Highland Warrior Read online

  Table of Contents

  ROMANTIC TIMES RAVES ABOUT NEWYORK TIMES BESTSELLlNG AUTHOR CONNIE MASON!

  Praise

  SUCCUMBING TO THE ENEMY

  Other Leisure and Love Spell books by Connie Mason:

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Caithness Province, Scottish Highlands, 1415

  Braemoor Castle

  Ravenscraig Tower

  Chapter Two

  Ravenscraig Tower

  St. Tears Chapel

  Braebum Castle

  Ravenscraig Tower

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Ravenscraig Castle

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sinclair Keep

  Ravenscraig Tower

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ROMANTIC TIMES RAVES ABOUT NEWYORK TIMES BESTSELLlNG AUTHOR CONNIE MASON!

  A TASTE OF PARADISE

  “This deep-sigh love story is ideal

  for whiling away an afternoon.”

  A KNIGHT’S HONOR

  “This is classic Mason. Her fans will

  put this on the top of their to-read lists.”

  GYPSY LOVER

  “Mason’s romances are always a feast for readers

  seeking a passionate, exciting story peopled with larger-

  than-life heroes who take your breath away.”

  THE PIRATE PRINCE

  “A legend of the genre, Mason delivers a tried-and-true

  romance with a classic plot and highly engaging characters.”

  THE LAST ROGUE

  “A delight.... This is a must read for Mason fans.”

  SEDUCED BY A ROGUE

  “Another wonderful story filled with

  adventure, witty repartee and hot sex.”

  THE ROGUEAND THE HELLION

  “Ms. Mason has written another winner to delight

  her fans who want sexual tension that leads to hot explosion,

  memorable characters and a fast-paced story.”

  THE LAIRD OF STONEHAVEN

  “[Ms. Mason] crafts with excellence and creativity...

  [and] the added attraction of mystery and magic.”

  LIONHEART

  “...Upholds the author’s reputation for creating

  memorable stories and remarkable characters.”

  MORE ROMANTIC TIMES PRAISE FOR CONNIE MASON!

  THE DRAGON LORD

  “This is a real keeper, filled with historical fact,

  sizzling love scenes and wonderful characters.”

  THE BLACK KNIGHT

  “Ms. Mason has written a rich medieval romance

  filled with tournaments, chivalry, lust and love.”

  THE OUTLAWS: SAM

  “Ms. Mason always provides the reader with a hot romance...

  plot twists and wonderful characters....A marvelous storyteller.”

  THE OUTLAWS: JESS

  “Jess is filled with adventure and passion. Ms. Mason delivers.”

  THE OUTLAWS: RAFE

  “Ms. Mason begins this new trilogy with

  wonderful characters...steamy romance...excellent

  dialogue...[and an] exciting plot!”

  GUNSLINGER

  “Ms. Mason has created memorable characters and

  a plot that made this reader rush to turn the pages....

  Gunslinger is an enduring story.”

  PIRATE

  “Ms. Mason has written interesting characters

  into a twisting plot filled with humor and pathos.”

  BEYOND THE HORIZON

  Ms. Mason “draws readers into this fast-paced,

  tender and emotional historical romance that

  proves love really does conquer all!”

  BRAVE LAND, BRAVE LOVE

  “An utter delight from first page to last—

  funny, tender, adventurous, and highly romantic!”

  SUCCUMBING TO THE ENEMY

  His mouth, now just inches from her lips, lowered. This time there was nothing gentle in his kiss as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth and tasted her thoroughly. Before Gillian could bite him again, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, his tongue tangling with hers. “What...are...you...doing?” Gillian asked on a gasp. He raised his head. “Do you like it?”

  “I ... nay, I like naught you do to me.”

  “Liar.”

  Gillian felt her resistance slowly ebbing. What kind of man was the MacKenna to burrow through her defenses so quickly? What kind of woman was she to succumb so easily to her enemy? Her body felt heavy, sluggish, his kisses drugging. His mouth and tongue were doing things to her she never imagined possible. And now he was kissing her...again.

  “MacKenna! Stop!”

  Other Leisure and Love Spell books by Connie Mason:

  A TASTE OF PARADISE

  A KNIGHT’S HONOR

  GYPSY LOVER

  THE PIRATE PRINCE

  THE LAST ROGUE

  THE LAIRD OF STONEHAVEN

  TO LOVE A STRANGER

  SEDUCED BY A ROGUE

  TO TAME A RENEGADE

  LIONHEART

  A LOVE TO CHERISH

  THE ROGUE AND THE HELLION

  THE DRAGON LORD

  THE OUTLAWS: SAM

  THE OUTLAWS: JESS

  THE OUTLAWS: RAFE

  THE BLACK KNIGHT

  GUNSLINGER

  BEYOND THE HORIZON

  PIRATE

  BRAVE LAND, BRAVE LOVE

  WILD LAND, WILD LOVE

  BOLD LAND, BOLD LOVE

  VIKING!

