The Lone Wolf's Bride (The Highland Wolf Series Book 2) Read online

  The Lone Wolf’s Bride

  TESSA MURRAN

  The Lone Wolf’s Bride by Tessa Murran.

  © 2018 Tessa Murran

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  Visit the author’s website at www.tessamurran.com

  First Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by http://www.stunningbookcovers.com

  To Milly, the best mum ever.

  Author’s Note

  The Lone Wolf’s Bride is a story about forgiveness and the redemptive power of love and takes place in a Scotland riven by religious and political conflict.

  It is 1658 and Oliver Cromwell has just died, leaving a power vacuum in England to be contested between his son Richard, seeking to preserve his Puritan father’s legacy of parliamentary rule, albeit bordering on absolutism, and King Charles II, ripped from the line of succession by the execution of his father, King Charles I, nine years earlier.

  Scotland, worn out from a bloody century of being at war, both with England and with itself, favours the restoration of a monarchy and supports Charles II. The Highlands stand on the brink of war should Charles, from exile on the continent, muster an army to wrench power back from Cromwell. Whether Charles chooses reconciliation or aggression depends on whether or not England has the stomach for another civil war.

  Some Highland clans see this uncertainty as a chance to gain supremacy over their rivals. Factions and divisions flourish in the absence of stable government and so neighbours and allies now turn on each other with calamitous results.

  Amidst this chaos, Ilene Campbell must find a way out of a terrible predicament and turns to her adopted brother Murray, who has long since turned his back on Scotland for a life of bloodshed and violence. Is he a path to danger and cruelty or is he her salvation?

  The characters in the Lone Wolf’s Bride are entirely fictitious, as are the events which unfold in this book, but the story is built around a framework of real historical events.

  The Lone Wolf’s Bride is Book Two in the Highland Wolf Series but can be read as a standalone book.

  Find out more about Book One – The Black Wolf’s Captive at the end of this book.

  To find out what’s coming next check out my website at www.tessamurran.com or via Twitter, @tessamurran.

  Prologue

  Scottish Highlands 1648

  Stratherly Castle - Clan McDougall Stronghold

  ‘Murray is young and reckless Duncan, as all young men are. He wanted to prove himself to you,’ Ailsa Campbell pleaded, trying to quell the anger evident in her husband’s clenched fists and narrowed eyes.

  ‘Prove himself, by raiding the McDougall’s bloody cattle! Could he not, just once, have thought about the consequences?’

  ‘He has heard you speak ill of them many times and he is canny enough to know they raid our cattle too, no matter how much they plead friendship to our faces.’

  ‘So it’s all my fault he has got himself caught and faces a noose is it?’

  ‘No Duncan, calm down, that is not what I’m saying.’ Ailsa knew full well that her husband hated the McDougall clan, well, certain members of it anyway. She watched him rage about the yard where they had been waiting in the bitter cold for quite some time since Duncan had stormed into Stratherly, demanding an audience with Laird Angus McDougall. The insult of being left cooling his heels with the horses was fuelling Duncan’s temper to the point of exploding, which was probably the whole point of such rudeness in the first place.

  He raged on. ‘I thought Murray was smarter than this. If you are going to raid cattle you don’t do it with a bunch of dim-witted young fools, on a night where there is a full moon.’

  ‘So it is not the raiding but the getting caught doing it which vexes you so,’ she replied crossly.

  ‘Aye, it is.’

  ‘Well he is in terrible danger Duncan, so we have to do something.’

  ‘By something you mean grovel to that old worm Angus McDougall and beg for Murray’s miserable life. Why should I? I took that boy in from nothing and raised him up and this is how he repays me, with foolishness and disobedience.’

  ‘You know why we are here, you know what you must do, so why be pig-headed about it? And I will go in with you to plead for mercy and to make sure you keep your temper.’

  ‘No you won’t, you will stay here and hope to god I can talk some reason into these fools. If I cannot, and if it is death for the boy, then I don’t want you to see them do it.’

  Fear strangled Ailsa’s resolve. Murray was not her own son by blood but she loved him all the same. She couldn’t bear the thought of her beautiful boy, just on the edge of manhood and all he could be, thrown from the battlements to a criminal’s death. How the McDougalls would laugh as he kicked and banged against the stone walls, tearing at the rope around his throat, and his flesh with it, until his lungs gave out. Then his corpse would be left to swing in the wind as a warning to others until ravens had picked it clean.

  She understood the impulse that had brought him to such danger. It had been a harsh winter and raids on the borders had been increasing. The Highlands were in dire straits and the boundaries between right and wrong had been softened in favour of mere survival. The poor had been reduced to eating dogs and cats, even vermin.

  Duncan let such raids go unpunished for the time being, as long as the raiders did not steal too many cattle or hurt farmers. This was not cowardice on his part but restraint. Knowing full well the delicate nature of clan allegiances, he preferred to hold his strength for bigger battles, and to keep his allies on his side for when they would be needed, even the treacherous, thieving ones. Murray however, being young and eager to make his mark, resented the insult to his clan after the latest raid on their herds and had no such restraint. Now his life hung in the balance.

