EPILOGUE I WILL SEE IT DONE
Two months later …
“ALEC … LOOK!”
GLANCING up from buttering a wedge of bannock, Alec focused on where Liza stood by the window.
She was lovely, as usual, with her dark hair spilling in waves down her back, and her curves tamed by a wine-red surcote—his favorite of all the ones he’d seen her in. In the past weeks, he’d started breaking his fast with Liza and Craeg in the laird’s solar, a habit he was enjoying. Before now, he’d eat with his men in the hall below, but Liza’s invitation to join her and Craeg in the mornings from now on pleased him more than he’d let on.
Life at Moy was more settled now, especially since Loch had visited a fortnight earlier, to let Liza know she could stay on as laird of Moy. It was the response she’d been hoping for. And of course, if Liza was remaining here, so would he.
“What is it?” He cast aside his bannock and rose to his feet, moving past where Craeg was eagerly spooning porridge into his mouth, to stand by her side at the open window.
“Recognize it?” she asked, her dark eyes glinting.
Alec cut his gaze away from her, looking out at where the morning sun glittered off Loch Buie at high tide. And there, approaching with a billowing emerald sail, was a large cog.
His breathing caught, as he took in her high clinker-built sides and the bloody flag flying from her mast, before a grin split his face. “What are those flea-bitten dogs doing back here?”
Liza flashed him a smile. “It looks as if the crew of The Blood Reiver are pining for their old captain.”
Still grinning, he turned to her. “Come … let’s see what those bastards want.”
A short while later, the three of them, surrounded by a handful of guards, awaited on the pebbly shore below the castle. A salty breeze fanned Alec’s face as he watched the pirate cog drop anchor in her usual spot, just beyond Eilean Mòr.
Then, as they looked on, the pirates lowered a boat into the water and rowed their way to shore.
Alec’s brow furrowed.
“Nervous?” Liza murmured from next to him.
He snorted. “No … but we didn’t part on the best of terms, remember?”
In response, she flashed him an enigmatic smile. “I’m sure they’ve forgiven ye.”
“Maybe.” Stepping away from her side, Alec strode down to the water’s edge to meet Cory, who’d just leaped nimbly from the boat.
The two men clasped forearms, in a typical warrior greeting, before Cory surprised Alec by yanking him into a bear hug. And when they drew back, Cory punched him in the shoulder, his lean face creasing into a grin. “Missed me, eh?”
“Not for one moment,” Alec shot back. He inclined his head then. “To what do we owe this visit?”
Cory gave him a secretive smile. “We were passing by, and thought we’d see if Lady Maclean had turfed ye out yet … but here ye are, looking like the cat that got the cream.”
Alec flashed him an answering smirk, yet deliberately didn’t volunteer any answer to that.
Gunn, Rabbie, Egan, Athol, and Hamish clambered out of the rowboat, and he greeted them all. To his relief, even Gunn and Egan were friendly enough. The pirates didn’t appear bitter about it as he’d feared. Instead, they all looked pleased with themselves. Most of them wore new clothing of fine cloth, while expensive jeweled dirks hung at their sides. They’d clearly been spending some of the coin they’d earned after taking Moy Castle for Liza in the spring.
“What have ye been up to?” Alec asked then, before casting a glance over his shoulder at where Liza, her son, and the others looked on. “Or is it best we don’t know?”
Cory stroked his beard, his mouth curving once more. “It’s been rich pickings this summer,” he replied. “Lots of nice fat merchant cogs to be plundered. The Mackinnons of Dùn Ara and the MacDonalds of Sleat will be cursing us now.” His smile widened. “ The Reiver’s hold has never been so heavy with loot.”
“We heard what happened here at Bealtunn though,” Gunn spoke up then, folding his meaty arms across his barrel chest. “That ye had a visit from the Ghost Raiders.”
“Aye,” Alec replied, pulling a face. “I can confirm they are not phantoms though … for I killed three of them.”
“We spied their ship north of Mull,” the lad, Rabbie, said then, his blue eyes gleaming. “A sleek cog she was, with black sails and flag.”
“Aye, we chased her too,” Cory muttered, pulling at his beard now, “but she outran us.”
“What?” Alec raised his eyebrows. “Nothing outruns The Reiver .”
Cory snorted. “ The Night Plunderer did.”
“Did ye get a look at the crew?” Liza stepped up to Alec’s shoulder then, her gaze sweeping over the pirates. Her gaze was confident and probing; it pleased Alec that this rough lot didn’t intimidate her.
Cory shook his head.
