The Seduction of Laird Sinclair Read online

  The Seduction of Laird Sinclair

  Lairds of the North - Book One

  By Kara Griffin

  Copyright 2020 Kara Griffin

  Distributed by Smashwords

  Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  Dedication

  To CDK, a true hero, and knight in shining armor O

  No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.

  ~Aesop, Greek fabulist and storyteller

  Contents

  Character List

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Author’s Note

  Other Historical Titles

  What Readers Are Saying

  About The Author

  Character List

  The Sinclair Family:

  Callum Sinclair

  Edmund (Father – d.)

  Ruth (Mother – d.)

  Gavin (Brother)

  Lydia (Wife)

  Dela (Daughter)

  Mor (Grandmother)

  Elias (Uncle)

  Hammond (Cousin)

  Hawisa (Cousin)

  Ian (Uncle

  Clive (Cousin)

  Lockie (Uncle)

  Heroine:

  Violet Danvers

  Charles Danvers (Husband)

  Cora Danvers (Daughter)

  Gussy (Friend)

  Other Sinclair Clan Notables:

  Bailey – The Keep’s Cook

  Peter – The Gate Watchman

  Neil – Commander-In-Arms

  Other Clans:

  Keith Sutherland (ally)

  Grady Mackay (ally)

  Kieran Mackenzie (rival)

  Other Notables:

  Henry Bolingbrook – King Richard’s cousin

  Sir Nicholas Colfax

  Jumpin’ Joe Dunn – Tavern/Inn Keeper

  John Dunn - Priest

  d - deceased

  Chapter One

  Girnigoe Castle, Wick

  Northern Scotland

  August 1388

  A streak of fire brightened the night sky. Callum Sinclair finished his rounds of training for the day and walked toward the keep. He peered at the sky in wonder of the magnificent sight. The ball of fire sent a trail of dust in its wake and crossed the heavens. His clansmen and women knelt on the ground with their hands over their hearts. Prayers of salvation came in hushed tones. He reached the center of the mass of people who gazed above with wide and fearful eyes. Their woeful words tightened his chest because they considered the sight a sign of God’s wrath.

  “Clansmen, don’t despair.”

  “We’re doomed,” said a man nearby.

  “Aye, God is angry. We will perish,” said another.

  He suspected, as did his clansmen, the fireball brought forth a sign of disaster or change, or perhaps even the end of existence. Yet, someone had to keep his clansmen calm, else they’d rally and cause more disorder with their terror. His brother, the laird, should be amongst the people and needed to soothe their fears. The laird’s guidance and forbearance would allay the clansmen, but his brother was nowhere to be found.

  Callum took the arm of a man and helped him to rise. “Fear not. The danger is far from us and we won’t be harmed. All rise and get off your knees. The fire is in the sky and cannot reach us here. We’re not in danger and are safe.”

  “It will bring pestilence and death,” a woman said with despair. “We will sicken and die.”

  He reached the woman and took her hand, and clasped it with solace. “It will not. Come, all, rise, and return to your homes. On the morrow, you will see, all shall be well. There is no danger.” His clansmen followed his advice. He stood and peered at the fireball, and hoped his words rang true.

  For nights the brightness lent to his clan’s dismay, and many resigned it was a bad omen, a somber, smiteful sign of God’s displeasure. As much as he believed his words of reassurance, he reasoned a great change would come. Callum drew himself away from the spectacle and entered the great hall. A gathering crowded the inside, and his brother insisted to celebrate the foretelling of the calamity. Gavin, his brother and laird, seemed pleased at the appearance of the fireball. Callum didn’t know what to make of it. He wasn’t as superstitious as most within his clan, but something told him to heed the fireball’s warning.

  On his way to the table where his comrades sat, he snatched a cup of ale from a passing serving lass, and took the open spot next to his cousin, Clive. He wanted to reprimand Gavin for not lessening the fears of their clansmen, but he held silent since it wasn’t his place to rebuke his laird.

  Gavin called quiet to those in the hall when he stood and lifted his hand. He spilled a good bit of ale down the front of his tunic but disregarded it. “We shall raise our cups. The great fire brings change, my friends. We rejoice and shall receive God’s will, whatever it brings. Let us join cups in acceptance and forbearance.”

  Cheers from those inside the hall rose, and cups clinked.

  Why his brother looked pointedly at him when he made his speech, Callum wasn’t sure. He nudged his cousin’s shoulder and called to Clive. “What’s gotten into him?”

  Clive diverted his attention from their comrades, Keith Sutherland and Grady Mackay, neighbors from allied clans, and chuckled. He slapped the table with his massive palm and bellowed. “He’s sotted. Pay him no mind.”

  Keith shook his blondish locks and chortled. “Aye, he’s taken to his cup early this morn and hasn’t let up since. I doubt he’ll make it to his bed on his own this night.”

  Grady smirked and joined in, “That’s the fifth toast he’s made since I got here.”

