Highland Steel: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 3

  Highland Steel

  Highland Chronicles Series - Book 3

  Elizabeth Rose

  ROSESCRIBE MEDIA INC.

  Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.

  Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  Edited by Scott Moreland

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  From the Author

  Excerpt from Aidan

  About Elizabeth

  Also by Elizabeth Rose

  Author’s Note

  Since my stories span the generations, I am listing a quick family tree for the entire series so you can use it as a reference guide when reading the books. To find a more in-depth family tree, including brothers and sisters of my heroes, please visit my website.

  Cast of Characters – Family Tree:

  (Highland Steel features the hero, Logan MacKeefe, and the heroine, Rhoswen Asquith)

  Hawke MacKeefe: Book 1

  Callum MacKeefe - Hawke’s great-grandfather

  Ian MacKeefe - Callum’s son and Hawke’s grandfather – Clan Chieftain

  Lady Clarista - Ian’s English wife and Hawke’s grandmother

  Storm MacKeefe - Ian’s son and Hawke’s father – also Clan Chieftain

  Lady Wren - Storm’s English wife, and Hawke’s mother

  Hawke MacKeefe - Storm and Wren’s son

  Phoebe MacNab - Hawke’s love interest

  Ethan MacKeefe: Book 2

  Onyx MacKeefe - One of the Madmen MacKeefe and Ethan’s father

  Lady Lovelle - Ethan’s stepmother

  Janneth Chisholm - Ethan’s mother

  Ethan - Janneth and Onyx’s illegitimate son

  Alana Chisholm - Ethan’s love interest

  Logan MacKeefe: Book 3

  Aidan MacKeefe - One of the Madmen MacKeefe and Logan’s father

  Effie MacDuff - Logan’s mother

  Logan - Their son

  Rhoswen Asquith - Logan’s love interest

  Caleb MacKeefe: Book 4

  Ian MacKeefe - One of the Madmen MacKeefe and Caleb’s father – not to be confused with Hawke’s grandfather, clan Chieftain, also named Ian

  Kyla - Caleb’s mother and also Aidan MacKeefe’s sister

  Caleb - Their son

  Bridget Ogilvy - Caleb’s love interest

  Chapter 1

  Glasgow Scotland, 1386

  Naked as the day he was born, Logan MacKeefe stepped out of the waters of the River Clyde, feeling the bite of the fresh spring air against his skin. Lifting his face to the bright sun, he pushed back his wet, long, blond hair and took a deep breath. The aroma of leftover snowdrops and the new blooms of sweet, colorful crocuses filled his senses. He loved the outdoors and especially spring – the time when the dead of winter was gone and the promise of all life was renewed. The world came alive again, and so did he.

  Logan collapsed atop a sun-warmed rock to dry off, closing his eyes, resting his arms behind his head. Relaxation was what he strived for since his day hadn’t started out that smooth. His clothes and sword were sprawled across the ground next to him but within easy reach. His pet wolf, Jack, lay on the ground in the shadows nearby, watching and waiting, as always.

  Logan was by himself, while his friends were drinking. Once again, he had been thrown out of the Horn and Hoof Tavern by the proprietor, Old Callum MacKeefe, because of Jack. Logan’s gray wolf often ended up scaring a few customers every time he visited Glasgow. However, in Logan’s defense, the wolf only frightened the people that didn’t know him. Still, Old Callum didn’t care. He was tightfisted with his coin and didn’t want even one man to leave the tavern before drinking heavily of his Mountain Magic. He convinced the travelers passing through to drop more money than they’d intended into his already overflowing coffers. Therefore, the old man’s answer to keep his customers there was to kick Logan and his pet out.

  “Dinna worry, Jack,” Logan spoke with his eyes closed, drinking in the warm sun. “Ye’re too guid for that place anyway. We belong in nature, no’ in a dark, smelly tavern with dirty rushes on the floor and a room full of rowdy drunks.”

  Logan often sat naked or even walked around that way on the riverbank after bathing. Never was he a shy one to have to hide the body the good Lord gave him. At two and twenty years of age, he was in the best shape of his life and proud of it.

  Off in the distance he heard the sounds of music and laughter floating on the air, coming from the Horn and Hoof Tavern. His friends, Hawke, Ethan, and Caleb were there making merry and drinking Mountain Magic without him. They celebrated the haul of money they’d made after selling all of Logan’s handiwork at the fair. The items consisted of toys, furniture, wooden swords, and even bowls and goblets. It was because of his talents with whittling and the supply he’d stocked up all winter, that the MacKeefe Clan would be eating well this spring. Ironic, since Logan was the only one who wasn’t joining in celebrating their good fate.

  He could go for some Mountain Magic about right now. The potent hellfire was the most popular and sought after whisky in all of Scotland. It was a personal blend, brewed up by Old Callum MacKeefe, the grandfather of their clan’s laird, Storm. Callum prided himself on serving the strongest whisky in all the land, and credited the potion to his unusually long lifespan. To date, Callum was, as far as Logan knew, the oldest man to ever walk the hills.

