Read Claiming the Highlander Online

Authors: Mageela Troche

Claiming the Highlander

CLAIMING THE HIGHLANDER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mageela Troche

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sensual Romance

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

 

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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book

Sensual Romance

 

Claiming the Highlander

Copyright © 2014  Mageela Troche

E-book ISBN: 978-1-63105-263-7

 

First E-book Publication: August 2014         

 

Cover design by Dawné Dominique

Edited by Lori Paige

Proofread by Courtney Karmiller

All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Secret Cravings Publishing

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

 

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

 

PUBLISHER

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

 

 

 

Dedication

To my niece, Yazzy. From the moment, you were born I have loved you with every fiber of my being. These years later, I am still in awe of you and all that you have accomplished.

I love you.

 

 

The Cravings Ebook Club

The Cravings Paranormal Ebook Club

 

Have you heard about the newest idea in ebooks, the ebook club? Secret Cravings Publishing has two ebook clubs, The Cravings Ebook Club or the Cravings Paranormal Ebook Club, and we invite you to become a member.

 

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Trouble With a Cowboy*
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Blood Kisses**
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*
Trouble With a Cowboy
, a western, erotic romance:

18 wheels had her heart until one hard-up cowboy found her kickin' up her heels and propositions her to take his bull to Vegas.

 

Jacie Hawkins drives big wheelers for a livin'. Something not a lot of women do. Littleton Oklahoma is just a dry stopover for a few hours of rest and relaxation at the nearest bar. Jacie needs to find a hot cowboy to release some of her pent up frustrations on for the night, but wannabe's aren't her style.

 

Tucker Marshall needs a big-rig driver to haul his prize bull to National Finals Rodeo and he needs one fast. Who would have thought he'd find one shootin' pool at the local bar dressed to kill and takin' numbers?

 

Can some slashed tires and an ornery bull bring two hard-headed people together for some fun in the sun and a little more?

 

 

 

**
Blood Kisses (Nightwalkers 1)
, paranormal erotic romance:

Ashleigh Brown, the author of the popular Nightwalkers series, lives a quiet life free of the limelight.  She keeps her real identity secret by writing under the pen name, Victoria Allure.  She soon finds herself in a bind when she's kidnapped by a group of handsome vampires seeking Victoria.  She then agrees to meet their Master, who's a huge fan of her books.  But instead of meeting him, she accidentally crosses paths with her rock star crush.  He is the sexy muse behind Nightwalkers and the man she based the hero in the series upon. She would do anything to meet him but little does she know her crush has a secret...

 

We will try to match your books to your preferences, however, if you’re a major paranormal fan, we suggest you join the Cravings Paranormal Club. Everything is the same except that three of your four books will be paranormal. The remaining book will be of a different genre.

 

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We hope our Secret Cravings books will delight you each and every month.

 

Best wishes,

Beth Walker

 

CLAIMING THE HIGHLANDER

 Mageela Troche

Copyright © 2014

 

Prologue

 

 

1244, Scotland

 

His bride didn’t want to marry.

The King of Scotland wanted this wedding. Her holdings couldn’t fall into the hands of the Islemen, so they could not encroach into Scotland. His father, Laird MacKenzie, wanted this marriage to increase his holdings and bring an earldom to the family, raising their standing from barons. Laird Grant wanted this marriage to increase his ties to the powerful MacKenzies.

His bride wanted a berry tart.

The king, Alexander II, ambled to the aisle and stared at the little girl, tugging to free her arm from her nursemaid’s grip. Behind the king, lords and ladies scooted closer, stretching their necks for a glimpse of the wailing bride.

“After the ceremony, ye may have one.” Her nursemaid tugged on her arm to drag the wee lass to the altar.

“Nay.” Brenna Grant plopped down on her behind, falling in a mess of plaid that flopped her about and a lot of chestnut hair that covered her face.