  He regarded his comrades, Keith light and forbearing, and Grady dark and menacing. Both had been his friends since they’d begun their warrior training. Now that they’d grown, his comrades visited often, and their keep was more a home than their own. His comrades traveled with him for three years in their pursuit of wealth in protecting lords and religious figures across the channel.

  Their employment enriched them, not only with wealth but also with maturity. They returned with enough coins to weigh down their horses. Neither Keith nor Grady had cause to call them home. How he wished he had no responsibilities, but alas, he wasn’t as free. On his return from their sojourn, he decided it was best to put youthful pursuits behind him.

  “Gavin should be concerned for our clansmen, not here, carousing with his brethren. When did James Douglas arrive?” Callum nodded in gesture to another comrade across the hall. He hadn’t heard James visited, but he’d been on the training field since sunup. Their comrade from the south rarely came this far north. There must be a good reason he traveled the great distance.

&nb
sp; “He’s asked your brother to supply him with a handful of men. James means to raid England’s border again,” Keith said with a grimace.

  “Aye, James intends to show the king we won’t bow to the English king, with or without his approval. Robert won’t heed the past wrongs and allows the English to roam our lands at will. If the king doesn’t show force against King Richard, they’ll try to overtake us again,” Grady said.

  Clive grunted and nodded, and his red waves covered his eyes. “There’s word the warden is aware of James’s plans, and he means to thwart him. The Percy brothers foil Scotland’s raids daily. James is a hothead and wants to take Sir Percy and his brother on. I doubt it will end well.” He scoffed. “I’m glad the skirmish will take place far from here. We have enough worries what with the sighting in the sky.”

  Gavin overheard their conversation and leaned close. “I agreed to help James and selected five of our seasoned soldiers to join him. You should go, Callum. It might do you good to get away from our holding. Perhaps you should replace Keith since he appears not to want to go.”

  Keith Sutherland grumbled. “Aye, I’d rather face my enemy than go on a skirmish with James Douglas, even if I agree we should show the king we don’t fear the English.”

  Callum frowned at the request. “I shouldn’t leave. Our soldiers need a leader, and I’ve only begun to train them. They’re just coming around to my methods.”

  “They’ll be here when you return,” Gavin said. “When I allowed you to take over the soldier’s training, I didn’t mean that you should shirk your other duties to your clan.”

  He suppressed the urge to refuse him, but nodded. Lately, the peace and unexcited routine wore on him, which was why he’d requested a more challenging role within the clan’s militia. The adventurous years of travel with his comrades were much more exciting than mundane clan life. With his return, he had to accept his duty, especially being the laird’s brother.

  Callum’s gaze meandered about the room, and his eyes fell on his wife. “I shouldn’t leave Lydia. She has acted strangely these past months, since my return. I have yet to figure out why.”

  He wasn’t pleased with his wife’s lack of care, but he’d looked after himself for years and didn’t need a wife to ensure his wellbeing. They’d only been married five years and three of those, he’d been absent. Their relations strained. Callum hadn’t wanted to wed Lydia, but to please his dying father, he agreed. The woman rarely spoke to him, and when in his presence, she acted as if he wasn’t there.

  Though she was attractive with her long reddish-blonde hair and winsome blue eyes, Callum found her to be cold and unfeeling. He thought to petition Father Fitch for an annulment, but Lydia came to his bed to consummate their union. Little good it did now, for she hadn’t slept with him since. The only thing good to come of their one night together was their daughter Dela, his sweet, bonny lass who Callum adored. At least Lydia had given him a daughter before she turned her cold heart toward him.

  Gavin grimaced with a glare. “Your wife will also be here when you return. I’ll look after your family while you’re gone as I did before. Worry not for them.”

  Clive settled back and held his cup, but didn’t drink. “Mayhap she needs a wee bit of time to accept you, or get over her ire at your prior absence. Women’s hearts are not easily given or kept.”

  Gavin’s expression turned from jovial to stern. “One of us should go with our clansmen to support James’s endeavor. I cannot go since I’m the laird. Besides, your wife should get used to your absence if you mean to lead our soldiers.” He turned to their cousin. “You might be right, Clive, for a woman’s heart grows fonder when she misses her husband.” Gavin’s laughter turned raucous.

  Callum doubted she would miss him for one moment, but Gavin was right. If he led the soldiers, he had to gain their trust and set an example. His absence was assured with the sentry he intended to impose, and he’d be out and about their lands nightly. Their land needed protection, especially against their most hated enemy, the Mackenzies. He’d assure its guard and sentry. The younger soldiers needed guidance on the missions, and he wanted to make certain the lads kept to their vigilance.

  “I command you to go with our men and represent Clan Sinclair in this scuffle. Do you refuse my order?” Gavin’s slurred words alluded that he wouldn’t last another hour at the celebration.

  “Nay, I won’t refuse you. I’ll go.”

