True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse Read online

  The Highlander’s Curse

  by

  Claire Delacroix

  Book #2 in The True Love Brides Series

  Cheated of his inheritance and burdened by the legacy of his Fae blood, Garrett MacLachlan believes he is doomed to be an outcast forever—until he meets Annelise of Kinfairlie, a gentle maiden with the power to turn his curse to gift. Can Garrett reclaim his stolen legacy with Annelise by his side? If Annelise defies her family to pursue true love, will that be enough to heal Garrett? And even if they triumph over mortal foes, will the Fae demand a price neither of them can pay?

  The Highlander’s Curse

  by Claire Delacroix

  Smashwords Edition

  Published by Deborah A. Cooke ISBN: 978-1-927477-33-5

  Cover by Kim Killion

  Digital Formatting by Author E.M.S.

  Copyright 2013 by Deborah A. Cooke All rights reserved

  Without limiting the rights under copyright preserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher of this book.

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

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Dear Reader;

  Have you ever wanted to be more than you already are? Annelise, the heroine of The Highlander’s Curse, is so shy that people easily overlook her. She wants desperately to marry, to have a husband and children of her own, but despairs that she will miss her chance because of her nature. Our story begins with Annelise’s decision to be bolder, a choice that sets her on a path to encounter Garrett MacLachlan, a handsome Highlander whose kiss feeds the new resolve in Annelise. Garrett, too, wishes to be more than he is—Garrett is half-Fae and cursed with the ability to hear the thoughts of others. He has been denied his legacy as a result of his apparent madness, but his desire for Annelise sends him in pursuit of his rightful due in order to offer for her hand. Annelise becomes his strongest defender and partner on that quest. I really enjoyed how these two worked together to overcome the obstacles before them and create their future together. I hope you enjoy their story, as well.

  The Highlander’s Curse is the second book in my True Love Brides series, which picks up the story of the Lammergeier siblings from the Jewels of Kinfairlie series. Like The Renegade’s Heart, this book is a medieval romance with paranormal elements, which is my favorite kind. By the end of The Snow White Bride, Alexander had resolved to let his younger sisters marry for love and at their own choice. Even though there have always been stories of a portal to the realm of the Fae at Kinfairlie, Alexander did not count on the Fae meddling with his sister’s futures. In each of the books in the True Love Brides series, the couple in question will be challenged by the Fae in a different way.

  A series of linked books results in a large cast of characters. That there are eight siblings in the Kinfairlie family is one thing, but as they marry and have children, the list of characters becomes more extensive. As a result of this, I’ve added a Cast of Characters at the end of each book in this series for your reference. In this digital edition, it is linked from the Table of Contents.

  There is also an excerpt from the next book in the True Love Brides series: The Frost Maiden’s Kiss is Malcolm’s book and recounts his return to Ravensmuir after serving as a mercenary on the continent. Malcolm is a bit of a black sheep, at least in Alexander’s view, but is determined to rebuild Ravensmuir to its former glory. As I write his story, Malcolm is learning that the coin he earned with his blade will not be sufficient to see that task done—some tasks require a greater sacrifice.

  In other news, I will be making a quick trip back to the future this fall. My Prometheus Project trilogy features fallen angel heroes fighting to save humanity in a gritty future. Of course, love changes everything for each one of them. I had a wonderful time writing these books, but at the end of the trilogy, there was one character without his happy ending. I’ve been worried about Tupperman ever since Rebel, book #3, was completed. Fortunately, I now know Tupperman’s story. I will be republishing Fallen, Guardian and Rebel in new editions this fall with wonderful new covers by Kim Killion. Tupperman’s story is entitled Abyss and takes place after Rebel, when Tupperman thinks he has nothing left to lose. He accepts a challenge from Lucifer to retrieve a lost angel—only to fall in love and realize he has many reasons to survive, if he can. There’s an excerpt from Abyss in the back of this book, as well.

  Until next time, I hope you are well and have plenty of good books to read.

  All my best,

  Claire

  Prologue

  March 1424

  Killairig, on the west coast of Scotland

  Rowena marched through the hall of Killairig, following the summons of the castellan that there was a man at the gate.

  One glance at him and her heart stopped cold. The stranger’s hair was as gold as sunlight. His eyes were blue, and he was built tall and broad. He was a handsome man, handsome enough to be of Fae lineage, but Rowena did not have to rely upon such vague clues as that. She could smell the Fae blood in him.

  Given his age and his coloring, there was only one man he could be.

  And only one reason he had arrived at Killairig’s gates.

  The time of the reckoning had come.

  He appeared to be discomfited slightly and Rowena recalled which ability her sister had chosen for her half-blood son. The gift of hearing the thoughts of mortals, both man and beast, would soon be a curse for this man.

  Rowena could ensure it was so.

  She had been prepared for this day for so long, and naught would go awry.

