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  Undeniable

  Highlands Forever, Book Two

  Violetta Rand

  Copyright © 2018 by Violetta Rand

  Kindle Edition

  Published by Dragonblade Publishing, an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Books from Dragonblade Publishing

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Connect with Violetta Rand

  Prologue

  Constantinople, 1463

  Nay Highlander feared the sea—even if a wicked storm threatened to smash his ship into a thousand pieces. Jamie MacKay shivered and pulled his hood up as he stepped onto the pier, eyeing the angry, black sky overhead. Lightening exploded, followed by the loudest crack of thunder he’d ever heard.

  His time in the great city of Constantinople, now called Istanbul since the Ottomans conquered it, had finally come to an end. Jamie had successfully completed his cousin’s affairs, reducing to order all of Laird MacKay’s properties and servants and was proud to return with enough profit to keep his clan comfortable for generations to come. Three leather bags filled with coin were secured beneath the folds of his tartan. He rested his hand protectively over his right hip, reassuring himself the gold was safe.

  Like any good Scot, he missed home. But something about this place… He turned around, taking in the sights and smells—a thriving market surrounded the harbor, welcoming water-weary visitors from around the world. Jamie closed his eyes, reliving the passionate nights with the woman who had gladly welcomed him into her bed, knowing the arrangement was temporary, knowing Jamie would eventually leave. But he’d rewarded Hana with a house and coin; her family would never want for anything.

  Aye, twas no mystery why his cousin had lost his soul to this exotic place. For as much beauty as it held, the cobblestone streets were stained with blood from the thousands of martyrs who had died in defense of its secrets and wealth.

  Jamie wiped the rain from his face and continued walking down the sturdy, plank walkway. Men shouldna have access to so many temptations. And men shouldna gaze into the wide, black eyes of the exquisite women who lived there. Perhaps that’s why most of the women wore veils. To protect strangers like Jamie, to keep him from falling in love and abandoning everything he held sacred in the Highlands.

  Jamie.

  Who had called him?

  No one stood out.

  Jamie.

  An old woman smiled at him, pointing. “You are the Highlander, Jamie MacKay?” she asked in broken Gaelic.

  He scratched his head, trying to place her, trying to remember if he’d ever seen or met the woman before. “What do ye want?”

  “Give me your hand.” She edged closer, her tanned face weathered from years in the hot sun.

  He shook his head, something deep inside warning him to get away. “I doona know ye. Go back to yer family. Women shouldna be at the harbor alone.” Though he knew the statement meant nothing, for the stranger was well beyond the age of childbearing, granting her more freedom than any young woman possessed.

  “Why do you fear me?” she asked, unmoving. “Is it my eyes?”

  Jamie hadna noticed before. Her left eye was green, her right brown. Though a rare physical characteristic, he’d known another woman with two different-colored eyes in Scotland. “Nay, woman. Yer eyes doona scare me. I am in a hurry.”

  “To return to your hom
eland? Where another woman is fated to fall in love with you?”

  Her words grabbed his interest, as they were meant to. “What is this babbling? What woman? What homeland?”

  “Alba.”

  For the love of Christ… How did she know him? “Is it coin ye want?”

  She laughed. “I have been well compensated to seek you out, Highlander. Your woman, Hana, has sent me as a parting gift.”

  For what purpose? Surely not… Had he left Hana that dissatisfied, that bitter? Twould take an ungodly amount of ale to make him…

  Again, the old woman laughed at him. “You limit yourself by thinking like a man. I am not here to warm your bed. I am the greatest fiosaiche in Istanbul.”

  Jamie took in her colorful robes made of the finest material, the red head covering, her white teeth, and the gold bracelets on her delicate wrists. Someone cared for her—only a wealthy family could afford such luxuries. “I am in nay need of a soothsayer.” He rubbed the back of his neck, anxious to join his men on ship. “Return to Hana and thank her for thinking of me.” He turned to go, but the woman gripped his arm.

  “You are not a coward,” she said.

