Laird of the Game Read online

  The wind suddenly changed direction again and brought a mist from the shore. Thunder growled a warning in the distance.

  The memory of his father haunted him. He was a mighty warrior and descendent of a French Baron that had escaped the revolution. Alex’s father had played the bagpipes to announce their victory, and the memory filled Alex with sentimental foolishness.

  It was good to be in Scotland again. The scent of the Highland heather that permeated the air around him always made Alex feel lonely. Aye, he thought sadly. The years were melting away. He had sacrificed so much to his duty and his position that he no longer felt anything. He had raised his brothers and built a fortune so they would never need to go hungry.

  His father had died that summer eighteen years ago after a lethal heart attack on the battlefield. Alex let out a long sigh. His mother had delivered William, their seventh child, that day when she heard the news. The doctors had awakened Alexander that night and told him she had passed away. The grief of losing her husband had been too much for their beautiful mother. He looked into her eyes when he looked into the mirror.

  Alex had dropped out of his first term at University and assumed responsibility for his brothers. He had become a Champion in the Celtic Warrior Game and a father figure to his six younger brothers all in one day. He revisited his grief at the beginning of the game every year and brought flowers to the ancestors’ graves at the Kirk. The inscription on the stone crypt read: Tugaim mo chroi dult go deo, I give my heart to you forever. He wanted the kind of love they had shared and had found only heartbreak and disappointment.

  For eighteen years Alex had devoted himself to raising his brothers and managing their business interests. He was finally ready to settle down and start a family of his own. It was time he took care of the demons that haunted his past. It seemed like an eternity had passed since he had time to consider his personal life.

  Work filled the days, but he longed for the scent of a loving woman to fill his nights. His frown deepened when he realized he would need a miracle to find love in the arms of an Angel. He had more money than he could spend in a lifetime, more power than one man should hold, and no one to come home to at the end of the day.

  Only one, he asked silently and raised his eyes heavenward. You can spare one little Angel.

  The time had finally come when he would pass the honor of Laird of the Celtic Warrior Game on to one of his six brothers. He reviewed the mental checklist once again to assure the choice wouldn’t be changed. Next in line was Gideon, but he had one year of his internship left to complete before he could open his medical practice. His next hope was Daniel, but he was their Barrister and already too busy to accept any additional duties. Robert handled all their building and demolition. The twins, Iain and Evan, were in law school and wouldn’t be finished for another year. That left William who had just turned eighteen. William was reckless, but he wouldn’t be alone. William was the best choice.

  The direction his life would now take was still a mystery to him. Alex never had time to explore other options. The Celtic Warrior Game had been played every year since his birth and Alex had made a fortune on his personal business interests as well as for his brothers.

  The press hounded their every move and had called them wealthy international playboys with a lusty desire for lovely ladies. Discretion for the MacKenna boys was learned from being implicated in numerous, scandalous liaisons. For Alex, it meant he protected his younger brothers from the world that would prey upon them. The thoughts reminded him that his brother, Iain, had another paternity suit pending; it was a good thing Daniel was a fine Barrister. William still had to be protected from the paparazzi and educated at University in Glasgow. Alex wanted time to search his soul for what he would do with his life. The game had consumed him, and he wanted something more.

  Alex wanted to love and to be loved.

  A shadow crossing the meadow flickered in the corner of his eyes, and Laird Alexander G. MacKenna’s attention was pulled back to the matter at hand. He had a sixth sense when it came to routing out their enemy.

  He mounted the fearsome black, Friesian stallion and whispered the command. “Prepare for battle.” Silent hand signals directed the warriors mounted on horseback to their positions. The surprise attack would catch the Prince and his army off-guard, set them on the defense — and on the run!

  They moved silently to the ridge, tensed as the enemy came into view, and quietly drew their swords in bloodthirsty anticipation.

  ***

  Melissa had wandered away from the tour group and explored for over an hour along the craggy shoreline, glens, and hills of Scotland.

