A Highlander In Peril (Gunn Guardsman)

A Highlander

In Peril

A Gunn Guardsman novel

KARA GRIFFIN

A HIGHLANDER IN PERIL

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2014 Kara Griffin

Cover Photo © 2014 All rights reserved – to be used with permission.

Cover design by Sheri
McGathy http://www.sherimcgathy.com/sheri/book-cover-design/

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book contains adult material, reader discretion advised.

DEDICATION

To the man I am most comfortable with, my dear husband.

Thank you for twenty-five year
s of joy, love, and protection.

OTHER HISTORICAL TITLES

BY KARA GRIFFIN

~GUNN GUARDSMAN SERIES~

ONE & ONLY

ON A HIGHLAND HILL

A HIGHLANDER IN PERIL

IN LOVE WITH A WARRIOR (COMING SOON)

~THE PITH TRILOGY~

WARRIOR’S PLEDGE

CLAIMED BY A CHARMER

LASS’ VALOR

SCI-FI ROMANCES

~GET COSMIC SERIES~

COSMIC HEARTS

COSMIC CHEMISTRY

COSMIC CHAOS

PRAISE FOR KARA GRIFFIN’S HISTORICALS

ON A HIGHLAND HILL by Kara Griffin is an exciting Scottish Medieval Historical Romance set in 1215 Scotland. WOW! Holly Highlander! Those Highland Hills will capture your heart and soul not to mention the men.
Fast paced and passion filled.

             
My Book Addiction and More (blogger) – 5 stars

ONE AND ONLY - I just finished this book ten minutes ago and I’m still smiling. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. ... This story has so many truly fantastic scenes. Oh, the days of men of honor, governed by loyalty, duty, and chivalry. And to top it off, they are all strapping warriors wrapped in the Gunn plaid. Need I say more? This author writes truly wonderful historical romances.

Past Romance, Amazon (reader) – 5 Stars

WARRIOR’S PLEDGE is a touching story of two people who, after never having known love or happiness in their lives, learn to trust and to love, which in the end, gives them more happiness than they’d ever known existed. Don’t miss this touching tale. It is a definite keeper.

Karen H. - The Romance Studio (reviewer)

What I enjoyed about CLAIMED BY A CHARMER is it’s a story about finding the one person who makes you feel more alive than any other on the planet. The struggling relationship between Isabel and Douglas is passionate, amusing and the essence of true romance. Claimed by a Charmer is charming, sweet and an enjoyable romantic read.

Janet - Fallen Angel Reviews (reviewer)

Ms. Griffin’s story LASS’ VALOR was impossible to put down. Her characters popped off the pages. The dialogue held me while not overpowering me with the Highland brogue and still grounded me within the time-period. The conflict between all the characters was strong and believable, adding richness to the setting.
Definitely a historical not to be missed by Ms. Griffin’s fans or lovers of Highlander tales.

Kimber - Coffee Time Romance (reviewer)

A HIGHLANDER IN PERIL

A life forever changed

A heart on the mend

Mysterious events abound

In order to receive his family’s fortune, Sean Gunn must agree to wed the lady thrust upon him by his dying uncle. As a Gunn clan protector and guardsman, he is honor bound to accept his uncle’s legacy and the woman whose voice alone affects more than his heart.

Lady Frances Jordan never thought to feel the stirrings of love since she’d lost her husband, but Sean Gunn’s irresistible manner and handsomeness is just what she needs to move on with her life. He awakens more than desire with his passionate kisses and romantic gestures.

When many a lady goes missing near the border of Scotland and England, Sean is determined to find out who the knave is. Unfortunately Frances becomes the target of the would-be attacker and needs the aid of the Gunn protector. Can Sean keep his lady safe and embroil himself in border politics to ferret out the assailant?

PROLOGUE

Selkirkshire, Scotland

Border region

January, 1223

His craving was about to be sated. He’d kept his fervor at bay but now lust sent its anxious tremble through his body for he hadn’t had a woman in many months. Duty and travel kept him from his desires, and now that he’d returned, he could appease his longing.

For more than a fortnight, he’d courted the lady and she like the others did not meet with his expectation. He’d sent gifts, poems, and sweet gestures, hoping to win her favor. Alas the declarations did little to sway her heart. It mattered not, because he would have them one way or another. The selfish women dismissed his affections without care of his feelings, and his desires turned from the deepest love to the dark yearnings now coursing through his blood.

He would do anything to possess them. Why did they deny him? Was he not as handsome as the young lords they chased after? Was he not in a powerful enough position, having the ear of the king himself? There wasn’t a single thing that should have caused their aversion of him and yet …

“Set the lass there, on the log. Careful now, don’t muddle her hair. Place her hands and legs as I bid. She’s perfection.”

