gently pushed the door shut as far as he dared, stopping just before it latched. A moment later he was in the hall again, using the shadows cast by the torchlight to follow Elspeth and her guards. Only once did someone look back, and that was Elspeth. She stared into the shadows that sheltered him, a frown briefly curving her full lips; then she was tugged along by her guards. Cormac did not think she had seen him, but if she had, she clearly had the wit to say nothing. He followed his prey right to the door of the tower room, all the while struggling to devise some clever plan.

Elspeth stumbled slightly when one of the guards roughly shoved her into the room, but she quickly steadied herself. She swallowed her sigh of relief when the other guard cut the rope binding her wrists. Then she fought the urge to rub them, thus revealing how much they hurt as the blood began to flow to them again. As the heavy door shut behind the two men and she listened to the bolt being dragged across it, she began to rub her chaffed, sore wrists and make a quick but thorough survey of the room.

“It appears that the only way out of this room is if I succumb to the sinful urge to hurl myself from the window and end my poor life,” she muttered as she sat down on the huge bed that dominated the room. She frowned and idly bounced up and down on the mattress. “Feathers. The bastard plainly intends to be comfortable as he dishonors me.”

Weary, sick with worry over Payton’s fate, and knotted with fear, Elspeth curled up on the bed. For just a moment she fought the urge to weep, not wishing to give into that weakness. Then, as the tears began to fall, she shrugged. She was alone and a good cleansing of her misery could help her maintain her strength, especially later.

After what she feared was a disgracefully prolonged bout of weeping, Elspeth flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She felt drained, as if some physician had placed leeches all over her—leeches that sucked all the emotion from a body instead of the blood. It was going to take a while to get her strength and wit back—two things she would sorely need in the days ahead.

She thought of Payton and felt as if she could weep all over again if she had had any tears left. Her last sight of her cousin had been that of his bloodied body lying alongside the two men-at-arms who had accompanied them. Elspeth had needed only one look to know that their two guards were dead, but she could not be so certain about Payton. She did not want to be. She wanted to cling to the hope that he was still alive, no matter how small that hope might be. If nothing else, Elspeth could not bear to think upon the pain her uncle Nigel and aunt Gisele would suffer over the loss of their son. Even though her mind told her that it was not her fault, she knew she might never be able to shake free of the guilt she felt, for it had been her rejected suitor who had brought about the tragedy. It struck her as appallingly unfair that the chilling memories and nightmares she had suffered for three long years might finally be pushed aside by the sight of her cousin’s murder—an old nightmare replaced by a new one.

Elspeth closed her eyes, deciding it would not hurt to seek the rest her body craved. She would need it to be able to endure what lay ahead. Although she had no doubt that her family would come after her, in force, she also knew they might not arrive in time to save her from all Sir Colin intended. That was in her own hands.

As she felt sleep creep over her, she heard a faint noise at the door. Either someone was bringing her some food and drink or some poor fool had been sent to check to be sure she was still where they had put her. Elspeth resisted the urge to look. She was too tired and too battered to do anything just yet. In truth, she felt almost too tired to even open her eyes. Then someone touched her arm and she tensed, her weariness abruptly shoved aside by alarm even though she felt no real threat from the person she now knew stood next to her bed.

Cautiously, Elspeth opened her eyes just enough to see her visitor through the veil of her still damp lashes. He was a beautiful man. His long, leanly muscular body was bent over her in a strangely protective way. His face was cut in clean lines and unmarred. A high, wide forehead, high-boned cheeks, a long, straight nose, a handsomely firm jaw, and a well-shaped mouth made for a face that easily took a maid’s breath away. His creamy skin was almost too pale and fine for a man, although many a woman would envy it, and the healthy warmth of it begged for a touch. It was the perfect complement to his deep auburn hair. His eyes, however, were what truly caught and held her attention. Set beneath neatly arched brows and ringed with long, thick lashes, they were the rich blue of clean, deep water—a color she had seen but once before in her life. They were eyes that had filled many a maidenly dream and some that were very far from maidenly.

“Cormac,” she whispered, smiling faintly at the way his beautiful eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Ye remember me?” he asked softly, a little shaken by the warm look in her rich green eyes and the soft, enticing smile of greeting she gifted him with.

“Ah, ye dinnae remember me. Ye are but tiptoeing through the bedchambers of Duncallie to see if any hold something ye like. I am devastated.”

Cormac straightened up and put his hands on his hips. Her drawled taunt had quickly yanked him free of his bemusement better than a sharp slap to the face. She was even more beautiful close to, and for just a moment, as he had stared into her wide, slumberous eyes, he had been seized by the overwhelming urge to crawl onto that bed with her. The way she had whispered his name in her rich, sensuous voice had reached deep inside of him, dragging his tightly controlled lusts to fierce, immediate life. The feeling still lingered, but now he struggled to cool his heated blood.

