Drew_A Historical Scottish Romance Novel_Highlanders Warriors Clan McClair
Drew: A Historical Scottish Romance Novel
Highlanders Warriors Clan McClair
Barbara Bard
Copyright © 2017 by Barbara Bard
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Do you want more?
About Barbara Bard
Introduction
Sarah, a timid handmaiden, is forced to pretend to be someone she's not in order to avoid death at the hands of the cruel Lord Flynn. Pretending that she's his bride, the wedding draws closer and she knows the truth will be revealed, bringing humiliation for Lord Flynn and death to her.
* * *
Up in the Highlands, Drew is forced to try and placate growing discontent as the people around him grumble about his brother's relationship with Rosemary, the English girl he saved. Drew himself is unsure of her intentions, and vows never to trust the English.
* * *
Yet both Sarah and Drew are on an inexorable path.
* * *
Forces out of their control are moving to bring the English and the Highlanders to war. On the eve of her wedding, Sarah is brought to the front lines of the war, and sees him as her only chance for escape. Drew sees the war as the chance to end the English threat once and for all.
* * *
When the two of them meet under unexpected circumstances will Sarah's fear of the Highlanders prevent her from helping a man in need? They are the people who killed her parents, after all. And will Drew's hatred of the English prevent him from recognizing Sarah's beauty?
* * *
War is a time for glory, but there is no greater glory than love.
1
Sarah returned to her chambers, hyperventilating. Closing the door behind her, she also closed her eyes, wishing that the ground would swallow her up whole. Being in such close proximity to Lord Harold Flynn was nerve-wracking. At any moment he could have discovered her lie.
* * *
It had only been a few days since Sarah had been traveling through the forest with her friend, Rosemary. Rosemary was the lady to whom Lord Flynn was betrothed, but Rosemary had fled after a group of Lord Flynn's guards had done...something. Even now, Sarah wasn't sure what it was, nor was she sure where Rosemary had gone.
* * *
She remembered that night vividly, how she and Rosemary had been driven by a man named George. They had been settling down for the night in the dark woods when another wagon came along. Rosemary had suspected something strange since the men were being held in cages and the men guarding the wagon were acting strangely. Being a curious creature, Lady Rosemary had gone to investigate. That was the last time Sarah had seen her. The only other clue Sarah had to her whereabouts had been from some bandits who appeared on the night of Sarah's arrival at Lord Flynn's estate. Now Sarah's heart was riddled with anxiety for her dearest friend.
* * *
There had been no word from her, aside from that of the bandits. When they had entered the hall, Sarah thought she was done for. Apparently they had attacked Rosemary and some Scottish brute, and stolen Rosemary's cherished locket. Sarah didn't know which of them had ended up with the worse fate, herself or Rosemary, if indeed she had been kidnapped by a highlander.
* * *
Yet for all her fear, Sarah could not say that Rosemary was in danger, because that would reveal her own deception and Lord Flynn would have no choice but to mete out punishment to her. It was a sorry state of affairs, and both girls had to suffer.
* * *
To try and keep Sarah safe, George, the driver, had told the soldiers that she was in fact Lady Rosemary. Since Lord Flynn had never met Rosemary, he had accepted the lie as truth. Imitating her friend brought shame upon Sarah, for she didn't feel worthy of the status, and had never thought herself anywhere near as beautiful as Rosemary.
* * *
Damn George, and damn this whole mess! No... perhaps it wasn't fair to George. He'd only done what he thought was right to help her life, but it had left her in quite a pickle. For the time being she could pretend to be Rosemary, but the truth would soon come out. Rosemary's father, Charles Brambly, would quickly tell Lord Flynn that Sarah was an impostor. Unless Sarah could explain to him her situation.
* * *
She had always looked up to him. He had taken her in after her parents had been killed in the old war. Was it too much to hope that he would keep her lie? She would have to send him a letter to prepare him, for if he saw her his reaction would surely leave the truth with nowhere to hide. But what then? Was she supposed to live her life as a lady, keeping this truth from Lord Flynn?
