The Highlander's Stolen Love: Romance in the Highlands, #3

By Fiona Grant

When Duncan Maclean and Caitriona Menzies first set eyes on each other at a Highland wedding, they fell instantly in love. 

"I am yours," Caitriona promised him that night. "Yours and no other's." 

But Caitriona is not in charge of her own fate, and when her parents tell her that Duncan—a younger son with no title or lands—has been so badly injured in battle that he can be a husband to no woman, she finds herself given to Cormag MacPherson in marriage. 

Cormag, however, is like the devil incarnate. He abuses his wife and servants, and Caitriona knows that if she doesn't escape, she and her maid Jessie are doomed. 

Fate takes a hand when power-hungry Cormag kidnaps the wife of Robert Stewart, and Duncan, still recovering from his war injuries, learns where his sister by marriage is being kept prisoner. He is stunned to discover that Una is not Cormag MacPherson's only prisoner: Caitriona needs him desperately, before it is too late. 

Fighting against almost insurmountable odds, Duncan sets out to rescue his stolen love. Hurting from his wounds, tortured by Cormag, he has to face the battle of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Gem Publishing
• Release date: Dec 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9780645215120

Book preview

Prologue

The hall around Caitriona Menzies was alive with flashes of leaping, spinning colour. Ladies in jewel-toned linen and silk twirled on the fingers of men who had traded in their usual drab, plaid tunics for a rainbow of colourful garb, and wrapped their legs in bright hosiery. 

She gazed around the room, excitement leaping in her breast. Twas her first wedding since she had come of age, and so much more exciting than plying her needle in the solar or assisting her mother with dull tasks to ensure that domestic life in the castle ran smoothly.

Peals of drunken laughter bounced off the warm, stone walls to be joined by the bright voices of fife and drum and fiddle. Ladies curtsied, and lads bowed as they kissed their fair hands before sweeping them off their ghillie-clad feet and out into the throng of dancers. 

On the sidelines, men gulped down flagons of mead while those women not lucky enough to be dancing whispered in each other’s ears and made eyes at the drinkers, hoping for a dance, or perchance, if they were lucky, even love. 

Caitriona had never seen anything like it in all her fifteen years. She had been introduced to society on her birthday a mere three months before, and though she had been out in that short time, she had soon discovered that a wedding party was something all its own. Everyone here seemed to have romance on their minds, herself included. 

Oh, Isobel! She turned towards the friend who stood at her shoulder. Twould be lovely to be married, do not you think? To declare your love in front of God and afterwards to celebrate at a grand feast such as this? And at the end of the evening to be whisked off to the rest of your life by your beloved?

Isobel rolled her eyes even as she smiled. You are too much of a romantic, Caitriona! She reached out and swept back a lock of hair that had come loose off of her friend’s forehead. What shall we do with you?

Find me a husband as sweet as Duff Macleod! Pretending to swoon, Caitriona turned her gaze towards the newly married couple, who were sharing a dance with their guests. The couple’s hands were clasped tightly together, and their eyes were locked onto each other’s face, each one wearing a smile bright enough to challenge the sun. 

How he looks at her! Caitriona said wistfully. I should like to be so lucky, Isobel—to wed a man who gazes at me as if I were made of pure gold. 

And you shall. Isobel gave her an affectionate hug. "For you are pure gold, Caitriona! Every lass here wishes she had your beautiful strawberry locks. And all the lads watch you when you walk into a room. Dinna fash, you shall find your Duff!"

Do you think so? Caitriona flushed with pleasure. You flatter me, Isobel!

I speak only the truth. Look, here is a lad now, coming to ask your hand for a dance, I am sure.

I am sure you are wrong. He may very well be coming to inquire after you!

Bah! He has not looked at me once all evening, Caitriona. And now he gazes only at you!

