Disciplined by the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Read online

  Disciplined by the Highlander

  A Scottish Historical Romance Novel

  Lydia Kendall

  Edited by

  Robin Spencer

  Contents

  A Little Gift for You

  Scottish Brogue Glossary

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Torn Between Two Highlanders

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Also by Lydia Kendall

  About the Author

  A Little Gift for You

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you, called Falling for the Highlander. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping the image below or this link here.

  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

  Lydia Kendall

  About the Book

  Danger and delight grow on one stalk...

  Emma Marston, daughter of the Earl of Dawaerton, travels to Scotland to marry her childhood foe—a deal arranged by their parents since birth. But fate has different plans…

  William, future Laird of Clan MacNair, awaits his betrothed, a distant memory from the past. However Emma, in flesh and bones, is lovelier than he remembers....and steals his heart in an instant.

  But when the night of their engagement the Earl gets mysteriously poisoned, everything changes for both of them. With Emma's brother canceling their engagement, she finally sees clearly the odious fate that awaits her.

  With all fingers pointing at the MacNairs, William is the only one who can rescue her...

  Until the day they both discover that the murder is only the start of a well-thought scheme and they are trapped right in the middle of it.

  Scottish Brogue Glossary

  Here is a very useful glossary my good friend and editor Gail Kiogima sent to me, that will help you better understand the Scottish Brogue used:

  aboot - about

  ach - oh

  afore - before

  an' - and

  anythin - anything

  a'side - beside

  askin' - asking

  a'tween - between

  auld - old

  aye - yes

  bampot - a jerk

  bare bannock- a type of biscuit

  bearin' - bearing

  beddin' - bedding or sleeping with

  bellend - a vulgar slang word

  blethering - blabbing

  blootered - drunk

  bonnie - beautiful or pretty

  bonniest - prettiest

  cannae - cannot

  chargin' - charging

  cheesin' - happy

  clocked - noticed

  c'mon- come on

  couldn'ae - couldn't

  coupla - couple of

  crivens - hell

  cuddie - idiot

  dae - do

  dinin' - dining

  dinnae - didn't or don't

  disnae - doesn't

  dobber - idiot

  doesn'ae - doesn't

  dolton - idiot

  doon - down

  dram - a measure of whiskey

  efter - after

  eh' - right

  'ere - here

  fer - for

  frein - friend

  fey - from

  gae - get or give

  git - a contemptible person

  gonnae - going to

  greetin' - dying

  hae - have

  hald - hold

  haven'ae - haven't

  heed - head

  heedstart - head start

  hid - had

  hoovered - gobbled

  intoxicated - drunk

  kip - rest

  lass - young girl

  leavin - leaving

  legless - drunk

  me - my

  nae - not

  no' - not

  noo - now

  nothin' - nothing,

  oan - on

  o' - of

  Och - an Olympian spirit who rules the sun

  oot- out

  packin- packing

  pished - drunk

  scooby - clue

  scran - food

  shite - shit

  sittin' - sitting

  so's - so as

  somethin' - something

  soonds ' sounds

  stonking - stinking

  tae - to

  teasin' - teasing

  thrawn - perverse, ill-tempered

  tryin' - trying

  wallops - idiot

  wee -small

  wheest - talking

  whit's - what's

  wi'- with

  wid - would

  wisnae - was not

  withoot - without

  wouldnae - wouldn't

  ya - you

  ye - you

  yea - yes

  ye'll - you'll

  yer - your

  yerself - yourself

  ye're - you're

  ye've - you've

  Prologue

  England, 1725

  “Lady Emma! Lady Emma! Where have you gone off to, My Lady?”

  Young Emma Marston could hear her governess, Mrs. Briddle, calling for her. Knowing that a bath and a sharp tongue waited for her, she chose to remain hidden in the bush.

  She was enjoying herself immensely. The mock fight between her brother and their Highland visitor was infinitely more interesting than any lesson or other such nonsense Mrs. Briddle had planned for her afternoon.

  If she finds me I’ll have to go back, and I shall not have any more fun this day, she thought, trying hard not to pout.

  After all, what was the point of pouting if there was no one around to see her do it?