  SURRENDER TO THE FURY

  FOR HONOR’S SAKE

  LORD OF THE NIGHT

  TEMPT THE DEVIL

  PROMISE ME FOREVER

  SHEIK

  ICE & RAPTURE

  LOVE ME WITH FURY

  SHADOW WALKER

  FLAME

  TENDER FURY

  DESERT ECSTASY

  A PROMISE OF THUNDER

  PURE TEMPTATION

  WIND RIDER

  TEARS LIKE RAIN

  THE LION’S BRIDE

  SIERRA

  TREASURES OF THE HEART

  CARESS & CONQUER

  PROMISED SPLENDOR

  WILD IS MY HEART

  MY LADY VIXEN

  A LEISURE BOOK®

  March 2007

  Published by

  Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  200 Madison Avenue

  New York, NY 10016

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Copyright © 2007 by Connie Mason

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  ISBN 1-4285-0265-3

  The name “Leisure Books” and the stylized “L” with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  Printed in the United States of America.<
br />
  Visit us on the web at www.dorchesterpub.com.

  Chapter One

  Caithness Province, Scottish Highlands, 1415

  The clash of swords, the cry of the wounded, and the sharp scent of gore rose above the eerie mists swirling around the combatants. The blood feud over land, supremacy and vengeance raged unabated in the glacier-scored valley separating MacKenna land from the MacKay holdings. The feud had had its beginnings a century ago, when Clan MacKenna won Ravenscraig Tower and the surrounding fertile lands from Clan MacKay; they had been bitter enemies ever since.

  Laird Ross of Clan MacKenna, a fierce and courageous warrior, flexed the muscles in his bulging forearms as he wielded his claymore in his clan’s defense. He fought side by side with his kinsmen, wincing every time one of them fell beneath a MacKay sword. Ross knew Clan MacKenna couldn’t afford to lose another family member. Too many of his kinsmen had died feuding with the MacKays and their allies over the years. Constant warring had taken its toll. They had seen their lands decrease and their resources dwindle.

  Ross’s own father and one of his uncles had fallen beneath a MacKay claynaore, and so had his younger brother and several cousins. Ross knew this senseless killing had to stop, but he had no idea how to end it.

  “Watch your back!” Ross’s uncle Gordo yelled from behind him.

  Ross whirled, his tartan swirling about his powerful thighs as he faced this new challenge. His eyes widened as a veritable virago bore down on him, red hair flipping about a delicate, fine-boned face, and a MacKay tartan flying about calves and thighs far too shapely to belong to a seasoned warrior.

  Ross immediately checked the downward stroke of his claymore, a stroke that would have cleaved the lassie in two if he had followed through. But that did not stop the warrior woman from jabbing her claymore at Ross, nicking his thigh.

  “Cease, lass!” Ross roared. “I doona kill women”

  “Lass or nay, I’m a MacKay!” the woman shouted back. “Defend yourself or die!”

  She came at him again, flame-red hair flowing behind her, gem-green eyes glittering. The wind caught the edge of her tartan, giving him a flash of a firm white buttock. The sight so mesmerized Ross that he nearly forgot to defend himself. But his senses returned in time for him to deflect her blow.

  “Desist, I say!” Ross growled. “Who are you?”

  “Your enemy,” the woman panted as she ducked out of reach of Ross’s sword.

  “I doona want to kill you, but I will it you refuse to leave the battlefield.”

  “You can try,” the woman taunted. “I trained with my brothers—you willna find me easy to slay.”

  Though Ross had to admit the flame-haired lass was adept with a sword, she was no match for a warrior renowned for his fighting skills. Ross continued to dodge and parry his opponent’s efforts without inflicting too much harm, though he was growing weary of this child’s play.

  The day was waning. Wisps of mist peeled away daylight as the sun dropped behind the Cuillin Hills. It was no longer possible to distinguish the MacKenna red-and-black tartan from the MacKay green and blue. From the comer of his eye, Ross surveyed the battlefield. Men from both clans lay on the ground, while others helped their wounded comrades off to the sidelines.

  Ross spotted the MacKay laird bending over a body that lay unmoving in the blood-soaked dirt. He heard the laird’s anguished cry and saw him beat his chest. Obviously someone dear to the man had fallen.

  Ross could scarcely see his opponent now for the dark mist that swirled around him. He cursed as the lass continued to hack away at him. Though she deliberately aimed for vital parts, her efforts were hindered by Ross’s skill and the lengthening shadows.

  Suddenly the MacKay laird appeared at the lass’s side, his face contorted by grief. Grasping the lass’s arm, he pulled her away from Ross’s deadly sword.

  “Gillian, what are you doing here?”

  “Fighting,” Gillian replied. “Let me go. I have the MacKenna laird where I want him. Let me finish him off.”

  Ross nearly laughed aloud. It would be a cold day in hell when a lass got the better of Ross MacKenna.

