A Sassenach for the Highland Sinner (Highlands' Matchmakers #1)

Prologue

Fenella Grant smiled as she watched the band of soldiers, led by the pompous Lieutenant Percival Crowley, emerging from the inn, none of them looking very pleased.

In fact, they all looked very disgruntled indeed, and that was just how she liked it.

She turned to her friend, Eleanor Kerrigan, and the two women laughed gleefully.

“Hmmm…” Fenella said, “they look a wee bit put out about something, Ellie. Do you think somebody hurt their feelings?”

“I hope so!” Eleanor replied, giggling. “Maybe the ale was not to their liking—or perhaps the lasses refused their advances!”

Fenella clapped her hands. “Aye, the lasses in our village have high standards!” Her eyes were twinkling wickedly.

A heavy sigh sounded beside them and they turned to the young man who was crouching beside them, screened by bushes as they observed the party, who were now arguing with the landlord.

Nicholas Munro, Captain of the Guard at Cairnlochan Castle, was looking at the two older ladies and shaking his handsome head.

“You two are impossible. I cannot take you anywhere without having to go back to say sorry!” However, he could not help but join in with their laughter.

They watched as the elderly owner made a shooing motion with his hand and the men, dressed in their worn and dusty red uniforms, walked away grumbling.

They waited a few moments until the party was out of sight before emerging from their hiding place and entering the tavern. They met the landlord at once, and Nicholas saluted him respectfully.

“Morning,” he said pleasantly. “The Sassenachs have left at last? They looked a wee bit upset.” His words implied that he was concerned, but the mischievous twinkle in his dark green eyes belied this.

“Good!” The old man’s face was thunderous. “I put up wi’ them for a week, an’ if they hadnae left on their own I would hae chucked them oot!”

Nicholas grinned broadly, his green eyes twinkling. He had already attracted the attention of the barmaid and several of the female customers, since a tall, handsome strapping man in uniform was a feast for the eyes!

“Excellent!” Fenella cried gleefully. “Everything went according to plan, and we will never see their smug Sassenach faces again!”

The old man shook his head, still frowning fiercely.

“No’ while I breathe!” he growled. “Bloody Sassenachs! I needed their business, but they are troublemakers—startin’ fights an’ cheatin’ at cards, upsettin’ my regulars!

An’ that stuck-up lieutenant! I wish I was thirty years younger.

I would have gied him a good Scottish send-off!

” He clenched his fist and demonstrated by punching the air viciously, then he looked up at Nicholas.

“I could dae wi’ some o’ your lads guardin’ this place, Nick. ”

Nicholas patted him on the shoulder. “I will bring some of my best men, mind you, sometimes they will tell you how thirsty they are—” he raised his eyebrows and twitched a mischievous smile.

“So make sure you have plenty of water for them, nothing else!” Eleanor and Fenella giggled as he spoke.

“Do you know where they are going next, Alec?”

Alec Duncan shook his head. “No, an’ I dinnae want tae know, but the further away the better!” He turned and stomped away, mumbling curses under his breath.

Eleanor smiled. “Well, I do not think the redcoats will be back any time soon!”

“Nay,” Fenella agreed, and for once she was not laughing. “But I will not be happy until I see Crowley behind bars!”

“I would quite like to meet him again, Mistress Fenella,” Nicholas said, grinning.

“I would like to take care of him myself -” he held up two very big fists.

“I am looking forward to it very much, but first things first. Now we can enjoy the market in peace! Do you ladies not have clothes to buy? I am sure I have seen both of you wearing the same evening dresses at least twice,” he shook his head at that, “the people are beginning to think you are poor! Ye ladies, disappoint me.”

Eleanor and Fenella both giggled and gave him a playful punch, then looked around at the market stalls, their eyes lighting up.

“We will have to put that right at once!” Eleanor said eagerly. “What are we waiting for?”

Laura Whitcombe was not best pleased to be awakened by a thunderous banging on the door of her room in the Bruce Inn in Cairnlochan.

She had been plagued by a nightmare in which she was being chased by a pack of vicious wild animals.

The horrendous dream was recurrent and visited her once every few weeks, and she had only managed to fall asleep a short while before dawn.

Now she sat up in bed, groaning, her head aching as she pushed her tangled chestnut hair out of her blue eyes and rubbed them irritably with the heels of her hands.

She sat, rigid with fear as the door burst open and a tall, dark attractive man in the uniform of an English soldier stepped inside.

He was frowning, looking annoyed, and Laura felt her own anger rising as she glared at him.

She had met Percival Crowley and his men when they had arrived at the inn on the same day. At first, they had been charming and polite, but after buying her a few drinks, when Laura had become a little tipsy, Percival Crowley had made it clear that she was now under his command.

She was not exactly a prisoner, since she could still leave her room, but he had hinted that there would be consequences if she disobeyed him or tried to run away. All his men were well-armed and battle hardened, and Laura was terrified of them.

Since that day, he and his men had teased and taunted her for their own amusement, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before one or more of them forced himself on her.

“Why did you wake me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I have to leave, but stay here and wait for me. My men need their plaything,” Percival Crowley said. His tone was grim and urgent, and he looked over his shoulder as he spoke, as if scared of being seen.

“Why?” she asked. “Where are you going?”

“I have no time to explain now,” he replied. “But if you are not here when I get back…” He left the sentence unfinished, but the threat was clear. He was clever; he never used words, so he could deny anything, but his meaning was always plain.

“But—” she began, but she got no further.

“Just do as I say!” he snapped, then turned and left, closing the door with a bang. Laura stared at the door for a long time after he had gone, trying to clear her head and marshal her thoughts.

