Page 1 of Bewitching her Highland Savior

CHAPTERONE

The street that stretched outside of Muriel’s window – with its carriages and taverns, and the countless people that went about their business in a dazzling display of colours – had become so familiar to her in the years she had spent in Edinburgh. But now that her time at the women’s school she attended had come to an end, there was only one place she wanted to go; home.

Soon, her world would change from one of stone and grime to one of sandy beaches and green hills stretching as far as the eye can see. Edinburgh had an undeniable charm, and Muriel had become accustomed to the smells that invaded her nose when she first arrived and the crowds that never seemed to cease. She had even spent whole days without thinking of her home; she was too busy with her studies and the friends she had made to feel homesick. And yet, now that her departure was imminent, she dreamt of the Isle of Barra nightly and woke with a tight, heavy chest.

“Did ye get all yer things?”

The voice coming from the door startled Muriel, but it was one that she knew well. She turned around with a smile and saw Caitriona – the one person she would never forget, no matter how much distance or time separated them.

Caitriona was the opposite of Muriel in every way — sporting dark hair when Muriel’s was strawberry blonde, short when she towered over everyone, timid when she was labelled as a troublemaker. It didn’t matter to either of them. They were the best of friends from the first day they met.

Muriel leapt over to her, pulling Caitriona into a tight embrace that left the girl huffing in surprise. “I did,” she said. “Weel… apart from this.”

Muriel took a handkerchief from her pocket as she spoke. Her fingers were still red and swollen from the myriad times she had pricked herself on the needle, and the boredom of the task still lingered in her mind, but she was proud of the intricate embroidery she had managed to create. The golden thread she had chosen blended nicely into the stark white fabric, making the entire square shine under the light and, in the corner, she had embroidered both their initials.

“What is this?” Caitriona asked, her eyes widening as she examined the handkerchief. “For me?”

“Aye,” Muriel said. “If ye dinnae like it—”

“I adore it!” Caitriona was now the one who drew her into an embrace, and Muriel only realized her friend was crying when tears soaked her shoulder. “Muriel… I ken how much ye hate embroiderin’. Ye didnae have to.”

“I wanted to. I wanted ye to have somethin’ to remember me by.” Muriel couldn't stop her tears from falling down her cheeks, but she quickly masked them away with a smile. “Promise me ye’ll write me often.”

“I promise. Ye must write me, too, dinnae forget,” Caitriona said and then suddenly slapped her thighs with her hands as though she was searching for something in her pockets. “Here it is! I almost forgot to give it to ye. It arrived today – from yer faither.”

Despite spending all day in the folds of Caitriona's pocket, the letter she handed Muriel was still crisp and carefully folded. With trembling hands, Muriel tore it open. Her father only wrote to her when something serious occurred.

Dear Muriel,

Ye’ll be happy to ken I have arranged a very advantageous marriage for ye. Ye are to marry Owen Macleod at once, so there will be nae time for ye to return to Barra. I have dispatched Liam Russell McAlpine to take ye to Lewis. His reputation is impeccable and he will ensure ye arrive safely. Dinnae fight the lad and do as he says.

Muriel's gaze remained fixed on the letter even after she had finished reading it. Her mouth hung open, her fingers curled tightly around the piece of paper as she stared at the words.

He didnae even bother to sign it.

Her father loved her, there was no doubt about that. Some of her fondest memories were of the two of them together, even though she had spent most of her time at her mother’s house by the sea instead of in her father’s keep, which stood on the hill above – looming over the shore. He'd even sent her to Edinburgh, despite admitting how much it hurt him to see her go. Nonetheless, it had been necessary to save her from the torment of his wife who despised her for being the result of her father's infidelity and found ways to torture her both while she was with them and from afar. But there was one thing her father valued more than her: wealth and power. After all, he was a pirate chieftain. Muriel had learned as soon as she was old enough to understand that her father would never defend her against her stepmother. Her family was far too wealthy for him to jeopardize their marriage.

And Owen Macleod is from a pirate clan, too. Neither of them will ever love me as much as they love gold.

She'd consider herself lucky if her husband even liked her. Growing up, all she'd heard were stories about young women being sold into loveless marriages,and as much as she despised it – it so appears it had become her fate as well.

“What does it say?” Caitriona asked. Muriel, totally absorbed by the horror, had forgotten her friend was even in the room.

For a moment, she considered lying to her. Caitriona had no reason to worry, especially since Muriel was supposed to leave so soon. But she had never lied to her and it felt wrong to start now.

“It’s from me faither,” she said. “I am to marry.”

Caitriona remained silent for what seemed like hours. The girl inspected her face, her gaze so intense that Muriel felt as if she was peering right through her.

“Ye’re nae happy about it,” Caitriona said.

It wasn’t a question. Muriel wondered how miserable she must have appeared for Caitriona to know right away she didn't want anything to do with that marriage. She could feel it in the way the corners of her mouth dropped lower – her jaw clenching in the effort to keep her eyes dry.

“Nae. I’m nae happy about it,” she confirmed.

Caitriona wrapped an arm around Muriel and pulled her toward the bed – the two of them sitting side by side. Muriel didn't know what to say, so she remained silent; her bottom lip pressed between her teeth.

“What will ye do?”