Escape to the Highlands by Keira Montclair EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Keira Montclair
- Publish Date: November 7, 2022
- Size: 14 MB
- Format: PDF
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
The Lowlands of Scotland, early summer of 1255
Symon MacKinnon’s life was over.
Not because of the Lowland Chieftain standing in front of him with his
sword drawn or the three others next to him reflecting the same posture. Or
even the chains that bound his own hands behind the post he was seated
Nor was his life over due to the other forty guards carrying various
weaponry—clubs, lit torches, swords, bows, axes. None of those frightened
Not even the pain shooting out of the ragged wound ripped into his leg
by some sword.
It was what was missing.
This was the Lowlands of Scotland, MacKinnon land, presently occupied
by a horde of villainous Lowlanders. His father’s castle, where Symon was
raised with his siblings, the very place his sire had married his mother,
Cynthia. Ronan and Cynthia had brought four children into the world who
had lived. Symon was the eldest and had two younger brothers, Craeg and
Boyd. Alicia, his only sister, was the wee bairn of the family. But he didn’t
see evidence of any of them, dead or alive, in the courtyard in front of him.
MacKinnon Castle was no more. His father lay dead not far away, his
mother’s bloody shawl evidence that she was not far from his sire. He was
certain the small mound behind his father was his mother, but he couldn’t
bring himself to look at her. The rest of his family were nowhere to be seen.
Symon did not know how long he had been unconscious and as he roused
now, he felt haunted by the missing time. What had happened to his family,
to his clan, while he was knocked out? All he could tell for sure was that the
courtyard was covered with blood and bodies. MacKinnon blood and
There wasn’t a red plaid in sight, except on dead bodies. The thatched
roofs of his clansmen’s huts still burned inside the curtain wall, which was
pocked with gaping holes from where stones had been wrenched out of place.
He could even see the crops through the open gate, nothing but smoldering
ashes in the many fields on their land. Men continued to carry furniture out of
the keep into the courtyard, only to empty the contents and line the various
chests and chairs in the courtyard for all to see.
Ransacked first, then to be burned to ashes.
And bodies? Bodies were everywhere.
“Kill me and be done with it,” he whispered. Memories of what had
happened before he’d been knocked out returned to him, but how he wished
they hadn’t. He wished he had no memory of what had happened at all. He
wished he had died with his sire.
He had no reason to live.
The man in front of him had plunged his bloody sword into Ronan
MacKinnon’s chest. His father’s hand had clutched the weapon as if to stop
it, but the polished steal had moved through Ronan’s grip and entered his
heart and Symon had seen the blood spilling from between his father’s
fingers, still wrapped around the blade. All these years, he’d considered his
father to be indestructible because the man trained so hard and for so many
years. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, seeing him fall was one of the
worst memories Symon would ever have.
His father’s body limp on the cold stone, blood everywhere.
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