Sutherland's Secret (23 page)

Eleanor wanted to wed Brice at the exact location on the road where he’d found her unconscious and near death. A fitting tribute, since she considered that spot the place where she’d been reborn. But it was too far from home and, frankly, in the middle of nowhere.

So they were married in the great hall of Castle Dornach, with the Sutherlands in attendance. The bride did not wear an exquisite gown, as she had for her first marriage. Neither did she wear shoes, as she had for her first marriage.

She came to Brice wearing the blue and green colors of the Sutherlands, shoeless, jewelless, with flowers in her hair, looking like something that had sprouted from the wild Highland mountains.

Brice had never seen anyone as beautiful as Eleanor, with a smile that lit her from the inside out. He loved her with his entire being, but when she walked toward him to become his wife, his love swelled to such proportions that he wasn’t certain he could contain it. Tears pushed against the back of his eyes and he quickly blinked them away.

The Duke of Cumberland had sent a letter to her parents, informing them that their daughter was alive and in good spirits, so Thomas had decided to stay for the ceremony. It would be up to him to break the news to her parents that she had wedded a Highland warrior. He admitted to Brice that he did not look forward to that particular encounter.

The ceremony was short, and Brice could not recall exactly what they said to each other, but in the end they were wed, and that was all that mattered. He and his wife celebrated with his clan, but as day turned to night and the sun disappeared, warriors silently began to drift away to prepare for the night’s other adventures but the rest of the clan stayed to dance and sing and eat and be merry.

Eleanor and Brice sneaked away to their bedchamber, Eleanor in a fit of giggles while Brice pulled her along.

“We must hurry,” he said a little breathlessly. He shut the door and pushed Eleanor up against it to kiss her with a passion that almost frightened him. He didn’t think that he would ever tire of his wife.

When they pulled away, they were both breathing hard. “Are you positive we don’t have time?” she asked, her lips rosy and swollen from their kiss.

He looked at her with regret. “As much as I wish it, nay.” He looked her up and down, imagining himself ripping her kirtle off. His need for her was intense, but duty called and they both knew it.

“Then you best step away, because I fear I can’t keep my hands off you,” she said with a cheeky grin.

He groaned. “Ye best stop talking like that,
mo ghràdh
. Or we won’t be leaving this bedchamber any time soon.”

She playfully pushed him away and quickly divested herself of her kirtle and arisaid while Brice stood back and watched. This was a torture like he’d never known. His hands itched to touch her all over.

At times he couldn’t believe she was actually his, that they were to spend the rest of their days together, that he need not worry about Blackwood or England taking her away from him. She was his. Forever.

“You could help,” she said, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

He raised an eyebrow and it took all of his self-control to stay on the other side of the room. “Ye told me to stop touching ye.”

She finished pulling on her breeches and slid her shirt on. “Ready,” she said as she pushed her hair beneath her cap.

He opened the door and they sneaked down the back steps while their wedding celebration went on without them. In the bailey, their horses were ready and waiting for them, and they rode out with a retinue of men. It wasn’t the most romantic wedding night, but Eleanor said she would have it no other way.

“We have the rest of our lives,” she said. “I couldn’t rest easy knowing people needed our help. They’re depending on us to get them to the next safe house and eventually to the waiting ship.”

Brice knew then that his Eleanor was a true Highlander, putting his people—now her people—before her needs. He didn’t think it was possible to love her any more than he already did.

He looked over at his new wife, so sure of herself on top of her mount, so dedicated to a cause that she did not have to embrace but which she did embrace with her whole heart. She winked at him, an impish smile on her lips.

She had told him once that her life had started anew when he’d found her in the middle of the road, but that was only half of the story.

She’d saved his life just as much as, if not more than, he’d saved hers.

And for that he would spend the rest of his days loving her and thanking God for putting her on that path. There might be tough times ahead for his country and his people, but with Eleanor at his side, he knew he could face anything.

To my editor, Sue Grimshaw. This is the seventh book we’ve worked on together. Words cannot adequately express my gratitude for your guidance and inspiration over the past four years. Thank you, Sue. It was a pleasure and an honor to work with you.

And, as always, to my family, John, Megan, Nic, and Abby.

I owe a huge thank-you to Nicholas Fantini, a good family friend who lived in Scotland for a time and sat with my husband and me one night, feeding me one Scottish insult after another. Ye’re a limey bastard, ye big numpty, and I thank ye.