  She snapped her fingers and sent several servants scattering. “Quickly, now, bring a cup to refresh our guest.” The castellan hastened to do her will, even as she unstoppered the small vial that was always on her person. She turned to accept the chalice, disguising her actions from the new arrival. She murmured a spell three times under her breath as she poured the contents of the vial into the ale therein. The surface bubbled for a moment, but had subsided by the time she turned to present the cup to their guest. “Welcome!” she said. “I am Rowena of Killairig. I regret that my husband is not so well that he can greet you.”

  The stranger who was no stranger smiled. “I am Garrett MacLachlan and I thank you for the welcome.” He bowed, his gaze dancing over the high walls and parapet of the keep. “I came to speak with your husband. I heard a tale…”

  Rowena smiled as she interrupted him. “I beg of you, sip and be greeted, then we shall talk of such things.”

  He studied her for a moment, his eyes vehemently blue, and she recognized his surprise. But he took the cup, for he could not hear the malice in her mind and her long sleeves ensured he did not see the marks upon her flesh.

  If he even knew what they meant.

  Garrett sipped and Rowena smiled, knowing the game had just turned in her favor. She would send Bartholomew to warn her son that the challenge had come, and between them all, the thre
at of Garrett MacLachlan would be dismissed before it truly began.

  Chapter One

  June 1424

  Seton Manor, in the Highlands of Scotland

  Annelise strode through the village of Seton Manor, blind to the activity that surrounded her. It was early summer in the Highlands and the weather was fine. The holding blossomed under the hand of Murdoch and his new bride, Annelise’s sister, Isabella. The mood in the village was joyous, for all saw that their future was improved.

  Annelise did not share this happy view. Indeed, she was irked, much more so than any who knew her might have thought possible. She was vexed with her situation and thus with herself. It troubled her beyond belief that Isabella, her younger sister by two years, had wed before Annelise had even snared the interest of a man.

  Annelise would die alone.

  Tending to the children of her sisters, no doubt, and dependent upon the goodwill of their respective husbands. As kind as the husbands of her sisters had been, that was not the life Annelise had ever desired. She wanted a husband of her own, and children of her own, a hearth of her own and a garden of her own. She did not want to sit by the fire, complete her embroidery and watch the world slide past her in all its glorious activity. She wanted a busy life herself.

  But she knew not how to begin upon it.

  It was her shy nature at root and Annelise knew it well. She could see the evidence in the fortunes of her sisters, each of whom had been rewarded for audacity. Her eldest sister, Madeline, had boldly fled an unwanted match and won the ardor of Rhys FitzHenry. Her next sister, Vivienne, had audaciously tempted a lover to come to her, and had won the heart of Erik Sinclair. Isabella had rashly chosen to believe in the integrity of an apparent villain, and thus was now Lady of Seton Manor. Even Eleanor, the wife of Annelise’s brother Alexander, had fled an abusive household and won true love by taking a risk.

  Sadly, Annelise had thus far in her life been incapable of either boldness or taking a risk.

  Her disgust with herself was made worse by the compassion of others. Isabella’s husband, Murdoch, had invited many men to his board, his intent in finding Annelise a match openly understood by all. They knew she could not manage this feat alone and deigned to help her, though in a way, their assistance was condescending. It was clearly necessary, though she might have preferred otherwise. The fact was that even though Annelise knew the men in question had come to meet her, she was so wretchedly timid that she had not spoken to a one of them.

  She would die alone, and it would be her own fault.

  She was a fool. Should she not be able to change her manner and thus her fortunes, perhaps she deserved to die alone.

  The very notion gave her purpose. Annelise reached the edge of the village, but kept walking, her chin high. She could not go back to the hall, not yet, not before she had made some change in her circumstance, however small it might be. As the forest closed around the road and the road curved out of sight of Seton village, Annelise knew what she would do.

  She would visit the glade with the natural spring, the place where people came to pray for healing. It was an old place and she had been there with Isabella. The locals called it a clootie well. Isabella had prayed there to quickly conceive Murdoch’s son, and four months into their marriage, she rounded with child. It was clear that the well had power, and equally clear that Annelise had need of assistance. It was not far and the well had been filled with people when she had visited it with Isabella.

  Annelise would go there this very day and pray that she found boldness, and thus a husband.

  And that she gained both very soon.

  *

  Annelise was surprised to find the grove deserted.

  It had been like a market square on her earlier visit, filled with people and their laughter. On this day, even with the sun shining, it seemed that she had stepped into another world.

  It was quiet. Although Annelise knew this was a trick of the hills and their shape, for valleys were oft sheltered from outside sounds, the stillness cast a spell upon her. There were thousands of ribbons and lengths of cloth hung from the trees, and they were more tightly clustered the closer she drew to the water itself. She proceeded carefully down the slope to the water. She realized a bit too late that if she fell, no one would know where to look for her.

