CLAIMED BY A HIGHLANDER (THE DOUGLAS LEGACY Book 2) Page 34

  “She closes by asking for our prayers for Margaret.”

  Sybil wiped away a tear. When the men of their family fled, Sybil thought she was the one in greatest danger. As things turned out, she found love and happiness beyond her hopes, and it was dear Margaret who had suffered most.

  “With your brother on the rise again,” Rory said, “it may soon be safe for ye to visit your family.”

  “My family is here,” she said, resting her palm against his check. “I hope one day my sisters and cousin Lizzie can visit us, but I’ll not travel to the Lowlands and risk my brother dragging us into his conflicts.”

  “This time, Archie may very well end up ruling Scotland in his stepson’s name,” Rory said. “Ye don’t mind missing all that?”

  “The only good the men of my family ever did for me was gamble me away to a wild Highland warrior.”

  Rory laughed and pulled her into his arms. “The luckiest day of my life was when I claimed a bride that wasn’t mine.”

  Sybil looked up at the man she loved and trusted with all her heart. She knew that no matter what lay ahead, Rory would always be at her side.

  “Close the door,” she whispered, “and claim me again, Highlander.”

  THE END

  HISTORICAL NOTE

  Archibald Douglas, who first appeared in my earlier series, THE RETURN OF THE HIGHLANDERS, is a real historical figure. His marriage to Margaret Tudor soon after the death of her husband, James IV of Scotland, made the handsome young Douglas chieftain stepfather to Scotland’s two-year-old king. This put him in a position to vie for control of the crown, which everyone except the queen realized was his goal in marrying her. For many years, Archibald alternately rose and fell from power, and the Douglas family fortunes rose and fell with him.

  Archie, his brother and his uncle were forced to flee Scotland more than once, but in my research I found no mention of their sisters, wives or mothers escaping with them. Information on the Douglas women is sparse, but I did learn that Archie’s sisters were called in for questioning during one of his exiles, and his stepson, James V, eventually burned one of the Douglas sisters at the stake, though there was no evidence she was complicit in Archie’s schemes.

  After I discovered how the men of their family had put them in danger and left, I decided to write this series and give the Douglas lasses happy endings with loyal men.

  Sybil Douglas is a wholly fictional character, but her sisters Alison (Captured by a Laird), Margaret (Kidnapped by a Rogue) and Janet, as well as her brother George and her uncles mentioned in this book were real. As a fiction writer, I adjusted facts and filled in the personalities of these and other historical characters to suit the needs of my story.

  Turning to the MacKenzie side, I should note first that clan history of five hundred years ago is based on oral tradition and mixed with legend. That said, I changed my hero’s first name to Rory, but he is based on John of Killin, one of the great chieftains of Clan MacKenzie. John (Rory) was a cunning and capable leader who significantly expanded the MacKenzie's territory and influence. In real life, he married the daughter of the Grant chieftain, and their son Kenneth became the next chieftain. I, however, had to get rid of his Grant wife to make room for Sybil.

  The conflict between John of Killin and his uncle Hector Roy of Gairloch probably took place ten to twenty years earlier than in this book. By some accounts, John’s older half-brother was murdered by Buchanan. John of Killin was still a minor when that happened, and his uncle Hector served as his tutor (guardian) and usurped his estates, claiming John was illegitimate.

  In the traditional account of the fire at Fairburn, John of Killin sailed from Gairloch and pretended to leave for Ireland before sneaking back with his thirty trusted men to burn his uncle’s house. At some point, the king’s council took John of Killin’s side in the dispute and ordered Hector to relinquish the rents and possession of Eilean Donan Castle to his nephew.

  John of Killin lived to be an old man and ruled his clan for half a century. His siblings included the Priest of Avoch, who was married, and a sister who was the wife of the Munro chieftain of Foulis.

