Her Highlander for One Night Read online

  Glynnis waited for most to be leaving the hall and seeking their beds before making her way down the stairway in the far tower, seeking the workroom.

  Easing the latch up and opening the door slowly, she saw that the room was empty. Was it wrong to feel excited about the coming night? Well, excited even while wondering if Iain would arrive as he’d said he would, and worried that he would throw her invitation in her face.

  Glynnis was wagering that the expression in his gaze while he watched her, and his recent touches and caresses under the cover of the dances they shared, meant he would show.

  Everything in her upbringing should prevent her from even considering such a night as this one. She knew that many widows, highborn and low, enjoyed more freedom, but what she was asking of Iain felt...sinful.

  And it was, or rather it would be, if she had the night she wanted.

  Acknowledgments

  A big part of my success has been due to working with excellent editors, and the editors at Harlequin have been some of the best in the business. They have not only helped me plan out my stories but helped me make my books better and my writing stronger. More than that, they have supported me in good times and bad, through the roller coaster that my life has been, too.

  I’ve had the opportunity to work with Melissa Endlich and Tracy Farrell (Senior Editor/Historical) from the New York office. Then with Joanne Grant, Mimi Berchie, Anna Boatman, Megan Haslam and Kathryn Cheshire with Linda Fildew (Senior Editor/Historical) in the London office. Most recently with Linda as my editor and Bryony Green as senior editor of Historical.

  With Linda’s retirement and Bryony’s move up announced recently, I thought this was a good moment to acknowledge these very special professionals and the impact they’ve had on my success with Harlequin Historical. Thank you all.

  TERRI BRISBIN

  Her Highlander for One Night

  When USA TODAY bestselling author Terri Brisbin is not being a glamorous romance author or in a deadline-writing-binge-o-mania, she’s a wife, mom, grandmom and dental hygienist in the southern New Jersey area. A three-time RWA RITA® Award finalist, Terri has had more than forty-five historical and paranormal romance novels, novellas and short stories published since 1998. You can visit her website, www.terribrisbin.com, to learn more about her.

  Books by Terri Brisbin

  Harlequin Historical

  Highland Alliances

  The Highlander’s Substitute Wife

  Sons of Sigurd

  Tempted by Her Viking Enemy

  A Highland Feuding

  Stolen by the Highlander

  The Highlander’s Runaway Bride

  Kidnapped by the Highland Rogue

  Claiming His Highland Bride

  A Healer for the Highlander

  The Highlander’s Inconvenient Bride

  Her Highlander for One Night

  Visit the Author Profile page

  at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  I met James Townsley in November 2021. We were introduced by friends because he was Scottish and I, well, I love and write about Scotland, and so we spent hours chatting that day in November. James had moved to Canada from southwestern Scotland after World War II and then down into the US, where he settled in the New York City/New Jersey area. He wanted to hear about my recent story that was set where he grew up and I had questions...so many questions for him.

  James moved home to Scotland the week after we met and I’ve just learned he recently passed away.

  So, I dedicate this story to him—a kind and dear man who had so many adventures in his life and gave me such inspiration to write this story. I’m glad you got home, James.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Excerpt from A Pretend Match for the Viscount by Laura Martin

  Prologue

  Village of Achnacarry, Scotland—

  the year of our Lord 1377

  Iain Mackenzie watched her approach and saw the truth in the way she moved and in the sad gaze in her eyes before she spoke a word. When Glynnis finally met his eyes, he hated the message there. She turned her gaze from his as she made her way along the path that divided his mother’s neat garden into smaller sections. Standing as she reached him, Iain held out his hand, wondering now if she would accept his touch.

  Her smaller hand slipped into his, entwining her fingers with his, and he savoured this moment, fearing it would be the last time for such intimacy.

  ‘So, ’tis—’ he said.

  ‘You have heard—’ she started to say and instead shook her head. ‘Go on, Iain.’

  ‘You are summoned home then?’ He already knew the answer, but asked anyway. To gauge her response, her willingness or not, to be given in marriage to a man she did not know.

  ‘On the morrow, it seems.’ Her answer came out as a whisper as she tightened her grasp on his hand. Iain pulled her down to sit with him on the stone bench.

  ‘So soon? When he only sent word a few days ago?’ Iain felt the noose of regret tightening around his neck. If only...

  ‘My father sent word only when all the arrangements were made.’

  He took in a breath, gathered his courage and spoke. Words he should have said before. Words he knew in his heart to be true. Words that could not be unspoken once he said them to her.

  ‘Marry me, Glynnis.’ She gasped and blinked in surprise. ‘Do not return home. Stay here and marry me.’

  ‘Iain, you ken that is impossible. I must marry whomever my father commands me to.’

