Page 1 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

BONUS PROLOGUE

One month earlier, Castle Dunrobin.

Aileen McAlpin shivered as she walked the halls of Dunrobin Castle. Flicking her venetian-red curls over her shoulder so that they tumbled almost to her waist, she pulled her fur-lined deep-blue velvet cloak close around her. No matter the fires that roared in the great hall and the lesser fire in her bedchamber, she was always cold in this forbidding place.

Perhaps she had not found it so cold when she first came to Laird Andrew Sutherland’s castle when she was a mere lass of sixteen. Now, ten years on, what she had once deemed welcoming grandeur was harsh and oppressive.

As for the laird? He had charmed her with his striking appearance, his lustrous dark hair, that even now only had a tinge of grey at the temples, and his sparkling brown eyes. They had now become cold and calculating. She huffed at the thought of his handsome looks and how they had seduced her. Now she only saw how they disguised a heart as black as night.

She’d quickly learned that what she’d taken for his confident manner, was in reality a terrible arrogance, a harsh certainty that he was always right, always in command and that to disagree with him would bring a swift punishment. The memory of his sharp dirk and the way he’d wielded it when she’d defied him made her tighten the gloves she wore at all times, that came above her elbows, hiding the deep scars from the slashes he’d inflicted. Every glance and every touch on her arms was a grim reminder of his repeated punishment for her defiance.

He’d meted out his punishment to her again and again, his knife slicing deep into her flesh. Some days it was a mere toss of her head that would bring his wrath. Perhaps a sigh, loud enough to send him into a rage. Or, on rare occasions when she’d had the courage to stand up against him and, with hands on hips, utter the dangerous word, “Nay!” his punishment had been especially cruel, his dirk cutting deep.

And, aye, she’d learned to hold her tongue in his presence, to keep silent in the face of his cruelty to others, and to obey the tasks he set for her without question, whether they be acts of piracy, when he wished to claim a treasure his spies had alerted him to, or merely to seek vengeance, realizing his wish to send a rival’s birlinn and all its crew to the bottom of the sea.

She sighed. Ah yes. She’d done all this and more to remain within the good favors of Laird Sutherland and avoid his rage. To do otherwise was sheer foolishness and Aileen MacAlpin was no fool. Yet the curl of shame in her belly was an insistent reminder of her ongoing servitude to the man.

After she and her father, along with her older brother, Gregory, were brought to Dunrobin she’d learned that swift punishment would inevitably follow disobedience. Her brother Gregory’s defiance had led to his death at Sutherland’s hands.

It had taken a little longer for her to learn that she’d been taken by Laird Andrew as recompense for her father’s debts. After that, the knowledge that her father’s life would be forfeit should she not carry out Sutherland’s orders to the very letter rested heavily on her shoulders.

She would meet a similar fate to Gregory’s if she failed in the onerous tasks he commanded from her and her crew.

Approaching the door of Sutherland’s solar, she flinched. If it was not for her fear for her father’s safety, she would find a way out of this hellish torment. She rapped with her gloved hand and waited for his response.

“Enter.”

His tall form stood commandingly in front of the fire and, as she walked in, he turned, looking her up and down, studying her as he proffered his hand.

“Come in, me sweet. Take a seat. I wish tae talk wi’ ye.” His voice was honey-sweet, belying his barbarous nature.

A tightness gripped her stomach. It was rare, indeed, for Andrew Sutherland to seek a formal audience. She was used tohis demand that she spoke only when he wished it. He spent little time with her other than his dalliance with her in his bedchamber and she knew to keep silent in his bed. Her orders were generally conveyed to her by one of his henchmen.

Retaking his seat, he gestured toward a second chair. After seating herself, she looked up expectantly, hoping his words with her would be brief and she would soon be able to take her leave.

Staring into the fire, he steepled his hands. “I have a mission fer ye, lass.”

“Aye, me laird?” She drew in a deep, silent breath, exhaling slowly, preparing herself for his next command.

“’Tis an important task, and I trust ye, as me most able raider, tae carry it out. I cannae afford any mistakes.” His eyes took on their customary menace. “There will be a great deal of trouble tae come from this should things go awry.

“What d’ye wish of me?” She did her best to feign interest, leaning forward, looking up, meeting his gaze with her green eyes, nodding wisely as if she hung on his every word. No doubt he wished her and her crew to attack a merchant ship bursting with gold and treasure as they had done many times before. She stifled a yawn as he went on about the seriousness of the mission he was entrusting her with. Allowing him to see how much his droning words failed to excite her would earn his displeasure.

“I need ye to track a man who is causing me a great deal of irritation and costing me a fortune in the outer islands of the Hebrides. His ships have interfered with the route between the islands and the English coast.”

Aileen nodded at this. She was aware that several of Sutherland’s crews had been intercepted and their bounty taken. She understood that the island sailors were fast-moving and fierce fighters. Someone else was benefiting from the sweet trade of piracy.

She straightened her shoulders. This proposition had caught her interest. Sutherland would brook no competitor. If there was a man, or men, audacious enough to wreak havoc on his supremely profitable enterprise, then she wished to meet with such a man.

“And once I’ve tracked this man, what then?”

“Then, me dear, I wish ye tae take him prisoner and bring him tae me.”

“Where am I likely to find him?”

A sudden frown marred Sutherland’s handsome, aristocratic features. “I’ve heard that the men who are causing me so much trouble are members of Clan MacNeil of the Isle of Barra. I wish ye tae capture their laird, Everard MacNeil, and bring him tae me in chains.”

She was under no illusion as to the fate the Laird MacNeil would meet at Sutherland’s hands. Nothing less than torture and execution for daring to so openly defy the great laird.

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