Laura was in a strange kind of limbo, having been rejected by her fiancé and disowned by her family over a matter that was not her own fault. She had come to Scotland to seek a new life for herself, having heard of a few English girls who had found love and happiness in this rough little country.

Yet she had precious little to survive on, and the few resources she had managed to bring with her were dwindling.

She knew that she had to find employment of some kind, and as an educated woman, she had much to offer as a governess or tutor.

However, despite her best efforts, she had been unable to find a suitable position, and she had only a few pieces of gold jewellery left to sell.

After that, Laura would be reduced to taking whatever menial work she could find.

She knew that Crowley was the kind of man who would use her for his own ends, then drop her like a hot potato when she had served her purpose, but something in his manner had frightened her so much that she realised that it was now or never, and it was her anger that now lent her courage.

‘I am not going to be used like this any longer!’ she thought mutinously as she dressed, washed and packed her valise with her few possessions as quickly as she could. ‘If he thinks I am going to put up with this any longer he is sorely mistaken!’

Laura had no idea where Crowley was going, or if all his men were going to accompany him.

She was disappointed to find that a few of them were still standing outside.

All of them were fully armed and looked distinctly menacing, and Laura realised with a sinking heart that she had no chance of sneaking away without being seen.

Laura gazed at them helplessly, wondering what to do next, then she felt a gentle touch on her arm and turned to see the barmaid holding out a glass of ale, which Laura accepted gratefully.

The young woman was a pitiful sight. She was flushed and sweating, her eyes bloodshot, and was holding a tiny sleeping baby in her arms.

“Ye want tae get out o’ here?” she asked Laura hoarsely.

“I do, but those men will not let me,” she answered, looking fearfully at the strapping figures of the soldiers.

The barmaid coughed suddenly, and some blood spilled from her mouth. She wiped it away quickly and gazed up at Laura, her eyes pleading. “Mistress, I can help ye, but I need ye tae dae somethin’ for me.”

Laura did not even take a moment to consider. She felt desperately sorry for the pathetic figure before her and said: “Of course I will,” without thinking.

“I am Mairi, an’ I dinnae have long tae live,” the young woman said, and tears began to leak from her eyes.

“This is my son, an’ he is only a week old.

I love him so much, but I willnae be able tae look after him.

Can ye take him tae his father? His name is Nicholas Munro, an’ he is Captain o’ the Guard at Cairnlochan Castle.

” She stopped as another bout of coughing seized her, and the baby began to writhe and wriggle in her arms.

When the fit stopped she kissed the baby’s forehead then held him out to Laura.

Somewhat stunned, Laura took the child in her arms and looked down into the little face.

His eyes were closed, but his round pink cheeks and the tiny dimples on his knuckles as he waved his fists in the air sent a huge and unexpected wave of tenderness through her.

He was warm, wrapped in a tiny woollen gown and a tattered blanket, and light as a feather.

However the weight of the responsibility that she had just shouldered suddenly hit Laura.

‘My god, what have I done?’ she thought desperately.

Yet as she opened her mouth to take back her words of acceptance she saw the despair in Mairi’s eyes and realised that there was no going back now.

If things were as Mairi said, then the baby would be left alone and orphaned amidst Crowley’s soldiers. And that she couldn’t stomach.

Mairi suddenly produced a kitchen knife from the pocket of her skirt. It was about eight inches long with a vicious serrated edge and was obviously used for cutting meat. Laura gulped: what was going to happen now? She was terrified.

“Come,” Mairi’s face had suddenly taken on a look of grim purpose, and she pushed open the front door of the tavern with the strength lent to her by the determination to see her baby safe.

The three soldiers were standing a few yards away, two of them laughing at something the other had said. They looked completely carefree, but Laura realised they would not stay that way for much longer.

They turned as they heard Laura and Mairi approaching, and the tallest and strongest-looking started towards Laura, shouting: “Stop—” But he never finished what he was saying as Mairi ran up to him and plunged the knife in between his ribs with all her strength.

“Run!” she cried to Laura before collapsing on the ground.

Laura did not stop to see what happened next but took off at a run and plunged into the crowd in the busy marketplace.

Her heart was pounding hard and fast, the baby was wailing in her arms, and she had no idea where she was going, but Laura ploughed on, shoving people out of her way as she went.

The shouts of the men behind her were becoming louder and she was running out of breath.

In a few more moments she would have to give up.

Just then a tall, broad young man stepped out in front of her. He took hold of her arms and shoved her sideways, and for an awful moment Laura thought one of the Englishmen had caught up with her.

She screamed in panic as she felt herself being seized, but she had not been drawn into the rough grasp of one of the soldiers. Instead, she fell into the arms of a woman in her middle years who was joined a few seconds later by another of the same age.

Both had gentle, kind faces, but Laura was still terrified. “Let me go!” she cried, instinctively pulling the baby closer to her, but the woman held onto her, her embrace gentle and comforting.

“You are safe now,” she said soothingly. “Those brutes are being taken care of. My name is Eleanor, and this is my friend, Fenella. You have nothing to fear any more.”

“I-I am Laura,” she stammered. She looked around at the assembled crowd and heard shouts and the clash of metal on metal: clearly a battle was going on.

Presently, a great cheer went up, and Laura saw that the tall, strapping man she had seen earlier was approaching them, grinning as he was patted on the back and congratulated by the appreciative crowd.

He was dressed in military garb, but looked distinctly more dishevelled now as he sheathed his sword, which was streaked with blood.

He walked straight up to Laura then bowed and smiled. “Captain Nicholas Munro at your service, Mistress,” he said smartly. “Are you all right? Your attackers will be spending tonight in the dungeons of Cairnlochan Castle, so you are quite safe.”

Laura stared up at him, stupefied and unable to speak for a moment, then she looked down at the baby. She raised her eyes again and spoke, “This is your son, Captain.”