  She was enchanted with the ancient castles, but loved the people who were the heart of this lovely country, and thought maybe the legendary Rob Roy may have walked this way three hundred years ago.

  It wasn’t the first time she had wandered off and failed to return. The guide had already scolded her once when she got lost in search of the Loch Ness monster.

  The gentle afternoon breeze picked up long strands of her hair and tickled her nose. “This is so beautiful.”

  A wave caught the hemline of her blue and white dress but she didn’t mind. A warm afternoon sun would dry out her new dress in no time, she thought, happy with the purchase from a lovely shop in Glasgow. It fit her like it was hand-made for her petite form.

  Melissa still had time to get back to the group. She had planned to spend some time painting, and this was a lovely location. Her bare feet left wet tracks along the rocky shoreline.

  A roll of thunder followed a brilliant streak of lightening. The hair on her arms prickled with the intensity, and mist from the shore engulfed her and then quickly evaporated.

  The sounds of sea gulls calling in the distance and the ageless motion of the sea turned her thoughts to her most important issue. The wonderful man she dreamed about just didn’t exist and she had to accept the inevitable; she was lonely with a seagull for company.

  Mist rolled in from the ocean, swirled around her, and then cleared. She felt dizzy, but it passed quickly, and her feet were solidly under her again.

  Thunder rolled in the distance and pulled her attention to the horizon. Ferocious looking men on horseback galloped down the shoreline toward her. She stood motionless and her throat tightened in a strangled scream. The trilled battle cry of another clan echoed down the shoreline as what instantly appeared the meanest, most fearsome warriors that ever walked the earth, descended on Melissa.

  She clamped her hands over her ears to dull the deafening roar of shouted commands. The warriors rode toward them shrieking and screaming. Somehow, she had stumbled into a clan war and they would surely kill her for trespassing.

  It was as if she had stepped back in time. Without a sword she couldn’t fight them, and surrender seemed a frightening option to men who bared their teeth and screamed as if the Banshee was on their heels. Melissa didn’t think they’d quiet down to hear her politely ask if anyone had a cell phone hidden under their kilt, or a VISA card to order lunch while they negotiated terms of torture and incarceration. Perhaps she didn’t have enough caffeine this morning, and this was all an illusion of withdrawal from her coffee crazed mind?

  Ancient Celtic, sword-wielding, warriors with their faces painted in vivid blue and red streaks surrounded her. She heard tales about the legendary Fae that wandered the hills, but these men were far from a fairytale. They were very real and terrifying.

  Chapter Two

  Melissa was at their mercy.

  But this was modern day Scotland, not 1745! Tourists were encouraged to visit the local establishments but also warned not to wander off or they would encounter the Highlanders. The tour guide had warned Melissa several times; the consequences were dire for being caught on private property. The bus had disappeared from view, and she was alone.

  Their leader had to be a Celtic God. He looked magical, as if he had stepped out of the pages of Celtic lore as he held his sword aloft in a challeng
e.

  Melissa was certain she had stepped back in time as hundreds of ancient warriors surrounded her. The legends were just stories told beside their campfires that you could take a step the wrong way and get captured by the Fae or ancient Fenian warriors. It’s just a myth, she silently prayed.

  The clang of swords echoed around her. A man’s body dropped unconscious at her feet. Mythological or not, the blood coming from his mouth was crimson red and very real. She let loose a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream that would have awakened the ancient Gods.

  Yorath reared at the high-pitched scream.

  “Bloody hell,” Alexander took a second look at the lovely lady stranded in the midst of the battle. His Angel had been delivered — but to the wrong army!

  The Prince fought his way toward her, certain he would claim her.

  Alex would get to her first. He directed his warriors to break the circle and send her toward him. He had every intention of claiming this pretty token of war for his own.

  Melissa bumped into one of the warriors and turned. The opening was only for a moment, but she took that opportunity to jump over a fallen man and run toward the ridge. Her bare feet were bleeding within seconds, cut on sharp rocks as she made her way up the slope. Her foot slammed into a branch of thorns and she screamed again.

