Ravished by a Vicious Scot – Bonus Prologue
Two months before the beginning…
Alisdair Mackenzie stood with his thick arms entwined across his chest, watching his closest companion pacing back and forth across the study. As his war chief and advisor, he had served by Laird Keane Mackay’s side for many years, the bond of loyalty between them stronger than any brothers’.
Alisdair was a man of few words, calculating, and intensely moral, characteristics that Keane had always admired in him. Tall and broad-shouldered with rugged Highland features, his dark brown hair was short, his intense green eyes always aware and watching. His body was covered in scars from battles often fought by his companion’s side. The same companion who was now deeply troubled.
Keane’s eyes were a darker blue than usual, his brow furrowed in concentration, caused by the contemplation of the circumstances he now found himself in. The shadow from his tall, Viking-looking frame loomed across the stone floor as the sun rose across the glens. The silence hanging in the air between them, heavy and dense.
Keane had been pondering a decision for some weeks, but he had run out of time. He had to make a choice, and it had to be made now.
Without any warning, he turned and looked Alisdair directly in the eye.
“I have an assignment fer ye.”
Immediately, Alisdair nodded. “Tell me what it is, and I will dae it.”
And it was true, he would and had done anything his laird had demanded. In fact, Keane was the only man Alisdair really trusted. Him and their good friend Cillian. Granted, trust was something Alisdair struggled with, but there was a reason for that. However, Keane had never once failed, betrayed, or abandoned him. If anything, he had done the complete opposite.
Keane gave him a long look, his expression unsure, uncertain, as though he doubted his next words.
“It’s nae what ye think.”
Alisdair frowned.
Anyone else might ask the laird how he could possibly know what was going through his mind in any given moment, but Alisdair already knew the answer to that question. Keane was imbued with the power of being able to read people’s minds. A talent that had annoyed Alisdair on many occasions when Keane had taken the liberty of intruding in on his thoughts.
“It daesnae matter what I think. I’m here tae serve ye, as I always have,” Alisdair replied firmly.
The men continued to regard each other for another long moment; a thousand days of unspoken bond bound between them.
And then, Keane nodded.
“Very well. Then I am appointing ye the new laird o’ Aberach.”
Alisdair’s eyes flew wide. If Keane had punched him in the gut, he would have been less surprised. Of all the things he had expected his closest companion to say, that certainly was not one of them.
“What?!”
A light smile flashed across Keane’s face. “I did tell ye it wasnae what ye thought it was.”
Alisdair was still reeling when he said, “I cannae dae it. I’m nae laird, Keane.”
Keane pinned him with a gaze. “Only seconds ago, ye told me ye’d dae anything fer me.”
“Aye, that was ‘afore ye told me I was going tae be a laird o’ a clan I neither ken nor have any connections tae.”
“Alisdair, I dinnae have any choice,” Keane exclaimed, his arms flying open. “I’m backed against a wall. Ye ken the situation. Laird Finley is dead. Clan Mackay o’ Aberach is now leaderless. I can neither divide me forces nor me attention tae take on such a huge undergoing. The clan protects the Mackay interests in the North. They need a laird.”
This was the dilemma Keane had been struggling with for several weeks. Clan Mackay of Aberach was a cadet branch of the main Clan Mackay, located in Dùnhàra, a castle north of Keane’s base. Their location placed them far enough from Keane’s core seat of power that autonomy made sense, and yet, still under Mackay jurisdiction.
When Laird Finley had been killed in the Battle of Dail na Mònadh, the clan had been left both leaderless and vulnerable. Laird Sutherland, a ruthless fiend and callous man, had long sought the land, claiming it to be his own.
It was only because the laird was recovering from a recent battle where he had suffered many losses, that he was unable to attack. Currently, there was peace between the two factions, but without a laird, Aberach was susceptible. Laird Sutherland knew that. He was nothing if not an opportunist. Besides, he had allies he could call upon, which is why Keane had been forced to act with swiftness.
How the devil am I supposed tae dae this?