His brother, whom he paid handsomely to guard his secrets, did as he bade. He gave his brother no choice but to assist him, for he knew his life would be ended were he to refute his orders.

Once his brother set the lady on the log and positioned her arms over her abdomen and crossed her legs, he turned to him for further instruction. “Do ye wish me to stay?”

“Nay I will handle the matter from here. You may leave. Speak not of this to anyone.”

“I won’t.” Without dispute, his brother left the dense woods.

Now alone, he could do his will. He stood still in the silent frozen forest, watching her tranquil form. A light snow drifted through the sparse branches overhead; the cold flakes hit his face. Her dressing was impeccable, and for a brief moment he thought she might be cold. The silk fabric of her gown did little to protect her against the elements. Nay, she would feel nothing for she was not fast asleep.

Before he would take his pleasure, he pressed a hefty-bloomed crimson rose between her dainty fingers. Joy came to him upon seeing her lifeless body, lying in wait, holding the precious reminder of her rejection. With a light caress to her dewy lips, he tasted the thorn apple powder he’d put in her wine.

He’d been prepared for her rejection and had made his plans. How easy she made it for him. Within an hour she was akin to a lamb being caught by the fox. Aye, for he enjoyed watching the poison weave its spell upon her, taking her soul from her once spry body, and ending once and for all her aversion of him.

He ambled around the log, content to watch her, wishing he hadn’t had to end their liaison so soon. The chase always gratified him and when he no longer enjoyed the game there was only one way he could ensure she remained his. Though he’d spent a good time courting her, he suspected her abhorrence. Like the others, she pretended fondness when really she had her heart set on another.

As if the lady responded, he ceased walking, and gazed fondly at her. “How dare ye dangle such a glorious prize before me, and expect to throw me over as though I am nothing?”

He caressed her hair and slowly moved his hands over her breast, and down her body.  “You’re remorseful? Ah, dearest, but it is too late for regrets, my love.” Now kneeling, he ripped the rose from her grasp and held the fragile blossom in his hand, taking a whiff of its fragrance before setting it gently aside.

“Why could you not appreciate my gifts? You will never receive such adoring sentiments from another. Evermore you shall be mine.”

CHAPTER ONE

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.

-William Shakespeare

Maidens Castle

Edinburgh, Scotland

Four months later, April 1223

Many ladies enjoyed being in court attending to the queen and participating in the lively parties. Such gaiety to be had amongst the revelers: men and women from the most prominent clans in Scotland.

Lady Frances Jordan wasn’t like most ladies. She preferred to sit inside a stuffy, dust-filled solar reading old tombs, dreaming of one day taking to the seas on an adventure like the old Vikings. Life had a peculiar way of making one do things they didn’t wish to do.

She’d been in Edinburgh nearly six months at the behest of her lord and guardian, Lord William of the Hume clan whom she called uncle. He’d been an endeared father-figure to her since her own papa died ten years ago.

Frances considered writing him and begging for leave. Lord William wanted her to have experiences, he’d said, and so she agreed to make the most of it. But it wasn’t where she longed to be, and she only suffered through it for him.

How she missed her husband and living the simple life of a country wife. Almost five years passed since Robert’s accident, and yet it felt as though he’d been taken from her only a short time ago. How she wished to go home and be away from town. How she missed Ermintrude, her sweet winsome lass and her fairy-like face. Her daughter would soon forget her if she didn’t return soon.

While readying for the night’s entertainment, she stopped brushing her hair and glanced at the hateful missive she received along with the vile package. The missive bore such dreadful, odious words. When she received the box tied with the lovely ruby-encrusted ribbon, she thought one of the lords was interested in her. She changed her mind after she’d opened it.

Once again, she couldn’t help looking inside the box with disbelief. There sat a dozen or so roses, all blackened and decomposing. They’d been crimson, the color of blood. The odor of mold reached her nose and she rubbed the smell away, quickly closing the box. Who would send her such a vile gift?

Someone within court had to be jesting with her, and yet she’d received several missives, all bearing threats. If it was in jest, they’d taken it too far.

Frances shook off the foreboding feelings and hurried to the great hall where many already gathered. What bothered her most about being at the castle was the fact that someone stalked her. As she tried to shake the terrible sensation of being watched, the queen made her appearance at the small dance which had been arranged for the night’s festivity.

