A Highlander’s Vow (The Mackenzies of Castle Leod #2)

Prologue

Castle Leod

Scottish Highlands

Gregory Mackenzie joined his cousin, Laird Daniel Mackenzie, and his wife Beth at the table in the Great Hall at Castle Leod, more than ready for his supper.

As second-in-command to the laird, Gregory had just spent hours on the lists, training new warriors who had a lot more swagger than they did common sense and ability.

Was he ever that young?

He settled into the seat next to Daniel, who was busy filling his plate. “How did the training go?” the laird asked.

Gregory grinned and began to fill his own plate. “The lads in this new group are going to have to be smacked down a few times before they get some idea of what a warrior is. Right now they’re busy strutting in front of the lasses.”

Daniel chuckled. “Mayhap you, me, and a few of the others should take them on. Have them groaning with aches and pains. ’Tis hard to chase the ladies when ye smell like the healer’s cream.”

Beth looked over to the two men, a smirk on her face. “And I assume neither one of ye had an overblown image of yerselves when ye were lads.”

Daniel leaned toward her, a smile on his lips. “Now, love, I was always a serious warrior-in-training.”

Gregory laughed. “Shall I tell yer charming wife about the time that ye and Francis—”

“There is no need to spread tales, cousin,” Daniel said, then looked up as one of his men approached the table. “Yes, John?”

“This message just came for Gregory.”

Gregory put his hand out and took the paper.

’Twas not often that he received messages, so with a bit of curiosity he opened the parchment and read the words. He felt the blood rush from his face. Shaking his head he read the document over again. His mouth dry, he looked up at his cousin. “I canno’ believe it.”

“What is it?” Daniel asked, frowning. Beth leaned forward so she could see past her husband to Gregory.

Gregory ran his fingers through his hair. “I ken ye heard me speak of Robert Sinclair? We trained together at Dornoch Castle years ago.”

Daniel nodded. “Aye. I remember ye speaking of him and also him stopping here a couple times for a visit while on his various travels for his da.”

Gregory took a deep breath and shook his head again as if clearing his brain. “He was killed in a minor skirmish on one of the Sinclair borders.”

Beth’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my. How terrible.”

“Aye,” Gregory said. He folded the parchment and turned to Daniel. “I will need to go to Castle Sinclair Girnigoe.”

Daniel frowned. “’Twill be much too late for the funeral. ’Tis a four, or maybe five day trip up there.”

Gregory sighed and stared into space for a minute. “I ken that, but there is another reason I must pack up and go immediately.”

Daniel and Beth looked at each other and then back at Gregory, curiosity on their faces. “Aye?” Daniel asked.

Gregory stared at the note in his shaky hand.

“Years ago, after seeing one of the best warriors struck down in another minor skirmish, leaving behind a wife and a few bairns, we made a vow to each other that if one of us died, the other would marry his widow, if he was no’ already married.

” He shook his head and smiled. “We even wrote it down.” He waved the old-looking piece of paper.

“This is the pledge, and someone from his clan sent it, along with a short note that Robert had died.”

He looked at his cousin and sucked in a deep breath. “I need to travel to Sinclair Castle Girnigoe and fetch my wife.”