Page 1 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

Chapter One

Monday, November 7th, 1715

Clyth Castle, Caithness, Scotland

“Market day was a success,” Destiny Gunn said to the aging groomsman as she swung down from her horse with a basket of goods hooked over her arm.

James took it from her with a hopeful smile that slackened the moment she shook her head.

“There were no oat bannocks today,” she said softly. “I am sorry.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face before he caught himself. “No matter, my lady. Whatever you and Cook make of this will be a feast.”

Destiny forced a smile, her chest tightening.

She had only had four shillings to spend, barely a fourth of what she once carried to market. “I bought a sugar cone and some cinnamon,” she said brightly. “Cook will work her magic, I am certain.”

“Indeed,” James said, gathering the reins as they walked towards the castle.

At the base of the steps, Destiny pulled off her kerchief and let the wind catch her loosened hair, its golden curls tumbling free. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the sharp, salt-tinged air rolling in from the coast. Clyth Castle rose behind her, solid and proud atop its cliffside perch, its grey-stone towers catching the morning light like a crown. The distant thunder of waves striking the rocks below echoed through the seaside fortress, a constant reminder of the strength and peril that had shaped her childhood. Anyone looking upon it would believe the Gunns as prosperous as ever. Only Destiny knew the truth that lay beneath the polished surface. In town, whispers of debts unpaid, promises broken, and the Gunn name slipping into shame had followed her like shadows.

But here, lifting her face into the coastal wind, the brine and sunlight washed some of the heaviness from her chest. For a heartbeat, she allowed herself to pretend Clyth Castle still stood on solid ground in all ways, that its grandeur was not hollowed by secrets, nor its future resting on the shoulders of a daughter scrambling to mend what her father had shattered.

Her father’s gambling had drained nearly every coin from their coffers, quietly at first, then so quickly she could scarcely catch her breath. At the gaming tables in Wick and beyond, he had wagered land, rents, livestock, investments, anything that could be turned into stakes for one more reckless throw of the dice. The castle itself remained, but the wealth that had long sustained it was gone, stripped away by nights of drink and folly that Destiny had been powerless to stop.

Out of necessity, her father had dismissed most of their servants this past month, keeping only Cook, the steward, a maid, and loyal James, who now tended not just to the cattle but also to the gates, gardens, and hunts. The crofters would support her father in times of battle but provided for themselves and their families without assistance from the laird.

Destiny had begged her father to let her see the estate ledgers, desperate to find a way to help, but her father had refused. Trust me, he said. I’ll do what’s right for us.

She wanted to believe him. She needed to.

Lifting the basket higher on her arm, Destiny looked towards the great doors of the castle. It was not the life she had known, but it was still hers. And today, it held sugar, cinnamon, and the stubborn hope that things might yet be sweet again.

As they approached the top step, the door opened and Abigail, their maid, appeared. “Milady,” the timid young girl said with an awkward bow. “Ye have a visitor. Yer friend, Sorcha, is waitin’ in the drawin’ room fer ye.”

“Sorcha?” Destiny handed off the basket to Abigail. “Take this to Cook.”

The maid nodded.

“How long has she been here?” Destiny asked.

“Only a few minutes, milady. She said she would wait all day if needed,” the maid said with a smile. “Glad I am fer ye tae have the company.”

Destiny returned her smile. She was not lonely, even though her father had been gone for the past five days. His absence had given her the time she needed to sell off many of their valuables and furnishings. Enough, she hoped, to keep the castle and the remaining residents there for the next several years.

Her father would be angry at first, but then he would see that her efforts had been necessary. He would complain that by selling their things so publicly, she had effectively ruined her reputation. Destiny shook her head at the thought. She had no status to protect, not anymore. All her life’s ambitions had dissolved along with their fortune.

Destiny stopped at the doorway of the drawing room and smoothed the front of her gown before stepping into the chamber. Her gaze clung to the lovely young redhead clad in an elegant green riding habit who stood in the centre of the room because there was no furniture on which to sit. It had been several months since Destiny had seen her friend.

Sorcha turned, suddenly noting Destiny’s presence, and a slow smile came to her lips.

“I cannot believe you are here,” Destiny said, the sound of her voice overly loud in the empty chamber.

“Where else would I be?” Sorcha replied in a softer voice. “The moment I heard about your financial straits, I came to you.”

If word about selling off assets had reached Sorcha, then her father might know what she had done before he returned. Destiny swallowed roughly. She had done what she needed for them to survive. He would understand that, would he not? Forcing the thought aside, she took two steps forward. A heartbeat later, they raced towards each other and, flinging their arms around one another in a fierce hug, laughed with joy.

“You look wonderful, Sorcha.” Destiny was so happy to see her childhood friend she could not stop smiling.