  Jamie sighed and faced her. “It doesna take divine powers to make such an observation.”

  “No,” she agreed. “You are a strong man. Loyal. Stubborn. Foolish sometimes. But keenly aware of what you want. Hana prepared your heart for the woman you are meant to love and protect.”

  Hana was a skilled courtesan. Beautiful and energetic. The last thing he associated with his former lover was anything related to his heart. “My heart doesna require anything, woman. I am more stalwart than the fortifications of this great city.”

  She grinned. “Great city? The city of many names? A place where too many spirits wait for vengeance. Never return here. Though you do not believe in my abilities, I will tell you two things I hope you will remember. You will be the father of a new land, a new people.”

  This time Jamie chuckled. “I am a servant—sent here to…”

  “Laird MacKay? Yes. He is an accomplished prince. Half of the city knows who he is—some miss him, some wish him a long and painful death. You are his kinsman, sent to eliminate any connection he has to this place. But tell him, once anyone spills blood on the desert sand, whether his own or another man’s, he becomes part of this land. Nothing can change that.”

  Jamie shifted his feet, starting to believe her. “And the second thing you wanted to tell me?”

  “Eager to depart? Good.”

  “Aye.”

  “The woman who will claim you, her name will remind you of Hana. Let that serve as my mark of the truth I speak. You will have a long and meaningful life.”

  Without another word, the woman disappeared into the crowd, leaving Jamie with an uneasy feeling in his gut. What had she meant by saying he’d be the father of a new land, a new people? He served at the pleasure of his cousin, the MacKay. To rise against him would be considered treasonous.

  “Jamie?” His friend and interpreter, Kuresh, called.

  Relieved to hear a familiar voice, Jamie said, “Is the ship ready?”

  “Yes. What did the old witch tell you?”

  “Witch?”

  “Nudar. She is famous.”

  Jamie slapped his friend on the back and started for the ship. “Nothing of importance.”

  Within the hour, Jamie ordered his men to set sail, the desire to breathe Highland air again, stronger than ever.

  Chapter One

  Clan MacKay lands

  Northern shore of the Scottish Highlands, 1465

  Helen Sutherland remembered the day her dear friend had shown up at Dunrobin Castle. Keely MacKay tried to be gracious, but she was desperate and hungry, her beautiful black hair a tangled mess, and her gown soaked from the rain. Whatever or whoever the lady was running from had brought her to Helen, who wouldna turn away a stray dog, much less a woman. With a whispered word in her father’s ear, the earl granted Keely safe haven. And in the five years Keely had stayed with her, Helen had gained a sister.

  All of Helen’s hope hung on those fond memories. If Laird MacKay or Keely turned her away, she’d have no choice but to return home to a father she dinna trust. She dismounted and walked the short distance to the closed gates of the MacKay keep. A dozen torches were lit along the wall, casting shadows on the freshly fallen snow. Helen looked about as a deep chill made her teeth chatter. Though she was wearing fur-lined boots and a fur cloak, the cold deprived her of all warmth. She’d been riding for days on little sleep and even less food.

  “Who is there?” A man called to her.

  “I am a friend of Lady Keely and have traveled a long way to see her.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “Please, sir,” Helen pleaded. “Tell the laird I am here.”

  There was movement behind the gate and it opened part way. “Who is here?” the guard asked.

  She lowered her hood. “Helen.”

  The man looked her up and down, not hiding his admiration. “If it’s a warm bed ye seek, we need not bother the laird.”

  Helen chewed on her bottom lip, afraid if she offended the guard that he’d never let her inside the bailey. Which made her wonder why he wouldna open the gate to a lone woman. He must be drunk. “I thank ye for yer generous offer, but the laird must know I am here.”

  The guard grunted. “As ye wish, Helen.” He said her name as if she was beneath him.

  She must make it clear who she was, that she expected to be treated with respect and dignity. Though she preferred not using her sire’s name to gain favor, she’d do it to ensure her safety. “Helen Sutherland,” she clarified.