  ‘Nothing is impossible if we want it, Glynnis.’ He stood and paced before her, slowly, several times back and forth before nodding. ‘Look at my cousin’s actions. He chose love over all the rest.’

  Their situation was not exactly the same, for his cousin Robbie had indeed married the woman his father had intended. But the consequences of their actions had impacted the very future and stability of the Clan Cameron.

  ‘Iain, this is different. We are different.’ She reached out to him this time and he pulled her to her feet and into his embrace.

  Desperation rose within him and he wanted to scream out his frustration and fury over losing her. For he would, he would lose her. Resignation filled her eyes and even the slump of her shoulders cried it out to him.

  ‘Just tell me, Glynnis. Tell me if you would marry me. If I could convince your father,’ he said, ‘would you marry me?’

  She did not need to say a word. The tears streaming from her eyes said it all. Iain lifted her chin and kissed those tears on her cheeks. He touched his lips to hers and waited for her to open to him. He tasted her tongue against his and the saltiness of her tears for the last time.

  ‘I love you, Iain,’ she whispered against his mouth as she lifted her face away.

  Stepping back, he watched as she assumed the façade she showed to everyone else. The gracious gentle lady with an ever-present smile and nod. The dutiful, obedient daughter who never questioned her father’s rule. The perfect woman that every nobleman needed as a wife. And he knew, without a doubt, that she would become that to the man she married.

  But he knew the real Glynnis beneath that disguise. He’d seen the cracks that had exposed the woman who lived with the doubts and fears and needs that assailed everyone. No matter their class or position or birth. The Glynnis she presented to the world was too far above him, with his bastard birth, his youth and his lack of connections. That Glynnis could never be his.

  Iain did not vent his anger at her, for she was not the one behind this. With nothing else to say, he kissed her gently once more and released her, putting a full pace between them.

  ‘I wish you much happiness in your marriage, Glynnis.’ Disbelief shone as she watched him. ‘I do, love,’ he said. ‘I would never want anything but the best for you, even if it cannot be with me.’

  It was over. He stood no chance of being a man who could claim her against her father’s will and plans. And he had no intention of punishing her with his anger and impotence over that sad fact. He slipped a small, wooden figurine of a horse he’d carved into her hand.

  Iain did not wait for her to leave, for she would want to gather her control and wipe away her tears before allowing anyone to see them. The only times he’d seen her lose that perfect control had been in his company or in his arms. He turned and walked away, counting every step and praying with every part of him that she would speak his name. That she would stop him and accept his offer. That she would take the risk that he was and be something other than the obedient daughter she’d been raised to be.

  Iain
was on the path outside his mother’s house before he stopped hoping.

  * * *

  He did not join the chieftain and his family for their evening meal that night. He did not sleep at all, but instead found a place on the battlements and stared out into the darkness. And when morning came and the small group gathered in the yard below him, he watched her leave.

  Three weeks later...

  The darkness swirled around him, interrupted somehow by a voice. As Iain swam up through the turmoil, his head pounded and his stomach burned. Even opening his eyes did no good against the confusion and gut-wrenching waves of the nausea that resulted from drinking too much ale. He struggled to turn over and to get away from the increasing light, but he could not.

  ‘Iain!’ the voice yelled.

  He could have let himself sink back into the darkness and he would have, except for the deluge of icy water that followed the call. Screaming as he pushed to his feet, he found his stepfather standing there holding an empty bucket.

  ‘Davidh!’ he yelled as he gathered his sopping hair and shoved it out of his face. ‘What is going on?’

  It took little time for the change in position to wreak havoc with the way his belly felt and he stumbled a few paces away from Davidh and emptied the meagre contents into the rough grass there. He took several breaths before he noticed that Davidh held out a skin to him.

  ‘Wash out your mouth.’

  He did as he was told and could hear the anger in his stepfather’s tone. Nay, not anger as much as disappointment. And, by God, he hated hearing that. Sitting back on his heels, he spat out the last of the water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘Walk with me, Iain.’

  Only then did Iain look around to see where he was. He did not remember seeking out this place. The sound of the rushing water nearby was unmistakable—somehow, even in a drunken stupor, he’d made his way up the dangerous path alongside the two-level waterfall to the clearing above it. A path that had been the location of many accidents and injuries.

  It mattered not that he’d learned the way as a child. It mattered not that he and his mother had lived here before she’d married Davidh. Anyone who did not have a care in climbing the hidden path around the powerful currents and slick rocks risked death or losing a limb. And yet, here he was, without any memory of how he’d made it up.

  He followed Davidh into the small cottage in the clearing and sat across the table from him. Iain might have acted a fool lately, but he was not one and he had a clear idea of what Davidh would say. It was only a matter of time before he faced a reckoning for his behaviour since...Glynnis left.

