In Love With A Warrior
Besotted by the
Princess
James Gunn knew his heart would forever be hers when she
bested him in combat. Never had he met a formidable foe such as Emlyn. Maybe it
was the way her body felt above his when she pinned him and he had no choice to
submit to her.
A love coveted but
forbidden
Princess Emlyn would allow no man to conquer her on the
field, especially the arrogant, handsome Highlander. She wouldn’t fall at his
feet and worship him. He was Godlike in his appearance, strong, gallant, and a
protector―all the things in a man she thought she despised. It was the sensual
nights spent in his arms that swayed her desire.
All it took was one
kiss
Neither could deny their attraction. When Emlyn is
betrothed to her clan’s enemy to save her people from being besieged, she demands
James’ aid. The only way to escape her ill-fated destiny and have the man of
her dreams is to wage war and triumph. Not so easy a feat for a warrior such as
Emlyn.
Chapter One excerpt In Love With A Warrior copyright @ 2019 Kara Griffin
It
didn’t take long for James to get back to his routine on his return home from
the border region. He awoke earlier than usual and set off to find embers
before he’d take to the fields. When he finished dressing, he tucked the bound
parchment pages into a protective pouch and put it inside his tunic for
safekeeping. He headed to the keep’s kitchen to collect items he needed for his
task. Outside, James heard the boisterous voice of the keep’s cook shout orders.
Gell was an onerous man and only spoke softly to their laird’s lady, Bree. That
didn’t stop James from entering the kitchens because the man’s bellows were
mostly bluster.
“Young
James, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this early in the morn.” Gell stood
beside a massive pot and held a large spoon in his burly hand. His whitened
hair stuck out in various places and gave him a comical look.
James
stood by the main worktable. “Gell, good day. Do you have the—?”
“It’s
been a long time since you came in here, but aye, I’ve saved the sticks for
you. Over there, in the cup on the shelf.” Gell returned his attention to his
pot and dismissed him.
James
reached for the cup and found five burnt sticks. They would do well for his
purpose. He’d discovered burnt cinders and sticks could be used to draw on
parchment. He liked to make images of wounds he tended. Only a handful of
people knew his skill at medicinals and his secret ability. The more people who
sought him, the busier he’d be.
“My
thanks, Gell. These will do well.” He added the sticks to the pouch and grabbed
a large apple and a hunk of cheese before he headed to the training fields.
He
hastened his steps and reached the sloping hillside. Below, on the vast field,
Gunn soldiers assembled for the day’s exercise. For the next two hours, he used
his sword and tested his arm against the younger soldiers. His comrade, Duff,
shouted at the unseasoned soldiers. Duff was the most formidable of their clan
and oversaw the training. His impatience grew to ire, and he all but stomped
from the field and called a rest.
James
chuckled under his breath, for his laird should find someone else to train the
younger lads. They would do better under the tutelage of someone who had patience.
During their rest period, James sat beneath the large oak at the top of the
training field. He pulled out his parchment and a stick and attempted to finish
the sketch he’d begun the day before.
Gordy,
who was recently promoted to commander-in-arms, and in charge of the gate watch
sat nearby. James was proud of the young soldier for he’d matured and reached
an age where he’d be of use to their clan. The lad demonstrated himself repeatedly
and rewarded with a prosperous position.
“What
are you drawing, James?” He leaned close and got a glimpse before James hid it.
“Let me see it. Och, that’s gruesome.”
James
looked at his sketch and nodded. “Aye, but it’s accurate.” The image was of a
battle wound a soldier incurred the day before during training. His leg was
split by the sharp edge of a claymore. The inside of his skin and muscle was
visible. Such things interested him and he’d made sketches of them since he was
a lad. Sometimes the images aided him when he was called upon to mend one of
his comrades. He used the burnt stick to shade the sketch and finished it.
Duff
returned and called their rest to an end. James was about to take to the field
when his friend stopped him. “Grey wants to see you at the keep.”
“What
does he want?” He sheathed his sword and swiped back his hair, for the day grew
warm.
Duff
scowled and muttered a blasphemy. “Cosh, what do I look like, your personal
messenger? He didn’t say.”
James
shoved him and hastened off before he retaliated. Along the path to the keep,
James wondered what his laird wanted. They had yet to discuss when they would
leave on the mission for the king. They’d received Alexander’s missive on Saint
Swithin’s day, a few weeks before. He’d directed them to go to Wales of all
places. James reached the keep within minutes and entered. He noticed the mien
on his laird’s face when he got closer. Grey only wore the expression when
something bothered him. It was an aspect none of the guardsmen wanted to see.
“Laird,
Duff said you wanted to see me?”
“Aye,
I did. We have a visitor.”
James
stopped at the buttery and dunked a cup in the ale barrel before he approached
and stood next to his longtime friend and laird. He waited for him to
elaborate, but Grey didn’t seem to want to impart who the visitor was.
“Is
it the king?” He appreciated his friend’s dislike for the king because their
relationship was tedious. In the last years, Alexander caused discord.
“Nay,
it’s your father. He wants you to come home.”
