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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN: 978-1-68291-162-4

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

BY B.J. SCOTT

THE FRASER BROTHERS TRILOGY

Highland Legacy

Highland Quest

Highland Homecoming

BLADES OF HONOR SERIES

Highland Hellion

Highland Resurrection

ALSO BY B.J. SCOTT

Her Highlander’s Promise

Bedded By Her Highland Enemy

This book, as always is dedicated

to my husband, Steve.

Words can’t express how much I appreciate

your love and continued support.

And it is also dedicated to

my Clan Scott Street Team

for your support and dedication

to getting the word out about my books.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my family and friends for their encouragement and support in my writing adventures. Without you, I would never have realized my dream of becoming an author. Thank you to the members of my street team for all your efforts to promote my books, and for the fact that you are always there to listen and bounce new ideas off of, and provide me with a constant reason to smile. I love you all! I want to thank Debbie McCreary Personal Author Assistant and Ann Leeson for your support and beta reading skills. Thanks to my editor, Debby Gilbert and those at Soul Mate Publishing for their continued efforts to make my books the best they can be. Thanks Ramona Lockwood for the wonderful work on the cover. You made my characters come to life with your talent.

And finally a huge thanks goes out to my readers. Thank you for buying the Fraser Brother Trilogy, Book One in the Blades of Honor series,
Highland Hellion
, and for encouraging me to write yet another sequel. Without you there would be no need for books.

Chapter 1

With downcast eyes, Sheena MacLean scurried though the streets of Berwick-upon-Tweed. She avoided trips to the village whenever possible, preferring the seclusion of her hut outside the curtain wall. But she’d used up the last of the food supplies, leaving her no choice but to venture into town.

The sun hung low in the sky. The day almost spent, she quickened her pace, hoping to finish her errands and return home before dark. Quinn would be waiting for her. And while he was trustworthy enough to leave on his own for a short time, he was still a young lad, having only seen seven summers.

After visiting several of the street merchants, Sheena peered at her purchases in the basket she carried—a sack of oats, two turnips, and a bit of dried venison. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could afford. At least they’d not go hungry this night.

“Where you going, lassie?” a man called out from the doorway of the alehouse. “Fancy a little company?”

Given the way he slurred his words as he staggered down the steps toward her, it was obvious to Sheena he was well in his cups.

“She’s a whore,” another man said. “You dinna have to ask for her favors, just take what she has to offer.”

Heart hammering, her gaze fixed on the path ahead of her, Sheena tugged her
arisaidh
over her head, while doing her best to ignore the bawdy comments. This wasn’t the first time men had mistaken her for a woman who lifted her skirt for coin, even though it was the furthest thing from the truth. But it seemed once people made up their minds, there was little chance of changing them. One of the reasons she and Quinn moved around so often.

She kept walking, hoping the men would not follow. The short jaunt through the village suddenly felt like miles. “Why is it they canna leave me be?” she muttered under her breath when she passed the kirk. Several ladies standing outside cast stares of disapproval in her direction.

“
And you call yourselves Christians,
” she was tempted to say aloud, but held her tongue. She and Quinn had not lived in Berwick long, yet people looked down their noses at them, having decided, without getting to know them first, that they were not worthy of respect or courtesy.

Sheena heaved a sigh of frustration. It was difficult to get settled in a new village, even harder to hide the scar on her chin, a vindictive token from Roderick Morgan, the oldest son and future laird of the Highland village in which she was born and raised.

Sheena had barely seen seventeen summers when Roderick, a deplorable, womanizing beast took a fancy to her—through no encouragement on her part. Despite her avid protests, the scoundrel was determined to make her his mistress.

Sheena squeezed her eyes shut, banishing the unpleasant memories of the day he accosted her from her mind. Right now, all she wanted to do was return to her home and Quinn. But Roderick’s words echoed in her head as if he were standing beside her.

“If I canna have you in my bed, no one else will ever want you,” he growled, just before he slashed her face with his dirk.

Sheena gave her head a shake, hot tears running down her cheeks. While she did her best to keep the events of that horrible day buried, she would forever bear the mark of a whore. She dragged her sleeve across her face and sniffled. She could live with people’s unfair opinions of her, but her heart ached for Quinn. He was just a lad and had done nothing to earn their animosity.

In a hurry to get back to her croft, she entered the cattle yard, a shortcut to the village gate, a mistake she’d come to regret.

“So we meet again,” a man hissed from the shadows.

