Sorcha (Historical Romance Novella): The MacGregors Book 2
About this ebook
With three overprotective brothers scaring off all her suitors, what does a woman have to do to get a date in 11th Century Scotland?
Answer: Absolutely nothing. Especially when fearsome Highlander Bram Henderson has been biding his time for the right moment to steal Sorcha MacGregor away. Hell-bent on revenge he has no idea how troublesome his captive can be. And yet he cannot seem to let her go. He'll even take on the Beast, the Bear, and the Wolf to keep her.
If you like your Scottish Medieval Romance with a twist of suspense, action and adventure, family kinship and humor, then you'll enjoy this book.
Content Warning: Brawny alpha males, and feisty heroines. Not suitable for people under 18. It contains mature content, some violence and mild steam.
***
Chapter 1 – Vengeance
Henderson Keep, Glencoe, Scotland - 6 Months Earlier
Bram Henderson stood in the back of the meeting room at Henderson Keep. His arms folded and his legs spaced apart. He cut a formidable figure given his height and broad shoulders. There was not an inch of fat on his body, just muscle, and stealth. Beside him was his younger brother, Niall, and his first cousin Iain. All of them of a similar appearance. Each one was impatient to be outdoors, away from the vile stench and filth of their surroundings.
In the front end of the building, close to the central fireplace, sat their laird, Cruim Henderson. He was a boorish man who resembled a hairy mammoth. A round belly from too much ale, his most noticeable feature, and greasy hair that clung to the sides of his face. The Keep, once sturdy and clean, had since fallen into a slovenly state of disrepair.
Cruim still held the power with the old guard, and he ruled with fear and a heavy fist. The way he treated his kin reflected the man he was. His wife, Sarah, sat by Cruim’s side. A broken woman with her head downcast from years of subservience, living under the rule of an overbearing man. Two serving women stood behind Sarah, both of them heavy with child. It was common knowledge the laird bedded his female servants often. Whether they were willing was doubtful. He had enough illegitimate children across the length of Alba to form his own clan. Bram had gone to great lengths to keep his sister Willa and his cousin Tyra away from Cruim’s line of sight.
Cruim stood to address the men. “I have called you all here because tis time we allied with the Campbells,” he said in a gravelly voice.
There were murmurings and angry grunts amongst the men.
“What happened to an alliance with the MacDonalds?” Bram asked.
The Hendersons were a sept of Clan MacDonald, it seemed strange that Cruim would side with the Campbells instead.
Cruim replied, “The Campbells are stronger and if we are to become conquerors, we must align with those who can bring more benefit to us.”
“Why do we need this alliance?” Niall shouted.
“Because the MacGregors are raiding our lands again,” Cruim said. “We need a mighty clan on our side so we can stand against them.”
“We still have no proof it was the MacGregors,” Iain interjected.
“My son Grant found a scrap of their plaid in the thickets after a raid.” Cruim held up the torn piece of material bearing the MacGregor colors.
“Tis still not a sound enough reason to ally with the Campbells,” Bram argued.
Several clansmen nodded in agreement.
Cruim turned red in the face, and then he thumped his swollen fist on the table, startling them all. “I am laird here and I decide what course we take!” he growled, spittle bursting from his mouth.
“Anyone who wants to challenge me can do so right now.” Cruim clenched his fists as his guardsmen put their hands to their swords.
The room went quiet. Several clansmen, including Niall and Iain, glanced at Bram. Bram shook his head as a subtle gesture for them to remain silent.
Cruim scowled and said, “In a sennight’s time, we will ally with the Campbells and you’ll see the right of it when the MacGregors come raiding again.”
***
Three Days Later
Bram came awake with a jolt as Niall stood over his bed, shaking him.
“Bram, Willa is gone,” Niall said, his voice filled with panic.
Bram was on his feet in an instant. In a quick succession of movements, he donned his plaid and untanned shoes.
“What has happened?” Bram growled as he reached for his broadsword and targe.
“The MacGregors are raiding by the river. I went to check the cottages, but Willa is not there.”
Bram cursed, then ran for the door of their longhouse. His movements roused the family as his mother and nieces and nephews appeared from their rooms, their worried faces illumined by the fireplace.