Caelen wagered she wore a pout to match her crossed arms. The nursemaid lowered herself and wagged a finger at his bride. “Ye will be a proper lady and marry or ye shall not have any treats and shall be locked in the chamber.”

His bride pushed aside her nursemaid’s outstretched hand and ran toward the altar and beyond it. “I am running away!” She ducked under the altar.

The bishop sputtered. Spit flew from the corners. He goggled at the king. The nursemaid stomped her way to the altar and flipped up the frontal. “Get yeself out from under there. I na spare the rod, child.”

“Nay,” she screamed. She kicked the altar. The whole thing shook. Even the gold cross wavered, then righted.

“Ye wicked girl. Ye not be going to heaven and seeing yer mama.”

“Liar!”

Caelen snatched a tart from the table. He nudged aside the nursemaid and knelt down. “Here’s the treat if you come do this.”

Baby fine brown hair brushed her forehead. Her groomed brows furrowed over her narrowed eyes. Those brown eyes dominated her soft, full-cheeked face. Her lips were pressed into a stubborn line.

“She’ll get her dress dirty.”

“Enough. Take it and let’s wed.” He held out the treat. She stretched her neck out and chomped her teeth into the dough.

She climbed out on her hands and knees. Caelen took her dimpled hand. Caelen curled his hand carefully around hers. She held it so trustingly. He almost pulled away. This wedding would be done this day and two days hence, he would return to his foster home at Clan MacLean and return to training. He had to be a feared warrior like his grandfather and father so he could lead the clan one day.

He halted before the bishop and inclined his head. The bishop cleared his throat and watched Brenna eat her treat. She smacked her lips after each bite. Her nursemaid stretched out her neck and bore her black eyes into his happily eating bride. Brenna raised her nose high in the air and smacked her lips louder, even spitting out a chewed morsel. On her last bite, with fruit on the corners of her mouth, she was now his wife—the future Lairdess of the Clan MacKenzie and Countess of Wester Ross. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, leaving a smeared red trail across the fine silk of her heather-hued gown.

“That was the easiest way to get a lass to the altar.” Laird MacKenzie laughed. The boom traveled through the great hall. Brenna threw back her head and let out some gruff ha-ha.

“He shall never have it that easy again,” the King added.

Caelen took her sticky hand and led her to the dais. He picked her up and set her in the chair. She climbed to her knees. “Thank you,” she said, her tongue peeking out from between the gap in her teeth. She rubbed her eyes and then sat back on her heels.

She squirmed to free her legs from under her. She tapped Caelen on his forearm. “I lost my shoe.” She lifted her foot and wiggled her toes at him. Caelen ducked under the table and spotted a crumpled fluff that must be her slipper. It was the softest, most girlish material he had ever seen. He hooked his thumb on the back and lifted it out. The thing barely filled his palm. Brenna propped her foot on the chair’s arm. Her little plump toes wiggled. He cupped her heel in his palm, sure he would break her. He stared at her foot, left and then right. How did he put it on without ripping the thing or crushing her toes? He slipped her toes in and then the rest of her foot.

She smiled before sitting back on her legs. She propped her chin on her dimpled hand. “What does a husband do?”

Caelen shrugged.

“My da tells my new mama what to do but you can’t do that. I don’t like that. You have to protect me and love me.” Her high-pitched voice held a thread of authority. “We can play but you can’t scare me. I don’t like that.”

“And a wife?” He threw out as she drew in air.

“Same thing.” She shrugged. “Don’t forget. You’re my husband and I love you.”

Laird Grant lifted his cup. “To the bond of MacKenzie and Grant. May we cut down our enemies and love our women.”

The revelry swirled around them. As the French wine flowed, the toasts from their future children to the great battles Caelen would fight bounced off the great hall’s beams. Only the feast of pheasant, deer, swan, and every sea creature in Scottish waters ceased their shouts. Halfway through the procession of delights, Brenna curled up in her chair and dozed off.

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