  The guard’s shoulders stiffened. “The earl’s daughter?”

  “Aye.”

  The man scratched his head, then turned back from the gate. “Stay with Lady Sutherland while I get Laird Alex.”

  “Aye,” a male voice said as the gate opened wider, revealing a younger man with red hair. “Ye are a long way from home.”

  “Aye.” And the farther she got, the better her chances for happiness.

  “Here.” The soldier flung a wineskin at her. “Take a drink, it will warm ye from the inside out.”

  Helen dinna care what was in the skin. She drank greedily, choking down the foul-tasting liquid. The guard chuckled as she handed the skin back. “Thank ye.”

  He nodded and took a swig. “Makes a man unafraid of anything. Not sure what it will do to a woman.”

  Helen could only guess as the warmth the strong spirits caused in her belly slowly spread to her arms and legs.

  “The laird is coming,” the lad said, straightening as he hid the wineskin under his cloak.

  Helen prepared herself for what she’d say to the man she’d never met but had heard so much about. Her sire hated Alexander MacKay and everything he represented. But her eldest brother respected the laird—he has bollocks of steel—that’s what Gawain had said after Alex had sent home her bastard brother, Struan, trussed up like a wild beast with a missive stuck in his mouth.

  “Helen Sutherland?” The gates opened all the way.

  “Aye.” Helen immediately felt at ease. Alex MacKay was fair-haired and tall. He possessed the noble features of a Highland laird, yet there was a savage air about him, like a crouching beast waiting to strike.

  “I am Alex MacKay, Keely’s husband.”

  Helen curtsied. “I know it is late, and I am sorry to disturb the peace in yer home. But my father is unreliable, and I had to get away before he married me off to a decrepit and cruel laird from the isles. This is the only place I thought of—Keely is my only friend. There is nowhere else for me to go.”

  Would he accept her? She’d risked everything to get away from Dunrobin, and had done it with such ease because no one would ever suspect her of doing anything wrong. Helen had been the perfect daughter until her father announced her betrothal to Laird Munroe—a man fifteen years her senior with a violent reputation, six i
llegitimate daughters, and two dead wives. The man needed an heir.

  “Ye are welcome here,” Alex said.

  It took her a moment to understand what he meant. “I am?”

  “Aye.” He offered his arm and she took it, her leather boots crunching through the snow as they walked together.

  “Where is yer escort?” Alex asked, obviously surprised she would be travelling by herself.

  “Escort?” she repeated as they stepped inside the great hall.

  Alex ushered her to the hearth and into a chair. Helen removed her wet gloves and leaned close to the fire, rubbing her hands together.

  “Not one man in service to my sire would dare help me. I am chattel, Laird MacKay, meant for one purpose.”

  “And what is that?”

  “To increase my father’s wealth through a strategic marriage. My heart and happiness have no value in my sire’s eyes.”

  “What man did he choose for ye?”

  “Laird Baran Munroe.”

  Alex’s expression darkened. “No friend of the MacKays.”

  “No friend to anyone from what I hear,” she added morosely. “Quick tempered, and a murderer if the rumors are true.”

  “Aye,” Alex said. “His second wife gave birth to a stillborn lass, and he starved her to death soon after. I am sorry for yer misfortune.”

  “As am I.”

  “Surely yer father knows the man’s history.”

  “Aye. That dinna stop him from signing the tochar. Though in my sire’s defense, he made sure to include conditions for my protection—that Laird Munroe would never deprive me of food or beat me to death if I gave him daughters.”

  Alex scratched his chin. “A generous concession on both men’s parts, I am sure. And a good enough reason to beat some sense into the earl for choosing such a man for his only daughter to marry.”

  Helen laughed, something she hadna done in quite a while. “My father isna a bad man, Laird Alex. He’s simply unfit to be my sire. I am to blame, too. For I have been too quiet and far too obedient all these years, leading my sire to think that I would do anything he asked of me.”

  Alex’s sly smile reached his green eyes. “Keely wouldna love a lass so much who dinna have spirit.”