“Where do you go?” his mother Fia asked.
“To find Willa. There is a raiding party. Bar the door when we leave and remain inside.”
“Aye, but be careful, Bram,” his mother said.
He nodded, then stepped out into the darkness and ran. Bram’s heart pounded with fear for his sister Willa. He prayed she did not fall victim to the raiding party.
By the moon's light with frost burning through his lungs, Bram kept pace with Niall and Iain. They were running several yards apart through the dense woodlands. His eyes trained straight ahead. His breathing steady as he ran with ease along the banks of the River Coe. Bram held a sword in one hand and a targe in the other. He and his clansmen had hunted this way for years, but this time the game they hunted was human.
Bram saw something in the distance that made his blood run cold. A man wearing a plaid bearing the MacGregor colors was shouting at Willa. Bram could not quite make out his face, but before he reached them, the man pushed Willa into the rapids. Bram heard Willa’s piercing scream and a loud splash as she hit the water.
He roared, “No!” He sprinted towards the river’s edge while the MacGregor took flight.
Torn between giving chase and saving his sister, Bram instantly dived in after her. But the fast-moving current and murky waters made it difficult to reach her. He could just make out Iain giving chase after Willa’s attacker while Niall tumbled down a ravine, trying to reach her from the riverbank.
Willa’s body bobbed in the water like driftwood as the current carried her further away.
“Willa, take my hand!” Bram yelled, coming within a hand's length of her. He was battling against the current and losing. Willa would not even reach for him.
“Willa! Damn you, take my hand!” Bram shouted, again desperate to grab her arm.
Before his eyes, Willa sank underwater and disappeared.
He and Niall tried desperately to find her, but to no avail. The current was too strong, and the darkness hampered their view.
The following morning at first light, Bram and his men searched the riverbank, to no avail. They had to face the reality that Willa was dead. Murdered by a MacGregor. Bram knew Cruim was right. An alliance with the Campbells was the only way to defeat the bastards.
Bram and Iain were just preparing to return home after another futile search when he saw a flicker of the MacGregor plaid among the tree line. Someone was watching them from the hillside. The spy turned to flee when Iain took off in pursuit on foot. Bram mounted his horse and followed. Hendersons were excellent runners, but as horsemen, they were exceptional.
Bram urged his horse into a faster gallop, giving chase. He carefully weaved through the trees as horse and rider became one. He was closing the distance. Bram was mere yards away from the assailant when he heard a great commotion nearby. The sound of a body landing hard against the ground with a thud, reverberated through the forest.
He whipped his head to the side and saw Iain on the ground with an arrow pierced through his shoulder. Bram barely had time to duck when a volley of arrows came flying his way. There was an archer in the trees.
Bram grabbed the targe that was fastened to his saddle and shielded himself. He veered his horse towards Iain. He was not prepared to lose any more kin. Bram reached down and hauled Iain onto his horse without stopping. He aimed to move out of the reach of the longbow. When he surveyed the ridge, both men had disappeared.
Bram roared, “Damn you MacGregor scum!”
Raucous laughter was the response as the sound of voices drifted further away in the distance.
“Sorry cousin, I was not looking,” Iain said, remorse tinged his voice.
“Dinnae fash yourself, tis the MacGregor bastards who are to blame for all that has befallen our clan.”
***
Bram’s Longhouse, Henderson Land, Glencoe
The household was in mourning. Bram’s mother Fia had taken to her bed in a state of shock. Their cousin Tyra was helping with the younger siblings who were bereft, losing their beloved aunt, Willa.
Into this grief-stricken home, Bram helped Iain into the house with one arm under his shoulder.
Tyra immediately stood to assist him while the younger siblings looked on in surprise. “What the devil happened now?” she whispered.
“MacGregors,” Bram replied.
Tyra was their makeshift clan healer. Since they were children, Tyra mended their cuts and scrapes. With deft fingers and Bram’s help, she staunched the bleeding and dressed the wound.
“Why are the MacGregors determined to destroy us?” Tyra asked in a voice that held a contralto-like tone with a soft lilt.
“I dinnae ken why, but it just makes no sense,” Iain said.
