In Her Highlander's Bed

Book 11: Highland Brides

by Lynsay Sands

Genres: Romance; Historical Romance; Scottish & Highlander

Synopsis

For fans of Outlander, New York Times bestselling author Lynsay Sands’ newest installment of the Highland Brides series brings us a sweeping tale of passion as a laird’s swim in a loch leads to the love of a lifetime.

An invigorating swim in the loch was exactly what Calan Campbell, Laird of Kilcairn, needed after defeating his enemies in battle. What he didn’t need was a thief running away with his plaid while he swam. Calan gave chase and managed to catch the lad, only the lad turned out to be a lass, and obviously a lady. Having hit her head when he’d tackled her to the ground, the woman was now unconscious and couldn’t explain how she had ended up bruised and naked in his woods. He’d have to take her back to his castle and tend her wounds to learn that.

Kidnapped and forced to wed her clan’s enemy, Allissaid MacFarlane had risked death to escape. But after a struggle over a plaid she tried to “borrow,” she awakens in a strange bed with a strange man seated in a chair beside her. Unsure if he is friend or foe, she claims not to remember her own name or how she’d come to be in the clearing. However, the more time she spends with Calan, the more she falls for this strong, honorable laird. She soon decides she can trust him with her life. . . but can she trust him with her heart?

Release date: January 24, 2023

Publisher: HarperCollins

Print pages: 384

Sample

Prologue

“Allie?”

Allissaid MacFarlane glanced up from the tunic she was darning as her younger sister Annis suddenly dropped into the chair next to hers in front of the fire in the great hall. Eyebrows rising slightly at her sister’s troubled expression, Allissaid asked, “What is it, love?”

Annis hesitated briefly, but then queried, “Now that Claray has married and moved to Deagh Fhortan with her husband, will you be taking over the running of MacFarlane?”

Allissaid stared at Annis blankly for a moment, her mind slow to comprehend what she was suggesting. But then, she’d been having trouble coming to grips with the sudden change in their lives since waking that morning to learn that their eldest sister, Claray, had married her betrothed, Bryson MacDonald, and left for her new husband’s home.

Apparently, it had all taken place while Allissaid and the rest of her siblings had slept. Claray, who had been off visiting their cousins the Kerrs, had been brought home by her betrothed after the castle had settled down for the night. The servants had been woken for the wedding and celebration that followed, but Allissaid and her brother and sisters had not. They’d simply woken to the news that their sister had returned home, married and left at the break of dawn without seeing any of them.

There had been a bit of an uproar as Allissaid and the others burst into question, which shouldn’t have been surprising. They’d been told their whole lives that Claray’s betrothed had been murdered along with his parents, almost before the ink was dry on the betrothal contract between the pair. But her father had not answered most of the questions they’d shot at him. He’d merely explained that the tale of Bryson’s death had been a lie to protect the boy from his parents’ murderer while growing up. But MacNaughton’s antics had forced the situation.

Allissaid sighed at the thought of MacNaughton. The man was their neighbor, and was causing them no end of troubles. It had started a couple of years ago with his petitioning to marry Claray, the only daughter of the house who had appeared to be without a betrothed. Of course,

Allissaid understood now why her parents had refused the offered marriage contract. But at the time, she had thought it terribly unfair of them to refuse it and leave Claray unmarried. Until Allissaid had met MacNaughton on one of his visits. The man wasn’t more than ten years older than Claray, and was handsome as could be. He was even polite and somewhat charming in his address, but . . .

Allissaid even now couldn’t put her finger on what it had been about him that had troubled her. But she hadn’t liked him at all, and had sensed that he was dangerous and should be avoided at all costs. His persistence in trying to get her father to agree to the marriage by using everything from bribery to threats had only confirmed those instincts. But it appeared he’d given up on gaining his permission and moved on to trying to force the issue. It was his following Claray to Kerr and convincing their uncle to aid him in forcing a marriage on Claray that had moved Bryson MacDonald to give up the lie that he was dead and claim her to wife.

Their father had admitted that this morning. He’d also said there was even more to MacNaughton’s plan. That he had intended to force the marriage and then kill the rest of them all and claim MacFarlane as part of MacNaughton. MacFarlane was apparently all he was really after. He wanted the extra land, soldiers and power. Marrying any of the daughters would help him achieve that so long as the rest of the family died and couldn’t lay claim to it. MacNaughton had planned to bring about those deaths the moment he had Claray to wife.