“A man named Ross Macbeth likely leads them,” she went on. “A big heavyset man with wild dark hair and a beard. Have ye seen him on yer travels?”
The Blood Reiver’s captain thought about this description before shaking his head again.
“Aye, well, keep an eye out for the turd-eater,” Alec replied, scowling. “He was in league with Leod Maclean … the Ghost Raiders have been storing their plunder in Moy Castle’s strongroom.”
The pirates all stilled at this news before Gunn gave a low curse. “That’ll be why yer husband had so much coin.” His mouth curved into a wicked smile then. “Macbeth would have been vexed to discover we’d taken a cut.”
Liza nodded. “And that’s why they attacked at Bealtunn … they were hoping to get some of it back … but things went ill for them.”
“So, is the clan-chief hunting him now?” Cory asked, his brow furrowing.
“Aye.”
“Well, we shall keep an eye out for Macbeth, Lady Maclean,” Cory assured her, and it warmed Alec to hear the respect in his voice.
“I hope ye will stay for a day or two?” Liza asked, ruffling Craeg’s hair as the lad ventured forward and watched the pirates from behind the protection of her skirts. “Ye are all welcome at Moy.”
This assertion roused smiles amongst the pirates. Even Egan managed one.
“Aye, thank ye,” Cory replied, smiling. “Me and the lads could do with a couple of days on land.”
“The castle’s inhabitants have just broken their fasts, but there will still be bannocks left over,” Liza stepped back and nodded to the castle that rose above them, its broad tower house outlined against the blue sky and the imposing silhouette of Ben Buie beyond. “If ye hurry, ye can help yerself to them … go on.”
Cory and his crew didn’t need telling twice. Crusty bannock, fresh off the griddle and slathered with butter and honey, was a treat most pirates dreamed of.
Leaving their rowboat on the shore, they strode up the path and headed for the castle. The guards followed, some looking a little wary.
Alec brought up the rear of the group, with Liza and Craeg. The lad grabbed a piece of driftwood off the shore and capered with it, imagining he was chasing off robbers. Meanwhile, Alec moved close to Liza so that their elbows brushed. What he really wanted was to link his arm through hers, yet he restrained himself.
Most of the castle had likely guessed that the lady laird and her captain were now lovers; all the same, they were careful to keep up the pretense when they had company.
“Admit it … ye have pined a little for yer crew these past months.” Liza lifted her chin to meet his eye.
“Those feral bastards? Never.”
“Ye have no regrets then?”
He saw the shadow in her eyes and halted, reaching out and grasping her arm so that she also stopped and turned to face him. “Not for an instant,” he said firmly. “When I told ye I was ready to leave reiving behind, I meant it. Aye, there’s a part of my soul that will always live on the high seas … but the rest of me wishes to stay right here, with my feet firmly planted next to ye.”
She sighed then. “I’m tired of all this sneaking around,” she admitted, moving closer to him. “Of pretending we aren’t together.”
Alec’s pulse quickened, his chest tightening. “What are ye saying?” he asked softly.
Her lips tugged into a smile, the expression chasing away the shadows. “I want to hold yer hand out here in the open … to touch ye … for everyone to know what ye mean to me.” She halted then, her breast rising and falling swiftly from the strong emotion that clearly gripped her. “I wish for us to be wed. I haven’t been a widow long … but I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Alec’s breathing stilled. “Ye want us to marry ?”
She nodded. “Shall I send word to Loch … and ask his permission?”
He stared down at her, taking in her lovely strong-featured face and her honeyed skin bathed by the morning sun. “And what if he doesn’t give it?”
“He will,” she replied, her night-brown eyes glinting with determination.
“Leave it with me,” he said firmly, reaching up and stroking her cheek. “Tomorrow, I shall ride to Duart and ask him myself.” He paused then, his mouth quirking. “Man to man.”
Her own smile widened. “Very well,” she murmured. “Have it yer way … and when ye return, I will ask the priest at Lochbuie kirk to wed us.”
He nodded, warmth pooling in his belly.
God’s blood, he couldn’t wait for this woman to be his, to be able to call her his wife. Joy flowered within him, contentment seeping deep into his bones. This was what it felt like to be truly happy. His old life seemed a shallow existence in comparison. He hadn’t known it, but Liza had always been his destiny. “We are agreed then,” he said huskily.
“We are,” she whispered back.
“Good.” He stepped into her, both hands cupping her cheeks. “I will see it done.” And with that he bowed his head and kissed her deeply, passionately, not caring who witnessed it.
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GET READY FOR BOOK 2!
The next installment of the HIGHLAND SCANDAL series is available to preorder and will release in April 2025!