Sheena stopped dead in her tracks and glanced around, trying to determine where the voice was coming from. She soon had her answer. Two men stumbled out from behind one of the stables, blocking her path. The same brigands she’d seen outside the tavern.

“Nice of you to join us,” one man said, then brought a jug of whisky to his lips and drank deeply. He swept the back of his hand across his mouth and belched before tossing the vessel to his companion. “I’ll go first, then you can have at her.” He grinned, revealing a set of uneven, rotting teeth.

“Why do you get be first, Gus?” the second man asked.

“Because I’m the oldest. Keep an eye out while I rut with the whore, then you can have your turn, brother.” Gus closed the gap between them.

Sheena’s breath caught, her stomach twisting with dread and her mind searching for a way out of this mess. But she’d show no fear. She inclined her head and looked Gus in the eye. “Please, sir, you have the wrong idea about me. Let me pass. My brother is waiting for me.”

Gus threw back his head, laughed, then cupped his ballocks and pumped his hips in a suggestive manner. “I know exactly what you are.” He took a menacing step forward, then dragged his calloused finger along her chin. “This says it all.”

Sheena flinched at his touch and tried to back away, but he quickly clasped her upper arm, halting her retreat.

“You’ll leave when I say so, and not until I’ve stated my needs.” Gus hauled her against his chest.

Sheena gagged, the putrid stench of his breath and the unmistakable odors of whisky and unwashed flesh turning her stomach. She pursed her lips when he tried to kiss her, but her effort to resist proved futile and he forced his tongue into her mouth, plundering without mercy.

Determined not to surrender without a fight, Sheena brought her knee up with as much force as she could muster, catching Gus in the groin.

“Damn you, bitch!” he yelled before dropping to ground, rolling and moaning in agony.

Aware she’d have but a minute to escape, she grabbed her basket and bolted across the cattle yard. But the second man gave chase, tackling her before she got far, her chest hitting the hard ground with a thud. Winded, she gasped for air. Pain lanced across her ribs as she tried to inhale a shallow breath.

He flipped her onto her back and glared down at her. “You dinna think you could get away that easily, did you? You may have caught my brother off-guard, but I’ll not fall for your trickery.”

Gus lumbered to his feet and staggered forward. He clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Get off her, Lorne. I told you I’m going first,” he growled. “And after what she did, she’ll beg me to kill her by the time I’m finished.”

“You had your chance and now it is my turn,” Lorne said, refusing to budge. He leaned forward, nipped at her neck, then tried to kiss her.

Sheena bit his lower lip, then dragged her nails along his cheek, gaining her a stinging backhanded slap. Followed by another.

“I’ll teach you a lesson you willna forget,” Lorne snapped, then he struck her again.

As the two brothers resumed their debate over who would violate her fist, Sheena spotted her basket laying on the ground only a couple of feet away. With an outstretched arm, her fingers grappling in the dirt, she managed to catch the handle and tugged it toward her.

Gus dragged Lorne to his feet. “I’m going to sample her wares and you, brother, will wait until I’m finished.”

“Over my dead body,” Lorne replied, refusing to back down. He shoved his brother, almost knocking him off his feet, then drew his sword.

Taking advantage of the argument, Sheena reached inside the basket, retrieving a dirk she carried for protection. Ignoring the pain, she braced her injured ribs with her forearm, climbed to her feet, and sucked in a shallow breath. After silently praying for courage, she held the weapon in front of her with her free hand.

“Neither of you will be sampling anything this day. Be off with you. Leave me be, or I’ll cut you from stem to stern,” Sheena warned. “I’m na afraid to use this.”

Gus laughed, then lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and twisting it sharply to the right, the dirk falling from her fingers. “Are you daft, bitch? There are two of us and only one of you.” He quickly picked up the blade, then wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed until she gasped for air. “My brother is right. You do need a lesson, and I’m the one to give it. Or perhaps I’ll not bother and just gut you like a fish.”

Sheena glared back at him. “I’d prefer death to laying with swine like you.” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them. But she’d been violated once and would do everything in her power to keep it from happening again.

She grabbed for the weapon, but Gus lashed out, cutting her forearm. He threw her to the ground before covering her with his massive form. She saw stars when the back of her head struck the ground and nausea twisted her gut. No match for his size or strength, there was nothing she could do to stop the blackguard from ravaging her.

“If you’re a good lass and do as I say, I may show mercy and let you live to see another day,” Gus hissed in her ear as he lifted her skirt.