The man in question reached them just as Isobel had finished speaking. He was a tall lad, well built and athletic with swarthy skin and a strong face. His hair was dark, like Isobel’s, and fell to his shoulders in a wild tangle of waves. His eyes, which were so dark as to appear almost black, were locked onto Caitriona’s face. He nodded to her and then addressed her. 

Milady, I must confess that I am bewitched by your golden locks and your sweet face. I beg to have the pleasure of your hand for the next dance!

Caitriona thought she heard Isobel laugh into her flagon of mead, but she ignored her friend. Her heart beat fast in her chest. She had never been approached like this by a lad before. 

She would be delighted to stand up with you for the next dance! Isobel answered from beside her. Caitriona whirled around to catch her friend’s eyes, which glowed with mirth. He’s handsome! she mouthed, and Caitriona felt her cheeks flush. Her friend was right, he was very handsome, and she did so much want to join in the revelry on the dance floor. 

She turned back towards the lad, not so smitten that she would forget to do the proper thing. I must first know the name of the one who shall be escorting me, sir! It would be most improper for me to allow you to lead me out until I at least know what I shall call you.

Aiden Fraser, Milady. His eyes studied her face admiringly. But I know who you are! Caitriona Menzies, the most bonnie lass in all of Scotland! Aiden swept into a low bow and then, upon rising, slipped his fingers through Caitriona’s, pulling her out onto the dance floor. 

Caitriona looked back once at Isobel to see her friend giggle once again into her cup of mead. Aiden tugged gently at her fingers, and she trailed after him to find her place in the dance set, her heart fluttering with nerves. She had never before danced with a strange lad. All of her experience until this day had been in the nursery with her maid, Jennie, or with one of her brothers at the few feasts she had been allowed to attend before her official introduction to society. And on that night, she had only danced with the lads she knew from her clan. Somehow those dances had never felt so grown-up as this. Perhaps twas just the gaiety that accompanied the wedding. 

Aiden was not a good dancer. He often spun Caitriona too quickly, causing her to lose balance. Once or twice she almost knocked into other dancers in the set. And finally, it happened that Aiden twirled her too fast and, despite her best efforts, Caitriona spun too far out, and she smacked into someone behind her. Embarrassed, she turned to see who she had hit and found herself face to face with a blue-eyed lad who looked every bit as surprised as she felt. 

Apologies, Milady, the youth said. A swath of auburn curls spilled down over his blue eyes, and he swept it away, revealing a herd of freckles that marched across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks. With an easy grin, he reached out to steady her, and Caitriona felt her heart flutter in her chest, though she did not know if it was due to the shock of bumping into someone during her dance or if the lad’s comely face was to blame. 

She met his gaze squarely, knowing that a betraying blush had risen in her cheeks. Why couldn’t she laugh and flirt like the other lasses, instead of just standing there like a lackwit and turning red? 

I hope I did not tread on you? the lad continued, a look of genuine concern in his blue eyes. 

Caitriona finally summoned up a smile. No, you did not. Twas my fault. I should have been more careful and not permitted my love of dancing to cause me to spin like a dervish! My apologies. Despite the flush that she could feel lingering on her throat and cheeks, Caitriona forced herself to meet the lad’s eyes as she spoke. 

He smiled back, and Caitriona noticed that his cheeks were marked not only by freckles but by a matching pair of dimples. Her pulse quickened, and she had to quash a sudden urge to reach out and touch the sweet indentations in his cheeks. 

Never apologise for a love of dance, Milady, the lad said. Tis refreshing to see a lass who enjoys the pastime so much. I myself am a great lover of dance.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Caitriona felt Aiden tug at her fingers. Lost in the moment with the freckled youth, she had forgotten that she was in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by other people, and that she had a partner she should be paying attention to. 

Come, Caitriona. We are blocking the way for other couples. With a cool look at the lad she’d bumped into, Aiden pulled her back towards himself, and they went on with the dance. But even as she spun in his hands, she kept seeing the freckled youth and his expressive blue eyes in her mind. She looked for