  ‘Do you remember last night at all?’ Davidh asked. Iain shook his head. ‘Do you remember laying waste to the chieftain’s personal supply of uisge beatha given him by The MacLerie? Or the insults thrown at him and others at his table?’

  Iain’s stomach sank now for a different reason than his overindulgence. He’d been nothing if not welcomed by a man who could have as easily ordered his death as a possible threat to his own sons’ claims to his position. Others might have done that. Others had done as much. Robert Cameron had given him a place as the grandson of Robert’s eldest brother and previous chieftain. Bastard though he was, he and his mother had been offered a hand and protection by Robert when they needed it most.

  ‘I am sor—’

  ‘Your apology is not to me, Iain, so do not waste your words or efforts. You must make it right with Robert.’ Davidh stood and walked to the door. Easing it open a scant few inches, he stared towards the edge of the falls. ‘I ken how much you miss the lass, but the truth is that she was never for you. When she did not marry Robbie, her father betrothed her to marry The Campbell’s son.’ Turning back, he crossed his arms over his chest and his gaze turned hard.

  ‘But truth be told, Iain, you were not worthy of her.’

  Iain had never heard his worst fears spoken aloud and it was shocking to hear them from Davidh now. ‘What?’

  ‘Bastard-born, not trained or interested in leading the clan, no experience in anything but woodworking and riding. Your skills in reading and numbers are not what a chieftain needs even in his clerk. Her father would never have considered an offer for her hand in marriage to a man—nay, a lad like you.’

  Iain jumped to his feet and crossed the small space without thinking.

  ‘Her father would have been insulted by an offer from someone such as you. And no one of his position would blame him.’ Davidh opened the door and stepped outside. ‘She is too high above you.’

  Iain’s vision went blurry with rage and he shoved Davidh, knocking him to the ground and punching him over and over. No matter how he punched, Davidh turned his blows aside. Rolling to his feet, he pushed Iain away and shook his head.

  ‘You cannot even fight well,’ Davidh said, while motioning him to come at him. ‘Of course you are not worthy.’

  Like his actions of the night before, Iain lost track of everything but his anger and his pain at the truth in Davidh’s words. Relentlessly, he poured it out at Davidh, punching, kicking, shoving the man until Iain could not breathe. Falling to his knees, he dragged in loud gasps. With his hands on his legs to steady him, it took a long time before he could lift his head. Davidh stood a few paces away watching him, looking uninjured and not even winded. Davidh walked to him and crouched down to meet his gaze.

  ‘Losing her hurts. I ken how it feels to lose someone you love, Iain. But how you deal with it, how you move forward from this day, is what matters now. You can choose to remain as you are or you can choose to claim a future that you would have had if your true father had lived.’ Davidh had been his father Malcolm Cameron’s closest friend.

  ‘I am all those things you said—bastard, unworthy, ill-equipped,’ Iain said in defeat. Davidh stood.

  ‘And you are yet young and untrained. With great effort, you could rise to become a man who has the choices. Who can control his life. Who could be the one making the decisions.’ His gaze narrowed and his voice lowered. ‘Who could choose love.’

  ‘What?’ Iain said, rising to stand. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and dusted off some of the dirt he was now covered in. ‘How?’

  ‘Simple. Claim your father’s place.’

  ‘Simple? That’s daft, Davidh.’

  ‘Daft? Aye, unless you are willing to risk everything to do it. To do what is necessary. To give up the lack of control and temper that guides your actions now.’ His stepfather held out his hand. ‘Well, Iain. Will you? Will you claim your father’s place and be the man he would have wanted you to be?’

  Could he do it?

  Davidh’s words were not the first time his stepfather had tried to warn him about his life. Nor the first time he’d thought about what and where he could be.

  Her loss made the necessity of change clear to him. Iain no longer wished to be the one left behind. The one who had no power. The one who couldn’t choose his path, his life. Iain would never have Glynnis and he would mourn that loss every day. He would remember her every time he carved a new piece of wood. He would think of her every time he sat at table in the hall of Achnacarry Castle. But he would not allow it—the powerlessness—to happen to him again.

  He would not.

  Iain rose to his full height and accepted his stepfather’s hand and the offer behind the gesture.

  And he never looked back.

  Chapter One

  Three years later...

  Glynnis MacLachlan took one more look around the large chamber she’d called hers for these last three years before walking out into the corridor and closing the door. Her maid stood waiting for her and they walked in silence down the stairs to the hall below. Maggie was the only person who’d arrived with her and she’d be the only one returning with her to her father’s holding.

  No one, not a single servant or any kin of her dead husband, spoke to her as she passed them. Not a word of farewell or good wishes was offered. The only sound breaking into the silence was that of her boots as she walked the long path across the stone floors to the doorway of the keep. Glynnis nodded at the servant who opened the door and let out a breath that she’d been holding.