Highlander's Trials of Fire: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Read online

  There was silence on the other end of the door before a gruff voice called out, “Send him in.”

  The guard looked at Matthew and jerked his head toward the door. Matthew took that as his cue, and he entered the room as the guard stood to the side.

  Laird MacLagain was… very large. He seemed almost like a bear, draped in a large pelt that complemented his kilt and the bushy red beard covered half his face. He was stoking a crackling fire upon Matthew’s entrance but turned to look at him, running his gaze from Matthew’s head to his toes. For some reason, Matthew merely stood there and allowed him to do it.

  “Who are ye?” the Laird asked after a moment. His voice seemed even deeper than it was from the other side of the door. “What do ye want?”

  Though he was a part of the MacLagain clan, he was not surprised the Laird did not know him. “Me name is Matthew McDulaigh. I am but a merchant who wishes to speak to ye about a very pressin’ matter regardin’ yer daughter.”

  “Me daughter?” Now, he had the Laird’s full attention. Somehow, he seemed even larger, as if he had risen to full height in his protectiveness. Beneath his bushy eyebrows, his eyes narrowed to slits. “What business do ye have with me daughter?”

  Matthew steeled himself. He had gone over how to say this many times on his way to the castle, but now that he was standing before the Laird himself, he faltered.

  “It is very simple, me Laird,” he began. “I wish to marry her.”

  “Marry?” Surprise filled Laird MacLagain’s face.

  Matthew forged on, “I ken I’m nae the most proper match for yer daughter, but I have enough wealth to take care of her, so you daenae need to worry. I have heard tales of her beauty across this land, Laird MacLagain. I couldnae do anything else but rush here hopin’ to witness it for meself.”

  Matthew considered it a job well done when the Laird’s face filled with pride. That was the way to his approval, it seemed. Showering his daughter with praise.

  “Aye, she is quite the beauty that lass is. She gets it from her mother. I never ken her popularity was so big.”

  Aye, it is. Though it is not for the reason ye think.

  “But of course, Me Laird. I wish to settle down and begin a new family and I hope ye will give me yer blessin’ to be wed to yer daughter.”

  Laird MacLagain lifted his head, clearly in thought. He began walking back and forth and Matthew patiently waited for him to reach a conclusion. He knew that had it not been for the rumors surrounding his daughter, he would not have come this far. A merchant was no match for her, despite his proposed wealth, but Matthew was hoping for their desperation to be in his favour.

  For a woman who could not be married due to a curse resulting in dead partners, the Laird would surely accept anyone who asked for her hand. Yet as the Laird continued to pace, glancing at Matthew from time to time, he wondered if he might have been mistaken.

  Finally, Laird MacLagain paused and said, “Ye seem like a decent man. Strong, too. Can ye hunt?”

  Matthew told the truth for once. “I can.”

  He received another pleased look from the Laird. “Ye know I love me daughter very much. Ye must make sure to take care of her and make her happy, ye hear?”

  “Aye, of course, Laird. I wouldnae dare to hurt her.” Matthew smiled happily, not missing the fact that the Laird failed to mention what had happened to his daughter’s last two betrothed, and he had a feeling he would not be hearing anything about that for now.

  “Well, then,” Laird MacLagain said with a loud clap. “Would ye like to meet her?”

  Matthew nodded, trying to tamper the joy of victory within him. He did wish to meet the woman who would change his life. A simple curse did not scare him, not when it meant it was a chance at putting aside his past for a new beginning.

  “Aye, Laird MacLagain,” he answered with a grin. “I would love to.”

  Rinalda MacTavish was a beauty, even when she was bedridden due to such a terrible illness. Her skin had grown pallid, a stark difference to the golden tone she once had when Jonet was much younger. She had lost quite a lot of weight, and her cheeks had hollowed out to make her cheekbones much sharper than they were before. Still she was beautiful, her canopy of long black hair fanned out beneath her and her brown eyes had never lost their luster.

  Jonet had long since learned how to tamper her sadness when she visited her mother. Being such the kind and caring woman that she was, it would bother her greatly if she saw how her ill-stricken state affected Jonet. Jonet did not want anything to make her mother even worse than she already was and so, whenever she visited, she would put on a façade that all was well.

  For once in nearly six years, Jonet actually felt like the ‘façade’ had become real.

  “Jonet,” Rinalda sighed. “Ye are far too carefree for yer own good, ye ken.”

  Jonet only patted her bony hand. “Ye daenae worry about me, Ma. Ye ken I can take care of meself.”

  “Aye, I ken, but that doesnae stop me from worrying’ that ye will do yeself harm one day.”

  Jonet laughed. She was not surprised her mother was growing so concerned that Jonet went swimming in the loch so often as of late. Rinalda was well aware that though the loch was quite close to the castle Jonet wasn’t the only one who liked to frequent it for a swim.

  “Ma, ye worry too much,” Jonet said nonchalantly. “Ye remember what people are sayin’ about me? None will dare to come near me because they think I have a curse.”

