Laird of the Mist Read online

  Copyright © 2007 by Paula Quinn

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Forever

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  The Forever name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: December 2007

  ISBN: 978-0-446-50371-6

  Contents

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  He stood naked and alone at the

  edge of the loch, its surface set aflame

  by the morning sun.

  “D’ye have somethin’ ye wanted to speak to me about? Or were ye plannin’ on just starin’ at me while I bathed?”

  Kate thought hard about running then. But ’twas too late, he was already turning around to face her. She was thankful, at least, that half his body was covered in water. That is, until his eyes found hers.

  How could they sear her flesh and chill her blood at the same time? They drew her in, inviting her onto a battlefield for which she had never practiced. Looking into them, she wondered what victory would gain her if she was braw enough to engage.

  “Would ye care to join me?”

  Praise for the novels of

  PAULA QUINN

  Lord of Seduction

  “Quinn is an author to watch.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “4 Stars! Readers will fly through the pages and wiggle

  in their seats. Feast on this medieval banquet!”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “Excellent writing and tantalizing romance.”

  —RomRevToday.com

  “This novel captures the era, on both sides of the

  conflict, with masterful skill . . . a fine romance, plenty

  of action, and a few twists in this medieval tale.”

  —ARomanceReview.com

  “Paula Quinn crafts a story in which the details combine

  to make you feel as if you are there with her characters.

  I sighed over the gentleness of the hero and the

  charm of the heroine. LORD OF SEDUCTION

  is not to be missed.”

  —Bookloons.com

  “Bold and passionate medieval romance.”

  —FreshFiction.com

  Lord of Temptation

  “Features a sinfully sexy hero who meets his match in a

  strong-willed heroine . . . An excellent choice for readers

  who like powerful, passion-rich medieval romances.”

  —Booklist

  “Will enchant and entertain . . . Passion, danger,

  treachery, and heartbreak fill the pages of this splendid

  novel . . . don’t miss Lord of Temptation.”

  —RomRevToday.com

  “Quinn’s lively romance . . . offers two spirited

  protagonists as well as engaging minor characters . . .

  The sharp repartee and dramatic finale

  make this a pleasant read.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Quinn wins readers’ hearts with a light touch,

  even as she invokes strong themes of slavery,

  freedom, and the need for independence.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “A truly magnificent tale . . . Dante is a perfect hero

  and lover and Gianelle is special—perfect for each

  other. The passion is fantastic—unbeatable!”

  —RomanceReviewsMag.com

  Lord of Desire

  “Four stars! . . . Fast-paced and brimming with biting,

  sexy repartee, and a sensual cat-and-mouse game.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “Gloriously passionate . . . boldly sensual . . . Quinn

  deftly enhances her debut with just enough historical

  details to give a vivid sense of time and place.”

  —Booklist

  “Fans of medieval romances will enjoy spending

  a few warm summer evenings with this one.”

  —RomanceReadersConnection.com

  “A page-turning experience from beginning to end . . .

  Highly recommended . . . Lord of Desire’s strength

  resides in Ms. Quinn’s talent for characterization

  and storytelling . . . [she] does a fabulous job of

  creating characters to care about, laugh with,

  and shed a tear or two for.”

  —RomRevToday.com

  “A fine historical romance.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “An emotional and compelling story that brings

  together a strong but wounded hero and spirited

  and determined heroine. The characters quickly

  immerse the reader into their lives.”

  —RomanceJunkies.com

  “A novel worthy of movie rights . . . If you love

  a good romance, with a nod toward Ivanhoe,

  then Lord of Desire will be a fine addition

  to your collection. If you have never tried

  a medieval romance, it would be a good choice,

  because it is one of the best in recent years.”

  —ARomanceReview.com

  ALSO BY PAULA QUINN

  Lord of Desire

  Lord of Temptation

  Lord of Seduction

  For the MacGregors

  “While there’s leaves in the forest and foam on the river

  MacGregor despite them shall flourish forever.”

  Acknowledgments

  TO MY HUSBAND, who patiently listened and learned about this brave clan and understood why their story made me cry. And to my children, who lovingly roll their eyes when I try (and fail) to speak with a Scottish burr.

  To my editor, Michele Bidelspach, for each and every word of encouragement. Thank you for your insight and for helping me make this book all it should be.

  To my agent, Andrea Somberg, who always makes me feel like I can do anything. Thank you for your faith
in me.

  To Rika, Gabrielle, Terra, Christy, Rabbit, Willow, Melissa, January, and Dublin, you make every page I sweat over worth it. Thank you for your support and your friendship.