After her entrance, Joan went to sit on the dais alone. Frances made friends with the young queen and became her confidant. Joan had wed Alexander at the early age of ten and one. Still she and her husband were at least sociable even if they hadn’t yet consummated their marriage.

It was said the king and queen formed an alliance in order to gain political prowess and appease King Henry, Joan’s brother. England’s king tired of Scotland’s interference and because he wanted to retain the lands his father, King John, entailed to Alexander, he made the alliance. How unfortunate to have to wed for political gain.

Frances approached the dais and sat in the chair next to the queen, after she’d been bid to do so. With a smile, she hoped her friendly greeting would appease Joan because she did not look jovial. Many knew the moods of her majesty and kept their distance, as did she when it was warranted.

“I am gladdened you came to join me,” Joan said, behind the palm of her hand. “You’re the only lady I trust here.”

Frances scooted her chair closer. “I was waiting for you.”

“Have they said anything untoward? Shall I punish them?” Joan giggled a girlish tone. “I could ensure Alexander wed them to the most atrocious men in Scotland. I declare, I know a few.”

Frances laughed even though she considered Joan may not be jesting. “That would suit them well. I haven’t really talked to them this eve. I abhor being with them and only came because I hoped you would be here. And here you are.”

“If not for you, Frances, I’d be bored with these silly ladies attending me. All they talk of are lords and other unmentionables.” Joan’s lip curled in a pout.

“Most of the ladies don’t enjoy my company, nor I theirs. I find them trifling and mischievous. Their catty behavior irritates me, mostly because outwardly they act as if they have decorum.”

Queen Joan snorted in retort.

Frances heard their hushed whispers about spending nights with certain lords, and how they compared one lord to another, and of their lewd sexual acts. In a way, she envied their pursuits. She’d never had a romantic liaison to compare.

Joan guffawed and leaned closely. “They act in such a sinful and shameful manner. They believe their behavior goes unnoticed. But I’ve heard of their activities. I care not because they haven’t an interesting mind amongst them.”

Frances didn’t want to judge the ladies, but she couldn’t help it. Around her they presented the image that they were above anyone and she should do well to befriend them. They were the last women she wanted to be connected with.

If there was one thing that Frances liked about the young queen it was that she was educated and they’d had thought-provoking discussions. Joan spoke in a manner becoming of her station even if she should act like the young ladies in their company.

“I suspect that is true, my lady. I’m thinking to write Lord William to ask if I can return home. I have been here long enough, surely enough time to placate him.”

“Not long enough to placate me. Yet I know your heart is elsewhere. I’ve given you leave as you wished.” Joan twisted a strand of her hair, a ringlet which came free, between her fingers. She gazed at the crowd, slouched back on her velvet-lined chair. And yet Frances knew her entire focus was on her. “I understand why you wish to leave, but I shall be saddened to see you go.”

“I shan’t wish to leave you, my lady, but there is more calling me home than there is willing me to stay.” Frances placed a gentle smile on her face.

“Are you not certain you cannot find a husband here in Edinburgh? None gained your notice? Not even Armstrong? All the ladies want him, and he certainly has an eye for you.”

Frances wanted to laugh, but she would never be disrespectful to the queen. “Adam Armstrong has many ladies chasing him. Nay, he is not a husband I would seek. I vow I’d have to compete with him on my attire and you know how I dislike fashion.”

Joan gazed at her, taking time to assess the garments she’d chosen for the dance. “Verily what you speak is the truth. You’ve no fashion sense whatsoever, Frances. I really should take you under my wing, and have you
attend me when I’m choosing my dressing.”

She did laugh then. “You’re always ensconced for hours. I would rather spend my time doing something interesting than selecting fabrics and matching them with laces and furs.” Frances’ eyes widened when she realized she might have insulted the queen.

Before Joan countered, the handsome devil, Adam Armstrong made his appearance. Immediately the ladies shrieked and acted as if he were some miraculous man, drawing their attention. Frances watched him strut into the hall in that cocksure way of his. He dressed impeccably with rich, pristine ermine furs over his blue silken tunic and breeches made of the finest gray woolens. Everything matched and coordinated to make him appear larger. His garments definitely compensated for something, but Frances hadn’t yet figured out what.

Frances returned her attention to the queen. “Speak of the devil.”

“If I didn’t promise Alexander that he had my heart, I deem he’d throw Armstrong from court. Look at the way he walks around, as if he is lord here. Mayhap I should have Alexander toss him.”

Frances chuckled under her breath. “I’d so love to see that, Joan. But nay, he is just arrogant and believes every woman should fall at his feet.”

“But not you,” Joan said with a wink.

