Much Ado About Highlanders

Much Ado About Highlanders

by May McGoldrick
Much Ado About Highlanders

Much Ado About Highlanders

by May McGoldrick

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Overview

In the heart of Scotland, this Highlander is about to meet his match in a breathtaking romance from USA Today bestseller May McGoldrick.

Highland warrior Alexander Macpherson has lost his wife. When he agreed to take Kenna Mackay as his bride to advance his clan’s power in the north, he expected a bit of an adjustment. He didn't expect the sharp-tongued beauty to run away on their wedding night. Still, Alexander wants his runaway bride…and he has the sneaking suspicion that she wants him, too.

Kenna Mackay thought she was safe in a priory full of nuns learning the craft of healing, but when she is kidnapped by her own husband, the battle of wits begins anew. But even as passions ignite, a deadly secret from Kenna's past rises to the surface and put their new love in jeopardy. As a heartless villain closes in, two headstrong lovers find themselves locked in a struggle between evil and the power of undying love. And this time, Alexander is determined he will not lose his wife again.

"Fans of Scottish romances are sure to enjoy this witty and winsome treat." — Library Journal on Much Ado About Highlanders


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781250154811
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Publication date: 05/09/2017
Series: Scottish Relic Trilogy Series , #1
Pages: 480
Sales rank: 76,649
Product dimensions: 5.00(w) x 7.40(h) x 1.20(d)

About the Author

Authors Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick (writing as May McGoldrick) weave emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Publishing under the names of May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have written several novels and works of nonfiction for Penguin Putnam, Mira, HarperCollins, Entangled, and Heinemann. Nikoo, an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops on writing and publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a Ph.D. in Medieval and Renaissance literature and teaches English and Creative Writing in northwestern Connecticut. They are the authors of Much ado about Highlanders, Taming the Highlander, and Tempest in the Highlands with SMP Swerve.

Read an Excerpt

Much Ado About Highlanders


By May McGoldrick

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 2016 Nikoo and James McGoldrick
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-250-10656-8


CHAPTER 1

There was a star danced, and under that was I born.


Western Coast of Scotland

Fifty Years Later

The old saying danced in Kenna MacKay's head. When a man comes to a birthing, someone will die.

And yet, Kenna thought, if the man were a physician, right now that was a risk she'd gladly take.

She was in deep waters, and she knew it. She was no midwife. Her prayers were frequently ignored by the saints. And she had no interest in witchcraft. Regardless, she had to convince either God or Nature to lend a hand and turn this bairn around.

"Let's get her to lie down with her feet pointing at the roof and her head down here."

The young villager looked uneasily from the woman in labor to the contraption of wood and straw Kenna had assembled on the floor and followed orders.

"M'lady, have you ever done this type of birthing before?"

Kenna looked down into the frightened face of the mother. Three young children were waiting with the husband outside.

"Aye, I've helped with birthing."

A fire pit in the center of the large room spewed too much smoke and heat. Kenna wiped the sweat from her brow and focused on what needed to be done. It was a struggle, but the two managed to move the pregnant woman into position.

"Our bairn wasn't to arrive till next month. The midwife promised me she'd be back from visiting her sister. I had no trouble with the others." A contraction cut the words short. The mother's cries were followed by the wailing of children.

Kenna hoped her cousin Emily would be able to keep the family out of the cottage. Delivering a baby wasn't part of the plan for their day when the two of them left Craignock Castle early this morning. But arriving here and hearing the laboring woman's cries, Kenna had vaulted from her horse and come inside the cottage to help. That was hours ago.

"I've heard the midwife say women die when the bairn is turned this way."

Without thinking, Kenna reached up and pressed the pouch hanging under her dress against her chest. Her mother's lucky healing stone felt warm against her heart.

"The midwife is wrong. She hasn't had my schooling. I've been trained by the nuns of Glosters Priory on Loch Eil." A bit of exaggeration was excusable considering the pregnant woman's distress. Setting bones, stitching wounds, and tending to the sick at the priory's spital house were the extent of Kenna's training, but many women passed through the priory. They talked. They shared stories. Some had a great deal of experience in birthing, whether it was with their own bairns or with helping others. She recalled one long, involved story a woman told of turning a breech baby by raising the mother's hips above her head. Kenna prayed that wasn't a tall tale.