The Notorious Lady Anne

Loving the Earl

Pleasing the Pirate

Sebastian’s Lady Spy

His Saving Grace

The Reluctant Duchess

Sutherland’s Secret

MacLean’s Passion
(coming soon)

PHOTO: PAM JONES PHOTOGRAPHY

Sutherland’s Secret
is
S
HARON
C
ULLEN
’s seventh historical romance with Loveswept. Her other novels include
The Reluctant Duchess, Sebastian’s Lady Spy, His Saving Grace, The Notorious Lady Anne,
The Infamous Lord Blythe,
and
Pleasing the Pirate.
Sharon is also the author of romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance.

If you’d like to find out more about Sharon and her books, you can visit her at her blog or her website. She’s addicted to social networking, so you can find her on Facebook and Twitter.
Friend her! Like her! Follow her!
She’d love to hang out with you and talk about her passion—
books.

sharoncullen.net

Facebook.com/SharonCullenAuthor

@SharonCullen

Bring in the New Year with a new romance from Loveswept—all are specially written with you in mind, so I know you’ll find a story that’s a perfect fit.

Elisabeth Barrett returns to Briarwood, an unforgettable place where legacy and longing make dreams come true, in
The Best of Me.
USA Today
bestselling author Jamie K. Schmidt follows with the first book in her new crane Hawaii Heat series,
Life’s a Beach,
an irresistible tale of second chances. The bad boys of baseball only get better with Katie Rose’s fourth book in the Boys of Summer series,
The Heat Is On,
where a homegrown baseball star returns to snag the one that got away.
USA Today
bestselling author Miraa Lyn Kelly finishes her Dare to Love series with
Now and Then,
a steamy short novel of lost love, second crane chances, and hidden dangers.

New York Times
bestselling author Kathy Clark releases
After Love,
book one in the suspenseful Austin Heroes series. Cecy Robson’s
Of Flame and Promise
kicks off a sizzling new series in the Weird Girls saga as Celia’s sister Taran fights to have it all. Jessica Lemmon introduces the ultimate bad boy in
Forgotten Promises,
and Gina Gordon starts her powerful, deeply sensual series Body & Soul where one woman discovers the courage to face life’s greatest challenges in
Naked
.

Let’s get sweet with
USA Today
bestselling author Laura Drewry and her latest,
Off the Hook,
part of her Fishing for Trouble series, and Zoe Dawson and her first Laurel Falls novel,
Leaving Yesterday,
for fans of small-town romance. Sidney Halston’s fans will be happy to know another mixed-martial-arts story is en route with
Fighting Dirty,
and then Claire Kent has you
Taking It Off
with a male stripper—yum! Adding to this
USA Today
bestseller list is a fast MC story from Maisey Yates,
Strip You Bare.
And Sawyer Bennett is bundling her books from her
New York Times
bestselling
Cold Fury Hockey
series.

Looking for a few historical romances? Lavinia Kent releases a Regency favorite in
Ravishing Ruby,
Sharon Cullen brings you back to Culloden in
Sutherland’s Secret,
and Pamela Labud’s Hunt Club series begins with
To Catch a Lady—
all with heroes to die for.

That’s it for this month—but February is bigger and better than ever before. Hope to see you soon.

~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

by Sharon Cullen

F
ORT
A
UGUSTUS,
S
COTLAND

J
UNE 1746

If his brothers could see him now they would say “I told you so.”

Of course even his brothers would have been surprised to see him imprisoned in the Duke of Cumberland’s dungeon.

Or maybe they wouldn’t be surprised.

It didn’t matter at this point.

Because right now Colin MacLean, reluctant and ill-equipped chief of clan MacLean, had far bigger problems than his dead brothers’ opinion of him.

He was stretched tight, his hands above his head, tied at the wrists, his toes stretched to find purchase on the dirt-packed ground. He was naked from the waist up and there were far more people than he would like to see gathered around to watch his whipping.

This wasn’t his first time in this position but he was pretty certain it was his last. He’d heard the guards talking. He was to be hanged tomorrow morning.

But he doubted he would last that long. Not because of the beating—he’d endured enough of those to know that the one wielding the whip wasn’t really into it at the moment—but because of the heaviness in his chest and the pounding in his head.

It seemed he was getting sick.

He heard the sound of the whip hitting his back but surprisingly the pain took a few more moments to arrive. It was those seconds that Colin hated the most, where the expectation of the pain was almost worse than the pain itself. Almost. But not quite.

He refused to cry out. He refused to even wince although he did allow his teeth to grind together.

