Page 1 of Highland Heroine (Brides of the Highlands #3)

T he torchlight flickered over McAfee Keep’s great hall, where Moira McAfee weaved through tartan-clad nobles and clan members. Banquet tables overflowed with roasted meats, fresh bread, and ale as laughter reverberated off stone walls decorated with ancient weapons and colorful banners.

Moira’s red hair shimmered, braided with silver and emerald beads, her stride exuding confidence. She acknowledged each guest.

“Moira,” her father, Duncan, beckoned from the head table. “Join old Angus MacNab.”

She approached the elderly warrior, whose face softened into a grin. “Ye grow more like yer mother every day,” he rasped affectionately. Angus was her mother’s uncle, and one of the few ties she had to the woman who had died giving birth to her.

“Thank ye, Angus,” Moira replied, discussing details of that day’s hunt while sensing tension beneath the festivities. This celebration was an act of defiance—they were still here and strong despite the coming conflict.

Moving away from Angus, Moira overheard two clansmen conversing in a shadowy alcove by the hearth. “Ye ken the Gordons will be here in a day or two,” one whispered apprehensively.

“Aye, and the Stewart army with them. And we all know there are others, even if we dinnae know who,” the other muttered, hand on his dirk.

“Laird Stewart’s ambition ensures they’ll strike soon.

” He shook his head. “Why would a man think he should be the ruler of all the Highlands? We have Queen Mary for that!”

“Let us hope our defenses hold,” sighed the first clansman, glancing at the keep’s sturdy walls. “We’ve prepared as best we can.”

“Prepared, aye,” agreed the second. “But will it be enough?”

The laughter and merrymaking continued unabated around them, but Moira’s mind raced with strategies and contingencies.

She’d been told she would not be allowed to participate in the battle, even though her ability with a sword was greater than any of their army.

She was a lass, and that meant she had to stay behind.

Moira walked to her father across the great hall, her red hair a blazing contrast to the sea of tartans.

Conversations hushed as she confronted Duncan, her father.

“We cannot stand idly by!” she insisted, her eyes locked onto his.

“Think of how much help the three of us could be. Fiona shoots an arrow like no other, and Ailis throws her knife better than anyone in the Highlands. Father, ye must allow us to help with the battle!”

Duncan met her gaze with calm authority. “Restraint is not always a weakness. Provocation is what the Gordons and Stewarts seek.”

“Must we wait for another abduction or worse before we act?” Moira countered.

Both of her sisters had been kidnapped by the men who would soon attack.

Surely that had shown her father that things must change.

If things went like they seemed to, she would be next, and she would not tolerate a kidnapping well.

“We must protect, not just retaliate,” Duncan replied, his eyes darkening. “They don’t have the burden of protecting women and children in their attack. But I must protect all the women and children in McAfee territory, be they McAfees, Sinclairs, or Stewarts.”

Ailis intervened gracefully. “There is no way to avoid this battle without losing our way of life. We love the Highlands, and it is therefore our duty to protect them.”

Fiona placed a calming hand on Moira’s shoulder.

“We must consider the cost of aggression on our people. Think of the lives that will be lost. Ours and the enemies.” Fiona always seemed to speak with reason.

While it was a quality Moira usually admired about her eldest sister, she wasn’t pleased to have her sister siding against her at that moment.

“But Fiona,” Moira pleaded, “can we afford the cost of inaction? Laird Stewart plans to take over all of the Highlands. He says it’s the right time with the queen away in France. We cannae allow him to become our ruler.”

“Then we will respond with precision and unity,” Fiona assured her. “But we will go into nothing blindly.” She pressed a hand to her flat stomach. “Besides, I’m with child, and I will not put the babe at risk.”

“Unity,” Ailis said. “Our strength has always been in standing together, not rushing apart.”

Duncan looked at his daughters. “My daughters, your passion is vital. Ye each have a part to play in protecting this keep and dealing with our wounded. We cannae risk losing ye all to battle.”

The debate softened as understanding flickered between them. Moira recognized her father’s wisdom, while he acknowledged her fierce spirit.

“Let us watch and wait,” Duncan finally said. “And if the morrow brings battle, we shall face it as one large united army.”

