The Legendary Highlander

THE LEGENDARY HIGHLANDER HIGHLAND MYTHS BOOK THREE DONNA FLETCHER CONTENTS 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 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 About the Author Also by Donna Fletcher Also by Donna Fletcher No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, AI, or otherwise without permission of the author. This is a book of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The Legendary Highlander All rights reserved. Copyright May 2023 by Donna Fletcher Cover art The Killion Group Visit Donna’s Website www.donnafletcher.com http://www.facebook.com/donna.fletcher.author CHAPTER 1 WAKE! HE IS HERE! Fia jolted up out of sleep, eyes wide and heart pounding, the deep, commanding voice continuing to echo in her ears. She pulled her wool cloak tightly around her, not that it did much good against the cold that penetrated the dungeon’s stone walls where she was held prisoner—though not for much longer. He had arrived to take possession of her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. There had been nothing she could do when captured weeks ago, imprisoned, and accused of being a witch. Her twenty-odd years had taught her that ignorance was a difficult foe to battle. She was no witch. She was a healer from a long line of healers. She had inherited the skill of her ancestors and their passion to learn, to prefect their craft, to help the ill, and… like some before her, possess the knowing. She would sense things to come and a voice in her head often guided her. Both had benefited her, kept her safe, had even helped her as a healer. Other times it had nearly gotten her killed. She tried to make sense of it and find a way to control it, but it wasn’t possible. It had a will of its own, so she had learned to live with it the best way she could, and, at times, she had learned to hide it. She shivered, a long, drawn-out shiver, and it was not only the cold that brought it on, but fear. She had sensed, not long after her arrival here, that a man would come for her and demand to take possession of her. Unfortunately, she did not know why. She only knew that fate had sent him, but fate could be a friend or foe and only time would tell which one it was meant to be. Fia stood, stretching the stiffness and aches from her limbs. Her sleeping palette was nothing more than a thin layer of hay with a sparse wool blanket spread over it. She often wrapped the blanket around her cloak for extra warmth. Still, she had never felt warm enough since arriving here. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of her hunger. Tavia, the daughter of Chieftain Newlin of Clan Strathearn, made sure she had sufficient food, as did Flora, the chieftain’s niece. But an arranged marriage had Tavia recently leaving with her husband. A hastily arranged marriage had taken Flora away as well. Cora, one of the cooks in the kitchen, had tried her best to bring her food but Chieftain Newlin made it difficult for her. He believed Fia a witch and feared what she might inflict on him and the clan, making it difficult for Cora to sneak her sufficient food. She would forgo the food right now for a bucket of water so she might clean herself before meeting her fate. The stench in her cell had her wrinkling her nose and she worried that some of it was coming from her, having had no chance to wash since her capture. Fia stilled, catching a sound. It was the door at the top of the stairs creaking open. Light footfalls followed cautiously and Fia hurried to the iron bars on the cell door. “Cora?” Fia called out softly. “Aye, it is me,” Cora acknowledged just as softly, fearful someone would hear. Fia was glad to see the short, round woman, though the worry on her face had Fia asking, “What’s wrong, Cora?” “He has arrived,” Cora said and hugged herself protectively. “He has the finest features I have ever seen on a man and yet he is the most frightening man I have ever seen. His warriors do not move without a command from him. And one look from his,” —she shivered— “I have never seen the color of his eyes before, a blue so bold it captures you and you cannot look away. One look, not a word from him, and his warriors obey without hesitation. Thankfully, he did not bring his army of the dead with him.” She shivered again. “Chieftain Newlin trembles in his presence, most do. I have heard the legends spread about him. Spawned from the mist of battle one day the tale goes, but they seemed more fanciful than true.” Her eyes went wide. “Now, though, seeing him with my own eyes, I believe the tales are true and I cannot wait for him to take his leave.” Cora’s words sent a shudder through Fia. She would go from one prison to another, forced to leave with him. “I am so sorry,” Cora rushed to say. “I wish you could be set free. I do not believe you are a witch, though I cannot say that to others. They would believe you cast a spell on me and have me