“Aye, I recall you,” he said. “Ye are a wee bit bigger and sharper of tongue, but ye are certainly Elspeth—my tiny, begrimed savior from years past.”

Slowly, Elspeth sat up, then knelt on the bed facing him. Some of those not so maidenly dreams she had had about him were crowding her mind, and she fought to push them aside. He had come to rescue her. Elspeth inwardly smiled as she mused that it was a poor time to tell a man that she had loved and lusted after him for ten long years. For all she knew, he was a wedded man with a bairn or two to bounce on his knee. Finding that thought painful, she forced her mind to settle on the matter of rescue.

“And have ye come to be my savior now?” she asked.

“Aye.”

Elspeth smiled and abruptly decided to make at least one small dream into a true memory. Cormac could easily think her next action was simply an impulsive expression of relief and gratitude—or be made to think so. She leaned closer and kissed him. His lips were as soft and as delicious as she had always imagined they would be. If he was wed, this stolen kiss would be but a small trespass.

And then it happened. Her mother had warned her. Elspeth wished she had listened more closely, but she had been too young to be comfortable hearing such words as desire and passion upon her mother’s lips.

He trembled faintly and so did she, but she was not really sure where his shiver ended and hers began. His body tightened and she felt a responsive ache low in her belly. She felt his heat, could almost smell his desire. Cormac gripped her by the shoulders and deepened the kiss. Elspeth readily opened her mouth to welcome the invasion of his tongue. As he caressed the inside of her mouth, she felt as if he stroked her very soul. She wanted to pull him down onto the bed with her, ached to wrap herself around his lean body. Even as that thought passed through her passion-clouded mind, she felt Cormac dredge up some inner strength and start to pull away from her. Elspeth fought the urge to cling to him, to halt his retreat.

Cormac stared at the young woman kneeling in front of him. He fought the urge to vigorously shake his head in an attempt to clear the haze from his mind. It was not easy to cool the fire in his blood as he looked into her wide green eyes, for he was sure he saw passion there. He had to sternly remind himself that Elspeth was a highborn woman—one he owed his life to—and he was not free. He had come to rescue her, not to ravish her.

“Why?” he asked, then hastily cleared his throat to try to banish the huskiness from his voice.

“Why not?” she asked back. “Are ye wed?”

“Nay, but—”

Elspeth did not want to hear the rest, not when her heart still pounded fiercely and she could still taste him. “A rash act, born of my delight to see ye alive and here. I ken that my kinsmen will soon hunt for me, but ’twould be help that would come too late.”

“And if we do not move quickly, my aid could also prove worthless.”

“Ye have a plan, do ye, my braw knight?” She took careful note of the fact that he had not yet released her, but was moving his strong, long-fingered hands over her upper arms in an idle but telling caress.

“I do. ’Tis why it took me near to an hour to come and fetch you,” he replied.

“An hour?” Elspeth muttered, unable to hide her surprise.

“I had to tend to a few matters that will ease our escape ere I could come here.”

“I meant no criticism, Sir Cormac. ’Twas just a wee bit disappointing to me to realize I had spent so long wallowing in my misery. I hadnae thought myself such a weakling.” She frowned when he chuckled. “Ye find my despair amusing?”

“Nay, lass, merely the indication that ye might e’er consider yourself weak.” He took her by the hand and tugged her off the bed. “Ye have ne’er been weak. Nay, not e’en as a wee, muck-smeared bairn of nine.”

Elspeth flushed a little with pleasure over his remarks even though they were spoken in a jesting tone. “What is your plan?”

“Ye are to wrap yourself in this cloak and we will walk out of here.” He handed her a long, heavy woolen cloak he had set on the bed before trying to wake her.

“That is your plan?” she asked as she donned the cloak.

“Simple is oftentimes the best,” he said as he opened the door and dragged her unconcious guard inside.

Elspeth watched as he tied and gagged the man, then tucked him into the bed, pulling the covers up so that only a bit of the man’s black hair showed over the blankets. “I dinnae think that will fool them for verra long.”

“Long enough for us to escape these walls.”

“Are ye truly meaning to just walk out of here with me?”

Cormac tugged the hood of the cape over her head, pulling it forward until it covered her hair and shaded her face. “If any ask what I am about, I shall simply say I am taking my wee cousin Mary for a ride.”

“Do ye really have a wee cousin Mary?”

“Aye, and she is here. She is betrothed to Sir Colin’s nephew John. I brought her here for her wedding. She stays to her rooms, only coming out to dine in the great hall. The next meal isnae for several hours, so this ruse should work.”

As he led her out of the room, then shut and barred the door, she asked, “Would it nay be better to creep away, to keep to the shadows? Mayhap ye ken of a bolt-hole to use.”