  ‘The Laird will see you now,’ sneered a McDougall clansman, emerging from within and beckoning them to follow with an insolent jerk of his head.

  Duncan glared at Ailsa as she followed along in spite of his command and, though she could feel the waves of anger coming off her husband, she ignored them. It was a kindness on his part. He wanted her spared the anguish of seeing her adopted son condemned if this went badly. Duncan was the bravest man she knew but he could be hurt through those he loved.

  ***

  Ailsa stood resolutely by her husband’s side as he waded into the bad blood between Clan Campbell and Clan McDougall, humiliated and angered in equal measure, but desperate to save Murray’s life.

  When they brought Murray before them, filthy, wounded and in chains, Ailsa gasped at the state of him. He was black and blue from the beating he had received, his knees and knuckles torn and bleeding. His face, oh she could barely look at his once-handsome face as he was virtually unrecognisable. It seemed to be one big bruise and oozing fresh blood. This recent violence had obviously been inflicted in order to make the McDougall’s bargaining position stronger. In spite of this cruelty, and even though he was swaying on his feet, Murray was still capable of displaying his usual defiance.

  ‘Laird it was not my fault,’ he slurred through a swollen jaw. ‘These filthy bastards have raided us countless time and ...’

  ‘You will not speak to me,’ said Duncan through gritted teeth. ‘Not one word.’ Murray fell silent, eyes burning with humiliation. Duncan turned back to Murray’s judge and jury, Laird Angus McDougall.

  ‘If you free him then I will make amends to your clan with twice the number of cattle lost.’

  ‘He’s a thief and a fool and he should hang. It is what you would do to one of my clansmen caught doing such a thing,’ growled Angus, a grim-faced man, not inclined to mercy.

  ‘Ah, so you admit you raid on Campbell lands,’ replied Duncan in a less than conciliatory voice.

  ‘Of course we don’t. We maintain the peace as we should and as you do not.’

  ‘Then you are either a hypocrite or you have no control over your own men.’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that in my own hall.’

  ‘Come now, McDougall, let us be direct. It has been but a few weeks since I gave two of your curs a thrashing when they were caught on my land. Do you not recall my sending them back to you?’

  ‘Aye, and they were sorely used by your men.’

  ‘Not like this,’ he said pointing towards Murray. ‘And they were alive, weren’t they? I did not stretch their necks. This is an isolated piece of foolishness. My son was trying to prove his manhood. Let me take the skin off his back for this slight to you and make you many head of cattle richer.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because if you hang him, the outcome will be less profitable for you, and you have my word on that.’

  ‘Is that a threat, Campbell?’

  ‘No it’s a promise, you reap what you sow Angus, just remember that.’

  Ailsa could feel Duncan’s temper sliding a
way from him. She had to do something.

  ‘Please Laird, we ask that you be merciful on this occasion. A favour to our clan and one that will be repaid a thousand times over, I can assure you. Murray acted recklessly as all young men do to prove their manhood, as you would have done in the past I am sure,’ she finished, smiling warmly.

  ‘Ah Lady Ailsa, the voice of reason,’ he replied, trying to scramble back from the brink of a violent end on the point of Duncan’s sword, it not today then one day. ‘Your devotion to this wretch does you credit, as does your kind heart, it was the reason my brother Hamish always thought so highly of you.’

  ‘You flatter me, sir, for I am sure he would barely remember me.’

  ‘Ask him yourself as he arrived last night from Edinburgh. Ah, here he is now.’

  Ailsa caught sight of Duncan’s face, turned to stone, as his hand moved slowly to the hilt of his sword. She turned and there was Duncan’s old rival for her affections, Hamish McDougall.

  As he swept into the hall she swallowed hard and pasted a bright smile on her face, pretending with all her heart that she was happy to see him. Despite having been close childhood friends, she had not seen Hamish for many years, the last occasion having been when he had declared his undying love for her, begging her to run away with him. She had been newly married to Duncan at the time, whose powerful clan, the Campbells, had overthrown hers, the MacLeods. There may have been an element of coercion involved in her nuptials but Ailsa had already fallen in love with her Campbell husband and so she had rejected Hamish and the life of sin he had offered.

  There was no chance he would have forgotten that insult to his pride and was now sure to be spiteful. So Murray’s life or death might turn, not on Duncan and his threats of retaliation, but on her ability to charm her old admirer.

  Hamish strutted arrogantly into the room, dismissing Duncan with a glare and fixing his gaze on her. She assumed the woman walking in behind him was his wife. Plain would be a fair description of her. The heiress who had been unlucky enough to catch his eye was whey-faced, short and stout, and when she tottered after her elegant husband, together, they reminded Ailsa of a duck waddling after a swan. Ailsa felt sorry for the woman for Hamish had probably wed her to get his hands on her considerable dowry and she looked miserable.

  ‘My wife Elspeth,’ he said to Ailsa with a dismissive toss of the head as his eyes roamed all over her body.

  Strikingly handsome in his youth, Hamish had not aged particularly well. His face had the doughy pallor of years of soft living and there was a slightly seedy air to his once fine features. He was heavier than he once had been and had the sly look of a well-fed weasel as he turned his jaded eye from her to Duncan.