  Moments later she was airborne, lifted by a strong arm that caught her around her waist, and she landed in front of a powerful warrior. His steed hadn’t slowed down as she was plucked off the ground.

  Alex felt the tiny lass shiver and fought the fury to beat the Prince senseless just for scaring her. He would find his answers after he had her under his protection.

  “You are mine!” He yelled in Gaelic over the sound of battle in her ear. He quickly draped his red and blue tartan plaid over her shoulder. The black horse thundered up to the ridge. Melissa was dropped to the ground. She moved out of the way as the battle continued right in front of her. Her head spun, and she was close to collapsing from sheer terror as the two warriors met in combat. Even their horses battled, biting and rearing. She was mesmerized by the magnificent black stallion. The warrior who had picked her up—protected her, the thought that he had saved her—mingled with fear. Her hero was agile with a strong arm to wield the heavy Claymore sword.

  The wind changed direction and blew dust into her eyes. Alex yelled at his brother, Evan, to protect his prize during the battle. Evan rode to her side and held his sword up ready to fight anyone who would challenge the Laird’s claim to the woman.

  Time and again their powerful Claymore swords clashed. Everywhere she looked there were warriors in the midst of battle. There were clouds of dust from a hundred horses galloping past that blurred her vision. Ferocious warriors blocked any hope of escape.

  If she weren’t looking directly at an ancient warrior, she would never have believed that she had stepped back in time. “This isn’t happening— it’s not possible.”

  Alex decided to end the battle quickly and brought his sword down heavily one last time against the Price. He saw her pale, and the look of shock that made his heart race.

  “Evan! See tae the lady,” Alex yelled. He saw her reach out to steady her world.

  The warriors moved in slow motion. Pins and needles prickled against her skin as Melissa reached out, grasping at anything to support herself and then gracefully fainted.

  Evan caught her before she hit the rocks. He gently laid her down and guarded her.

  “I found her first,” the Prince challenged.

  “She has already been claimed,” Alex roared with fury and landed a mighty blow. “The victory and the points are mine!”

  The Prince conceded with an ominous growl of “revenge!” The Prince’s men were pressed back to the shore. He rode off to regroup his warriors.

  Alex commanded his warriors to follow the Prince.

  Evan followed his Laird’s orders and remained at her side. “I think she’s coming around.”

  Alex dismounted and tossed his helmet and gloves onto the saddle.

  Melissa groaned, dazed and confused. There were men shouting in the distance and horses thundering past her. She remembered she was in the middle of a war, had dropped to the cold hard ground, and wondered if she had been mortally wounded. She opened her eyes and forgot about being half-dead in a war with ancient savage warriors wielding swords. A rider dismounted and sheathed his sword.

  He stood there sweaty and dusty, and she thought him to be the most handsome male specimen she had ever seen. Even from a distance, his striking gaze made her breath catch from a flash of tenderness veiled under long dark lashes.

  Did she actually see him wink at her or was it a trick of sunlight? The straight line of his nose was reminiscent of the aristocracy and, oh that sensuous mouth! He had to be sprinkled with fairy dust and stars glittered in the heavens to herald the moment he graced the earth. He had to be descended from the ancients and graceful as a willow branch, yet broad shouldered, tall, lean, and stunningly elegant.

  He moved his head and thick wavy hair cascaded down his powerful neck and graced his shoulders. She wanted to run her fingers through his long, dark-as-midnight hair and then continue to slide her fingers over that broad, muscled chest. Dangerous, wild, and exciting all at the same time, he defined desire when he moved, muscled thighs in ripcords of strength.

  Yet, he had total control of his masculine, smooth body and walked with an arrogant swagger that exuded confidence and announced to the world that he was master of his domain and defeat was crushed into oblivion.

  “My God, what a beautiful horse,” Melissa said breathlessly. Her soft moan had nothing to do with an injury.