  And to God, for His grace in my life.

  Children of the Mist

  by Frank McNie

  We’re the children of the mist with no land to call home,

  descended from kings but destined to roam.

  We were honoured in battle then hunted like game,

  but the proof of our mettle is we’re still proud of our name.

  They outlawed our clan and the mode of our dress,

  but we never measured allegiance by chance of success.

  Some things we’re not proud of were circumstance led,

  but what prince not a rogue to see his children are fed?

  Our friendship was valued by high born and low,

  our steadfast belief earned respect from our foe.

  No great castles had we and our numbers were few

  but our clansmen before us kept our legacy true.

  Chapter One

  GLEN ORCHY, SCOTLAND

  SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

  KATE CAMPBELL LOOKED her enemy square in his lifeless face and then swung. Her blade severed an arm, but the torso remained intact. Mindless of her uncle’s men honing their battle skills around her, she lifted the ax she gripped in her other hand and grunted as it sank deep into her opponent’s straw chest.

  Swiping her hair away from her eyes, she spied her uncle Duncan crossing the small bailey of her holding. He had arrived in Glen Orchy a few days ago to bring her to Kildun Castle, in Inverary. He’d promised to bring her and her brother to his home when they were children, but at the end of each visit he left without them.

  Their mother died giving Kate life. Their father was killed at Kildun twelve years after that, just before Duncan was named Earl of Argyll, and Kate and Robert’s guardian.

  Kate watched him stalk toward her, his equine legs encased in fine woolen breeches and boots of polished obsidian. His frame was slight, his shoulders narrow beneath an olive doublet. He was built more for priesting than for fighting, though he often bragged of his victories in battle. These battles kept him away from Kildun for months at a time, he’d reminded them many times during his visits, planting a kiss on their foreheads before heading for the doors. Soon he would come to bring them home with him. But he never did. Not even when her father’s vassals began leaving, save for a small handful who raised them.

  Kate met the earl’s gaze briefly, and his gray eyes grew dark with intent that made her skin crawl. He may not have wanted her as a child, but he wanted her now.

  “You brandish your weapons well, Katherine.” He came up behind her and ducked to his right when she hefted her ax over her shoulder for another crushing swipe, this time to her enemy’s thigh.

  Aye, she and Robert had been made to practice day after day. “Amish and John taught us well.”

  Behind her, she heard a tight snort. “They have remained loyal soldiers to my brother these many years. But their duty to him is over now. I will see that they are rewarded.” He leaned over her so that his whispered breath clung to her cheek. “It pleases me to know you would fight back should any man try to ravish you.”

  Kate clutched the handle of her ax and thought about flinging it over her shoulder. “Truly, Uncle, your concern for mine and Robert’s well-being has always warmed my heart. Especially when you used to remind us how fortunate we were that it was the McColls who raided Glen Orchy every other fortnight, and not the murderous MacGregors.” He hadn’t cared that a Highlander might ravish her while she was growing up, or that there were but a handful of men left in the garrison to fight them if they did.

  “When you were a child, the only thing the raiders wanted was sheep. I knew you were safe here. But now you are a woman and the Highlanders will take more than your livestock.” His breath glided over her throat. Kate cringed and brought her ax down hard on her opponent, raining hay on their heads.

  “I do not fear any man who thinks to come here to steal my virtue, Uncle.”

  “And if our enemy should fall upon you?”

  Kate knew whom he meant. He’d spoken of them countless times over the years. “There are hardly any Mac-Gregors left in Scotland worth fretting over. I’m certain I shall never meet one.”

  “There are enough of them left to continue to back the royalists’ cause.” The earl curled his finger around a raven lock that fell over her shoulder. “We must not forget how they joined forces with their Catholic Marquis of Montrose against us. Or how many of our kinsmen have died during their murderous rampages. Remember I told you how they massacred the Covenanters without mercy at Kilsyth? I will not let you fall to them, as well. You will do as I say and come home with me.” He gave her hair a tug, as if to remind her that he would not let her refuse.

  “This is my home,” she said, stabbing her opponent in the throat.

  “Not anymore.” When she stiffened at his sharp retort, he softened his tone. “Robert is eager to see you. It has been near three months since he has set eyes on his beloved sister.”

  Kate missed her brother terribly, but he had chosen his path. “My brother has waited years to give his service to the realm, but I am content here, Uncle.”

  His laughter raked across her ear. “With a few old men and a handful of servants? What could you hope to do against the Devil, should he find you?”