  I drew the story of the marriage between John of Killin’s father and his mother, Agnes Fraser, from traditional accounts. Their “irregular” marriage was supposedly validated and their children legitimized by the pope. The Well of the Heads incident is based on a tale of an ambush of Munros by MacKenzies that was even deadlier than the one I wrote here.

  I found Rogi Falls on a map of the area and just used the name for the falls in my book, but most of the other places in this book are real. I was lucky to travel across the traditional MacKenzie lands and visit many of the places where I set scenes, including Eilean Donan Castle, Beauly Priory, Castle Leod, and Fortrose Cathedral. The area is stunningly beautiful, and the medieval buildings, many of which are in ruins, are amazing.

  Big Duncan of the Axe was at least a legend, and James Hamilton of Finnart was a power-player in his time who had perhaps ten illegitimate children. Margaret Douglas’s husband was James William Douglas, the 7th Baron of Drumlanrig. You can find out what he did to Margaret in order to save himself in the next book, Kidnapped by a Rogue.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading my book!

  If you enjoyed Claimed by a Highlander, please consider spreading the word by leaving a review on the site where you purchased your copy or on a reader site, such as Goodreads.

  I have three more books planned for this series. If you’d like to hear when I have a new book come out, be sure to go to sign up for my newsletter at www.MargaretMallory.com.

  I love to hear from readers! You can visit me on Facebook or Twitter or send me a message at margaret@margaretmallory.com.

  Thank you!

  BOOKLIST

  THE DOUGLAS LEGACY

  Captured by a Laird

  Claimed by a Highlander

  Kidnapped by a Rogue (coming)

  THE RETURN OF THE HIGHLANDERS

  The Guardian

  The Sinner

  The Warrior

  The Chieftain

  The Gift: A Highland Novella

  ALL THE KING’S MEN

  Knight of Desire

  Knight of Pleasure

  Knight of Passion

  EXCERPT: CAPTURED BY A LAIRD (The Douglas Legacy #1) by Margaret Mallory

  CHAPTER 1

  Scotland

  1517

  Burning her husband’s bed was a mistake. Alison could see that now.

  Yet each time she passed the rectangle of charred earth as she paced the castle courtyard, she felt a wave of satisfaction. She had waited to commit her act of rebellion until her daughters were asleep. But that night, after her husband’s body was taken to the priory for burial, she ordered the servants to carry the bed out of the keep. She set fire to it herself. The castle household, accustomed to the meek mistress her husband had required her to be, was thoroughly shocked.

  “Do ye see them yet?” Alison called up to one of the guards on the wall.

  When the guard shook his head, she resumed her pacing. Where were her brothers? They had sent word this morning that they were on their way.

  As she passed the scorched patch again, she recalled how the flames shot up into the night sky. She had stood watching the fire until dawn, imagining the ugliness of the past years turning to black ashes like the bed. The memories did not burn away, but she did feel cleaner.

  Destroying such an expensive piece of furniture was self-indulgent, but that was not why she counted burning it a mistake. While she could not tolerate having that bed in her home, it would have been wiser to give it away or sell it. And yet she simply could not in good conscience pass it on to someone else. Not when she felt as if the bed itself carried an evil.

  Instinctively, she touched the black quartz pendant at her throat that her mother had given her to ward off ill luck. It had been missing since Blackadder broke the chain on their wedding night. After the fire, she
found it wedged in a crack in the floor where the bed had been.

  “Lady Alison!” a guard shouted down from the wall. “They’re here!”

  The heavy wooden gates swung open, and her two brothers galloped over the drawbridge followed by scores of Douglas warriors. Praise God. As the castle filled with her clansmen, Alison immediately felt safer.

  One look at Archie’s thunderous expression, however, told her that his meeting with the queen had not gone well. Without a word, her brothers climbed the steps of the keep, crossed the hall where platters of food were being set out on the long trestle tables for the Douglas warriors, and continued up the stairs to the private chambers. They never discussed family business in front of others.