  Keith smiled widely. “You’re a good comrade, Callum, to take my place. I need to return home soon anyhow. My da’s been asking for my support. I mean to put him off for a wee bit longer. But I should find out what he wants.”

  Callum nodded to his comrade. Keith shirked his responsibilities, much like Gavin had, until his brother was forced to accept the position of their clan’s laird when their father died. He wondered if Keith’s father ailed too, and Laird Sutherland needed his son’s return for obvious reasons.

  The noise within the hall rose when drink lifted the spirits of those who celebrated the fireball’s lengthy stay. Callum agreed to join his brethren on James’s mission, yet he wasn’t pleased about it. If his brother commanded him to support the knavish James, he couldn’t say nay. Since Gavin took over the clan, he had gained little in the way to win over their clansmen. Callum wanted to support him, and he had to ensure his clansmen noted his deference to his brother.

  All would follow Gavin’s commands as their chieftain, regardless if they balked at his leadership. He and his brother couldn’t be more different. Gavin was light-haired, blue-eyed, lanky, and a foot shorter than he was. Callum bore the traits of his mother’s side with light-brown hair, almost black eyes, a muscular build, and height that surpassed most in his clan.

  Their approach to clan matters differed too, and his brother cared not about the welfare of their clan’s people. Whereas Callum thought the clan’s laird should be concerned about housing, winter stores, and spring crops, and to ensure the people had enough food and clothing. Gavin paid little attention to such matters and neglected the important necessities.

  He returned his attention to the hall, and considered discussing his view, yet again, with his brother on his return. Something had to be done or else their clansmen and women would despair and might even contest Gavin’s right to rule. Their family had always led the Sinclairs, and their legacy and chiefdom would continue if Callum had anything to say about it. As a lad, he’d looked up to his elder brother. But when they reached an age where their position mattered, he lost respect for Gavin. His brother acted with arrogance rather than the noble attitude a laird should bear.

  Callum tilted his head to greet James Douglas who signaled to him. James and his followers made more noise than all the Sinclairs put-together. He was reputed to be as wily as his uncle, the renowned James Douglas, The Black, who fought with King Robert the Bruce for Scotland’s independence from England. Callum wished he’d existed in their time. To hold one’s sword in a battle of passion for their country’s freedom was better than the minor squabbles they took part in now. He’d be in the thick of the raid and might as well enjoy the adventure while it lasted. Lord knew there’d be enough strife to settle upon his return.

  Across the hall, his grandmother sat near the hearth. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be asleep. How she slept in the noisy hall was beyond him. Callum reached her side and took her hand. She peered at him with her faded eyes and smiled.

  “Oh, my lad, it’s you,” she said and reached to press her hand on his face.

  “Aye, Mor, it’s me. You should retire. Do you wish me to escort you?” Callum continued to hold her hand and crouched beside her. His grandmother preferred to be called Mor, instead of the English version, Sarah. She was a spirited woman and connected to the land. Often, she spoke bizarre words, mostly about the spirits of the land and sky. He’d never berated her for it as his brother had.

  Mor rose, pressed back the long gray locks of her hair, and nodded. “How you resemble your bonny mo
ther. When I look at you, I see her.”

  Callum guided her to the upper chambers, to the room she used when she stayed in the castle. He allowed her to hold his arm for support. “Sleep well, Mor.”

  She stopped him from leaving when she spoke, “God sends his message. It is clear in the sky. There are great disturbances… Darkness… You must accept what is foretold. Can you do that, my lad?”

  “You sound like our clansmen. Worry not, Mor, the light in the sky shall pass us by. I vow it won’t affect us.” He opened the door for her.

  “Oh, but it shall. Nothing will be as it was. You, my dear lad, must be accepting.”

  He nodded. “I am to leave on the morrow and I’m unsure when I’ll return. Be well.”

  “The journey will change your life. Take heart, my lad, for it shall end your despair. ” Mor released his arm and closed the door before she would explain her peculiar words.

  Callum dismissed her. As much as he cared for his grandmother, she was a wee bit strange. Still, he wouldn’t discount her words. Perhaps a great change would come.

  He returned to the hall and rejoined his comrades. The rest of the night, he sipped his ale and watched with disapproval as his clan reveled and drank. His wife stood with several women whose laughter rose with each drink. He’d hoped Lydia approached so he might let her know he would leave, but she kept to the other side of the hall. Callum gave up his vigilance and ambled home to bed.

  When he reached his cottage, he entered quietly so he wouldn’t awaken Dela. He sent the lass home that tended to his daughter, and covered his bairn with a warmer cover. Sleep didn’t come easy as he thought about his mission, his wife’s abhorrence, his brother’s neglect, and his grandmother’s odd behavior and peculiar words.

  Callum rose early the next morning and readied to leave. He stood in his cottage and hefted his saddlebag over his shoulder. Lydia hadn’t returned during the night from the celebration. She must have stayed at the keep. As he considered her, she ambled through the door.