This one’s Rae and Kylie’s story … yes, you guessed right! Get ready for a steamy, angsty romance between a widow and a widower who’ve both given up on love, but who end up playing a risky game with their hearts.
THE LAIRD’S WICKED GAME (BOOK 2: HIGHLAND SCANDAL)
They could resist anything … except temptation. When a lonely laird hires a widowed lady to look after his sons, an unexpected attraction sparks between them—one that leads to a wicked, and risky, game. Dive into a delicious Highland Historical Romance set on Medieval Isle of Mull.
After Kylie Grant’s feckless husband leaves her a penniless widow, she has two choices: return to her family in disgrace or find herself a job . Determined to make herself useful, she chooses the latter and takes a position at Dounarwyse broch on the Isle of Mull.
Rae Maclean is a powerful chieftain … but an unhappy one. After a passionless marriage, he’s sworn never to wed again. However, with his two sons running wild, he needs someone to keep them in check. Hiring the stern but lovely Kylie seems like a wise choice at the time, but from the moment she moves in, he fights a growing desire for her.
And when he discovers that, like him, Kylie has given up on love—but not sex—laird and employee embark on a sensual game: for the next few months, they will enjoy each other’s bodies and explore all the things they’ve both missed out on. But once spring arrives, their relationship will go back to being platonic.
They both agree to the arrangement. What could possibly go wrong?
But what begins as a game of excitement and discovery eventually takes a twist that risks breaking both their hearts .
Full of impossible choices, forbidden love, and steam, Jayne Castel’s new series, HIGHLAND SCANDAL, is set on Medieval Isle of Mull and follows three unconventional sisters, and the men who put everything on the line for them.
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READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ‘THE LAIRD’S WICKED GAME’
1: A SOUND DECISION
Craignure,
Isle of Mull
July, 1318
AS LAIRD OF Dounarwyse broch, and cousin to the Maclean clan-chief himself, Rae liked to tell himself that he was a man who made sound decisions. He was measured and practical in nature, not impulsive and reckless like most of the men in his family.
But if that were the case, why then had he hired an attractive widow to look after his sons?
“Ye aren’t brooding again, are ye?” Jack’s voice yanked Rae from his thoughts, and he cut his younger brother a frown.
“No,” he replied gruffly. “I’m merely considering whether to tell Lady Grant the position is no longer available.”
Jack’s dark-auburn brows shot up toward his hairline. “Ye can’t do that … the woman is just about to step off the ferry.”
Jaw clenching, Rae looked away, his gaze alighting on where the wide, flat-bottomed vessel with a single sail was sliding into port.
The brothers were riding south, down the last hill before their destination. A small party of warriors on horseback followed the laird and his brother, leading two saddled garrons behind them. The small fishing port of Craignure spread out to the south: a collection of cottages mostly crammed around a single street that faced onto a curved white-sand beach where fishermen were hauling in their catch.
A wooden jetty thrust out from the port, where more boats bobbed with the tide, while gulls wheeled overhead, waiting for a chance to swoop and steal some of the glistening mackerel the fishermen had caught.
“Cods,” Rae muttered then. “I didn’t think this through.”
Jack snorted. “What’s to consider? Lyle and Ailean need looking after, and a widow has offered ye her services.”
“She’s a lady, Jack … it’s not a ‘proper’ arrangement.” His brother made another, rude, sound before Rae cut him a censorious look. “Esme is doing a fine job, anyway.”
Jack pulled a face. “Yer sons run rings around the lass, and ye know it. Just yesterday, Tara found her in tears.”
Rae stiffened. Why hadn’t anyone told him? There were numerous details he’d missed of late, for his mood had been low, his thoughts inward. “She should have come to me,” he said stiffly. “I’d have sorted the lads out.”
“Maybe,” Jack replied, with a shake of his head. “But the fact remains, ye needed to hire someone who will take no nonsense … and Kylie Grant sounds right for the job.”
They rode into Craignure then, slowing their coursers to a walk as they joined the throng of villagers. The port was a thriving one, despite that it had been raided twice over the past year by outlaws who sailed in on foggy evenings and frightened the locals out of their wits. The Ghost Raiders had been quiet of late, but the folk of Mull didn’t trust their silence.
A new tavern had opened up too, to compete with the village’s older establishment, The Craignure Inn , at the opposite end of the waterfront—and as they rode past it, Rae caught sight of two scantily-clad women hanging out of the upstairs windows.
“Good afternoon, lads,” one of them called out, thrusting her lush bosom forward. “Looking for some entertainment?”