  The vegetation was lush in the glade, verdant green and abundant. The trees arched high overhead, casting a dappled shade over the valley. There was no sound, not so much as a whistle of birdsong, only the trickle of water from the spring far below and the faint rustle of the leaves overhead.

  Annelise could easily convince herself she had stepped into a magical realm. She recalled all the tales she had heard at Kinfairlie’s hearth over the years. Her favorite tales were those of Arthur and his knights, and their adventures. They were noble and good men, quick to defend maidens and conquer monsters. The Lady of the Lake, she who granted the blade Excalibur to Arthur, was said to abide in an enchanted glade.

  Could she be the one who fulfilled the requests of all these pilgrims? Annelise could readily believe it to be so.

  She halted beside the spring and took a deep breath. It made her feel bold and strong simply to stand in such a place, especially when she considered the valor of the women in the tales of Arthur. She could be like one of them and fight for her desire.

  The pond was but ten feet across and roughly encircled by large stones. The source bubbled through the rocks, making a faint trickle as it flowed into the pond. The surface of the pond was smooth, like a dark mirror, and it reflected the leaf canopy and sky overhead. Strips of fabric or clooties were densely clustered around its perimeter, most of them red and many of them hanging into the water itself.

  Annelise closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. She removed a ribbon from her hair and dipped it into the water, ensuring that it was fully soaked. She knew that when the ribbon dried and then disintegrated, her ailment would disappear along with it. She reached up and bound the ribbon to a branch overhead. It hung straight down, dripping.

  Annelise surveyed the peaceful spot and inhaled deeply of its tranquility. She brushed off a rock, then dropped to her knees, closing her eyes to pray again.

  It was then that she realized she was not alone.

  *

  Garrett MacLachlan darted through the forest in pursuit of the wolf, not caring that he left all he knew far behind. He had always found peace in the forest, but now he wanted no part of men.

  He had been shamed, discredited and denied.

  Worse, all those he loved were dead.

  He would make his future in the wilderness.

  His pursuit of the ravenous wolf suited his foul mood perfectly. The beast had eaten well at the expense of many others, several of them dear to Garrett, and Garrett would see it pay for its crimes. It had led him on a long chase, but soon, the hunt would end.

  He had discerned that this wolf was uncommonly elusive. It was larger than most, but moved with astonishing speed. Further, this wolf was silent in the forest and could disappear into shadows, as if it were not truly of this earth or as if it had never been. It was cunning even beyond its fellows.

  Even now, he caught only glimpses of it moving ahead, a fleeting shape against the patterned shadows of the leaves.

  Garrett would have lost it a hundred times, if not for his curse. It was his awareness of the thoughts of others that gave him an advantage. For once in his life, his legacy had value. Still, he had had to resort to listening to the thoughts of other creatures in the forest to find this wolf. Either his ability was fading or this wolf was wily. Garrett knew which of those choices he would favor.

  On this day, Garrett felt the wolf’s acute thirst and guessed its intent.

  He was aware the moment it smelled water. He was not surprised when the wolf slipped over the ridge and descended into the hollow between the hills. He heard the bubbling of the water as he crept behind the creature and realized the wolf had found a spring.

&nb
sp; The wolf glanced back more than once, pausing beneath a shrub or in the shade of a tree, its eyes gleaming as it sniffed the air. Garrett knew it sensed it was being stalked, and he dared not let it perceive him. It was hungry beyond belief.

  It would rip out his throat for coming too close.

  It would rip out the throat of any creature it could. The wolf had not paused to eat in a week. Now, hunger made its belly growl, and hunger—Garrett hoped—would drive it to err.

  Garrett was not even certain where he was, only that he was close to his prey. It did not matter. Once the wolf was dead, he would disappear into the forest forever.

  In the view of many, he already had.

  Memories crowded his mind, making him wince at what he had endured these past months. Grief welled in his throat, threatening to choke him, and Garrett struggled against its assault. He would grieve when the wolf was dead.

  When justice had been done.

  Garrett was suddenly aware that the wolf had a keener sense of him. Anxiety would draw the wolf’s attention, and his concerns had no place in this hunt. All was simple in the forest. There were hunters and prey.

  He knew which he would be.

  The wolf’s wariness faded, perhaps because of its thirst. Garrett saw it leave the shadows. On quick feet, it entered a glade dappled in sunlight, a serene place of rich green. There were rags of all colors hanging from the trees at the bottom of the valley, a sign that people came to this place to pray for healing. The wolf hesitated, as if momentarily disconcerted by the scents of so many humans, but it made its choice and headed for the water.

  Garrett waited and watched. He could see the light on the pool around the spring, turning it to a silver mirror. He could see the wolf clearly from this position, and he was downwind of it. He reached out to sense the wolf’s thoughts and felt its confidence.