He looked over at Captain Richard Abbott. The bloody,
numpty
English bastard who made it his personal quest to destroy Colin. And Colin couldn’t figure out why.

Sure the man caught Colin trying to beat his men. Sure Colin refused to cooperate in his “arrest”—what Scottish Highlander wouldn’t refuse arrest from a damn redcoat? But the man had taken it too far, beating Colin whenever the fancy struck him, demanding to know what secrets Colin carried within his mind.

Abbott was standing at the forefront of the crowd, dressed in the red coat with the blue facing that Colin and the rest of the Highland warriors had grown to hate, glaring at Colin with dark eyes and a slight frown.

He had not been able to crack Colin like a nut as he wanted to and it infuriated him while it gave Colin some small satisfaction.

The whip whizzed through the air again and Colin tensed. He wished he hadn’t when he saw Abbott’s small smile of satisfaction, but how could a body not wince in this circumstance.

The whip split open the skin of his upper right shoulder. Blood dripped down his side and soaked into his breeches.

“That’s enough,” Abbott said and Colin couldn’t help but droop his aching, burning shoulders in relief.

Someone untied his hands and it took everything inside of him not to drop to his knees. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t give Abbott the satisfaction. If the man was going to kill him as the rumors suggested then Colin was going to die with dignity.

He managed to make it back to his cell by concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Guards were behind him but he paid them no mind. The crowd dispersed. He refused to meet Abbott’s gaze because he didn’t want Abbott to see the hatred burning inside of him. That would instigate another beating, or something more devious.

Colin made it to his disgusting cell that reeked of raw sewage, mildew, and bodies that hadn’t been washed in ages. He shared it with a boy who spent most of his time slouched in the dark corner, never speaking and always observing.

When Colin heard the lock turn on his cell door he breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly he pulled his tattered shirt over his head then lowered himself carefully to the ground. He leaned against the cold, stone wall only wincing a little at the pain in his back and shoulders. He’d endured worse beatings. What hurt him more were his lungs and his head and he feared he was developing a fever.

Whether by the hangman’s noose or a raging fever, he would be dead by morning.

Somehow that thought wasn’t as depressing as it should have been.

His cellmate didn’t move, just looked at him through a mop of black hair that covered his eyes. Colin ignored him and closed his own eyes.

He shifted his legs on the hard floor and bit back a groan.

He heard footsteps down the corridor and was instantly alert although he kept his eyes closed. It was coming upon dinner but not quite time for dinner. Footsteps at this hour of the day was not a good omen.

The footsteps stopped and Colin slowly raised his gaze to the barred door. Then cursed silently.

“Come to gloat, have ye?” he asked through a thick throat.

On the other side of the cell door, Iain Campbell, chief of the very powerful clan Campbell, stared at Colin with emotionless eyes.

“You’re well and truly in a bind, lad.”

Colin snorted and turned his head away. He wanted nothing to do with Campbell. He hated the Scottish clan leader who sided with the English, and had nothing good to say to him.

“Come here,” Campbell commanded.

“Go to hell.”

“Come here,” Campbell said again, more softly this time. He flicked a glance at Colin’s cellmate, then dismissed the lad to look intently at Colin.

“I’m being hanged tomorrow,” Colin said. He raised his knee with some effort and put his elbow on it. It took everything in him to appear as if he had not a care in the world.

“I know.”

“Pardon me for being rude, but I have naught to say to ye on the eve of my demise.”

“I think you do.”

Colin raised a brow. Damnation but even his brows hurt. “Ye think I do?”

Campbell hesitated. He looked one way down the corridor then the other before turning his dark, emotionless gaze back to Colin. “Sutherland sent me.”

Colin stilled. Brice Sutherland, Colin’s best friend, didn’t carry the hatred for Campbell that Colin did, but neither did he love the man. Why the hell would Sutherland send Campbell to him?

Campbell stood there as if he had all the time in the world. Slowly Colin pushed himself up until he was standing on unsteady legs. Gritting his teeth he shuffled to the barred door, hating that Campbell was seeing him in such a weakened state.

He stopped just short of the door and glared at Campbell. “I’m sure it smarts that ye’re Sutherland’s message boy.”

Campbell’s lip turned up in a smirk. “Sutherland can’t get into Cumberland’s camp the way I can.”

“What ye mean to say is that Sutherland is no’ a traitor.”

Ah, finally a flicker of emotion from Campbell. Just a slight tightening of the lips but it was enough. Colin guessed that tormenting Campbell was an admirable way to spend his last night here on Earth.

“Strong words coming from someone who is about to die at the hands of the English,” Campbell said.