  “She is my wife!” Archie said as soon they were behind closed doors. “How dare she think she can dismiss me as if I were one of her servants?”

  Alison tapped her foot, trying to be patient, while her brother, the 6th Earl of Angus and chieftain of the Douglas clan, stormed up and down the length of the room. When Archie’s back was to her, she exchanged a look with George, her more clever brother, and rolled her eyes. This was all so predictable.

  “I warned ye not to be so blatant about your affair with Lady Jane,” George said in a mild tone.

  “My affairs are none of my wife’s concern,” Archie snapped.

  “A queen is not an ordinary wife,” George said as he poured himself and Archie cups of wine from the side table.

  Alison found it ironic that the Douglas clan owed the greatest rise in their fortunes to Archie’s liaison with the widowed queen. Usually, it was the ladies of the family who were tasked with securing royal favor via the bedchamber.

  Archie, always overconfident, had gone too far. While the Council had been willing to tolerate the queen’s foolishness in taking the young Douglas chieftain as her lover, they were livid when the pair wed in secret, making Archie the infant king’s stepfather. The Council responded by removing the queen as regent. She fled to England amidst accusations that she had tried to abscond with the royal heir.

  “How was I to know my wife would return to Scotland?” Archie said, raising his arms. “Besides, I’m a young man. She couldn’t expect me to live like a monk while she was gone.”

  Doubtless, the queen, who was pregnant with Archie’s child when she fled, expected her husband to join her. But while the queen paid a lengthy visit on her brother Henry VIII, the Douglas men retreated behind the high walls of Tantallon Castle and waited for the cries of treason to subside.

  That was two years ago. And now, Albany, the man who replaced the queen as regent, was on a ship back to France, and the queen was returning. Archie had gone to meet her at Berwick Castle, just across the border.

  “Is there no hope of reconciling with her?” Alison ventured to ask.

  “I bedded that revolting woman four times in two days—and for naught!” Archie thrust his hand out. “I had her in my palm again, I swear it. But then some villain sent her a message informing her about Jane.”

  “Must have been the Hamiltons,” George said, referring to their greatest rivals.

  “Despite that setback, I managed to persuade the queen—through great effort, I might add—that we should enter Edinburgh together as man and wife for all the members of the damned Council to see,” Archie said, his blue eyes flashing. “But then she discovered I’d been collecting the rents on her dower lands and flew into a rage.”

  No wonder the queen was angry. After abandoning her, Archie had lived openly with his lover and their newborn daughter in one of the queen’s dower castles—and on the queen’s money.

  “You’re her husband,” George said, leaning back in his chair. “Ye had every right to collect her rents. Still do.”

  Alison did not want to hear about husbands and their rights. She folded her arms and tamped down her impatience while she waited for the right moment to ask.

  “Enough talk. We must join the men.” Archie threw back his cup of wine. “We’ll ride for Edinburgh as soon as they’ve eaten their fill.”

  George was already on his feet. She could wait no longer.

  “Ye must leave some of our Douglas warriors here to protect this castle,” she blurted out. “The Blackadder men are deserting me.”

  She hoped her brothers would not ask why. She did not want to explain that burning her husband’s bed had insulted the Blackadder men and spurred many of them to leave. They disliked having a woman in command of the castle, and she had unwittingly given them the excuse they needed.

  “I can’t spare any men now,” Archie said, slapping his gloves against his hand. “I must gather all my forces in a show of strength to convince my pigheaded wife that she needs my help to regain the Regency.”

  “The Hamiltons will attempt to do the same,” George added.

  “But what about me and my daughters?” Alison demanded. “What about the Blackadder lands Grandfather thought were so important that I was forced to wed that man? I was a child of thirteen!”

  “For God’s sake, Alison, we’re in a fight for control of the crown,” Archie said. “That will not be decided at Blackadder Castle.”

  “Please, I need your help.” She clutched Archie’s arm as he started toward the door. “Ye promised to protect us.”