Moira nodded reluctantly, her resolve turning into a silent vow: she would be ready to defend her home and family with all the ferocity of the Highland blood that ran through her veins.

*

Moira navigated the bustling celebration, her red hair vivid against the stone walls. An uneasy tension lay beneath the revelry as she sought Granny’s chamber.

Inside, the matriarch sat by the fire, her silver hair seeming to glow by the flickering flames. She looked up from an old tome.

“Granny,” Moira said, approaching her. “Father won’t agree to allow me to fight. I want to be there, helping the men.” Granny was really only her sister Fiona’s grandmother, but she and Ailis had always been treated as her own.

“In times of danger, ye must trust yer instincts,” Granny replied, her eyes steady.

Granny’s words echoed in Moira’s mind as she gazed into the crackling hearth.

The matriarch’s wisdom had always guided her, but now Moira felt torn between duty and desire.

She yearned to stand alongside her clansmen, to prove her worth as a warrior and protector of the Highlands.

But more than that, she wanted to help. Help the cause, help her people, and help all those who would come after them.

“But what if me instincts are leading me astray?” Moira asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if me desire to fight blinds me to the greater good of our clan?”

Granny reached out, her weathered hand gently cupping Moira’s cheek. “Ye have a fire within ye, lass. ’Tis a gift, not a curse. Trust that it will guide ye true, even in the darkest of times.”

Moira leaned into Granny’s touch and drew strength from the love and the wisdom she found there. “I fear for our future, Granny,” she confessed. “The Stewarts and the Gordons threaten everything we hold dear. How can we face such formidable foes and emerge victorious?”

Granny’s eyes sparkled with a knowing light. “We have faced trials before, mo ghràdh. The McAfee clan is strong, and our spirit is unbreakable. Ye dinnae need worry about losing. We will be victorious.”

Moira nodded. It seemed Granny knew the outcome of the battle that hadn’t been fought yet. Moira said a quick prayer that Granny was right this time, as she’d always been in the past. “I will do whatever it takes to protect our people, Granny. Even if it means defying Father’s wishes.”

The matriarch smiled, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of her lips. “Sometimes, lass, the greatest acts of bravery are those that go unseen. There are many ways to fight for what ye believe in, and not all of them require a sword.”

Moira’s brow furrowed as she considered Granny’s cryptic words. The chamber door swung open before she could press further, revealing a breathless Ailis.

“Moira, come quickly!” Ailis urged. “Fiona has discovered something that might change everything.”

Moira exchanged a knowing glance with Granny before following Ailis out into the torch-lit corridor. As they hurried through the keep, the sounds of the ongoing celebration faded into the background, replaced by the pounding of Moira’s heart.

They found Fiona in the armory, hunched over a weathered map spread across a wooden table. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she traced her finger along the parchment.

Fiona looked up as Moira and Ailis entered, her eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. “I’ve discovered a hidden passage.” She tapped a spot on the map. “It leads from the armory, beneath the keep, and emerges in the forest beyond the walls.”

Moira leaned in, studying the faded ink. “How did ye find this?” she asked, her mind racing with possibilities. She had never even heard whispers about a hidden passage in the keep.

“I was searching through our ancestors’ journals,” Fiona explained. “Great-great-grandfather Angus McAfee mentioned it in passing, as a last resort should the keep ever fall.”

Ailis ran her fingers along the stone wall, searching for any sign of the hidden entrance. “If this passage truly exists, it could change the course of the impending battle.”

Moira nodded. “We could use this passage to our advantage,” she said, excitement building in her voice.

“Imagine if we could sneak out a small force, undetected, and launch a surprise attack on the Stewarts and their allies from behind. It would look suspicious if one of the McClain men led the group, so we shall lead it ourselves!”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “It would catch them completely off guard. They’d be fighting on two fronts, with no idea how many of us there truly are.”

Ailis chewed her lip thoughtfully. “But Father would never agree to such a risky plan. He’s adamant about keeping us safe within the walls of the keep.”

Moira’s gaze hardened with determination. “Then we don’t tell him. We gather a trusted group of warriors, slip out under cover of darkness, and take matters into our own hands.” She was certainly not above acting in secret to help her people.

Fiona sighed dramatically. “I must stay. I have to protect the bairn I carry.” She looked at Ailis.