Colin wouldn’t show Campbell that his words hit him square in the stomach. He didn’t want to die. He especially didn’t want the English to be the cause of his death.

“Tonight,” Campbell said softly so no one else could hear. “Your cell door will remain unlocked. Turn left. At the end of the corridor there’s a window that will also be unlocked. Climb through and run straight for the trees. My men will be waiting with horses.”

Colin swayed. His head swam and a fire burned inside of him with the sickness. He shook his head to clear his vision but that only caused a sharp pain to pierce his skull.

“Ye’re helping me escape?” he asked, not truly believing it. A Campbell would never help a MacLean. Campbells were firmly on the side of the English and MacLeans firmly were not.

“Aye,” Campbell said.

“Why?”

Campbell cocked his head to the side. “Be ready to run, MacLean.” He turned on his heel and walked off.

For a long time Colin stood there, staring at the bars, his mind curiously blank. He turned around and found his cellmate staring at him from his slumped position on the other side of the cell.

Colin returned to the wall, sat, and resumed leaning against the cold stone.

Time passed. He dozed. His head throbbed. His limbs became heavy and the tight feeling in his chest increased. Occasionally his cellmate shifted positions.

Just another day as a prisoner of the damned redcoats.

Possibly his last day on Earth.

Possibly not.

Definitely his last day as a prisoner.

He didn’t know whether he should believe Campbell. He wanted to. And he didn’t want to.

Why would Campbell agree to help him?

They didn’t like each other. Although Colin had to admit that most of the dislike was on his end. Campbell never indicated whether he disliked Colin or not. Likely because the MacLeans didn’t even register in Campbell’s world.

The MacLeans were a small clan. The Campbells were one of the largest clans in Scotland.

So then why would Campbell help him?

He’d said he was doing Sutherland a favor. That made sense. Sutherland could have asked Campbell for this favor although Colin hated that his friend would be beholden to Campbell on his behalf.

The sun disappeared. Colin couldn’t see the sun but he could tell by the light in the corridor that it was moving toward evening.

The last meal of the day arrived. Another bowl of slop, barely edible. Colin didn’t even spare it a glance. The thought of ingesting any sort of food turned his stomach.

He pushed his bowl toward his cellmate and the lad nearly inhaled Colin’s bowl as well as his own.

Darkness fell. The only light came from the torches lining the outer corridor. Colin’s eyes began to droop and he had to continually force them open.

It was late when he heard the footsteps. Normally the guards didn’t pass through after the evening meal, apparently secure in the knowledge that their prisoners would remain where they were put.

The footsteps slowed then stopped when they got to Colin’s cell. A key turned in the lock and the footsteps hurried away.

Still Colin sat there, not convinced this was real. Was Campbell setting him up? To what end? Colin was already scheduled to die. Getting caught while trying to escape would only speed his death up by a few hours.

Slowly he stood, but he had to lean against the wall for a bit to gather his strength. Damn but this sickness was making him weak.

He made his way to the door and pushed on it until it swung open soundlessly and still Colin stood there. He looked one way up the corridor and the other way down the corridor. It was empty except for the flickering shadows cast by the wall torches. The other prisoners had settled down for the night. Colin could hear snores coming from the other cells and a few mumblings of prisoners in their sleep.

He stepped out of the cell but something made him look back.

His cellmate was watching him. He hadn’t moved, was sitting perfectly still, almost unnaturally still. He was a small thing, too young to be condemned to death in an English prison.

A burst of laughter from the guards upstairs startled Colin.

“Come,” he said softly.

The lad didn’t move.

Colin motioned to him. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

The lad scrambled to his feet with the nimbleness that only the young possessed.

“Make no sound,” Colin said, second-guessing his impulsive decision. It must be the sickness addling his mind but he knew he couldn’t leave the lad there to fend for himself. Although they’d spoken hardly at all, they’d experienced one hell of a nightmare together and Colin couldn’t leave him.

The boy followed Colin down the corridor, his feet silent on the concrete floor. He climbed through the window quick and agile as a cat and less than five minutes after stepping foot outside of their cell they were racing across the wide-open expanse of dirt and gravel toward the trees.

Colin’s heart was racing, so certain he was of a bullet to his back. His feet felt heavy, his lungs struggled to pull in the breaths needed to run. His back and shoulders hurt like the devil and he felt the blood running down his side.

The lad easily kept up, checking his strides to keep pace with Colin, barely out of breath.

They reached the trees just as a shout went up and the dogs started barking.