Awoken: A Medieval Scottish Romance (The Sisters of Kilbride Book 2) Read online

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  A novice nun stolen away by a ruthless clan-chief. The warrior who must turn his back on everything to save her. The emotional tale of a woman in jeopardy and a reformed rogue in Medieval Scotland.

  Leanna MacDonald never wanted to become a nun—but it was the only way her father could protect her from the attentions of a cruel man who wanted her as his wife. However, when Leanna’s father unexpectedly dies, her recently widowed former suitor decides he will have her no matter the cost.

  Ross Campbell has served Clan-chief MacKinnon loyally for years. But his allegiance is tested when MacKinnon orders him to steal a novice nun away from Kilbride Abbey. Ambitious and arrogant, Ross has worked hard to gain his position as MacKinnon’s right-hand. He doesn’t want to tear this young woman away from her cloistered existence, yet he won’t risk everything he’s worked so hard to obtain.

  Leanna’s abduction is the turning point in Ross’s life. He soon realizes that MacKinnon will ruin this brave, spirited young woman—and when she pleads with him for help, Ross must make a decision. How far will he take his loyalty to a man who doesn’t deserve it?

  Historical Romances by Jayne Castel

  DARK AGES BRITAIN

  The Kingdom of the East Angles series

  Night Shadows (prequel novella)

  Dark Under the Cover of Night (Book One)

  Nightfall till Daybreak (Book Two)

  The Deepening Night (Book Three)

  The Kingdom of the East Angles: The Complete Series

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  The Breaking Dawn (Book One)

  Darkest before Dawn (Book Two)

  Dawn of Wolves (Book Three)

  The Kingdom of Mercia: The Complete Series

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  The Whispering Wind (Book One)

  Wind Song (Book Two)

  Lord of the North Wind (Book Three)

  The Kingdom of Northumbria: The Complete Series

  DARK AGES SCOTLAND

  The Warrior Brothers of Skye series

  Blood Feud (Book One)

  Barbarian Slave (Book Two)

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  The Warrior Brothers of Skye: The Complete Series

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  Warrior’s Heart (Book One)

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  The Pict Wars: The Complete Series

  Novellas

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  MEDIEVAL SCOTLAND

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  The Beast’s Bride (Book One)

  The Outlaw’s Bride (Book Two)

  The Rogue’s Bride (Book Three)

  The Brides of Skye: The Complete Series

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  Unforgotten (Book One)

  Awoken (Book Two)

  Fallen (Book Three)

  Epic Fantasy Romances by Jayne Castel

  Light and Darkness series

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  The Lost Swallow (Book Two)

  Path of the Dark (Book Three)

  Light and Darkness: The Complete Series

  All characters and situations in this publication are fictitious, and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  Awoken, by Jayne Castel

  Copyright © 2020 by Jayne Castel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author.

  Published by Winter Mist Press

  Edited by Tim Burton

  Cover photography courtesy of www.shutterstock.com

  Map by Jayne Castel

  Celtic cross image courtesy of www.pixabay.com

  Visit Jayne’s website and blog: www.jaynecastel.com

  Follow Jayne on Twitter: @JayneCastel

  ***

  For Tim, with all my love.

  ***

  Contents

  Map

  Prologue

  A Pact with the Devil

  1

  The Hunting Trip

  2

  I Must Say Goodbye

  3

  Leanna’s Savior

  4

  We Mean Ye No Harm

  5

  Trapped

  6

  We Must Make the Best of Things

  7

  Years I have Waited

  8

  Ye Have No Heart

  9

  Not a Happy Woman

  10

  Fight to the Last

  11

  His Word is Law

  12

  He’s Gone Too Far

  13

  Long Have I Awaited This Moment

  14

  Obsession

  15

  Allies

  16

  Not the Best of Men

  17

  What Do Ye Stand For?

  18

  The Outlaw

  19

  Offering Hospitality

  20

  Awoken

  21

  The Weight of the World

  22

  What Ye Wish

  23

  In the Shadows

  24

  Betrayal

  25

  Lethal

  26

  On the Run

  27

  Till the Last Breath

  28

  Temptress

  29

  A Long Time Dead

  30

  No Stone Unturned

  31

  True Freedom

  Epilogue

  Breathless

  More works by Jayne Castel

  About the Author

  Map

  A misty morning may become a clear day.

  —Scottish proverb

  Prologue

  A Pact with the Devil

  Dunan broch

  MacKinnon Territory

  Isle of Skye, Scotland

  Spring, 1349 AD

  ROSS STARED AT the clan-chief, shock transforming into incredulity. Surely, he’d misheard? The man he’d served loyally for nearly fifteen years had just ordered him to abduct a nun.

  “MacKinnon,” he said finally before clearing his throat. “Tell me ye aren’t serious about this?”

  “I am,” Duncan MacKinnon replied. He turned, from where he stood at the window to his solar, and fixed Ross with a gimlet stare that the warrior knew well. “Niall MacDonald is dead. It’s time to act.”