  Tearlach MacKay glared at Ross. “1’m taking my dead home. Let the battle be over for now.” So saying, he dragged the flame-haired warrior woman away.

  “We’ll meet again, MacKenna; count on it,” the woman shouted.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Ross returned.

  Ross turned away, the woman instantly forgotten as he looked over the battlefield. Too many dead and wounded, he thought, shaking his head. The feud was killing men in their prime from both Clan MacKenna and Clan MacKay But no matter how hard he tried to envision it, Ross saw no peace as long as Clan MacKay continued to demand the return of Ravenscraig and the fertile lands surrounding the tower.

  “You’d best come, lad,” Gordo said. “Your cousin Gunn is among the fallen.”

  Ross snapped his head around. “Gunn? He is but a lad, scarcely old enough to wield a sword.”

  “Aye, but wield one he did, and he is likely to die for his bravery.”

  “Take me to him,” Ross ordered.

  His body limp, his face pale, Gunn lay on the cold ground, his life’s blood quickly draining from him. The boy, still a gangly youth despite his muscular body, opened his eyes.

  “Och, lad, why didna you remain at Ravenscraig, as I asked you?” Ross choked out.

  Somehow Gunn found the energy to shake his head. “I couldna remain with the women, Ross. Not as long as I am able to wield a sword. You taught me yourself.”

  Ross leaned close. Gunn’s words were so softly spoken, Ross could barely hear him. “Hang on, lad. Old Gizela will fix you up as good as new.”

  A light rain began to fall, dampening spirits as well as clothing. Ross whipped off his distinctive red-and-black plaid and placed it over his cousin. He felt neither the cold nor the sting of rain; what he felt was a bone-deep sorrow. And anger.

  “How bad is it, Gordo?” Ross asked.

  Gordo knelt in the blood-drenched dirt and lightly touched Gunn’s rapidly cooling flesh. “He’s gone, Ross.”

  “Naaay!” Ross shouted up to the heavens. “ ’Tis not fair. Did you see which MacKay struck the killing blow, Gordo?”

  “Nay, lad, it could have been any one of them.”

  “Even the woman,” Ross said beneath his breath as he scooped Gunn into his arms and carried him back to Ravenscraig Tower.

  Braemoor Castle

  Gillian paced her chamber, waiting for her father to determine her punishment. She didn’t regret joining her father and brothers in their ongoing battle with Clan MacKenna. She had been training with her brothers for years and felt competent enough to fight the enemy. She was of an age to make her own decisions, and joining the battle had been her choice. She had been willing to suffer the consequences; why was her father so angry?

  The sheer exhilaration of actually wielding a sword in battle against the hated MacKenna laird had left Gillian too excited to rest. She replayed in her mind the exact moment she’d realized she had engaged Ross MacKenna in battle and was holding her own against him. If Da hadn’t dragged her away, she might have driven her sword straight into her enemy’s heart. What a grand day that would have been!

  It was rumored that Ross MacKenna was nearly invincible on the battlefield. Bards sang his praises throughout the Highlands. From what she had seen, the man was certainly bonny enough. “Twas said his clan was descended from the Norse Vikings who’d settled Caithness centuries ago, and Ross MacKenna lacked none of the renowned Viking fierceness.

  Though the MacKenna’s sky-blue eyes had glittered at her with malice, she could see why women spun tales about his prowess in bed. Admittedly, his muscular body might hold appeal for some women, but not for her. She preferred the more refined Angus Sinclair to a rough and violent man like the MacKenna. Gillian was as good as promised to the Sinclair laird, and was eager for the betrothal to be finalized.

  Footsteps sou
nded outside her door. Gillian braced herself as her father burst into the chamber. Tearlach MacKay, a large, barrel-chested man in his middle years, wore an expression that sent Gillian’s heart plummeting to her toes. Rage softened by sadness shimmered within the depths of his dark eyes.

  “Name my punishment,” Gillian challenged. “Just don’t expect me to regret what I did. I can fight as well as Tavis. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to raise a sword in the clan’s defense?”

  The MacKay’s fists clenched at his sides. “Tavis is dead. He died on the battlefield.”

  Gillian’s knees buckled; she stumbled to a bench and sat down heavily. Tavis was Gillian’s younger brother by one year and dearly loved by her. “Nay, it canna be.”

  “ ’Tis true, lass. His body is being prepared as we speak. Tavis is my second son to die by a MacKenna’s sword; do you think I want to lose my only daughter in the same way?”

  Gillian searched her father’s face, frightened by what she saw there. Weariness etched deep lines around his eyes, and his hair seemed to have grown gray overnight. Damn the MacKenna for tearing apart her family. First Loren and now Tavis. When would it all end?

  “I canna lose another bairn,” MacKay lamented. “And you,” he said, pointing a thick finger at her, “deliberately placed yourself in danger. A battleground is no place for a lass. You were mad to challenge the MacKenna. The man is heartless; he could have sliced you in two with little effort.”