“All that would be best but then we couldnae take my horse. ”

Elspeth started to say something, then quickly closed her mouth. His plan was fraught with the chance of failure, but she had none at all. He was also right in thinking it best to take his horse. They would not get very far on foot.

“Do we take your cousin’s horse as weel? Or mine?”

“I fear my cousin doesnae have a horse.” He grimaced. “She is a timid lass and willnae ride alone. She travels only in a cart or sharing a saddle with another. All here ken it, too. If I suddenly set Mary on a horse ’twould rouse suspicion. To take your horse would also rouse suspicion. I fear we will have to ride two to a saddle.”

“Riding is better than walking. Faster.”

“Aye, and now I must ask ye to hush.”

“Your cousin Mary doesnae talk either?”

He smiled faintly. “Nay much, although she and John seem to have a lot to say to each other when they arenae both trying to hide from Sir Colin. Nay, I think ye must remain silent because of your voice.”

“Something is wrong with my voice?”

“ ’Tis too distinctive,” he replied, but could see by the look on her face that she did not really understand. “Trust me,” he said and tugged her hood more closely around her face.

Elspeth nodded and quelled the urge to talk to him. She threaded her fingers through his, savoring the simple act of holding his hand as they crept through the halls of Duncaillie. It was the only good thing about their walk through the keep, Elspeth thought as she tensely worried about a cry of discovery at every turning. Walking to the stables through the crowded bailey had her stomach knotting with tension so badly it hurt. She stood in the shadows near the door of the stables as Cormac got his horse. She was astounded at the way he spoke so calmly to the men there, as if he did not have a care in the world. He had obviously developed a few interesting skills in the years since she had seen him last.

Cormac set her on his saddle and mounted behind her, still idly jesting with the men. Elspeth fought the urge to hit him and tell him to get moving. When they finally rode out of the bailey, she slumped against him, weak with relief. They were not safe yet, might not be safe for quite a while, but at least they were no longer directly under the gaze of Sir Colin.

“Where do we go now?” she asked. Deciding it felt very good to be so close to him, she made herself more comfortable against his broad chest.

“Since Sir Colin will expect ye to try to get back to Donncoill, I believe we will just continue on in the direction I was planning to go after the wedding.”

“Sir Colin could think ye are also trying to get me back to my clan.”

“Aye, or to my kinsmen, who live both south and west of here. So that gives the mon two or three ways to search for us. He can have no idea of my true destination. I was to stay for my cousin’s wedding, then leave, but I told no one where I would go once the celebrations ended, not even wee Mary.”

“ ’Tis a good idea, and yet, how then shall I return to my kinsmen? That is where my continued safety lies, isnae it? Aye, and the means to stop Sir Colin, to make him pay for kidnapping me, killing two Murray men, and hurting Payton.”

He noticed that she still refused to consider the possibility her cousin was dead. The Murray clan was obviously still closely bonded. It would probably be best if she faced the cold truth that her cousin was either dead or soon would be, since the cold and a loss of blood would probably finish what Sir Colin had begun, but he found that he did not have the heart to steal her hope away.

“The king’s court is verra near where I must go. We can find someone there who can get word to your clan. If we must, we can set ye under the king’s own guard. Your clan hasnae done anything to hurt your standing with the king, has it?”

“Nay. That will do. In truth, ’tis near as fine as going straight to my fither.”

“It should take us near to a fortnight since we should travel slowly to save our mount’s strength. If luck fails us, and Sir Colin sniffs out our trail, it could take longer. Can ye endure such a long, rough journey?” He frowned slightly as he studied the soft delicacy of the woman in his arms.

“Oh, aye, I am stronger than I look.”

Elspeth sighed when he made no reply, his doubt so strong she could almost feel it. She knew she was small and delicate in appearance, but she was indeed strong. Sir Cormac Armstrong was going to have to learn that one should not always make judgments based solely on a person’s appearance.

Glancing down at his strong, long-fingered hands upon the reins, she found herself wondering yet again if he was betrothed or in love with someone. She needed some information, needed to know if he was free. By the time they stopped for the night, Elspeth vowed she would have it. Then she would have to decide what to do. If he was wedded or betrothed, the next few weeks would be a torment as she tried to hide and even kill all feeling for the man. But if he was free, she had a fortnight to try to make him fall in love with her. That too could prove torturous, ripping her heart and pride to shreds. Fate had been kind enough to give her some time with the man she had adored for so long, but it was obvious that fate had also decided to make her pay dearly for that gift. All she could do was pray that she had what was needed to win the prize.

“Four husbands?”

As she spoke, Elspeth peered at Cormac around the horse she was wiping down with a handful of weeds and grass. It had taken some effort on her pa. . .