  Ross’s gaze shifted from the clan-chief, to the man who stood a few feet away. Red-faced, his leathers caked in mud from the journey, the messenger’s chest heaved. He was still out of breath from his flight here from Duncaith and his sprint up the stairs to deliver the message. His name was Aodh, and he was a MacKinnon spy who’d lived among the MacDonalds of Sleat for the past three winters.

  The spy’s gaze gleamed as it met Ross’s. “It’s true,” he said, his voice raspy from exhaustion. “The chieftain fell from his horse during a stag hunt yesterday … dashed his brains out on a boulder.”

  The news left a sour taste in Ross’s mouth; he hadn’t known Niall MacDonald well, having only met him on a handful of occasions, yet he remembered him as a proud warrior. One who had met a sudden, unfor
tunate, end.

  Ross knew the history between the two chiefs, the rancor that ran deep. MacDonald had thwarted MacKinnon, had prevented him from wedding MacDonald’s eldest daughter by sending her to Kilbride to take the veil. Duncan MacKinnon had nursed the grievance like a bruise over the past two years.

  “But surely … she has taken her vows now?” Ross said after a long pause, his attention shifting back to MacKinnon. “The lass is out of yer reach.”

  Ross watched the clan-chief’s face stiffen. At forty winters, Duncan MacKinnon was twelve years his elder. They had known each other a long while, for Ross had come to foster at Dunan at sixteen. He’d served Duncan’s father, Jock MacKinnon, first and then remained upon the Isle of Skye once he came of age, to serve Duncan. MacKinnon had treated him well over the years. He’d risen fast in the clan-chief’s personal guard, and had no desire to return to Argyll, upon the mainland, where he was the youngest of many sons.

  But there were times he wondered if he hadn’t signed a pact with the devil when he’d sworn his fealty to this man.

  Now was one such time.

  “Kilbride sits on my lands,” MacKinnon replied, his voice developing a harsh edge. “Leanna won’t have taken her vows of perpetuity yet.” He halted there, his face screwing up. “But since the abbess lets nuns run off and wed whom they please, I’d say those vows mean very little anyway.”

  A brittle silence settled over the solar. Of course, MacKinnon was referring to the incident last year, when one of the nuns had left the order to wed the MacNichol clan-chief. It was a sore subject for MacKinnon, for he’d been hunting the woman at the time.

  Ross wasn’t sure of the details, but the nun—who had accompanied MacNichol to Dunan that summer—had somehow fallen foul of MacKinnon during their stay. MacKinnon’s story was that he’d visited Sister Annella’s bed-chamber to question her about Lady Leanna, but she’d savagely attacked him, knocking him senseless upon the floor.

  MacKinnon had sworn to bring the woman to justice.

  The next day MacKinnon and his men had ridden west to Kilbride Abbey, only to find that both Gavin MacNichol and Sister Annella had never arrived there. Or so the abbess said.

  Ross wasn’t a fool. He knew that MacKinnon hadn’t told him the whole tale. He’d seen enough over the years to know that the man he served was far from a saint. However, Ross preferred not to know the details. There were many times when he deliberately ignored things, when he willfully remained ignorant of unsavory facts. He had a good life here at Dunan—and he wasn’t about to jeopardize it.

  Ross’s silence made MacKinnon scowl. “Ye aren’t considering defying me, are ye, Campbell?” he growled. “Don’t forget who made ye Captain of the Dunan Guard … before ye came here, ye were nothing.”

  Ross tensed and took a deep breath to quell his rising temper.

  Aye, signing a pact with the devil always came at a price. Sooner or later Satan came to collect. And MacKinnon—the smug bastard—knew that Ross would only oppose him up to a point; his pride prevented him from going further.

  “Ye want me to ride in there and just drag the lass away?” Ross asked finally, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. “That will never work … Mother Shona won’t allow it.”

  MacKinnon smirked. He was a handsome man, with a mane of rich-brown hair, not yet touched by white, and iron-grey eyes. Yet many of his facial expressions tarnished his swarthy good looks. The smirk was one of them.

  “Ye are a clever man, Campbell,” he replied, crossing the room to a large oaken sideboard where a ewer of wine and cups sat. He poured himself a large measure and slugged it back in three gulps. He then slammed down the cup. Turning to Ross, MacKinnon favored him with a wolfish smile. “I don’t care by what means ye get me Lady Leanna MacDonald of Sleat … only that ye do.”

  1

  The Hunting Trip

  Kilbride Abbey

  MacKinnon Territory

  Isle of Skye, Scotland

  A day later …

  THE DOE HADN’T seen her. Oblivious to the hunter that stood on the hill above it, the red deer nipped at grass. The morning sun glistened on the ruddy hues of its coat, and for a moment Sister Leanna hesitated.

  It seemed a pity to strike such a beautiful beast down. The doe was a leggy, graceful creature, with a dished nose and large dark eyes. It grazed in the center of the valley, next to where a burn trickled by.