  ‘So, you are here to plead the cause of this dog, Campbell. Why bother yourself? He didn’t spring from your loins, he’s just a worthless bastard.’

  ‘He is our son in all but name and my wife has a fondness for him.’

  ‘Aye, she always did have a soft spot for lost causes. Ailsa, have you not learnt by now that you shouldn’t give your heart to the undeserving?’ It was clear that now Hamish finally had the upper hand he was damn well going to use it.

  ‘I would ask that you free him, Hamish, though he may be a terrible scoundrel, as a mark of our friendship all these years,’ said Ailsa sweetly.

  ‘I have not seen you for many of those years, thanks to the enmity of your husband. And I would enjoy seeing that whelp dance on the end of a rope.’ He looked at Murray with utter contempt and no pity.

  ‘And I would enjoy seeing you skewered on the end of my sword, you slimy whoreson,’ snarled Murray.

  ‘I said quiet you fool,’ bellowed Duncan, his eyes blazing.

  Ailsa had warned Duncan to be calm but she could tell he longed to tear Hamish’s head from his shoulders. Hamish was unperturbed and took Ailsa’s hand in his. It was a liberty, but one she endured for Murray’s sake.

  ‘I am quite within my rights to hang him for his thievery.’ It was an iron threat delivered in a patronising voice of silk.

  ‘You say you may hang him?’ snarled Duncan. ‘I thought Angus was Laird here or am I mistaken?’

  Anger reddened Hamish’s face and he looked fit to explode. Vanity was the defining part of his character, any slight to it would make him vicious.

  ‘Hamish could you not free him on account of our friendship,’ pleaded Ailsa with a soft smile.

  She had to do something or these two would end up killing each other. Many years may have passed since she had last seen Hamish, life had been good to her and her beauty had only intensified with her contentment. She employed the full force of it now, fixing him with her stunning green eyes while placing her hand on top of his.

  ‘It is good to see you after so long, and you have not changed a bit,’ Ailsa murmured through gritted teeth. ‘Hamish you always had a good heart and a forgiving one. Remember all those times you forgave me when we were young and remember how we were both punished for our indiscretions, which as I recall, were mostly my fault.’

  ‘Nay, if it was on your account that I received many a whipping Ailsa, I was happy to do it,’ he replied, patting her hand where it lay on top of his. He held her eyes for a moment, the old desire swirling there and making Ailsa’s flesh creep. How had her beloved friend become this cruel, selfish thing before her?

  Softly stroking her hand and not deigning to look at Duncan he said, ‘You need to check this mongrel of yours, Campbell. We will not suffer him to plunder Clan McDougall as you plundered the MacLeods.’ His words were greasy with innuendo.

  Duncan’s anger bubbled over. ‘Why you…’

  ‘Enough,’ shouted Angus. ‘Wait outside and I will give you an answer shortly.’

  As they left Ailsa turned and looked desperately at Murry, who was watching them go with fear in his eyes. He didn’t want to die today. Surely this couldn’t be the last time she would see him alive?

  ***

  They waited outside by the horses, Ailsa wracked with worry and Duncan, angry to the point of exploding.

  ‘If that fool escapes having his neck stretched by Hamish, and if we ever get out of this infernal place, Murray will feel my boot in his arse when we get home.’

  ‘Duncan your temper will not serve us now. Hold fast to your patience for all our sakes. Angus may be a liar and an inconstant ally but he’s no fool. He wouldn’t dare defy you openly for he knows you would never forgive such a slight, and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his days in fear for his life.’

  ‘True, but Hamish hates me, as I hate him. He’ll not fight our cause. He would hang Murray just to wound me, no matter that he still lusts after you. The man had his hands on you Ailsa.’

  ‘Well, if I can endure it for Murray’s sake, then so can you.’ Ailsa pinned her hopes on the fact that there had always been a considerable rivalry between the brothers and if Hamish McDougall wanted Murray dead, then it was likely Angus McDougall would do the opposite.

  There was shouting and cursing behind them and suddenly Murray was thrown to the floor at their feet. One of Angus’s henchmen growled, ‘My Laird has a message for you. You are to replace the stolen cattle twice over. He assumes you know the correct number and that you will honour this agreement fully and without delay.’

  ‘It will be done.’ Duncan grabbed Murray by the scruff of the neck and pushed him up onto Ailsa’s horse.

  ‘If it is not done then we will seek this one out, or another of your clansmen, we care not which, and we will take payment with a life instead of cattle. And this is a promise. If your bastard comes onto McDougall lands again, we will open his throat.’

  Duncan mounted his horse and pulled Ailsa up behind him. They rode away quickly, Ailsa worrying the whole time that Murray would not have the strength to stay in the saddle for he looked so weak. But when they got well clear of the castle Duncan rounded on him.

  ‘You may drag yourself into trouble Murray and almost hang from the McDougall’s walls, but to take the others with you, to put them all in danger. Were it not for Hamish’s slimy fondness for Ailsa you may be dead now. And I have been forced to humble myself before a man whom I despise, one who is not my equal.’

  ‘I am sorry to be so troublesome,’ Murray spat back.