Highland Warrior by McCollum Heather

Author:McCollum, Heather
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Heroes Highlanders;Historical British Fiction;Historical Literary Fiction;Historical Scottish Fiction;Scottish Historical Romance;Historical Romances;Women's Historical Fiction;British & Irish Literary Fiction;Heather McCollum;The Devil of Dunakin Castle;the beast of aros castle;The Wolf of Kismul Castle;Highland Conquest;Entangled Publishing;Amara;Mass Market Paperback;Historical Romance;highlander romance;highlands;Highlander Hero;Highland Chief;Highland Clan;16th Century Romance;Sexy historical Romance;Smart Historical Romance;Enemies to Lovers Romance;Forbidden Romance;Passionate Historical romance;Passionate Highlander Romance;Battle;Castle;Moors;Summer;Scotland;Scotish Romance;Series Romance;Highland Warrior;Highlander;War;Enemies to lovers;Chief;Northern Scotland;Scotland;Viking;Exiled;Widow;Norse;Secret;Freedom
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-04-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

“Move swift as the Wind and closely formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be

still as the Mountain.”

Sun Tzu – The Art of War

Henry Stuart bowed his head in a mock display of respect, but his leer showed the monster that lived beneath his smooth features.

It was the face of her nightmares, the man who had killed her husband and nearly her son growing within her as he dragged her back to his father’s palace, touching her intimately while he trapped her against his body on horseback. Since then, the sinewy-strong man had stalked her whenever he could. The fact that his father planned to wed him to some highborn lady made no difference to Henry. His father had several mistresses and a handful of bastards, like he had been a bastard of the old Scottish king.

Kára slowly stood, a blade in one of her boots. A short sword against her hip. That was the sum of her weapons—the blades and her seething hatred of the man. Two of his men, large and bearded, emerged from the front of the chapel behind Henry. She swallowed past the thickness of panic wedged in her throat. Of course, he did not come alone. But she was. And to think she had called her uncle, Erik, a fool for being caught alone by Robert’s scouts only to find herself falling into the same trap. She should have let Joshua stay.

“This is a place to revere the dead,” she said. “Leave here before they rise up and strike you down.”

He laughed, walking closer. His hand ran along one of the stone markers as he tilted his head. The wind ruffled his short-cropped hair. “Even though it is still Samhain, and the veil between the real world and the spirit world is thin, I do not see any spirits coming to your aid.” The larger of his two men looked nervous, but the other smiled wickedly. Was he hoping Henry would share her with him? The pig. Because she knew that was what Henry ultimately wanted—her body and her helplessness. Years ago, riding back to the palace, her body ripe with child, the man had rammed his dirty hand up her skirts. She still remembered the pain and humiliation of his touch. How she’d prayed he would not kill her unborn child.

Kára breathed deeply, a plan forming in her head. Thank God her father had included her when he’d taught strategy to Osk. She’d been an apt student when her brother usually ended up rolling in the grass with the dogs.

All three men walked into the churchyard, the gate slamming shut behind them. Kára wove around the headstones as she hurried to the side of the chapel. A quick glance showed a deserted lane through the town. Joshua. Was he truly inside the tavern counting turnips?

She tugged at her dress as it stuck on the thistle and tall grasses, wishing again that she’d worn trousers. Harder to be raped and easier to fight.

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