  Archie came to an abrupt halt, and the shared memory hung between them like a dead rat.

  “Mother did not need to remind me of my duty to my family,” he said between clenched teeth. “And neither do you.”

  Unlike the Douglas men, who lauded Archie’s seduction of the queen as a boon for the family, their mother begged him to end the affair. A generation ago, one of her sisters had been the king’s mistress. After it was rumored that the king had fallen so in love that he wished to marry her, all three of their mother’s sisters died mysteriously.

  When Archie wed the queen in secret, knowing full well that every other powerful family in Scotland would oppose the marriage, their mother made one demand of her sons. Archie and George promised her, on their father’s grave, that they would protect their four sisters.

  “I’ll find ye a new husband as soon as these other matters are settled,” Archie said. “You’ll be safe here until then.”

  Another husband was not what Alison asked for and was the last thing she wanted. “What I need are warriors—”

  “Who would dare attack you?” Archie said. “Now that we are rid of Albany, I am the man most likely to rule Scotland.”

  Before she could argue, Archie pushed past her and disappeared down the circular stone stairwell.

  “Don’t fret, Allie,” George said, and gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Your most dangerous neighbors were the Hume lairds, and they’re both dead.”

  ***

  David Hume left his horse and warriors a safe distance outside the city walls and proceeded on foot. If the guards were watching for him, they would not expect him to come alone, or so he hoped. Keeping his hood low over his face and his hand on his dirk, he mingled with the men herding cattle through the Cowgate Port to sell in the city’s market.

  A month ago, David would have been amused to find himself entering the great city of Edinburgh between two cows. But his humor had been wrung from him. As he walked up West Bow toward the center of the city, the rage that was always with him now swelled until his skin felt too tight.

  He paused before entering the High Street and scraped the dung off his boots while he scanned the bustling street for anyone who might attempt to thwart him. Then, keeping watch on the armed men amidst the merchants, well-dressed ladies, beggars, and thieves, he started down the hill in the direction of Holyrood Palace. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Edinburgh Castle, the massive fortress that sat atop the black rock behind him. If he were caught, he would likely grow old in its bleak dungeon. He’d prefer a quick death.

  David had walked this very street with his father and uncle. With each step, he tried to imagine how that day might have ended differently. Could he have
stopped it? Perhaps, perhaps not. Regardless, he should have tried. From the moment they entered Holyrood Palace, he had sensed the danger. It pricked at the back of his neck and made his hands itch to pull his blade.

  The Hume lairds had been guaranteed safe conduct. Relying on that pledge of honor made in the king’s name, David did not follow his instincts, did not shout to their men to fight their way out. Instead, he watched his father and uncle relinquish their weapons at the palace door, and he did the same.

  Never again.

  When he saw the stone arches of St. Giles jutting into the High Street, David’s heart beat so hard it hurt. The church was next to the Tolbooth, the prison where the royal guards brought his father and uncle after dragging them from the palace. David’s ears rang again with the shouts and jeers of the crowd that echoed off the buildings that day. As he crossed the square, he did not permit himself to look at the Tolbooth for fear that his rage would spill over and give him away.

  He turned into one of the narrow, sloping passageways that cut through the tall buildings on either side of the High Street and found a dark doorway with a direct view of the Tolbooth. Only then did he lift his gaze.

  Though he had known what to expect, his stomach churned violently at the sight of the two grisly heads on their pikes. His body shook with a poisonous mix of rage and grief as he stared at what was left of his father. They had made a mockery of the man David had admired all his life. His father’s sternly handsome features were distorted in a grimace that looked like a gruesome grin, his dark gold hair was matted, and flies ate at his bulging eyes.

  David’s chest constricted until his breath came in wheezes. He wanted to fight his way into the palace, wielding his sword and ax until he killed every man in sight. But Regent Albany, the man who ordered the execution, was no longer in the palace, or even in Scotland.