  There was hope—Mrs. Briddle’s voice was far away, and growing faint, so Emma knew she would be safe where she was for at least a little while longer.

  She turned her focus to the young men in the field. She was only nine, but the sight of her brother Thomas losing to the strong William MacNair gave her a slight thrill.

  Thomas never lost to anyone. He was the best fighter on their lands, all the tenants knew it. Mostly, because Thomas never let anyone forget it. He was the Earl of Dawaerton’s only son and heir, after all, so he should be the best at everything. At least, that was what he always said.

  Emma had to try really hard not to roll her eyes. It was unladylike, was what her mother and Mrs. Briddle always said. But, sometimes, Emma did not want to be a lady. And at sixteen years of age, Thomas was a
bully. Watching him now, on his knees in front of the visiting Scottish lad, gave Emma endless pleasure.

  She had only seen William MacNair once. It was the summer before when they had visited. Their fathers were friends, though it was rare that Laird MacNair traveled all the way to England from the Scottish Highlands, and rarer still that he brought his son.

  Emma was overjoyed the times when he did.

  Even though he and Thomas were the same age, William was so much larger than Thomas. He was so much larger than any boy Emma had ever seen. But, William had kind eyes, and when he smiled at Emma, she couldn’t help but giggle.

  She wasn’t afraid of him at all. He was strong, but. didn’t pull her hair, or try and trip her in the halls like Thomas did. He spoke funny words and called her a wee rascal. Emma liked to be around him.

  “Ye might as well give in, Thom,” William said, as he knelt beside Thomas, the practice sword at his throat.

  “Never!” Thomas growled in return. William laughed as he stood and turned his back.

  Emma felt her heart quicken. William didn’t know Thomas as she did. Her brother was angry, and William shouldn’t have turned his back to him. Thomas didn’t play fair.

  Thomas stood and moved to swipe William’s legs out from under him. She watched in horror, torn between exposing her hiding place in the shrubs or helping William.

  She willed her mouth to work and surprised herself as she was able to shout, “Watch out!” causing William to turn and catch her brother’s unfair move.

  At the very moment, when Thomas should have made an impact, Emma gasped, her hand rushing to cover her mouth. Her eyes stayed open even though she wanted to close them. She didn’t want to see.

  Then, with one swift movement, William crouched and captured Thomas’ leg from underneath his body, dropping him. Emma cheered as her brother ended up flat on his back.

  “Me thanks to ye, wee rascal,” the Scot shouted into the shrubs, meeting her eyes and giving Emma a sly wink. Thomas looked up from the dirt and gave her a scowl, causing a tight knot to form in her stomach. Emma cringed at the sight of her brother’s anger. She instinctively knew she would pay later for her betrayal, but she couldn’t let him cheat to beat William.

  Revealing her hiding place, Mrs. Briddle saw her and ran to capture her young charge. Emma tried to dash away but got caught on a thorn bush. She let out a weary sigh. There would be no more frolic and fun for her this day.

  “There you are. Come now, Lady Emma, we have to get you bathed and dressed for dinner!”

  Emma groaned as she tried in vain to brush the leaves and dirt from her smock.

  “Mrs. Briddle, must I leave? I am having such fun watching the boys.” Mrs. Briddle gave her a severe stare.

  “This is no type of activity for a young girl, Lady Emma, and you know it! Now come, don’t be trouble, lest I’m forced to tell your father.”

  At the mention of her father, Emma grew more defiant.

  “One day, when I am married to William MacNair, he will take me far away from here, and Thomas and Father will not be able to hurt me anymore! Your words will have no power, Mrs. Briddle. Just you wait!”

  The older woman laughed and pulled Emma roughly by the arm.

  “One day, hmm?” She snorted. “Little girl, there is much you need to learn of how marriages are arranged. If you know what’s best, you’ll come along and get your bath, and stop your foolish childlike fantasies. You should mind your father. He’s a powerful man, a great man, and he knows what is best for you!”

  Emma knew Mrs. Briddle was wrong, but it was fruitless to argue. Everyone thought the world of her father and brother. Only Emma understood how cruel both could be.

  She may have grown quiet, but she was not resigned. She simply walked alongside Mrs. Briddle, as best she could with her arm still in the woman’s grasp. “Very well,” the girl said. Her mind, though, was already made up. She would do everything in her power to get away from England, her father, and her brother.