Her father, Gannon MacFarlane, had explained all of this as briefly as he could before announcing that none of them were to leave the keep until the matter was resolved. MacNaughton was too much of a threat to risk one of them being taken by the man and forced into marriage. Their father had followed that up by assuring them that he was looking into ways to handle this problem, but he needed them all to remain safely in the keep until he had taken care of it.

Allissaid had spent the hours since learning this news trying to come to grips with the threat they were under, but Annis’s question now brought up the other changes Claray’s marriage had brought about. The main one being that she’d probably now be expected to take over the running of MacFarlane. A large undertaking she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Claray had always managed that.

“Ooh! Aye! But no’ fer long!”

Allissaid barely got her sewing out of the way before her younger sister Cairstane suddenly dropped into her lap to hug her excitedly. As usual, they hadn’t even heard the girl approach. But Cairstane was sneaky like that. She’d probably followed Annis to her and lurked about behind them to listen to her question.

Now, the fifteen-year-old hugged Allissaid happily and crowed, “Aye, ye’ll run MacFarlane until father can arrange

yer marriage, and Annis and Arabella’s too. Then once the three o’ ye are off and married, I’ll be runnin’ the keep and Cristane, Islay and I’ll each have our own bedchamber instead of havin’ to share one!”

Allissaid pushed her sister’s clinging arms away with exasperation. “Nice to ken ye’re so eager to see us go. But I’d no’ get too excited if I was you. Ye ken me marrying is no’ likely to happen anytime soon. Nor Annis and Arabella either. Da has been putting off me betrothed fer years now, and he sent Annis’s betrothed away just two months ago. He’s no’ likely to—”

“He’s sent messengers out to all three men to come take ye three away to be their wives,” Cairstane interrupted her to announce.

“What?” Allissaid asked with shock.

“Aye, what?” Annis echoed, her eyes wide.

Cairstane nodded. “’Tis true. I heard him talking about it to our cousins Aulay and Alick. He sent the messengers last night just ere the wedding. Since Graham is so close, he expects your betrothed to arrive this afternoon, Allissaid,” she said and then turned to Annis to add, “but he thinks the MacLaren and the MacLean should be no’ more than a day or two behind if they travel quickly as he requested.”

Allissaid stared at Cairstane blankly, her mind having trouble absorbing this news. Alban Graham, her betrothed since she was a wee child, had been trying to claim her to wife for more than three years, but her father had always refused to allow the wedding until he saw Claray married. It was something her father had continued to insist on even after their mother, Lady MacFarlane, had died four years ago. But since Claray’s betrothed was, as far as they’d known, dead, and her father hadn’t seemed to be trying to arrange another, Allissaid had begun to think there might be something wrong with Alban Graham, and her father was trying to back out of the contract. She’d worried that, like Claray, she might never marry. Only that didn’t appear to be the case. It seemed she would be marrying him after all. And quite soon too.

“Are ye sure?” Annis asked, looking more concerned than excited at this news. Something Allissaid completely understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry and start having children of her own and a home to run, but this was all so sudden and—it was quite taking her breath away. She didn’t know how to think or feel and was sure Annis must be feeling much the same way.

“Aye,” Cairstane assured them. “I told ye. I heard them talking about it. Aulay was saying as how he thought it a good idea to get the three o’ ye married and away. ’Twould hamper the MacNaughton further, and might save everyone without the need to wage war against the ‘bastard MacNaughton.’”

“Well,” Annis frowned, her gaze dropping to the floor as expression after expression flickered across her face, and

then she muttered, “It would ha’e been nice did he bother to tell us this news.”

“Aye,” Allissaid agreed on a sigh, and then stood abruptly, nearly dumping her younger sister on the floor. Fortunately, Cairstane had always been as quick on her feet as she was quiet and managed to save herself from landing in the rushes.

“Where are ye going?” Annis asked, standing as well.

“To pack,” Allissaid said grimly, heading for the stairs.

Much to her relief, Annis didn’t follow and neither did Cairstane. Instead, she heard the murmur of their voices as she started up the steps. No doubt they were discussing what Cairstane had heard, but she didn’t want to have to talk about any of it. She needed time alone to think. Everything was happening so swiftly. First Claray was married and gone which had been more than a shock. Allissaid and her older sister had been close, and she knew Claray had yearned to have a husband, a home and children of her own as all girls expected to do. She also knew Claray had resigned herself to never gaining any of that after all these years of their parents not arranging another betrothal for her, and that it had troubled her terribly. So Allissaid was happy that her older sister was now married with her own home and the chance to have children. But that didn’t change the fact that she would miss her terribly. And now she herself was to marry? When? Would it happen as soon as Alban arrived? Another rushed wedding like Claray’s had been? Or would they—

“Oh, m’lady, thank goodness!”