  “Oh, goodness.” Rinalda rolled her eyes. It made Jonet smile. “That is nonsense. Of all the lore I’ve heard in me life, I’ve never heard of anyone droppin’ dead from bein’ near someone.”

  “Aye, well, look on the bright side, Ma,” Jonet quipped. “It looks like I’m the first one. Lucky, daenae think?”

  Rinalda stared at Jonet with wide unbelieving eyes before she too chuckled. Jonet tensed when that short laugh erupted into a fit of wheezing coughs. She quickly brought a cloth to her mother’s lips, fearing as she always did, that she would see blood on it.

  They were safe this time, but with her mother’s declining health, Jonet was afraid that one day, things would take a bad turn.

  Once her mother had calmed down a bit, Jonet said, “I understand yer concern, Ma. I promise to never do it again without Freya with me.”

  “That doesnae make me feel any better and ye ken it.” Rinalda only sighed.

  Jonet kissed her gently on the cheek that had once been as rosy as Jonet’s. “Ye want me to stay in the castle forever and ever then, Ma?”

  “From one extreme to the other, I see,” Rinalda mumbled.

  Jonet laughed. She was in an extraordinarily good mood today and she could not think of a better time to spend it than with her mother. Ever since the death of Henry, she had taken to frequent trips to the loch to clear her mind—sometimes without Freya accompanying her. It was true that such a venture was not very safe, but it was also true that the rumors about her kept everyone away. It was Christal who had passed on the fact that she was said to be cursed but now, Jonet saw that as more of a blessing.

  That way, no one else would die.

  There came a knock on the door and after Rinalda’s feeble answer, Freya entered.

  “Good evening, Miss Rinalda,” she greeted. “Miss Jonet, Laird MacLagain has requested that ye join him in his den.”

  “Somethin’ tells me he wants to lecture me about goin’ swimmin’ too.” Jonet sighed.

  “If that’s so, then good.” Rinalda’s voice was firm. “Ye need a good hit in the head to get the words through to ye, it seems.”

  “Oh, Ma,” Jonet sighed, shaking her head as she rose to her feet. “So violent.”

  Rinalda’s soft laughter followed her out the room.

  Freya trailed behind her silently as she made her way to the den. She had been sticking close to Jonet whenever she could for the past three years, as if hoping to shoulder the burden Jonet carried. Jonet never thanked her for it because she
never dared to talk about the bout of misfortune again, but Jonet could not have appreciated her more.

  After Henry died, Jonet had not known what to do with herself. She had waited tirelessly for her father to return that night. He had finally done so quite early in the morning, bearing the bad news she had expected. Henry was nowhere to be found. He had simply gone missing and it wasn’t long before rumors began to be spread that he had died. Just like Murdock.

  Cursed, they called her. No man wanted to be her husband. No one even dared to come near her. Jonet was only glad that she had friends like Freya and Christal, while the other servants seemed to treat her the same as well.

  Putting the thought aside when she arrived at the den, she went into the room after a single knock. She had expected to see her father alone, sitting in his usual chair by the fire, but there was someone else in the room—someone who brought her to a complete stop.

  He was terribly handsome. Almost unfairly so, rugged in a way that gave him a dangerous edge. His hair was a dirty blond that brushed the nape of his neck, his shoulders broad within the brown woollen coat he wore. Unable to stop herself, Jonet ran her heated gaze down the rest of him, down to the long legs under his kilt and the pair of boots he wore. Somehow, every inch of this man had her frozen to the spot, a wave of heat overcoming her with such force that she could hardly say a word.

  “Jonet,” her father greeted. “Good, ye’re here. There is someone I want ye to meet.”

  She managed to move forward, albeit on unsteady legs. The closer she came, the more she realized that his eyes were a mossy green and he had a splash of freckles across his nose.

  “This here is Matthew McDulaigh,” her father introduced. “And he’s come to ask for yer hand in marriage.”

  That snapped Jonet out of her reverie. She looked into the bright, hopeful eyes of the Laird. She knew he had been growing antsy for some time now since they were yet to receive another offer while she was only growing older.

  “Me hand?” she echoed, incredulous.

  He doesnae ken about me curse?

  “Aye,” Laird MacLagain said with a confirmative nod. “He is a wealthy merchant and he’s come all the way here because he’s heard of yer beauty and such. He said he couldnae wait to see it for himself.”

  Jonet narrowed her eyes slightly. Matthew only stared back at her. “Did he now?”

  “Aye, Miss Jonet,” Matthew spoke up. Smooth as butter, his voice was. Perfect. It sent a shiver down her spine. “I couldnae think of a better woman I wish to be me wife than ye.”

  Jonet studied him for a while longer. Then, she folded her arms and looked her father in the eye.

  “I decline.”

  Chapter 4

  Matthew was not expecting that response. He nearly stepped away, taken aback by the determination on Jonet’s beautiful face. He had lied when he had told the Laird that he had heard of her beauty. Not for a moment did he truly believe she would look like this, and it only added to his shock.