She touched the woman's stomach, feeling, pressing gently, speaking softly, encouraging mother and child to do right by each other. If she'd only paid closer attention, Kenna thought, to what the woman had said.

She searched back through her memory. The contraption only helped so much. She had to convince the bairn to turn around. Kenna focused on the stretched skin of the mother's belly. Her hands warmed. Wherever she touched, she felt the bairn move beneath her fingers. She massaged and coaxed the unborn child, whispered soothing words.

The next contraction left the mother sobbing and clutching for Kenna's hand. "If I die here, my babies —"

"You will not die," Kenna told her. "Now help me. Help your bairn. Let's show this wee one the light of day."

Kenna prayed that she was doing the right thing. She hoped that her confidence in herself was not misplaced. Many considered her gifted as a healer, as her mother had been. But eight years ago, Sine MacKay died giving birth to Kenna's twin brothers. Gifts had their limits. Childbirth had the potential of being deadly in the best of circumstances.

Her fingers kneaded the woman's stretched belly until they ached. Kenna made one last silent plea. Small ripples moved beneath the skin. What looked like a head pushed at her hand, making its position known before shifting in the mother's womb.

Kenna held her breath as the woman cried out with another contraction.

"By the Virgin, I see the head," the young villager shouted.

Moments later, the babe was born.

By the time the stiff skin that served as a door lifted and her cousin came in, the mother was back on the straw pallet and Kenna was handing the bairn to her.

The neighbor was busily gathering up soiled rags, but she stopped, eager to share the news.

"It was a miracle, m'lady. Lady Kenna showed the bairn which way to go, and the wee thing minded her. Saw it with my own eyes, I did. Turned right around at her ladyship's bidding and came out the way the Lord intended. A miracle."

Emily touched her on the arm and crossed the room.

The farmer's wife kissed Kenna's hand. "May the Virgin bless and protect you, m'lady. May you see your children's children."

Kenna took a coin out of her waistband and tucked it into the mother's hand. A swell of emotion rose in her like an ocean wave, deep and powerful. Her voice shook as she spoke. "You must stay off your feet, do you hear me? Your labor was hard. You and your bairn both need time to recover."

At Emily's dismayed glance, Kenna looked down. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. Her riding dress was soiled with blood and sweat and who knows what else. Locks of hair hung loose, having escaped the once tight braid. She led her cousin out into the fresh air.

Greeting them, the husband wiped the sweat off his face and moved a toddler from one hip to the other. Two other children, not much older, clutched at the man's legs and gawked up at Kenna.

"Did she give me a son?" he asked.

Kenna's hands clenched into fists. "So you heard the bairn's cry. Do you not care to ask if your wife lives or not?"

"Does she live? Please tell me, m'lady. Does my wife live?"

"Do you want her to live?"

"Aye, o' course. Her wee ones need her. I need her."

"She could have died in there." Kenna looked at the fields beyond the hut before turning to him. "She lives today, and she lives tomorrow. And she'll live to see the harvest, if you make certain she rests now. Her work must wait, do you understand? You owe her that."

The man nodded. "Aye, m'lady."

As the neighbor came out carrying the basins and rags, the farmer and the children pushed past her and went in.

Kenna breathed in deeply. Two lives saved. Relief pushed through her as she gazed up at the bright blue sky for some time before looking back at her cousin. "Not exactly the leisurely ride we intended. Eh, coz?"

"What a blessing we were near!"

"Where are the men your father sent out to escort us?"

"While you were inside, I thought we would be here for a while. So I put them to work. Two are cutting up the fallen tree we saw down at the edge of the orchard. One was sent to the village to fetch the crofter's sister."

"What about the one you sent back to the castle?"

"Now I'm thinking he should be back in time for the christening." Emily smiled. "I'm amazed you were able to manage it."

"There were moments when I had my doubts."

"But you've done this before?"

"Not alone. Only helped."