Allissaid pulled herself from her thoughts, and forced a smile for the maid rushing toward her.

Smile fading as she noted the anxiety clear on the girl’s face, Allissaid asked with concern, “What is it, Moire?”

“It’s yer brother, m’lady,” Moire gasped, stopping before her and grasping her hands anxiously. “I fear Eachann— Well, I caught him trying to sneak out o’ the keep. He was wantin’ to go to the river. O’ course, I reminded him that ’twas no’ allowed, and he said he understood and was going to his room. But I just checked and he’s no’ there and I fear he may ha’e . . .”

“Snuck out and gone anyway,” Allissaid finished grimly. Her brother had a tendency to take off to the river every chance he got, but even he should have known better than to go out right now. Their father had been most clear on the danger they were all in at the moment. But he was still young at eleven, and impetuous at the best of times.

“Aye,” the servant said unhappily, drawing her from her thoughts. “And ’tis all me fault. I should ha’e kept a closer eye on him, or told yer father then. But if he finds out now, he might blame me for no’ telling him what Eachann was up to at the time, and—”

“Da will no’ find out. I’ll go fetch Eachann back,” Allissaid interrupted soothingly, thinking she’d drag her

brother back by the ear to get the point across that leaving the castle was off limits.

“Truly?” Moire asked with relief.

“Aye,” Allissaid murmured, turning to the door to the room she shared with Annis. “Go wait below. I’ll bring him down to the great hall with me the minute we return.”

“Aye, m’lady. Thank ye, m’lady,” Moire murmured, backing away as Allissaid slid into her room.

Allissaid closed the door softly, and then moved quickly to the fireplace. With the twist of one stone and a push of another, she opened the entrance to the secret passage and took a step inside, only to stop and turn back for a candle. She then stepped briefly into the hall to light it from one of the torches there before returning to her room and heading into the passage again.

Nose wrinkling at the stale air, Allissaid let the entrance close behind her and started forward. While Eachann loved the secret tunnels and passages and had used them regularly since he’d been told about them at ten, she had never much cared for them herself. The dark, the smell, the spiderwebs, and the skitter of little creatures that she was quite sure would make her scream if she could see them were all enough to put her off the dark corridors and make her move swiftly. But none of it was enough to distract her from her irritation with her brother. Her father had been quite clear on the matter of leaving the castle and Eachann wouldn’t normally disobey him like this, but her brother had been difficult of late. Most boys would have been sent off to train by now. Unfortunately, their mother’s illness and then death had delayed that and after . . . Well, life simply hadn’t gone back to normal since. It had been hard on them all, but Eachann appeared to be taking it the hardest if his acting out was anything to go by.

Allissaid sighed at the thought of how life at MacFarlane had changed since her mother’s death and how it was continuing to change. She then pushed those thoughts away and grabbed up her skirts with her free hand to lift them slightly as she started down the stairs hewn into the stone. They were steep and long, leading all the way down to a tunnel that ran under the bailey and outside the curtain wall.

Despite not liking the passages, Allissaid had used them on several occasions, usually chasing after her brother. Eachann liked to use them as a shortcut to the river where he went to swim and fish or just paddle about on most of the warmer days. He shouldn’t be using it now though with the threat of MacNaughton hanging over them. Something she fully intended to blister her brother’s ears over once she found him.

What she would say to him kept her nicely distracted for the walk through the tunnel. There were several exits from it, but she took the passage all the way to the end and the set of steps that led up to a trapdoor. Pushing it open, she scrambled up the last few stairs and out, then let the wooden door ease back into place in the ground, and turned to

survey the bushes surrounding her. They were tall and dense and had to be cut back twice a year to ensure they didn’t cover the trapdoor.

After a quick peek through the bushes to be sure the area was clear, Allissaid pushed her way through them and into the woods beyond. She paused there to brush down her skirts to remove the few leaves that had caught on the cloth, and then headed for the river. It was a short walk, and Allissaid reached the clearing quickly, only to find it empty. No Eachann.

Clucking her tongue with irritation, she turned to start searching some of his other favorite places, only to freeze as several men slid out of the woods to surround her. Their sudden appearance was such a shock that it took a moment for her to recognize the man at the front of the group. Her eyes widened with alarm when she did, but before she could say anything, pain exploded in the back of her head.

Chapter 1

“Bloody MacNaughton. One o’ these days the bastard’ll go too far and get his comeuppance.”

