Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses Read online

  CAPTURED HEARTS AND STOLEN KISSES

  A COLLECTION OF HISTORICAL ROMANCES BY

  NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, AND AWARD WINNING,

  INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHORS

  CATHERINE KEAN

  B.J. SCOTT

  PARRIS AFTON BONDS

  SUE-ELLEN WELFONDER

  KATHRYN LYNN DAVIS

  LILY BALDWIN

  JENNIFER SIDDOWAY

  CECI GILTENAN

  This volume contains works of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in these books are either a product of each authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  The unauthorized reproduction, sharing, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Collection Copyright 2019 by Duncurra LLC

  www.duncurra.com

  The Copyright of each individual story remains with the author of that story.

  ISBN: 978-1-949407-05-1

  Produced in the USA

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  A Knight and His Rose - by Catherine Kean

  Wanting a few moments alone to gaze at the stars, Lady Violetta Molineaux sneaks onto the estate of her enemy, Lord Osric Seabrook, to reach an ancient stone circle. There she’s discovered by a bold knight, but convinces him she’s a commoner and hurries away, only to fall into a mysterious underground tunnel on Seabrook lands.

  Osric can’t forget the beautiful woman he met at the ancient site. Could she be Violetta? He’d met her years ago but not since his return from Crusade. When he finds her trapped and hurt in the tunnel he didn’t even know about, he rescues her and takes her to his castle. He soon confirms her identity but plays along with her ruse of being common-born. Yet, when shocking secrets are unearthed in the tunnel, Violetta must tell Osric who she really is—and they both must acknowledge generations-old truths that will change their lives forever.

  A Rose Among Thistles - by B.J. Scott

  Logan McAllen's first task as the new laird is to avenge the death of his father and the merciless slaughter of his clansmen. Determined to see justice served and to destroy those responsible for the unprovoked raid on his stronghold, he begins by taking the one thing their leader holds most dear—his only daughter. His mission clear, he completes the task, only to learn it isn't as easy to carry out as he'd thought when the beguiling lass threatens to steal his heart. Instead of evil he'd expected to destroy, he find a delicate rose in among the thistles.

  The Captive - by Parris Afton Bonds

  “You swore to make me love you," Ranald said. "I swear to make you hate me.”

  “I may have yet to make you love me," Enya chided, "but you canna make me hate you. Not after what happened between us.”

  The mighty Kincairns, once a powerful Highland clan, are now rebels out to destroy the conquering British invaders. Ranald Kincairn, chieftain of the rebels, swears to take his vengeance by stealing his ruthless foe's virgin bride. But his captive swears to take her own vengeance by making his heart her own captive.

  Winter Fire - by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  Flames of winter burn the hottest…

  When Katla MacKenzie meets a dashing stranger in an enchanted place, she gladly gives her heart – and her passion – to the lover she only knows as the Lord of Winter.

  Gunnar MacLeod can’t resist the bonnie lass and seduces her—or is he the one seduced? A long-standing clan feud comes between them, but a heart that loves is powerful, and Gunnar will do whatever he must to claim Katla as his own.

  Child of Awe - by Kathryn Lynn Davis

  Rich, romantic, utterly enchanting, Child of Awe takes us from the splendor of mist-covered glens to the brutal terrors of war, from the blazing hatred of ancient feuds to the glory of new love unfolding…captivating us, heart and soul, with the master touch of a true storyteller.

  The Devil in Plaid - by Lily Baldwin

  A passion too intense to deny...

  Lady Fiona MacDonnell is certain Laird Jamie MacLeod is the devil himself. Their clans are sworn enemies, each steeped in hatred born from a long-standing feud. But when threatened by a powerful neighboring clan, they must unite to survive.

  The Devil has never been hotter, his angel never so fine, but will their forced marriage be Hell on Earth or together will they find heaven?

  Taken by Graeme - by Jennifer Siddoway

  Love is the last thing Elspeth MacDougall expects to find when a fierce pirate captain sweeps her from her home straight to the high seas, demanding she ply her skills as ship surgeon to work off her father’s gambling debt. She’s determined to survive the three month arrangement, but dangers abound and there’s more to this vagabond group of raiders than it seems. As sea battles and intrigues mount, she finds a place among the crew. But can her healing skills save her own heart when her bond with the captain intensifies and passion flares, harder to fight than the crashing waves.

  Captain Graeme MacNeil never intended to bring a woman on board his ship--they always cause trouble. Yet Elspeth serves a need he can’t deny. If only she didn’t possess an inner blaze that sparks a fire in him as well. His attraction to the bonnie surgeon only grows stronger when they return to his homeland in the Barra, but lurking in the shadows is an old rival, waiting for the chance to strike.