“Ye’re well able tae take this on, me friend. I have the greatest o’ faith in ye.”
“Get out o’ me head, Keane,” Alisdair hissed.
Keane only grinned before walking to his desk and sitting down behind it. Taking a piece of parchment, he began writing.
“What are ye daeing?” Alisdair asked, even though he already had his suspicions.
“I am making a decree, that, under these unusual circumstances, ye are granted lairdship over Aberach. These people need ye, and so dae I.”
“Are ye sure ye’re making the right choice?” Alisdair pressed.
With pen poised in hand, Keane lifted his head and regarded Alisdair with a determined expression. “I dinnae think I have ever been surer of a thing in me life.”
***
Three weeks later, Alisdair arrived at Dùnhàra Castle, home of Clan Mackay of Aberach. Beside him, and the few men Keane had sent with him, rode Cillian MacGregor, Keane’s former war strategist.
“I am sending Cillian with ye as yer right-hand man,” Keane had said, before they had left. “I ken ye’ll want someone ye trust by yer side.”
In fairness, Alisdair was relieved to hear the news. Cillian, a broad man the same age as Alisdair at thirty-one years old, wore his sandy blonde hair tied back. He had warm brown eyes and a crooked grin, and was witty, loyal, protective and easy-going. But behind the light-heartedness and teasing was a sharp military mind and an excellent strategist. A man who saw a battle play out before a single warrior was even on the field.
It had been his expertise that had kept Clan Mackay as secure as it now was. If anyone needed his skills, it was certainly Aberach, and thus, his presence was a definite bonus. More than all of that though, Alisdair needed someone he could trust, someone he could confide in. He was going to be a stranger in a strange land. There was no doubt about it. He needed Cillian.
Once the stable hands had taken their horses, Alisdair and Cillian turned to see a group of older men pouring out of the castle entrance. Slowly, they made their approach. But as they closed the gap between them, the sight did not exactly fill Alisdair with confidence, for each one of them wore scowls and frowns of disdain.
“Ye are the one Laird Mackay has sent?” one of them asked, his tone as unwelcoming as a bitter icy morning.
The others regarded him with the same derision, immediately putting Alisdair on the defensive.
“Me name is Alisdair Mackenzie. I am the new laird o’ Aberach. It is good tae have arrived, and tae be with ye all.”
But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears, for their expressions didn’t change. If anything, their scowls only intensified.
“The Mackenzie,” a voice said from the back.
This elicited snarling grins from the others.
“Me name is William,” the one who had spoken first said. Raking his eyes over Alisdair from head to toe, he then jerked his head toward the castle. “I suppose ye better come in then. This is yer new home, after all.”
The older men turned and headed back to the castle. For a second, Alisdair didn’t move.
“What a delightfully warm welcome,” Cillian grinned beside him. “I just ken I’m going tae love it here.”
His tone was loaded with so much sarcasm, Alisdair couldn’t help but chuckle. He then took a deep breath in.
“We have a lot o’ work tae dae.”
“Aye,” Cillian said. “That, or we can just get on our horses and go back tae where we belong.”
“This is where we belong now, me friend.”
As much as he wanted that to be true, it was clear this was going to be one of the most difficult assignments Keane had ever given him. In truth, it would be easier to go into battle. But he was Laird Mackenzie now. These were his people.
One might come to the conclusion that they ought to be grateful to have leadership again. And perhaps that might have been true if Alisdair had been one of them. But he wasn’t. He was an outsider. An outsider who was now going to assume the role over them. Clearly, they begrudged his presence already, and that certainly was not going to change anytime soon.
Whether he liked it or not, and as hard as it was clearly going to be, he had to earn the loyalty and trust of the proud Aberach survivors. It was not going to be an easy task, and yet, for Keane, the man he had served loyally for many years, Alisdair was going to make it his mission to do so.
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I look forward to how he handles the situation.
Thank you, Noreen! I’m glad you’re curious—his choices will definitely keep things interesting 😇