  I will marry William MacNair. He will be my savior.

  Chapter 1

  Ten Years Later…

  Emma’s breath was coming in rapid bursts and she tried her hardest to keep the tears from running down her cheeks.

  He is a monster.

  She burned with anger. Her life wasn’t her own, and perhaps, a part of her had always known that it would come to this. Yet, it seemed so cruel and sudden, to be hurried off to Scotland, away from her home, her friends, her life, to marry a man she did not remember.

  This marriage was a sham. There was nothing of the sweet romance and caring love of a real marriage. No, this was only to further her father’s business and political interests. It was inhuman. She wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything, except what she knew was her fate to do, which was play the role of the fine English daughter and submit to her brutal father’s will.

  “I should run away,” she moaned. Mrs. Briddle, her once governess and now her ladyship’s companion, chuckled at her youthful insolence.

  “And where would you run? With no money, no family to take you in? You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, child. Settle down. We’re in Scotland now, what’s done is done.”

  Emma knew the woman was right, however, that didn’t make her any less angry. She had been under the assumption that this family trip to the Scottish Highlands was simply to visit an old family friend. It wasn’t until they rolled up to the large imposing medieval castle that she was told they were here for a wedding—her wedding.

  Emma moved toward the window of her bedchamber in this strange castle, her breath hot enough on the chilled glass to create a fog. If she were she younger and more inclined to fantasy, she would have drawn a heart in the cloud and hoped for a dashing prince that would come and save her from a cruel fate.

  Spring might be coming soon, but not soon enough in this God-forsaken place. Emma hugged herself tightly as she watched the men in the bailey below. She saw the outline of her brother Thomas as he stood with two or three of their father’s men. They seemed to be deep in conversation.

  Her brother must have been pleased with what was being discussed. She watched as he clapped another man on the back and threw his head back in what Emma thought must have been laughter. When is the last time I heard my brother laugh? she thought before her attention was taken by four large men across the field.

  Dressed in only kilts and nothing else, Emma admired the men and their athletic frames as they moved around each other. They looked to be practicing some kind of fighting or battle formation. They were very different from her brother and their English counterparts. These men were large, muscular, and ready for battle.

  The largest of the four broke ranks from his clansmen. His hair was dark as midnight, and Emma drew in a sharp breath as he looked up toward the sky, closing his eyes as if in prayer. His skin was tanned by the sun of bygone months and the sheen of sweat from the exertion made him look almost godlike.

  Emma wondered what it would feel like to run her hand across his smooth chest. She turned away quickly as a blush of warmth hit her cheeks. How could she have such thoughts, intruding on what was clearly a private moment for the man? Instead, she turned her focus back to the issue at hand, her anger.

  “By keeping the true reason for our visit to the MacNairs, by keeping it a secret from me, Father stole my choice away. I will never forgive him.”

  “The daughter of an Earl has no choice,” Mrs. Briddle muttered.

  “Are you saying I’m like cattle? Sheep to be bartered off without any input? I am a sentient being and I would have liked some say with whom I would be forced to spend the rest of my life with. What if he is daft, or indifferent, or worse, cruel?”

  “I seem to remember a little girl who wanted to marry William MacNair quite badly.” Mrs. Briddle clucked her tongue. She had reminded Emma of her youthful declaration no less than twenty times since their arrival in the keep.

  Emma closed her eyes as a fresh wave of ang
er, mixed with a small amount of embarrassment, curled in her chest. She remembered being enamored of a young William MacNair as a child, but she had been just that—a child. She never truly thought she would marry the Scottish brute. It had been bad enough when Father insisted the entire family travel to Scotland for his birthday celebration, but now learning that she, Emma, was to be served up as one of his gifts? It was a travesty.

  How could Father do this?

  She hadn’t even seen William MacNair for almost a decade. He surely wouldn’t remember her as the child she was, and she knew nothing of the man he had become.

  But she had heard tales in the village back home, from her few friends, and the men who worked her father’s land, that Highlanders were horrible men, dirty, quick to anger, thieves, and hellions. She had no desire to leave England, her home, and marry one of them now, no matter what she’d foolishly said as a child.