  As they learn to trust each other, hearts are won, but one question still remains: what will happen once her father’s debt is paid? Will Elspeth return to her family, or choose a life with Graeme on the open sea?

  Highland Angels - by Ceci Giltenan

  Anna MacKay fears the MacLeods. Andrew MacLeod fears love.

  Anna, angry with her brother, took a walk to cool her temper. She had no intention of venturing so close to MacLeod territory—until she saw a wee lad fall through the ice.

  Andrew becomes enraged when it appears the MacKay lass has abducted his son, his last precious connection to the wife he lost—until he learns the truth. Anna, risked her life to save his beloved child.

  Now there is a chance to end the generations old hate and fear between their clans.

  Fate connects them. The desire for peace binds them. Will a rival tear them apart?

  A KNIGHT AND HIS ROSE

  By

  Catherine Kean

  Copyright © 2018 by Catherine Kean

  Published by Catherine Kean

  P.O. Box 917624

  Longwood, FL 32791-7624

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are prod
ucts of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  CHAPTER 1

  Wiltshire, England

  July, 1192

  Lady Violetta Molineaux hurried along in the moonlight. Waist-high summer grasses, dragging against her plain woolen cloak, rustled.

  After several days of heavy rain, the sky tonight was blessedly clear. Moon glow washed the high stone wall a few yards ahead in a silvery sheen, making it easy for her to see handholds.

  Grabbing onto a jutting bit of stone, Violetta set her right boot on a slight ledge and heaved herself up, her leather gloves rasping on the mortared rock.

  As she climbed higher, her excitement tinged with unease, as it did every time she readied to go over the barrier between her father’s lands and the Seabrook estate. Her parents would be horrified to know about her secret excursions. Highborn maidens did not go out alone, especially at night, or scale walls. Moreover, there was always a chance she’d be discovered on the other side, and that could be disastrous, since the Molineaux and Seabrook families had been bitter enemies for years.

  She’d heard the Seabrook heir had returned from fighting on Crusade with King Richard several sennights ago to inherit his late sire’s castle. Violetta shivered in the night breeze, for she’d met Osric Seabrook once, when they’d been children, and he’d been an arrogant fool. No doubt he’d grown up to be as hot-tempered as his late father had been.

  Volatile temperaments had been partly responsible for the animosity between the Molineaux and Seabrook families. So had the civil war years ago. Violetta’s relatives had supported the Empress Matilda, daughter of King Henry I, in her attempts to take the English throne after her father’s death. Some of Violetta’s ancestors had fought in armies led by the Empress’s half-brother, Robert of Gloucester. The Seabrooks, though, had supported the claim of king’s nephew, Stephen of Blois, who became sovereign.

  After an argument between a Molineaux and a Seabrook had ended in a near-deadly fight, her ancestors had started building the wall, using stones from an old Roman fortification. Outraged, the Seabrooks had swiftly begun wall-building as well, until a barricade had separated the two estates. Despite the civil war having ended long ago, the barrier, and the enmity, remained.

  Reaching the top, Violetta sat and looked over the field on the Seabrook side. In the distance, pinpoints of torchlight glowed along the crenellated ramparts of Coltingstow Keep: Osric’s lair. No one in her family had seen him since he’d taken over the castle, although she’d learned from her father that Osric had met with the local sheriff and some of the merchants in the nearby town. Right now, he was probably in his bedchamber, drunk and seducing a maidservant; his late sire had certainly indulged in drink and wenches.

  No reason to worry, then, about running into him tonight.

  Even if she did happen to run into Osric or any of his men, she was dressed in the homespun garments she wore when she helped her mother tend her rose garden. They’d never know who Violetta really was.

  Then make the most of your night of freedom.

  “I will,” Violetta murmured. Pushing her garments out of the way, she shifted sideways and started down the wall’s other side. The toes of her boots scraped on the rough stone and then she jumped the rest of the way down. With a muffled thud, she landed in the long grass and wildflowers and headed for the stone circle situated on a slight hill.

  When she approached the enormous standing stones—a larger circle of them surrounding an inner smaller one—a familiar sense of wonder stirred within her. The circle had been abandoned long ago by the ancient folk who had built it, and some of the monoliths had fallen over and thus no longer reached toward the sky, but the site was still awe-inspiring.

  In truth, ’twas her favorite place to be.

  She strolled into the circle washed in pale moonlight and dark shadow, sat on one of the horizontal monoliths, and pulled off her right glove to flatten her bare palm against the cold, weathered stone. Shutting her eyes, she invited the aura of her surroundings to spread through her.