“Aye,” her companion sang out, licking plump lips. “Two fine-looking men like ye are always welcome at The Barnacle. ”
“Thank ye for the offer, lasses … but I’m a happily wedded man,” Jack replied with a roguish smile.
The women pouted.
“It’s just a silver penny a-piece,” the first answered, not easily put off. “For an afternoon of hot, sweaty pleasure!”
Still grinning, Jack glanced at Rae. “Hear that? Ye should come back here later and take them both for that price.”
Rae flashed him a scowl in reply, and Jack laughed. “The look on yer face … I swear it could curdle milk.” He paused then, his expression turning wicked. “When did ye turn into a prude, brother?”
“Shut yer mouth,” Rae growled. He was on edge as it was this afternoon and wasn’t taking well to Jack’s ribbing. For a long while, the two brothers had been estranged, but nearly four years earlier, they’d reconciled, and Jack now captained his Guard. They usually got on well enough too, except for when Jack pushed things—as he was now.
“Cods, ye are a grumpy bastard these days,” Jack said, with a rueful shake of his head. “Who knows … a tumble with those two might improve yer mood.”
“Enough,” Rae shot back. “And wipe that smirk off yer face before I do.”
Behind him, he heard some of his men call out to the women, and shortly after the musical sound of feminine laughter carried through the morning air.
Rae did his best to ignore it.
They rode on, approaching the crowd that had gathered to meet the ferry. Then, swinging down from their horses, they waited for the passengers to disembark. Rae’s warriors drew up a few yards back, their gazes curious as they observed the ferry.
As he stood there, the salty tang of freshly caught fish and the pungent smell of smoking herring from the shop a few yards away, tickling his nose, Rae did his best to soften his expression.
Jack was right about one thing: when Rae’s mood was bleak, his face was forbidding. Even his wayward sons quietened under his withering stare. His brother was right about something else as well. Lady Grant had traveled from her late husband’s broch in northern Argyll to reach him; he couldn’t send her away.
No, he’d offered her a position at Dounarwyse, and he’d go through with it, even if his gut told him he was making a mistake.
The ferry was emptying now, men, women, and horses making their way onto the pier.
And there, amongst them, Rae spotted her.
Actually, he saw Kylie’s sister first. Makenna swept her way up the wooden dock, her cape fluttering behind her. As he recalled from when they’d met at Moy Castle on Mull’s southern coast, the lass wore a surcote that had been split at the sides for ease of movement. She carried a longsword and a dirk at her hip, and a bow and quiver of arrows upon her back.
Kylie followed a few steps behind her self-confident sister. The widow wore a blue-grey surcote over a butter-yellow kirtle. Her oak-colored hair was twisted in a tight braid that crowned her head; it was a prim, severe style, although Rae’s belly tensed as his gaze lingered upon her.
The woman likely didn’t realize it, but that hairstyle, far from making her look like a stern widow, merely highlighted the graceful sweep of her long neck.
One evening at Moy, he’d caught himself staring at that neck, his rod stiffening as he imagined sinking his teeth into that soft pale skin.
Rae checked himself now as his thoughts traveled in the same direction.
God’s troth, the woman had only just stepped off the ferry, and he was having lascivious, depraved thoughts.
He pursed his lips then. This wouldn’t do.
In truth, the offers from those lewd lasses at The Barnacle had tempted him more than he’d ever admit to Jack. What would it be like to give himself over to lust, to have two lovers in his bed?
He started to sweat at the thought.
The only woman he’d ever bedded in his thirty-four years had been his wife, and these days, frustration simmered within him like a pot above to boil over. Jack was wrong—he wasn’t a prude. He’d been a painfully shy lad, and a virgin on his wedding night. However, to his disappointment, Donalda had never welcomed his touch, and had only suffered their coupling so her womb would quicken with bairn. If he’d ever tried to bite her neck, she’d have slapped him soundly.
The memory of his passionless marriage brought with it a clutch of familiar guilt, which doused any lusty thoughts, as if someone had just thrown a pail of cold water over him.
And just as well too, for Kylie Grant had spied him.
Her full lips curved in welcome, and she lifted a hand, waving to him. Next to her, Makenna also saw him and grinned.
“Interesting,” Jack murmured. “The widow travels with a female bodyguard, it seems.”
Rae snorted before casting his brother a sidelong look. “I told ye Lady Grant’s younger sister would accompany her. She’s a member of her father’s Guard at Meggernie.”
“She is?”
“Aye … and she doesn’t suffer fools either, so I’d keep yer tongue leashed.”