Calan Campbell grunted in agreement with his cousin’s irritated words, and then shifted in his saddle to glance briefly back the way they’d come. He then scanned the woods on either side of them too, but there was nothing to see. The prickling of hair at the back of his neck that made him think they were being watched must just be a result of weariness after being roused from his bed in the middle of the night. What he needed was a dip in the loch to wake himself up and wash away his exhaustion, Calan thought as he settled in the saddle again.

“Did he really think we’d believe his men’s lies about crossing onto Campbell land in search o’ his lost bride?” Gille growled with disgust. “He should ken we’d have our ear to the ground and ha’e heard about his attempt to force the eldest MacFarlane daughter into marriage,” he said, and then added heavily, “And that he failed.”

“Hmm,” Calan muttered, mouth tightening at the thought of that mess. It was bad enough that MacNaughton had made the attempt, but that the lass’s uncle, Gilchrist Kerr, had conspired with the bastard to get the deed done just made it all that much worse. He’d been glad to hear that the lass had been rescued and returned home.

“Especially with the Wolf involved,” Gille added now. “His intervention was enough to ensure all of Scotland heard o’ the debacle ere MacFarlane’s daughter was even returned home to him.”

“Aye,” Calan agreed solemnly. While they hadn’t heard the particulars, they had learned that the renowned mercenary called the Wolf had got the lass away from Kerr, returning her to her father, Gannon MacFarlane, just the day before last . . . and all without the necessity of battle. It was something Calan suspected few could have managed. But the Wolf’s reputation would be enough to scare most men into submission. Her uncle would not have wanted the Wolf and his warriors laying siege to Kerr Castle. The mercenary was not known for being merciful to his enemy. And he never lost.

“Ye ken that lost bride business was all lies to cover for the fact that he and his men were intending on running more

raids on Campbell land,” Gille said with anger, and before Calan could respond, added, “I can no’ believe the bastard’s up to his old tricks. I thought we’d taught him a lesson the last time he tried this nonsense. He certainly came sniveling to Kilcairn afterward.” He snorted. “Though that business o’ tryin’ to convince ye to let him marry Inghinn was a surprise. The man certainly has some huge bollocks on him. I would no’ doubt yer refusal is the reason he went after Claray MacFarlane afterward.”

“Most like,” Calan said grimly.

“Aye. Which makes it surprising he’d try raiding again.”

Calan didn’t bother to respond, and wasn’t surprised when Gille smiled grimly and continued, “But we sent the bastard and his men packing. His men’ll think twice ere crossing onto Campbell land again.”

“Aye,” Calan murmured. Gregor, his first, had woken him in the middle of the night with the news that a party of six MacNaughton soldiers had crossed onto Campbell land and had been confronted by a group of his own men patrolling the border. He’d dressed and headed out at once with Gille, Gregor and two dozen warriors to ride to where the battle was taking place. But by the time they’d arrived, it was over. Two MacNaughtons were dead, three seriously injured, and one was on his knees with several swords at his throat when Calan had entered the clearing where the confrontation had occurred.

He’d taken a moment to check on his own men, none of whom had more than a paltry wound here or there. Even so, Calan had sent his wounded soldiers back to the castle for tending because even paltry wounds could kill a man if they got infected. He’d then questioned the last MacNaughton capable of answering. The man had insisted they weren’t there to raid, but to find their laird’s new wife who had “got lost.” He’d said that men had been sent in all directions to try to find her. Most, he’d said, had gone east, but his party had been sent north to Campbell in case she’d “wandered” that way.

Calan hadn’t believed a word of it, especially when the men had refused to give the name of this supposed bride. Still, he hadn’t seen any reason to keep the men. They’d paid dearly for their trespass. While only two were dead, the three who were wounded had taken injuries so severe they weren’t likely to survive. He’d escorted the group back to the border with a warning to pass on to MacNaughton. That if he valued the lives of his men, he’d not send them onto Campbell land again without first dispatching a messenger to ask permission. For the next time a group of armed MacNaughtons crossed the border unexpectedly, no one would be alive to return their dead.

Calan and his men had then watched the uninjured man lead the horses carrying his injured and dead comrades back into MacNaughton territory.

He supposed he could have returned to the castle and his bed then to indulge in at least a couple more hours of sleep. But his blood had been up after the abrupt waking and confrontation, and Calan had known sleep was unlikely in that state. He’d decided to stay with his men and joined them on patrol for the last couple of hours of night. But once the sky began to lighten, a prelude to the sun’s rising, he’d decided to head back to the keep. Calan hadn’t been surprised when Gille had opted to join him.

“If we hurry, we might yet get in a short nap ere everyone wakes up,” Gille said suddenly, stifling a yawn that tried to claim him at the end of this suggestion.