  Alex looked over his shoulder at Yorath and frowned. The horse had followed him and appeared to be peeking over his shoulder at her as she lay on the ground. It was humiliating to see the powerful stallion act like a lovesick puppy, and he hoped the warriors didn’t notice, or he’d never hear the end of it.

  Too stunned to move, she sighed dreamily when he bent his magnificent head down and nuzzled her hand. Instinctively, she reached out to touch him. The dark as-a-raven’s-wing horse touched her hand with his soft-as-velvet mouth. She was certain he was a Prince who wanted to kiss her hand in greeting.

  Alex crouched down next to the lady to check for injuries and touched her cheek to confirm that she was alive and breathing. Sunlight cast a halo on golden blonde curls. Mesmerized, he sifted the silky strands through his fingers. He touched her bottom lip with his thumb and noticed a slight cut. There were thorns embedded in her foot that would need medical attention, and several buttons of her dress had come undone to reveal rounded breasts under a lacy slip.

  Alex had to push Yorath aside to continue his examination of the lady. The stallion stood guard over her as if he had to protect her and snorted warnings at anyone who approached. Alex yelled instructions to the stallion that sulkily moved away from the woman.

  Melissa finally noticed the shouting warrior in front of her. He wore a kilt and a white saffron shirt. And then she noticed the most penetrating, piercing jade eyes imaginable. To her horror, he was staring right at her.

  Alex lifted her head and gently held the back of her neck in the palm of his hand. Her astonishingly beautiful blue eyes made time and space cease to exist. His mind drifted in that sea of blue and violet that rose and fell in endless motion. It brought images to his mind of their island in the Caribbean, the Isle of Mor. A man could get lost in her magic, he thought.

  “Are ye my Angel?” He asked in Gaelic.

  Melissa shook her head. “I don’t understand what you said.” She hoped he understood her. “I’ve never seen a horse like that. He’s beautiful.”

  Alex frowned. Well, at least she liked his horse.

  Her mind couldn’t accept the possibility that she had stepped back in time. Yet, an ancient warrior was right in front of her. Melissa carefully asked her next question.

  “Are you one of the legendary Fenian warriors?”

>   Alex had to bite his lip or he’d laugh. Her American accent had taken him completely by surprise. “Why certainly, I am. And are ye one of the mystical Merpeople?” he teased in reply.

  He seemed very interested in the delicate buttons on her dress that had wrapped up around her thighs and exposed the length of her bare legs.

  “Who were those barbarians? I had no idea the clans in Scotland were still at war.”

  She had to be joking. It was the twenty-first century not medieval times, and the clans had not made war on each other for over a hundred years.

  “Who are you?” she softly whispered.

  “Alexander.” The stern edge of his voice hid his mirth. “Wha’ are ye doing in the middle of a battle? I just stole ye from the Prince, and he’s goin’ tae ha’e tae steal ye back. Dinna fash yourself. He willna find ye.”

  Melissa shook her head. “I don’t understand you. Are you the Prince of the Fenian?” she asked again enunciating slowly and hoped he understood her.

  He looked at her carefully. “Are ye daft?” Perhaps she was wounded worse than he thought.

  Melissa groaned. Prince and Alexander were the only two words she could make out of the Highland burr in his voice. She wasn’t certain, but she also thought he was looking for a raft to find the Merpeople.

  “I’m lost.”

  This woman looked dazed and confused, not at all like a sultry spy for the Prince.

  “Wha’ is yer name, lass?”

  His Scottish accent fell over her senses and wrapped her in ancient fairy magic.

  “What is my name?” It had to be true what they said about meeting one of the Fae. The man crouched down next to her was ruggedly handsome and beautiful.

  “Do ye ha’e a name?” he teased, and his lips curled in a soft grin. “Or should I just call ye my Angel?”

  Shouting warriors surrounded them, and yet she saw nothing but the light in his eyes. She suddenly felt embarrassed at her reaction to him. He took her arm and helped her stand. Melissa discovered how badly her feet hurt when she stood on the embedded thorns.