  Her black hair was incredibly long, nearly brushing her backside, and had a natural wave to it that served to calm its unruliness. She had plump cheeks that had a natural pink tint, and her eyes were a lovely brown. With her medium stature—small when compared to Matthew’s height—and her slim figure, Matthew imagined she had taken most of her features from her mother.

  He was crossed between admiring her beauty and coming up with the right words to say in response when the Laird spoke again.

  “Ye decline?” he asked. “Why do ye? Ye hardly ken him.”

  Jonet glanced at him. Matthew could have been mistaken, but he could have sworn he saw a little hint of disdain in her eyes. “It might be best if we talk about this in private, Faither.”

  Matthew thought that it was his chance to step in. He did not want them discussing this matter where he couldn’t speak up and control the narrative.

  “Have I done something to upset ye, Miss Jonet?” he asked.

  She shook her head at him. “Of course nae. I hardly ken ye.”

  “Then is that why ye daenae want to marry me?” Matthew nodded understandingly. “That makes sense. If ye hardly ken me, why would ye be willin’ to accept me betrothal so suddenly?”

  That took her by surprise. She turned to face him. Matthew had the distinct impression she was trying to school her features, though she was not very good at it. “If ye ken that, then why did ye come here?”

  “I couldnae let this chance slip by, could I? But I understand why ye wish to decline. I only hope that ye will give me the chance to prove I can be a good husband to ye.”

  She blinked. Matthew did not look away from her. He had learned that maintaining eye contact with a woman was the best way to get her to fall for him. He had used that tactic a few times already in his life, though none of those times had been as important as this.

  “Would either of ye like some ale?” the Laird cut in.

  Jonet did not look away from him.

  “Aye, I do.” Matthew answered.

  Laird MacLagain went off to pour for them while Jonet and Matthew continued their silent standoff. Finally, she broke her silence, sinking into a seat.

  “What did ye say ye do, Matthew?”

  “I am a merchant,” he responded instantly.

  “What do ye sell?”

  “All manner of things, Miss Jonet.”

  “That sounds very vague, ye ken,” she pointed out.

  “I daenae think ye will be particularly interested in hearing me talk about such borin’ things.”

  “I wouldnae ask if I dinnae care,” she shot back easily.

  Aye, she’s a tough one.

  Yet Matthew was prepared. He would never begin any one of his plans unless he was certain he had all his details down pat, but before he had the chance to respond, Laird MacLagain cut back in. “Aye, aye, lass, there’s nay need to harass the lad. Ye hardly ken him.”

  Jonet looked at her father and accepted the goblet of ale he handed her. Matthew accepted his.

  “That’s why I’m askin’ him so many questions, Pa. I only wish to ken more about him.”

  “I am willin’ to answer anythin’ ye ask of me, Miss Jonet,” Matthew told her. “If that will get ye to trust me a little more.”

  “I never said I dinnae trust ye.”

  “Of course nae. But I am still a stranger.”

  It was a perfect answer, and Jonet knew it. She only took a sip, her perfectly arched brows dipping into a frown. She did not bother to hide the fact that she was studying him.

  Matthew quickly tried to take control of the conversation. If he let her question him for too long, he might fall foul of the situation

  “I would like to ken more about ye, Miss Jonet,” he said. “I see yer beauty is as lovely as they say it is, and I cannae wait to get to ken ye.”

  Jonet perked up at that. “They?”

  “Aye, yer beauty is known far and wide, Miss Jonet.”

  “Is that… is that all ye learned about me?”

  “Was there anything else to ken?” Matthew deliberately feigned ignorance about the rumors because he knew Laird MacLagain thought he was unaware, but now he wondered if it was truly a good idea to let her think so as well.

  She sipped her ale, her silence speaking volumes. Matthew had never felt so out of control in his own plan before. He wished he could read her mind, to at least gain an understanding of why she was so opposed to his offer so that he could try to fix it.

  Jonet tilted her head to the side. “Ye must forgive me, Matthew,” she murmured. “I am feelin’ a wee bit unwell. I’m sorry if I have been rude.”

  “There’s nothin’ to apologize for.” The sudden shift threw him.

  “Would ye give me some time?” she asked. “To think about it?”

  Matthew nodded. Whatever hopes he had to regain his control over the situation were fast slipping from his grasp. He could sense a dismissal coming along.

  Sure enough, she rose. Without realizing, Matthew a
dmired the cut of her dress into her curvy waist… and the hint of cleavage that spilled over the top. “Thank ye for yer offer, Matthew. I am flattered.”

  “I hope ye will consider accepting it, Miss Jonet.” Matthew rose as well. “It would do me heart good to see have ye be my wife, and I promise to care for ye for as long as I live.”

  She only gave him a wan smile. Matthew, uncertain, turned his attention to Laird MacLagain, who seemed content to simply watch the exchange.

  “Me Laird, it’s been great talkin’ with ye.”