"Is there much call for the midwife's skill in a community of nuns?" "With the English raiding to the south, more wounded have been showing up at our gates. Many are crofters. Like this one." She glanced at the door. "They've been fighting to keep their villages from being pillaged and burned, but they can't battle an entire army. So we see a lot of poor folk coming north. They've nowhere else to go. And amongst them, there are a few women heavy with child. And others who are experienced as midwives."

Emily's gaze swept over the southern hills. "The English are coming closer all the time."

Kenna had witnessed too much suffering in recent months. She pushed aside the cloud of gloom.

"I need to wash." She looked down at her dress. "Ruined, I think."

"What does it matter? Come with me."

Beyond the hut and down the hill, a stream weaved through a grove of trees, offering protection from any prying eyes.

"You never told the crofter if he had a son or daughter."

"He had a son. But that news should be shared by his wife, not me."

Kenna crouched at the water's edge, and her cousin perched on a nearby rock.

"Helping with that birth. Watching a new life come into the world. Doesn't it make you want to hold one of your own someday?"

Kenna stopped rubbing the hem of her skirt under the stream's clear water. She met Emily's gaze. The two of them had been more like sisters than cousins growing up. But they lost something when Kenna moved to Glosters Priory six months ago. "I try to not think of it."

"Doesn't the thought of having a bairn change your opinion of marriage at all?"

"Nay. Marriage is a sentence. A life sentence."

"Not all marriages."

Kenna recalled a time not too long ago when the two of them spoke dreamily of the men who would walk into their lives and steal their hearts.

"You no longer believe in love?" Emily asked.

"Love? Cupid kills some of us with those bloody arrows."

"You don't mean it." Emily shook her head in disbelief. "Every woman dreams of hearing a man profess his love."

"I'd sooner hear a dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me."

Emily laughed. "Kenna MacKay, you never used to be so stubborn with your opinions."

"I'm not stubborn," Kenna replied. "But it's a topic I have no taste for."

"You do recall that I'm getting married in a fortnight."

"Why do you think I accepted your invitation and left the priory to be here? My plan is to steal you away, far from the clutches of your father and this ridiculous arranged marriage to Sir Quentin Chamberpot."

"Chamberlain," Emily corrected, sliding off the rock and joining Kenna at the water's edge. "And all arranged marriages need not be ghastly. Granted, he's a Lowlander and a widower, but Sir Quentin Chamberlain is quite distinguished."

"Distinguished by the possibility that he still has two or three teeth left in his head?" Kenna scooped up water and splashed it on her face.

"Come now, cousin." Emily smiled. "He's not that old."

"You don't know that. They haven't even allowed you to meet him, have they?"

Kenna shook out what was left of her braid and ran her fingers through it.

"There was no time for us to meet. The arrangements were made when the Privy Council met at Stirling in the spring. But we have exchanged letters."

"So he can read, too? What a catch!"

Her cousin laughed. Kenna removed her shoes and socks and put her feet in the water. Large splotches marked her sleeves, as well as the bodice and skirt.

"And I suppose they told you he has the muscles of Hercules and the handsome good looks of Adonis."

"Let's see. Sir Quentin is not too tall, not too fat, and altogether not unpleasant in his looks."

"Please stop. I may swoon with envy."

"You are the devil, cousin," Emily said. "He has no heir. He's a ranking member of the Dunbar clan. He can provide me with a comfortable life. I imagine I'll have a peaceful life once I've given him a son."

"A peaceful life? You'll have no peace, living in the Borders. Not as long as the English king keeps insisting that our infant Queen Mary wed his own son." She stood up, lifted her skirts, and took another step into the river.

"Careful. The current is strong. It'll drag you down the river."

Kenna's head came around. "Heed your own words, Emily," she said gently. "Don't be caught in this torrent they're pushing you into. Don't marry him. Come with me. You don't need him or this marriage."

"You know that I cannot. I'll never be as free as you. You and I are different."

Emily stood up and shook her skirts. They were as clean and tidy as when they'd left Craignock Castle.

"You have the Highlands bred into your very bones. You have the independence of your MacKay heritage in your blood. My father and his father before him have been politicians, not warriors. And I'm an only child. I need to honor his wishes."

"And what is it that your father is gaining from this union? Has he traded you away for a caravan of gold and jewels from this buggering Lowlander?"

