Page 1 of The Cursed Highland Bride

PROLOGUE

Orkney Islands, Scotland 1516

Dunn Leòideach sat straight up in bed, panting and covered in sweat. His hands gathered into fists around the bedcoverings as he attempted to get his emotions under control. He had dreamt about her again: his mother. It had been fifteen years but, in his dreams, it was as real and vivid as if he were witnessing it for the first time.

He had been sixteen summers when his younger brother Tor came to retrieve him from the University of Aberdeen and told him that their father had been killed. When they returned home, their mother had greeted Dunn with a kiss, told him the tale of his father’s death, and left the great hall to retire to her bedchamber; clear to all that she wished to be alone in her grief. Only a few moments later, a scream had transfixed the air in the courtyard beyond. Dunn and Tor dashed outside and discovered their mother dead on the stones. She had leapt from her bedchamber window. Her lifeless face had haunted his dreams since that day, tormenting his soul.

A hand reached out through the darkness, removing Dunn from his sorrow-filled thoughts. “Was it the same dream again?” Esmerelda’s voice offered consolation.

“Aye,” Dunn sighed, laying back down and drawing her into his arms.

“Do ye wish tae talk about it?”

Unsure of the answer, he said nothing. Esmerelda was getting too close again, and he did not like it. He felt unspeakable pain when he remembered his parents’ lives cut short. Deciding that he did not want to talk about it, he rolled over on top of her as a means of distraction.

“Enough,” he growled, kissing her with the passion of a possessed man. The fact they were both already naked allowed him to bury his shaft deep inside of her with one swift motion.

“My laird,” Esmerelda cried out in ecstasy as he drove into her over and over again until he was spent. He poured all of his rage and sorrow into her, attempting to leave it there. Yet, no matter the pleasure of the act, his heart remained drenched in torment.

When they both reached their climax, Dunn rolled off of her and stepped barefoot onto the cool stone floor. Naked, he walked over to the table and poured them both a dram of whisky. He extended hers, and she took it gratefully. Taking a long slow sip, Esmerelda looked at him with concerned eyes. He did not like it. She was his favorite in bed, dark and beautiful as she was, but that was as far as he was willing for the connection to go. Any time a woman got close to his heart, he would send them away. He could not bear the thought of letting someone in to the point that they could do him true emotional harm. And whenever he were to bed a woman, he made certain that they understood his intentions.

“Dinnae look at me like that,” he chastened, grabbing his shirt from the end of the bed.

“Will ye be returning upon the morrow?” Esmerelda asked, hope sparkling in her eyes.

Dunn studied her face, not liking the longing he saw there. She was forming feelings for him—strong feelings at that. He would have to put a stop to it before things got more complicated than they already were. “Aye, but I will be bringing two other women with me.”

Esmerelda’s eyes turned to flames. “Why would ye do such a thing? Am I nae enough for ye?”

“I am laird here. I can do as I please. It is nae yer place tae question my ways, Esmerelda. Have I ever said that I would be loyal tae ye?” Dunn asked, his eyes meeting her gaze as he put on his boots.

“Dinnae do this. Have I nae done everything that ye have asked o’ me in bed, every wicked and blasphemous thing? How am I nae enough for ye?” A thought seemed to cross her mind as her lip curled in jealousy. “Is this about yer coming wedding tae the Morgan lass?”

Dunn shook his head with one violent motion. “Nae, dinnae speak o’ it! I would rather die a thousand deaths than wed the daughter o’ the man who killed my faither!”

“The king has commanded it, Dunn. Ye have nae choice if ye wish tae hold on tae what lands ye have left.”

He growled in response, knowing she was right. His grandfather had sided with the Lord of the Isles against the Scottish crown. When the lordship of the Isles had been lost to the Clan MacDonald, those involved had been punished. Dunn’s grandfather was killed on the battlefield opposite the grandfather of the woman Dunn was to marry. In spite of this loss, the clan had still been punished, and the mere thought of it turned his stomach sour.

The nightmarish image of his mother’s lifeless eyes flashed through his mind once more. When Dunn’s father had been killed in a disagreement between himself and the current Morgan chief while attending the royal marriage of England’s Prince Henry and Catherine of Aragon, the king had sided with the Morgan laird in the argument. The laird was not punished for killing Dunn’s father, and Dunn’s family had been denied any form of retribution.

With the loss of both his grandfather and father, Dunn had been forced to take on the lairdship of his clan at the young age of sixteen. The tributes they had been forced to pay to the king for his grandfather and father’s actions had left the clan impoverished. But the one thing that they were rich in was men trained for battle which rendered them a strong ally and a formidable foe. Dunn had made certain that their reputation for ferocity in warfare was well known. If he could not avenge his father, then he would inspire fear of him, and his men would keep any further threat from their doors. This had worked well until the regent for King James V had decided that in order to tame the Viking beast of the Orkneys, as Dunn was known, he would be forced to wed the daughter of Alistair Morgan, his mortal enemy.

“Our people cannae suffer by my hand,” Dunn acknowledged her words. “But whether I wed the lass or I dinnae, it has nothing tae do with ye. Ye kenned from the beginning what this betwixt us was, Esmerelda. It is nothing more than pleasure. It will never be more.”

The flames returned to Esmerelda’s eyes, and she lashed out at him, slapping him across the face. Dunn pulled her into his arms and attempted to placate her with kisses. He was well aware of the effect his masculine beauty had on women. With his tall form, broad shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes, he struck quite a figure. In all of his years bedding women, not one had ever said no. To his surprise, she shoved him away and spat at his feet. “I curse ye for a whoremonger!”

Dunn released her and moved toward the door. “I would nae be throwing stones when ye yerself enjoy my brother’s bed as well as mine.”

Esmerelda’s cheeks flushed red. “Harken me well, Dunn Leòideach! I curse ye tae love one o’ my kind. She will break yer heart, as ye have done mine, and when she has, ye will return tae me. Ye will beg for my mercy tae release ye.”

Dunn snorted in indignation. “I could never love ye or any other woman. Ye ken well enough that I cannae wed a witch o’ the luchd siubhail. The clan elders would nae allow it. If I am tae wed, it must be tae a virgin o’ good family.”

“Mark me, laird! Ye will love a Romani woman, and she will be yer end.”

CHAPTER ONE

Strathnaver, Scotland, Six Months Later