  Inhaling slowly, Leanna drew back the bow-string, sighting her target. She stood side-on, leaning her back against the rough bark of a birch. A light breeze feathered against her face, reminding Leanna that she stood downwind of the deer. The doe had not yet scented her.

  However, the deer would not remain so perfectly placed for long. If she didn’t shoot soon, she would lose her chance.

  Her right arm trembled from strain as she drew the bow-string back farther. Leanna gritted her teeth, strengthening her arm. She’d trained two years for this moment. This was a test, and she wouldn’t fail it.

  The fletched arrow flew from her bow with a hiss.

  A heartbeat later it thudded into the deer’s chest. The animal leaped into the air and then crumpled.

  In an instant Leanna gave a squeal of glee. She then cast aside her bow and bounded down the hillside—difficult to do when hampered by the heavy skirts of her habit.

  At the bottom of the vale, the doe was thrashing upon the mossy ground now—it was time to end its suffering. Reaching the deer’s side, Leanna drew the knife at her waist. She then knelt behind the doe’s neck, bent its head back, and deftly slit its throat.

  The struggling immediately ceased.

  At the sound of approaching footfalls, Leanna glanced up. Sister Coira hurried toward her, holding up with one hand the long skirts of her habit to quicken her pace. In the other hand she carried an ash quarter-staff. Tall and lean with unusual violet eyes framed by shapely, dark eyebrows, Coira was garbed head to toe in black—a white wimple framing her face.

  “That was deftly done,” Coira gasped, recovering her breath as she stopped before the deer. “Where did ye learn to kill like that?”

  “My father taught me,” Leanna replied with an impish grin, pride filtering over her. “He never had any sons, and since I showed an interest in hunting from an early age, he used to take me with him … Ma didn’t like it though.”

  Leanna’s grin faded. Thinking upon her parents made her chest ache. She missed them terribly, her father especially.

  “I should think not,” Coira replied with a rueful smile. “Being able to cut an animal’s throat like a butcher’s daughter is hardly ladylike.”

  Leanna gave a snort and sat back on her heels. “As soon as I entered womanhood, Ma put a stop to my hunting trips … but there are some things ye don’t forget.” She glanced down at the dead deer before her. “What a beautiful doe.”

  “Aye, it will give us much needed venison, skin, and tallow. Mother Shona will be well pleased with ye.”

  Leanna inclined her head. “She meant this hunting trip as a test, ye know?”

  Coira nodded. “Ye have practiced with the longbow long enough … she wanted to see if ye can hunt … and ye can. I’ve never seen such a clean shot.”

  Leanna grinned once more at this. Her friend’s praise meant a lot to her. It had been hard adjusting to life as a nun, and she wasn’t sure she would ever really get used to it. But Coira, who had been at Kilbride for over a decade, had been at her side through it all. Sister Ella had been supportive of her too—only, Ella had now left the order. The abbey walls still echoed with the whispers of last year’s scandal.

  Sister Annella was now Lady MacNichol of Scorrybreac. Leanna often thought about her friend and wondered how she was faring. Sometimes she even felt envious of her.

  A life completely among women, without the low timbre of male voices, without the roughness and energy of men’s company, made her feel flat at times. Many of the sisters at Kilbride appeared to flourish in such an environment, b
ut often Leanna felt stifled by it.

  She quashed that sensation now. She loved being out in the forest, stalking deer with Coira. Very soon they would return to the confines of the abbey and the strict routines that dictated life in the Cluniac order. But out here, with the whispering wind, the smell of pine, and the spring sun warm on her face, she was free.

  Leanna met Coira’s eye then. “I still miss Ella … don’t ye?”

  “Every day,” the nun replied with a wistful smile.

  “I wonder what it would be like to wed a man like Gavin MacNichol,” Leanna said before sighing. “He’s so handsome.”

  Coira made a choking sound. “Ye are a nun … ye shouldn’t be thinking about men.” Her gaze narrowed then. “Most of them aren’t as chivalrous as the MacNichol clan-chief.”

  Leanna rolled her eyes at Coira’s censure. Sometimes her friend talked to her as if she had no idea about the world outside the abbey’s walls.

  The exchange had introduced tension between them—shattering their earlier camaraderie.

  “Come.” Coira untied a coil of rope from her belt. “Let’s get this deer hitched up to my staff. We’ll need to spend the afternoon preparing the carcass. Hopefully, we can get it gutted and skinned by Vespers.”

  The two nuns made their way through the sun-dappled forest, their feet sinking into the mossy ground. The woods stretched south of Kilbride, down a wide valley. It was the only forest in this corner of Skye, for most of the isle was barren and wind-swept.

  Emerging from the trees into softly undulating, grassy hills, Leanna took in the outline of the great mountains to the east, their bulk etched against the blue sky. Beyond the hills to the west, the land sloped down to a rocky coastline. But Kilbride lay directly ahead, a few furlongs north of the forest.