* * *
Sarah wasn't sure she wanted that either, not when she had seen Lord Flynn up close. He had all the makings of an English gentleman, but lacked the wholesome goodness she had hoped to find. The moment when he examined her for the truth stuck with her. There was something cruel in his eyes. It had felt as though he was peering into her soul, and it made her skin crawl.
* * *
Somehow, she had to escape. This wasn't her life, and when the truth came out she would be shamed and punished for her actions. The best she could hope for was being banished, otherwise she would be locked up in a dungeon and forgotten. Either way, it was a sorry end, and not one she would have foreseen.
* * *
Moving towards the bed, she perched herself on the edge and placed her head in her hands. Soft sobs began to make her body shudder, and warm tears trickled along her palms. This was all such a mess, and because of her frayed emotions she wasn't even able to enjoy the opulent home in which Lord Flynn lived. He was a man of great wealth and evidently had no qualms about showing it.
* * *
Her chambers, for instance, were filled with extravagance. The bed had four posts and was ever so comfortable. It felt as though she was sitting on a cloud. There were artworks hung up on all walls, and ornaments placed on a mantelpiece in front of a huge fire. It was as though she had been placed in a dream, but she found herself wishing she would wake.
* * *
There was a light knocking at the door. Sarah's head shot up. She dried her eyes, dabbing them with a handkerchief, and then tentatively moved towards the door. The show must continue. Whoever this was, she could not let them discover the truth about herself. But what if it was Lord Flynn? Her heart hammered inside her chest as she curled her hand around the golden doorknob and twisted it, opening the door to reveal a demure woman.
* * *
She had delicate features, a slim build, and curled brown hair. Her eyes were wide, and Sarah was envious of her beauty. Then again, she was envious of most other women's be
auty as they were true ladies and she was just an impostor. Never could she compare with their soft skin, their lustrous hair, or the aura of self-confidence they possessed.
* * *
“Rosemary, I'm so pleased to finally meet you! I'm Catherine, Harold's sister. I thought it only right that I introduce myself as I hope we can become good friends. I must admit, at first I was a little jealous when Harold told me he was getting married and another lady would be coming to stay here. I have been used to being the only woman here, but the more I have thought about it, the more I realized that it is a good thing! Finally I have a friend, someone who I can talk to about all the nice things in life without them turning their noses up at me. All Harold wants to talk about is war and horses and all those nasty things.”
* * *
Catherine walked past Sarah and swanned into the room. She took a seat on one of the velvet-lined chairs and placed her hands in her lap. Sarah closed the door slowly, inhaling deeply as she composed herself. Picturing Rosemary in her mind, Sarah tried to become the picture of an English lady, rather than a common handmaid.
* * *
“It's so lovely of you to come and welcome me. I am glad that you are here. To find a kindred spirit was more than I could ask,” Sarah said, returning to the bed.
* * *
“Have you been crying, my dear?” Catherine asked, leaning forward a little, concern etched upon her face.
* * *
Sarah turned her face away. Her hands darted to her eyes, trying to cover the reddened lids.
* * *
“I...yes, I have been weeping. You must think it so silly of me,” Sarah said, seeing no use in denying it.
* * *
“Not at all. On the contrary, it is quite understandable. I imagine that if I were in your position I would be much the same. I suppose it is strange, since you have not come too far from home, but it is still a new environment, and you are away from everything you have known. Then there was all that commotion with those terrible bandits as well,” Catherine said, shaking her head in disbelief.
* * *
“It has been a trying time. Thank you for understanding. I am excited to be here, of course, but as you say it is quite different from what I have known. I had to leave my father, of course.”
* * *
“That must have been very difficult for you. I did ask Harold about you and he said that it was just you and your father? I am so sorry to hear about your mother.”
* * *
“Thank you, although it was years ago now. I have come to terms with her death, although I still think of her every day.”
* * *
“As well you should. I am sure she is looking down on you with pride, and those will probably not be the last tears you shed over her.”
* * *
Sarah didn't find it difficult to talk about the feelings of having lost parents, for she was well acquainted with them. The pain and guilt never quite went away; the thought of always wondering why you survived when they perished, and the broken link to the past.