  The soft growl of an animal caused Logan’s eyes to drift open. He knew that sound and had heard it many times before. It was Jack telling him there was danger or perhaps a stranger nearby.

  Logan jumped up and grabbed his sword, spinning on his heel to find a woman atop a horse riding recklessly down toward the water from the road. She sat slumped over the horse, as if she could barely hold on she moved so fast. Sitting sidesaddle like a lady, Logan was surprised she hadn’t already fallen off her steed since the horse seemed spooked. The animal crashed through the brush and sped over the rocky ground with the woman dangerously teetering in the saddle, trying to keep her balance. Logan’s wolf stood guard with its head low, watching as she approached them at the water’s edge.

  “Help me!” cried the woman, sounding frightened and frantic as she rode toward him, holding on to the horse’s pommel rather than the reins which dangled at the horse’s side. “Please, we need your assistance.”

  Logan rushed forward and reached out with one hand, grabbing the reins, quickly managing to stop the horse. “Whoa,” he said, trying to calm the anxious animal. His one hand remained on the reins while his other still gripped his sword.

  The woman looked to be English by the way she was dressed. He thought perhaps she was noble sin
ce she was wearing an ermine-lined purple cloak. It hung down the sides of her horse – a horse that was adorned with expensive tack. And while he couldn’t see it well, there seemed to be some sort of crest on the blanket beneath the saddle.

  The sun hit the silver metal circlet atop the girl’s head, shining like the halo of an angel. She wore her long, black hair twisted into one long braid that trailed down her back to her tiny waist. A few loose, messy locks framed her heart-shaped face that seemed to be scratched from branches along the way.

  Bright blue eyes scanned down Logan’s body, stopping abruptly at his groin. Then her translucent orbs opened wide, as she finally realized he was naked. Logan figured she’d shyly or quickly look away but, instead, her gaze traveled back up to his face and her eyes interlocked with his. She certainly wasn’t bashful. Nor was she acting proper if she truly was a lady. This surprised him as well as impressed him. He liked his lassies on the daring side, and this one intrigued him in every way. He had to find out more.

  “Lady Rhoswen, where are you? Wait for us,” a male voice shouted from up by the road. Logan heard the sound of more hoofbeats and decided he’d better put on some clothes. Releasing the reins, he rested his sword against the rock and grabbed for his leine, quickly slipping it over his head. The long, white tunic hung down past his knees.

  “What’s the matter, lass?” asked Logan, reaching for his plaid next. “Ye act as if the devil himself is on yer heels.”

  “Newell, Blaine, I’m over here,” the girl called back over her shoulder to the others. Two more riders – a young man and another girl, rode down to the river after her.

  Jack growled lowly. Logan could see the newcomers weren’t much more than children, so he gave his wolf the command to back off. “It’s all right, Jack,” he said in a low voice. “I dinna think they mean us any harm.”

  “Rhoswen, I’m frightened,” whimpered the younger girl from atop her horse as she followed the boy down to the water’s edge. She had reddish-brown hair that hung loose around her shoulders, part of it still being pinned up on one side as if it had come undone. A light smattering of freckles covered her cheeks and a dirt streak was smeared across her nose. Her plain brown gown marked her as a servant or perhaps a lady’s maid. It was torn and dirty. She seemed to be a few years younger than the first girl who looked to be not even twenty years of age.

  “It’s Lady Rhoswen,” the woman corrected the girl. “Please address me properly.”

  “Aye. I’m sorry, my lady,” said the girl with downcast eyes.

  “He’s a bloody Highlander!” shouted the boy, his voice cracking and raising an octave. With a slight struggle he managed to draw his sword that was almost too big for him to hold with one hand. He almost fell off the horse trying to do it. The lad had a bulky build, but Logan got the impression he was younger than he looked by the way he handled the horse and sword in a clumsy manner. His dark hair was cut short and he wore clothes that looked like those of an English squire. “Get back, ladies. I’ll protect you both from this savage beast,” the boy bravely announced, bringing his horse closer to Logan, using both hands now to hold the sword as he tried to keep it from wavering.

  Logan chuckled and continued to don his plaid. “Son, I dinna think the lassies need protectin’ from a half-naked man who is no’ even holdin’ a weapon. And, aye, I am a Highlander, but ye three seem to be English. Now, why dinna ye all just slow down and tell me who ye are and where ye are goin’.”

  “It happened on the road,” the woman that the others called Lady Rhoswen blurted out.

  “What happened?” asked Logan.

  “It was horrible and we barely managed to escape with our lives,” she continued. “I don’t think they saw us. But if they did, they’ll be after us next. Please, you have to help us.”

  “What in the clootie’s name are ye talkin’ about?” grumbled Logan, sitting down atop the rock to put on his shoes.

  “We were attacked,” said Rhoswen.

  “Attacked?” Logan’s head snapped up. “Are ye all right, lass? Who attacked ye?”