James
could’ve been knocked on his arse. Joseph Gunn was a treasonous banshee. He
wouldn’t forgive such a transgression. James suppressed his rage, but couldn’t
refrain from sounding outraged. “He wants me to what?”
“He
wants you to return home.” Grey leaned against the chair in the great hall and
appeared as cross at the news as James was.
James
couldn’t believe his father had the gall to show himself. The man tried to kill
his own brother to overtake the clan. The clansmen carried the severity and remembrance
of it in their hearts. Fortunately, James wasn’t held accountable for his
father’s action. He’d been too young to remember the sordid details. Still,
having one’s father be vindictive caused bitterness inside him.
The
man’s nerve surpassed his transgression, for James would never agree to return
to his land. Even if he hadn’t betrayed his clan, James wouldn’t consider abiding
by his request.
“I
expected this,” Grey said, “My father told me his brother vowed to come for you
one day. We foresaw word from him. He waits outside.”
James
smirked, for he never expected it. Throughout the years, he’d read the hastily
worded missives demanding his return. But James never thought Joseph would
come. Most of the elder Gunn clansmen hated his father. Joseph risked his life to
step foot on Gunn land.
“He
dares to come here after what he did? Laird, I refuse to see him. Send him
away.”
“I
cannot. If you don’t see him, he’ll never leave. Your father is an obstinate
man. He’ll damn well camp on my doorstep until we face him. He’s here,” Grey
said and set his hand on his shoulder. “Speak with him now and get the reunion
over with. Do you want me to stay?”
He
nodded but wasn’t appeased. James waited at the end of the table and hastily glanced
at him when he entered the room. Joseph walked with unreserved steps toward him
as if his welcome would be joyous. It was far from that, and James kept his
expression staid.
“Well,
look at you, son. You’ve done a fine job at getting him ready, Laird Gunn. He
looks to be strong enough to handle the tasks to farm my land.” His father’s
words seemed prideful, and yet, James didn’t appreciate his boast.
He
remained silent. Farming. Hell, not as he lived and breathed. James hadn’t
trained for nearly twenty years at warfare and protection to tend livestock and
fields. He envisioned standing amid a hill full of fat sheep and stepping in
horse cosh… What a boring, dreadful existence.
James
took in the view of the man he hadn’t seen since he was the age of six. Not once
had his father inquired of his health or welfare. Joseph gave him to his uncle
to train and raise, but he’d been given no choice. Their laird, Mikal, Grey’s
father, demanded his word he’d never try to overtake the clan again. Along with
his vow, he had to forfeit his son for his treachery.
As
far as James was concerned, that was the end of his relations with his parents.
His father stood tall as Laird Mikal had. He bore the same traits, light hair,
lanky body-build, and blue eyes—from their Viking ancestors. His age showed in
his drawn face and gray-streaked hair. James looked nothing like him with his
dark hair and eyes. He stood taller than his father, which gave James a wee bit
of mettle.
“James
is not pleased with your request, Joseph.” Grey motioned for him to be seated,
but the man remained standing.
“You’re
not, James? You knew I would come, and your destiny was to take over the farmstead
and toil the land. My brother became laird and I became a farmer. So goes the
fate of a second son. I bid your return as my first-born son so you may take
over. It is our custom.”
The
way the man spoke, commanded his acceptance, but James wasn’t in a mood to placate
him. He was his only son, then again, perhaps his parents had other children.
But he wouldn’t know such as he hadn’t stepped foot on his land.
“Customs
be damned. You gave up your rights as my father the day you left me. I’m a Gunn
guardsman and will remain so until the day I die. I took an oath to my laird
and I won’t break it. Not for you, not for anyone.” James kept his voice
insistent so he wouldn’t mistake his repute.
“What
say you? You were brought here to toughen you up and to make you strong. You
had no right to make an oath. The time since passed and your return is needed.”
His father ran his hands through his thick mane of graying hair. “You’ll
disobey your father?”
“The
only persons I need to obey are my laird and my king. You speak false. You’re
aware of why I was sent here and what purpose you were bid to bring me. I was
given as barter to save your arse from the noose.”
His
father stood a foot from him, his face reddened. He wasn’t sure if it was
because due to embarrassment or ire. James readied for his strike, as angry as Joseph
appeared. His nose flared and his eyebrows furrowed. James kept his hands at
his side, knowing he wouldn’t retaliate should the man attack. If there was one
thing James held above all else, it was honor. To raise a hand against one’s
parent was a grievous sin. Regardless of the man’s actions, he was still his
father. No matter how much he wanted to take retribution against his misdeeds,
he resisted.
“I’m
needed more by my laird. Our clan is called to war by our king, and I’ll not
let my clansmen face the fracas without me. You’ve survived all these years
without me. I won’t return to your farmstead.” James was about to dismiss him,
but Grey blocked his withdrawal.
“Joseph,
give James time to consider this. In time, he may be willing to give it a try.
When we return from our mission, he can come for a stay, and you both can see
how it goes.” Grey played devil’s advocate, and James raised a brow. For hell
would meet heaven before he’d return to his father’s land and rule.