  How many other folk, through the centuries, had touched the same stone before her and even sat in the same spot?

  Remarkable.

  Opening her eyes, she tipped her head back to study the heavens. The black-as-ink sky glittered with stars.

  Breathtaking.

  Beautiful—

  The breeze brought a faint metallic chime: the sound made by a horse’s bridle.

  The fine hairs at her nape prickled. She wasn’t alone.

  Had someone spotted her going over the wall? She couldn’t outrun a rider on a horse; not unless she got a good head start.

  Violetta rose, her heart pounding, while her right hand slid inside her cloak to grip the handle of her dagger, tied to the embroidered girdle at her waist. She’d never had to wield the knife before, but she would use it tonight if she had to.

  The breeze gusted again, causing her eyes to water. Violetta blinked to clear her vision while she started backing out of the circle.

  Move as quietly as possible. Do not give yourself away.

  If only she could see the rest of the standing stones opposite her, but two of the inner ones had long ago fallen in on a third lying horizontally, and they blocked her view.

  She caught the jangle of the bridle again, followed by the thump of boots hitting the ground.

  The rider was on foot now. Better than him being on horseback, but she still was far from safe. Nearing the outer circle, she yanked her glove back on. With luck, she’d get safely over the wall before—

  A tall man wearing a long woolen cloak and a sheathed sword belted at his left hip walked out from behind the fallen stones. Spurs gleamed at the heels of his boots, indicating he was a knight and likely also a nobleman.

  He seemed unaware of her. His expression pensive, he gazed out between the monoliths. The wind tousled his dark, shoulder-length hair, and he reached up to push the strands back from his face.

  Could he be Osric? He looked to be the right age: about twenty, like herself. He didn’t resemble the wiry, freckle-faced boy she remembered, though. Mayhap this man was one of the knights from Coltingstow’s garrison?

  She took another backward step, and her foot bumped a stone. The rock rattled away, the noise loud as the breeze died down.

  The knight’s gaze locked on her.

  Violetta turned to flee.

  “Wait,” he called.

  The plea in his voice made her hesitate. Was she foolish to stop? She might be far wiser to run.

  Her breath lodged in her throat, she glanced over her shoulder. He stood with his arms by his sides, his stance far from threatening.

  “I did not mean to frighten you,” he said. “My apologies.”

  A startled laugh bubbled within her. He was apologizing to her? Rather odd, when she was the one who’d trespassed.

  She wore common clothing, though. If she acted the way a woman of humble birth would when conversing with a lord, mayhap she could persuade him that she lived in the nearby town, and he’d let her continue on her way…at least until she could scale the wall.

  Lowering her gaze, she dropped into a curtsy. “You did not frighten me, milord. I was just leaving. I wish you a good night.”

  Go. Now!

  She straightened then again headed out of the circle. The wall was still some distance ahead of her. If she ran she’d reach it faster, but that might make him suspicious. He might take up pursuit.

  Violetta’s palms began to sweat inside her gloves.

  “Go, then,” the man called to her. “I was merely going to invite you to look at the stars with me.”

  Oh, how tempting. She hadn’t had much of a g
aze at the heavens tonight, and she’d rather not return home yet.

  She slowed then faced him. He smiled, and in the curve of his mouth, she caught a hint of mischief. Her pulse fluttered wildly.

  “I promise, I will ask no more from you but to sit with me. In silence, if you so wish.”

  He sounded sincere, but was obviously trying to convince her to stay. Why? And why, of all things, did she long to agree? Annoyed by her own weakness, she said, “Why ask me to sit with you, milord? Do you fear spirits in this ancient place?”

  A terse laugh broke from him. “I do not believe in spirits.”

  Surely he’d heard the stories about the stone circle? She knew quite a few, including one about a blacksmith who, years ago, had seen a shadowy figure rise up out of the ground one night. When more townsfolk, including a clergyman, claimed to have witnessed the same, the site had been declared haunted and off-limits. After many months had passed, folk had dared to return to the stone circle again, but the tales of it being haunted persisted.

  “If you are not afraid of spirits, then are you afraid of being alone?” she asked.

  His dark brows rose, as though he found such a question impertinent. Of course he would; he was a grown man and a knight. Even as she wished she could take back her words, he said: “I actually came here to be alone.”

  “I will be on my way, then.”

  “Finding you here, though, was a pleasant surprise.”

  A tingle of delight trailed through her. She’d had many suitors through the years, who’d flattered her with gifts and compliments—including Melvin, the young lord to whom she’d been betrothed. None of them had made her feel as she did now.

  Still, mayhap she should run while she still could?

  “Please,” he said. “Stay. Even just for a little while.”