"I've been told that Sir Quentin has agreed to send a company of Dunbar warriors to help protect our lands. Those English troops have been seen not two days' ride to the south."

"An even trade to get protection for the clan. That's nonsense. Your father should still ask for a caravan of gold."

Emily paused. "He is giving me away with a sizeable dowry."

Kenna made her way out of the water. "What is he offering?"

"A ship." Emily nodded slowly. "My dowry includes a ship."

She looked warily at her cousin. "Where did your father get a ship?"

"I don't know. But they have it hidden in a firth somewhere along the coast, I'm told."


As Kenna bent down to retrieve her shoes, a movement by the line of trees drew her attention. But she had no time to shout a warning as a hood dropped over her head and a large hand clamped over her mouth.

A worktable was no protection. A fortress was no protection. A legion of armed warriors could provide no protection.

The abbot cowered in his seat, happy to be forgotten while the two Macpherson brothers argued across the room. But at every lull in the discussion, he was certain that they must be able to hear the fearful pounding in his chest.

If his heart stopped, at least he wouldn't have to play his part in the Highlanders' insane plan. Who was to say how the MacDougall laird would react to his involvement in this, forced though he was? He might very well just burn the abbey to the ground.

The abbot looked at the tapestry of Saint Andrew on the wall and said a quick prayer for delivery, however it might come.

The elder brother, Alexander, strode to a north-facing window and stared out. The man was tall and broad and powerful. The abbot had once seen the African lion they kept in the menagerie at Stirling Castle, and Alexander Macpherson moved with the same lithe grace as that king of beasts. And he was equally terrifying. As gruffly courteous as he had been so far, he had the steely eyes of a man who would take what he wanted. And God help any man who stood in his way.

"Where is he?"

The younger one, James, was a hand's breadth taller and nearly as muscular. With his dark red hair and piercing gray eyes, the royal Stewart blood that ran in both brothers' veins was more pronounced in him. But there was an aura of command in each man that forced lesser mortals to attend them closely.

"They're coming. Give them time."

"I should have done this myself."

"Diarmad lost the bloody ship," James replied, joining his brother at the window. "It's only right that he should be the one to snatch the MacDougall chit."

These sons of the great laird Alec Macpherson clearly feared nothing, but the old priest could not pretend to be cut from the same cloth. His abbey, perched on a rocky cliff, was not half a day's ride south of the MacDougall's castle, and the thick curtain walls no longer provided the defense that they once did. In this modern age of cannon and gunpowder, the abbey felt more like a ripe plum on a tree, inviting pillage by any passing marauder.

"You have to admit it's a good plan," James pressed. "Diarmad grabs the lass, and we ransom her back for the ship. Easy. Effective. And the good abbot here has graciously consented to act as our intermediary. Is that not so, Abbot?"

Not trusting his voice, the old man nodded. These Highlanders were going to get him killed, pure and simple.

"I still say we should have sailed in with a fleet of our ships, stormed Craignock Castle, and throttled Graeme MacDougall until he told us where he's hidden our vessel."

"You just hate to be left out of the action. Don't you?" James asked.

The abbot looked from one brother to the other.

They'd been waiting here all day, and they were likely to be here all night if the Macpherson captain and his men didn't get a chance to spirit away the laird's daughter. The abbot broke into a cold sweat at the very thought of it. Abducting Emily MacDougall from Craignock Castle itself. Saints preserve us!

Alexander glared at his brother. "You're damn right I don't like sitting out here on my arse. That tongue-flapping MacDougall took our ship, by 'sblood! I want it back."

"And we're getting it back."

"That's not the point. Our ships rule the western seas. When have we ever lost one? Never! That's when!"

The abbot gazed blindly at the chart of abbey lands on his table. Since the days of the Bruce himself, the Macpherson clan had been the terror of the western seas from the Orkneys to Penzance. There was a wild story that their father, along with his friend Colin Campbell, had in one day raided an English arsenal in Carlisle, sailed into Belfast harbor where they forced the lord mayor to feed them dinner, and then made the crossing back to Glasgow in time for supper with the archbishop.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Much Ado About Highlanders by May McGoldrick. Copyright © 2016 Nikoo and James McGoldrick. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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