  Kate was certain he already had and was standing behind her at this very moment. Her uncle was trying his best to frighten her into leaving with him, by reminding her of the horrid MacGregors the way children taunt each other with tales of beasties. The most terrifying of them all: The Devil, who had killed over fifty Campbells six years ago in a massacre that had made him legend—and made her and Robert orphans.

  Duncan hauled her closer and gritted his teeth. “Have you forgotten already that he killed my father and yours?”

  “Nae,” Kate answered without turning. “I have not forgotten.” Indeed, Kate hated him, but she did not concern herself with legends or the foolishness of fearing them.

  “And you do not fear such a blood-lustful man?” he demanded while she swung again.

  “Nae, I will kill him if ever I meet him,” she vowed, decapitating her enemy with her sword.

  “You never will.” The earl slid his hand down her arm until his fingers covered hers. He jabbed her blade into her lifeless opponent, a groan tangling in his throat as he pressed her back to his chest. “Tomorrow you will return with me to Kildun. Only there will you be safe from our enemy.”

  Kate stopped fighting and ground her teeth when he kissed the back of her head. “You are my enemy, as well,” she murmured as he swaggered back to his men. She brought her ax upward instead of down; it struck and wedged tightly between her opponent’s legs.

  Leaving the ax where it landed, Kate sheathed her sword and walked off toward the meadow where her sheep grazed oblivious and innocent to the lusty wiles of men. It sickened her when she thought of why her uncle wanted her. She’d known of his depravity for some time but had never told Robert. She hadn’t truly thought Duncan would come for her, even after Robert went to live with him, so there was no need. But now he was here and so anxious to get her out of Glen Orchy, she was certain he would drag her there tied to his horse if he had to. Did he think Robert would let him touch her once they arrived at Kildun? Fool. Her brother would slice off Duncan’s hands, uncle or not. Robert was noble and valiant, with a strong sense of duty to protect his clan. It was he who taught her Malory and Monmouth’s tales of Arthur Pendragon and his knights of the Round Table. And it was the terrible tales of the savage MacGregors that drove him to leave their home three months ago and join the other knights of Inverary.

  Robert had begged her to go with him, but Kate did not want to leave her home, and she certainly did not want to live with her uncle. She was safe here. The raiders were bothersome but not terribly dange
rous.

  Amish had made her and her brother vow to never lift a weapon to the mountain men. Their raiding, he had told them, was a way of life. They did not come to kill, so long as they were not attacked. Not so the MacGregors. For over two centuries they were considered the scourge of Scotland: uncivilized barbarians with no regard for honor or a man’s family. So heinous were their crimes against the Campbells and their allies that their name had been proscribed over fifty years ago.

  Amish and John never spoke ill of them, though, even after the Devil killed her father. Hatred, they told her as her father had, was poison to the soul.

  Kate wiped her fist across her ear, where the stale smell of her uncle’s breath still lingered. Hatred might be poison, but if he ever touched her again he would feel the power of it when her blade sliced open his heart.

  A thunderous cry from the braes above pierced her thoughts. Her face paled. Raiders! She turned, looking back at her uncle’s men already drawing their swords. Nae! She sped toward them, praying as she ran that she could reach her uncle’s men before the Highlanders did.

  Callum MacGregor, clan chieftain of the MacGregors, reined in his mount atop the crest of a hill and watched the small battle taking place in the vale below. His dark brows creased over his eyes as he scanned the men engaged in the melee around the Campbell holding and those lying dead in the grass. Duncan Campbell was not among them.

  “Looks like we’ve stumbled upon a raid by the McColls,” said one of the four men flanking him.

  “Ye said the Earl of Argyll would be here, Graham.” The chieftain cut his gaze to his first in command.

  “He’s here,” his commander assured confidently while he rotated the cap tilted jauntily atop his mane of honeyed curls to a backward position. If any man had reason to be so certain of his words, ’twas Graham Grant. After pretending to be a Campbell from Breadalbane and living in Kildun Castle for the last pair of months, Graham knew all there was to know about the Inverary Campbells and the tenth Earl of Argyll. “This was his brother Colin’s homestead. He’s come here to retrieve his niece.” Graham pointed into the vale at the soldiers. “Campbell’s men are here. Mayhap he hides in the keep. We know he lacks courage.”

  “Save fer when he’s brandin’ MacGregor women,” said another man, a bit broader of shoulder than the rest. He popped the cork off a leather pouch dangling from his belt and raised it to his mouth.