“I will speak to the laird,” Bram said. “Willa’s death cannot go unpunished. We have no choice but to ally with the Campbells.”
Tyra said, “No, we will end up worse off for it. Bram, tis time you took your rightful place as our leader and talked to the MacDonalds—"
“Wheesht, dinnae speak such words, Tyra. We canna go against our laird,” Bram said.
“Bram is right, Tyra, tis thoughts like that can get you killed if Cruim hears you,” Fia said as she approached the table to join them. Her eyes were etched with grief. “Dinnae do anything brash. I have already lost so much. I cannot bear to lose either of you.”
***
Henderson Keep, Glencoe - Clan Meeting
“Given the latest murder and raid, I have sent word to the Campbells that we will be agreeable to an alliance so we can rid ourselves of the MacGregors,” Cruim said.
Bram simply nodded his head.
“I say we strike back and pillage the MacGregor’s stocks for a change,” Grant said.
There was a quiet murmuring in the room.
“Tis a novel suggestion son,” Cruim praised Grant.
“When do you suggest we do this?” Bram asked.
“We strike during Christmas.”
“With respect Chieftain, the weather is the worst during that time. We could freeze to death raiding stores in the bitter cold,” Iain said.
“When people are cold, they let their guards down,” Cruim replied.
“I agree with Iain, I dinnae think tis a good time to go raiding,” Bram said.
Cruim, roared, “The MacGregors declared war when they murdered Willa, or have you already forgotten?”
Bram shook his head.
“Good, then you will lead a raiding party on Christmas Day. I am not asking you Bram I am ordering you as your laird to see to it.”
Bram clenched his jaw and said, “Aye. It shall be done.”
“I will go as well,” Iain piped in.
“Aye, me too,” Niall said.
“I am sending Grant with you as well.”
Bram could feel the tension around the room at the mention of Grant. No one liked him or trusted him. He was cunning and lazy, but they had no choice.
Cruim said, “Make sure you dinnae come back empty-handed.”
When they were out of earshot Iain approached Bram outside and quietly murmured, “Grant will spy for his da, be careful what you say.”
“Aye, that is why I will keep him close,” Bram said.
***
1046 Christmas Day, MacGregor Land, Glenorchy, Scotland
Bram observed from a safe distance the movements of the MacGregor Clan. He had been keeping a close eye, waiting for the right moment to strike. It had been a harsh winter, with poachers and dwindling food supplies. They would not survive if they did not strike back and do something.
The raid was quick and fast. They split up into two groups. Bram kept watch over Grant while Niall and Iain raided a different location. The MacGregors were busy celebrating Christmas with extended clans, oblivious that their stocks were being ransacked.
Bram and Grant were making their way back across the treacherous snow. They filled their bags with dried venison and meat, including mead to last them the winter.
Their plans took a minor detour because Bram decided to save a bairn stuck in an old well, ignoring Grant’s protests.
It was a move that would bring him face to face with the most striking lass he had set eyes upon and the very key to his plan for vengeance. When Bram realized who she was, he knew he had found a way around making allies with the Campbells.
Instead, Bram would strike fear into the heart of the Beast by stealing Sorcha MacGregor as payback for Willa’s death. Bram decided there and then that Sorcha MacGregor was how he would seek revenge and rebuild his clan into a force to be reckoned with.
***
The Longhouse, Glencoe, Scotland
“The Beast has a sister,” Bram said.
His men were quiet.
“How old?” Iain asked.
“She’s a woman grown. Unwed, no betrothal.”
“Why was she not sent away to the abbey if she is unwed?” Fia asked.
“The villagers say she could not speak when she was a bairn. The Beast’s wife tutored her in the Keep, and she has remained there ever since,” Bram replied. “They are verra protective of her.”
“No doubt they will pawn her off soon to make some alliance of Macbeth’s choosing,” Niall snorted.
“Aye, and ye ken what that means, brother?” Bram asked.
There was silence as it suddenly dawned on them.
“It means she is the most valuable person to capture,” Iain said.
The men grinned. Then Bram turned to his cousin Tyra and said, “I need you to make friends with Sorcha MacGregor.”
***
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