Calan had to fight a sudden urge to yawn himself, but shook his head and reined in as they broke from the trees into a clearing along the loch. “Nay. I’ve a full day planned. A nap would do little but make me grumpy at this point. You go ahead and find yer bed though, do ye wish.”

Gille drew his own mount to a halt and turned in the saddle to frown at him as he asked, “Ye’re no’ going to swim, are ye?”

Calan glanced around the small, secluded bay they were stopped in. “’Twill wake me up to face the day.”

Gille shook his head. “Ye’re a mad bastard, cousin. The loch is bitter cold fer swimming.”

“Aye, ’tis,” Calan agreed mildly. “But I’ll no’ go out deep or stay long. Just a quick dip and I’ll follow ye back.”

Gille did not look reassured. “Mayhap I should join ye fer the swim. Just in case ye—”

“Nay,” Calan interrupted with a snap, and then took a deep breath to regain control of his sudden temper. Letting it out slowly, he forced a smile. “I appreciate yer concern, cousin, but I’m fine. And I’d rather ye stop fussing o’er me.”

“I’m no’ fussing,” Gille argued at once.

“Aye, ye are,” Calan countered dryly. “Ye’re worse than me mother in playing the nursemaid. Next ye’ll be trying to shove a teat in me mouth.”

“Well since I do no’ have teats, that’s unlikely,” Gille snapped, and then sighed and said solemnly, “Ye can hardly blame us fer worrying, cousin. We near to lost ye just two weeks past. Ye’re still recovering and are no’ the sort to rest and allow yer body to heal like ye should. And frankly ye could do with a nursemaid,” he added, getting testy now as well. “A big mean one who’ll make ye stay abed so ye can recuperate properly.”

“Ye’d ha’e better luck keeping me abed did ye find a sweet young thing with lots o’ curves,” Cal told him with amusement. “And if ye’re looking, keep in mind I prefer blondes.”

“A fat lot o’ rest ye’d get that way,” Gille groused, and then shook his head with resignation. “Fine, go swimming then. But do no’ blame me if yer wound becomes infected and ye end up abed with a fever.”

I promise to no’ blame ye,” Calan said mildly. “Now ride back and when me mother rises, let her ken all is well and I’m fine so she does no’ send a search party to hunt me down.”

“’Tis no’ a joke. She’ll probably do exactly that if she gets up and finds ye absent,” Gille said sharply. “What am I supposed to say when she asks where ye are?”

“If she rises before I get there, just tell her no’ to worry and I should be back directly.”

Gille scowled at the words, but then huffed out a breath and said, “Fine. But ye ken as well as I do that if ye get yerself drown in this godforsaken loch, yer mother’ll blame me. She’ll make me life a misery. And if that happens, I shall curse ye every day to hell fer it.”

“Understood,” Calan said dryly.

Giving a “harrumph,” Gille shook his head, tightened his hands on his horse’s reins, and finally rode out of the clearing.

Calan watched until the other man was swallowed up by the trees, and then turned to survey the shoreline. Finally, he dismounted, tied the reins of his horse to the branch of the nearest tree, and ran his hand down the beast’s side before walking toward the water. Once on the sand and shingle beach, he stripped off his plaid and shirt, let both drop to the ground, and then waded, naked, into the water.

It was warmer in the shallows, retaining the last bits of heat from the sunny day before. But the shallows didn’t last long. Calan waded out until the water reached his thighs and then with the next step it was like walking off a cliff. If he hadn’t grown up here and known this loch, he might have been in trouble. But he was prepared for the sudden drop and was fanning his arms through the water to stay at the surface even as it happened. He was also ready for the bone-deep cold that enveloped him.

Loch Awe was approximately twenty-five miles long, little more than half a mile wide, but one hundred to three hundred feet deep depending where you were in the lake. It made for very cold water. Drop too deep in this loch and the sudden plummet in temperature could be enough of a shock to the body that it could be fatal. Over the years, Calan had seen more than one or two corpses float up after such an encounter. But he wouldn’t be one himself.

He swam briefly in the deeper, colder section, allowing the brisk water to wash his exhaustion away, and then struck out again back toward the shallows. He’d just reached it and stood upright when movement onshore caught his attention. Stopping, he glanced around and spotted a pale figure racing away into the woods in the gray morning light. Calan stared blankly at the naked lad until he recognized the dark patch of cloth hanging over his shoulder as his own plaid, and then he began to move.

The water slowed him down as Calan waded out, but once free of the hampering liquid, he burst into a run. He quickly closed the distance between himself and the young thief, taking no more than a dozen long strides into the woods before he was able to tackle the smaller figure to the ground. ...