* * *
“If you don't mind me asking, how did she pass?”
* * *
“She was ill,” Sarah said, remembering well the time when Rosemary's mother had fallen ill and subsequently died. It was a far different death than the one suffered by her own parents, who had been slain in a raid by the brutish Highlanders. Not that she could tell Catherine that, of course. It was at that moment when Sarah realized how completely she would have to bury her real life. The color drained from her face. “She was unable to fight the illness. I still remember how it was to see her so weak and ashen, when she had otherwise been so full of life. She kept her spirits up until the end though, and was always smiling. I think that is what I remember about her most, her smile.”
* * *
“It seems to me you have inherited that from her. Your smile is dazzling, and I am sure you will make a most beautiful bride for my brother.”
* * *
“Thank you,” Sarah said, blushing.
* * *
“And do not be too fretful. It will not be too long until the wedding, and then you will be able to see your father again. I imagine that the two of you became quite close after your mother died?”
* * *
“We did indeed. There was just the two of us, and he tried to do everything to lift the cloak of sadness from our house. We tried to celebrate her memory, instead of losing ourselves in a gloomy mood.”
* * *
“I suppose that is all one can do. I am sorry to say that I cannot offer much in the way of understanding to this conversation as I have neither lost a parent or enjoyed a close relationship with either of them.”
* * *
“You haven't?”
* * *
Catherine shook her head and sighed. “Father is always off on his escapades, looking to raise the prestige of our family. Mother was more concerned with her tea parties than anything else. Harold and I were mostly left to our own devices when we were younger, and now that Harold is getting married he will have his own family. I am not sure where that leaves me.”
* * *
“You shall always have a place here, of that I am sure,” Sarah said quickly.
* * *
“Thank you so much. That does mean a lot to me,” Catherine said, her face brightening. “Although I am quite sure that in time I will be promised to a duke in London. Father has always told me I shall not marry below my station, and that he will work on finding the best match for me.”
* * *
“That sounds rather exciting.”
* * *
“Hardly,” Catherine said, a sly look in her eyes, “Father simply wants the best marriage for the family. Knowing him I shall be passed off to some decrepit duke who cannot even walk without aid. At least you have been given to a man in his prime.”
* * *
“Lord Flynn is an impressive specimen. I do consider myself fortunate to be here. Perhaps you could tell me more about him? My father was often quick to tell me about Harold's virtues. There were times when I think he viewed Harold as a younger version of himself. I would be pleased if you could tell me a more personal view.”
* * *
“Ah, where to start with my brother,” Catherine said, tilting her head back. She took a few moments to look around the room, pressing her lips together as she contemplated the question. “Well, if you want complete honesty he was a terror growing up. He would chase and pester me all day long. I think he wanted a brother, and tried to turn me into one,” Catherine tittered with laughter.
* * *
Sarah gasped. “Was it really that bad?”
* * *
“Oh I am just playing, it was just the typical thing that siblings go through.”
* * *
“I do not know about that. I was an only child. I suppose that is why I had such a close relationship with my parents. We did not have anyone else growing up. The only friend I had was my handmaid.”
* * *
“Oh, how awful for you! It must have been challenging to be friends with someone below your station. I am sure they wouldn't have been able to understand the nuances of our lives. Well, you have me now, and the handmaidens can be left to do their job.”
* * *
“Yes, indeed,” Sarah said, holding her tongue. She had always been a good friend to Rosemary, and the two of them had had lots of things in common.
* * *
“Anyway, to continue with the evaluation of my brother, he is charming as I'm sure you've been able to tell by now. He's good at hunting, at cards, at riding. Sometimes I think he would be better suited to living in the wild rather than in a house such as this. He is a passionate man, and sometimes this can lead to rather intense moods, but one just has to learn how to handle him.”
* * *
“And how would I go about doing something like that?”
* * *
“I will te
ll you when I learn,” Catherine laughed again. “The only person who has been able to control him completely is father. All Harold really wants to do is make him proud.”