Joseph
kicked the chair closest to him. “Your father, Grey, my own brother and laird,
promised my son would be returned when I was ready. I’ve long since sent
missives directing his return. Now you say nay?”
“My
father never told me he gave permission for James to return. If you speak the
truth—” Grey frowned fiercely when Joseph cut him off.
“I
do. Why would I risk my own life if it was a falsehood? All the Gunns hate me.
I probably had arrows pointed at my back on the way in here. I’ve accepted my
kin abandoned me. But I will have the return of my son.” Joseph’s voice rose as
his fury intensified.
Grey
was about to retort when James held up his hand.
“I
can speak for myself, Grey,” James said and took a step toward Joseph. “You
dare speak of abandonment? You come here after years of negating me, sent me
off when I was a lad to people I didn’t know… I didn’t trust you cared. And now,
you demand I return? I made a life here, Joseph, one I’m pleased with. I won’t
do as you bid. I’m certain you can find others to work your land.”
“You’re
a stubborn man, James, and have obstinate Gunn blood running through you, as I
have. I give you six months to return. If you don’t by then, you’ll never step
foot on my land. You will forfeit your inheritance, for my lands are vast and
my income great. There are others who would happily reap the benefit.”
“Your
land is cursed with your foul deeds. They are welcome to it. Farewell, Joseph.”
James trod from the hall and directly to the barracks. He grabbed his bow and would
work-out to rid himself of the hostility of his father’s visit. He’d take to
the quintains and use his arrows to calm. Focusing on targets would allow him
to put the man’s audacious request from his mind.
He
was about to exit the barracks when Grey and Duff entered. His laird blocked
the doorway, as well as Duff’s large body. Their scowls lent to their rigid stance.
Duff was the most intimidating of Grey’s guardsmen and one of James’ closest friends
since they were lads. Though he respected them both, he wouldn’t have a qualm
about taking his fist to them should they intervene in his quest to get to the
fields. They gave no account for their demeanor, which bore as hostile as his.
“There’s
nothing to discuss,” he said and hoped they’d move aside. But neither did.
“Aye,
there is. I understand you don’t wish to be a farmer, James, but you should at
least go and see your father, on his own land. Allow him to make amends.”
“I
disagree,” Duff said. “He left James to his own and committed a heinous act
against his clan. Why should James allow him to make amends and aid him now?
After all these years.”
James
nodded at Duff. “Exactly my thought, Duff. And can you honestly see me as a
farmer? I wouldn’t last a day.”
Grey
and Duff chuckled at his jest.
“Don’t
let your duty to me ruin this opportunity, James. I vow you’re the most devoted
of my guardsmen, but I wouldn’t want that to stop you from going after your own
pursuits.”
“My
pursuit is to get to the quintains and take target practice.”
Grey
scowled. “That’s not what I mean.”
James sighed. “I can’t forgive my father for
what he did. There’s no honor in him.” He leaned against the wall and hoped the
conversation would end. His hand tightened on his sword, and considered hacking
at a few opponents on the training field might alleviate his aggression.
His
laird grew solemn. “What your father did… My father and I spoke at length about
it. They were both angry and encouraged by their father to best each other.
Neither were at fault for what happened. My grandfather was a harsh man and
pitted them against each other. He did it on purpose. Those were troubled
times. My father died before he made amends with his brother.”
Duff
folded his arms over his chest. “Every man has a say in his own actions, Laird.
Your father was more than generous by gifting him those lands, lands the Gunns
never reaped the benefit of. Joseph chose his path. Why should James be
punished for it?”
James
took a deep breath, for rehashing the past affected him. “Your father, Grey,
spoke of it with me before he passed, too. I know what happened. Laird Mikal
saved me from the stigma of being born from a traitor, and I’m grateful. It
doesn’t matter now. My father did what he did, and my involvement ended with
him the day he dropped me off on your father’s doorstep. Now let’s forget this
nonsense. It bothers me not.”
“Nay?
Seems to me it does bother you. But if you wish, I won’t bring it up again.”
“There’s
a war to ready for. How long before we leave?” James wasn’t thrilled with news
they received from their king, directing them to aid the Iorwerth clan. He
didn’t trust the Welshmen, for they were as passionate about battle as the
Scots. They were as battle-weary as well. Warring with the English was a
beguiling task, for they were often wily in their war practices, and the Scots
liked nothing better than going against their enemy. At least they had that in
common with Wales.
“We
will leave in a few days for Sean’s land. I’ll meet with the king and find out exactly
what his message entails.” Grey moved aside, and Duff led the way from the
barracks.
James
recently returned from his comrade’s keep near the border of England and
Scotland. He’d gone with Sean to the Hume clan, where his comrade was given a
substantial inheritance of lairdship. James stayed on after troubles arose and
Sean needed him to protect his family.
All
settled, he returned to his daily routine and life. Only the normalcy was
intruded upon by his father’s visit. Family matters were inconsequential to
what they were about to face. James wanted to put it as far from his mind as he
could, if only it was possible.
Don't miss In Love With A Warrior
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PUR1QLU
If you love loyal and honorable Scottish men, this one is for you! Great reading and was enthralled the whole time.