“Nay, certainly not me.
Although I deem that’s why he is interested in me. I’m not like the other ladies who simper after him. Mayhap I shouldn’t present such a challenge. I do admit he is handsome.”

Joan gasped as if an idea suddenly came to her. “Why shan’t you wed him? Think on it, Frances, if you do, he’ll leave you in the country, and he’ll be here in Edinburgh attending Alexander. You might see him once or twice a year.”

Frances’ heart dejected speaking of marriage. She’d been wedded to a man whose only interest was business and although it was a good sensible marriage, she’d been lonely. Her heart held more love for Robert than he’d held for her. Still, he’d been a noble husband. Sadly, she didn’t believe she could give her heart to another man. She missed Robert even with his aloof manner. Life would have been drastically different if he’d lived.

“That does seem appealing, not having to deal with a husband but once or twice a year.” Frances almost snickered at the thought, but held in such appall.

Lord William would never approve of the betrothal. Adam was second son, his position not nearly substantial enough to covet a marriage. Although Adam’s brother was aged and the line of succession was bound to gift the title to him.

“Armstrong is interested in you. Surely Lord William would approve if I ask him, and once I speak to Alexander, I’m sure I could make it happen,” the queen said, and smiled with shining eyes. “Adam has become a noble friend to my husband.”

Frances plucked an invisible piece of lint from her sleeve, and considered it. “I don’t know, Joan, if I’d want to wed such a man. How could I ever be what he wants?” She was definitely not in the same league as Adam Armstrong. And additionally, she really wasn’t wont to wed anyone. Her heart hardened at the thought of loving someone again. The queen wouldn’t take nay for an answer, so she made light of her wishes.

Armstrong approached and bowed to Joan.
“My lady, Joan, your majesty. It is pleasing to see you this evening. How does King Alexander do? Well, I hope. I await his return as I am sure you do.”

Frances heard the king was away on business, but refrained from asking about it. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds with the queen.

Joan gave a curt nod. “Master Armstrong, my husband is well. Thank you for asking. So good of you to join us this eve. All the ladies are excited you’re here.”

Adam bowed again and when he rose, a dark curl covered his eye. He tossed his head and grinned. “There’s only one lady who draws my attention. My hope is that she’s excited to see me.” He raised his eyes to glance at her, and Frances lowered her gaze to her lap. His eyes seemed to undress her and they darkened with passion.
Definitely, a look with a spark of bedevilment.

Frances was about to rise and curtsey as was appropriate in court, but he waved his hand. The lady he spoke of was she, and now that he’d come, Frances wished to be away. She didn’t like the way he watched her or how his eyes followed her around the hall. His attentions would best be spent on the simpering ladies who vied for it.

“I do hope you’ll dance with me, Lady Frances. You look lovely this eve.” Adam smiled in his devilish way, the crease in his cheek deepening.

He was definitely a cock in bright plumage, and one she needed to be wary of. Frances knew he spoke falsely because she didn’t look lovely. She was invisible in the chamber full of fashionably-dressed ladies.

Never would she tell the queen her true opinion of the man, and she admitted only to herself, he daunted her. She detested his attention and wished his eyes would gaze elsewhere. Though she jested with the queen about him, he did not appeal.

“I look forward to it, Master Armstrong,” she said in her most appeasing voice.

His eyes downcast and he noticed a scuff on his boot, and instantly set off to correct the blemish. The man was self-obsessed; more than any other she ever met. Frances scoffed under her breath.

Joan leaned forward. “You’re a fortunate woman to have such a man take notice of you. I shall ask Alexander when next I see him what he thinks of the match.”

Frances nodded slightly because she couldn’t disagree with the young queen. None really knew how to deal with her yet. For one thing, she had only been queen for about a year. And secondly, none discerned how much influence she had with the king. For all Frances knew, all Joan had to say was ‘I want that man for one of my ladies-in-waiting’ and it would be done.

She was doomed. Frances sat back and tried to put Adam Armstrong and the queen’s desires from her mind. The ladies took to a dance which didn’t involve the men. Several lords meandered to the ale barrels and stood on the side watching and waiting until they could rejoin the ladies. They appeared akin to hawks flying overheard spying mice or some such morsels to swoop down upon and ravage. How she hated being in court.

A shadow appeared to their left, blocking the candlelight from the wall of small candles nearby. Frances looked up to see Lord Lombard standing before them.

“Your majesty,” he said, bowing low before Joan.

The queen smiled slightly, inclining her head. “Lord Lombard, I had not heard you were in residence. Have you come for a stay? My husband went to Londontown and is not present. I fear if you’ve business to attend, you will need to await his return.”