  “I – I’m not sure. I couldn’t see them well,” she answered. “My traveling companions and I were down by the water when the bandits accosted the rest of our group on the road. Six guards were killed in the fight as well as my father.” Tears filled her eyes and leaked down her rosy cheeks.

  “It was awful,” the girl name Blaine cried, looking very frightened.

  “Did they take anythin’?” asked Logan, lacing up his shoes.

  “Aye. They took everything including her father’s sword. We need to get it back,” said Newell.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear this,” said Logan, standing up and strapping on his weapon belt next. “But if ye’ve been robbed by bandits, dinna ever expect to see yer things again. Especially no’ a sword. That is every man’s prized possession. So, Lady Rhoswen is it?” he asked, looking up at the girl who now sat straighter atop her horse. “Who are ye and why are ye in Scotland at all?”

  “I’m Lady Rhoswen of Yorkshire, daughter of the border lord Sir Joseph Asquith,” she relayed the information, holding her chin high and proud. “With me are Newell, my father’s . . . squire, and Blaine. She’s my handmaiden.”

  “I see,” said Logan, thinking the younger girl looked suddenly nervous. They all did. But mayhap it was just his imagination since they were still spooked from the raid. “I am Logan MacKeefe,” he introduced himself.

  “Logan MacKeefe,” said Rhoswen, studying him from head to foot. “Are you a Highlander?”

  “I am. However, my clan has also claimed Hermitage Castle on the border in the Lowlands. Have ye heard of us perhaps?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, her eyes darting over to the other two and then back to him. “Have you heard of us?” she asked, which seemed like an odd question to ask since she was from over the border. “Or perhaps did you know my father?”

  “I’m sorry, but I am no’ familiar with yer family nor with too many Sassenachs at all. I spend most of my time in the Highlands.”

  Her body stiffened and she looked down her nose at him, which made Logan realize he shouldn’t have called her a Sassenach to her face.

  “Go back to the road and follow the noise and music,” he told her. “It’ll lead ye to the Horn and Hoof Tavern. Take cover there until I return. Seek out three men named Hawke, Ethan, and Caleb MacKeefe. They are my friends. Tell them what happened and that I’ve gone to the attack site. And whatever ye do, dinna leave the tavern before I return.”

  “A tavern?” sniffed Rhoswen. “I’ll not have my handmaid and my father’s squire occupy such a place and neither will I.”

  “If ye value yer lives, ye will.” Leather creaked and his horse snorted as Logan pulled himself up into the saddle. “Seek out my friends. They’ll make sure ye arena harmed. Do ye understand me? The roads are dangerous out here. Two lassies and a lad will quickly be spotted by any bandit or thief and marked as easy prey.” Logan’s wolf let out a small growl.

  “Is that a wolf?” Blaine squeaked out, her face turning white at first noticing the animal.

  “That’s Jack and, aye, he is wolf,” said Logan.

  “I’ll kill it,” said the boy, starting to get off his horse with his sword clutched in one hand, but he stopped with Logan’s next words.

  “That’s my pet and ye willna touch it! Besides, if ye even tried, Jack would rip off yer head before ye had a chance to strike.”

  “Nay!” Blaine screamed and held her hand to her throat looking terrified now. Logan rolled his eyes. Once again, he seemed to have said the wrong thing. This just wasn’t his day.

  “My wolf isna goin’ to hurt ye, lass,” he said, trying to calm the girl.

  Highlanders and Lowlanders were often seen intermingling in Glasgow, and occasionally even an Englishman or two passed through. The Horn and Hoof welcomed everyone, and was considered common ground. This idea was initiated by the MacKeefes. The tavern at the crossroads was known to be a
neutral place where people could meet and visit while having a drink or a bite to eat. They could even stay overnight in one of the tavern’s upstairs rooms without confrontation. Or at least, most of the time that was true. Logan’s father, Aidan, had told him about more than one brawl that happened in the place before Logan was even born. Aidan and his friends, Onyx and Ian, who were Ethan and Caleb’s fathers – were known as the Madmen MacKeefe. They had a reputation of sometimes being the center of trouble.

  “Come, Jack,” Logan called to his wolf, riding up the hill. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “How far down the road did they attack?”

  “Not far,” said the boy. “It’s just past the large Rowan tree that hangs over the path. Some of them dropped down upon our traveling party while the others were hiding in wait in the thicket.”

  “I’ll take you there and show you,” Rhoswen offered, riding up next to him meaning to lead the way.

  “Nay,” protested Logan with a raised hand. “Stay with the others. I’ll handle this on my own. Now, go to the Horn and Hoof like I told ye and do no’ tarry.” Logan turned and rode away before Rhoswen had a chance to answer. He approached the Rowan tree. Underneath it, he found the dead bodies, just as the girl had told him. His eyes shot upward to the branches, and then moved down as he scanned the thicket on either side of the road. Drawing his sword, he cautiously looked around for any attackers who might still be lurking in the bush. His wolf inspected the dead men curiously. When Logan was sure the attackers were no longer here, he dismounted, and sheathed his sword.