“Help me! Someone, please,” she called out.

Gus delivered a backhanded blow that left her hovering on the edge of consciousness, then covered her mouth with his filthy hand. “Hold your
wheesht,
or I’ll slice out your tongue.”

Quinn’s face came to mind and Sheena stopped struggling. If it were she alone, she would continue to fight as long as there was a breath left in her body. But if they killed her, what would happen to him? She was all he had. Injured and drained of her strength, there was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying this nightmare would end quickly.

“Get off the lass.
Now!
” a man shouted.

A modicum of relief washed over her at the sound of the man’s voice. Dare she hope he’d actually heard her plea for help and had come to her aid?

Within seconds, Gus was dragged to his feet by the stranger.

“What sort of fiend assaults a woman against her will? Be off with you. And may the Almighty have mercy on your pathetic soul.”

Gus laughed and drew his sword. “Who are you to tell us what to do, Monk? I thought the men, or should I say milksops, who don woman’s clothing and hide behind the cross were pacifists.”

The stranger moved forward, his glower fixed on Gus. “You thought wrong,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll warn you but once. Leave the lass alone and dinna bother her again, or you will answer to me.”

“Dinna be giving us orders. Be off with you, or I’ll flay you where you stand.” Gus charged forward, wielding his blade in the air above his head. “I’ll have my way with this wench and any other whore of my choosing. Prepare to meet your precious God.”

Certain the stranger didn’t stand a chance against her two assailants, Sheena held her breath, waiting for Gus to deliver the fatal blow.

But the monk sidestepped the attack, then with the skill of a warrior, he quickly disarmed him, before shoving Gus to the ground. Swiftly, he retrieved the weapon, then placed his boot on the back of her assailant’s neck. “I dinna want to shed your blood, but I will if you dinna get your sorry arse out of here.”

Lorne leapt forward in his brother’s defense, but halted when the monk pointed the sword at his chest. “Are you deaf? I dinna want to kill you either, but I will if you continue this.”

Lorne raised his hands in the air. “Easy, man. We only wanted a little fun. It’s not like she is a virgin. Let my brother up and we will leave.”

“Sheath your weapon and stand down.” The monk narrowed his gaze, scowling at Lorne until he complied, then lifted his foot from Gus’s neck. “Get up and dinna come back,” he said, but not before booting him in the arse. “If I see either of you bothering a woman again, I willna show mercy.”

Gus climbed to his feet, wiped the dirt from his trews, then stumbled toward his brother. “Let’s get out of here. You never know what kind of disgusting ailments a woman like that might pass on anyway.” He spat on the ground then cupped his brother’s elbow.

The monk waited for the two men to leave before dropping the sword and hurrying to Sheena’s side. He knelt beside her, gently lifted her head, then cradled it in his lap. “You are safe now. Dinna try to move about until I have a chance to check your injuries.”

With her head throbbing and her vision suddenly blurred, Sheena tried to focus on the face of the man who came to her aid, but an insidious fog clouded her mind as she struggled to remain awake.

“You’re injured, lass. Try to rest easy.” The monk gently stroked her cheek, but she flinched at his touch.

“I’m sorry. I dinna mean to frighten you,” the monk said, his voice low and soothing. “Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”

“Might I be of some assistance?” Another man’s voice rang out as he approached. “What happened here?”

He hovered over them, his tall muscular frame blocking out the waning sun, his face lost in the shadow. Her pulse raced. Could she trust this man, or would he challenge the monk?

“She was attacked by two drunken sots,” the monk replied. “I happened along when they were about to have their way with her. But I chased them off.”

“Lucky for her you came by when you did.” The man squatted. “She may not have been violated, but she looks to have taken a nasty beating. And there is blood on her sleeve.”

“Aye, the brutes roughed her up pretty good. Do you know her?” the monk asked.

“I dinna live in Berwick. I’m here on clan business, and like you, just happened by.” He held out his arm. “I’m Ian Fraser.”

The monk grasped his forearm and gave it a shake. “I’m Brother Lazarus from Ayton Abbey.”

Fraser leaned closer. “What is your name, lass?” he asked as he lightly stroked his fingers across Sheena’s brow, catching a stray lock of hair. “Do you live in Berwick?”

She shied from his touch and did not answer. While the two men seemed harmless, she had learned a long time ago to trust no one.

“I mean you no harm, lass,” Fraser said.

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