The Rogue: A Highland Guard Novella (The Highland Guard) Read online

  Little is known about Randolph’s wife, Isabel Stewart, the only daughter of John Stewart of Bonkyll, the patriot hero who dies fighting alongside Wallace at Falkirk, and Margaret Bonkyll. As is common with many of the people I write about, there are various spellings for the name: de Bonkyl, Boucle, Buncle, Bunkle and Bonkill. Isabel and Randolph have at least two sons, Thomas and John, but it is one of their daughters, Agnes, known as Black Agnes, Countess of Dunbar, who will become famous for her heroic defense of Dunbar Castle against an English siege in 1338.

  In previous mentions of Randolph throughout the series, I used a version of his arms that I found from a number of sources (including the plaque dedicated to him on Edinburgh Castle): “Or, three cushions within a double tressure flory counter-flory Gules,” that is red and gold. But interestingly, for the Bannockburn Live 700th anniversary celebration, the expert historians had Randolph’s arms as red and white. http://learning.battleofbannockburn.com/battlepedia/characters/thomas-randolph,-earl-of-moray/#.Vst-8ceQloN I’m assuming that this was an earlier version—i.e. before Bannockburn and/or his earldom?—that I suspect is more accurate for my time period.

  As always, you can find pictures and some of the places mentioned in The Rogue and more information on my website. www.monicamccarty.com

  Don’t miss the other books in the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Highland Guard Series!

  THE CHIEF

  THE HAWK

  THE RANGER

  THE VIPER

  THE SAINT

  THE RECRUIT

  THE HUNTER

  THE KNIGHT (e-novella)

  THE RAIDER

  THE ARROW

  THE STRIKER

  THE ROCK

  THE GHOST

  ***

  Please continue on to read an excerpt from the last book in Monica’s bestselling Highland Guard Series coming from Pocket Books in June 2016…

  THE GHOST

  Joan Comyn swore allegiance to Robert the Bruce the day she witnessed England’s barbarous king torturing her famous mother, Scot patriot Bella MacDuff. Now the mysterious beauty slips into men’s hearts like a specter and entices England’s most illustrious barons to unwittingly divulge their secrets, then shares them with her king. Known only as the Ghost even among her Highland Guard brethren, Joan has become the most wanted spy in England.

  The man determined to uncover her identity poses her biggest threat yet. Alex Seton once stood with Bruce but now fights for the enemy. Though Joan knows she must avoid the handsome warrior or risk discovery, his knightly chivalry touches a place in her long since buried. When his suspicions grow apparent, Joan realizes she must do everything in her power to stop Alex from revealing her mission and convince the powerful fighter to join forces with the Highland Guard once more. But as the ultimate battle in the great war approaches, will Alex chose love or honor?

  An Excerpt from THE GHOST

  PROLOGUE

  Hagerstown Castle, Northumberland, England, late September 1306

  It was a horrible, wicked lie! And had she not been eavesdropping on the two tiring women retained by her father to watch over her, Joan Comyn would have told them exactly that.

  It couldn’t be true. No knight could do that to a woman. Not even Edward of England, the self-proclaimed “Hammer of the Scots,” could be so cruel and barbaric.

  Could he?

  A fresh stab of panic plunged through her chest. Though she never cried, her eyes prickled with tears as she slipped out of the alcove where she had been reading a book and trod soundlessly down the winding staircase of the castle that served as their temporary lodgings in the north of England. She wanted to put her hands over her ears to block out the offending words echoing in her head. Punish . . . traitor . . . cage.

  No! Her heart raced and thudded wildly as she ran across the spacious Hall—ignoring all the curious faces that turned to stare at her—to her father’s private solar. She pushed open the big oak door and burst into the room. “It can’t be true!”

  Her father’s frown was dark and forbidding enough to make her start. She sobered, cursing herself for forgetting to knock. John Comyn, Earl of Buchan, hated to be disturbed, and though her father rarely turned his terrifying temper on her, the threat alone made her heart beat a little faster.

  “You forget yourself, daughter. What is the meaning of this? As you can see”—he gestured to the half-dozen knights and barons seated around the table—“I am very busy.”

  She was instantly contrite. Clasping her hands before her, Joan bowed her head and did her best to look modest and respectful—the two qualities her father valued in women (and twelve-year-old girls who hadn’t yet reached womanhood).

  She lifted big eyes to his pleadingly. “Please, Father, I’m sorry to interrupt. But I heard something . . .” She lowered her voice, knowing well the risk in uttering the words. “About mother.”

  She quickly looked down again, but not before seeing the bolt of rage strike her father’s handsome features. In the best of moments, her father was irrational on the subject of his soon-to-be-set-aside wife, and in the worst he could become belligerent and unpredictable.

  The room went deathly quiet. Tension and discomfort were thick in the air.

  “Leave us,” her father said sharply to his men.

  They were only too eager to do his bidding, shuffling out quickly without looking at her. Not one of them would meet her eyes.

  Her stomach dropped. Oh God, what if it was true?

  Tears burning behind her eyes, she looked up at the man seated behind the large table. She would never have described him as warm and loving, but the cold, angry, bitter man he’d become over the past six months was nearly unrecognizable.

  “If you speak of the treacherous bitch’s punishment”—she flinched at the crude word no matter how many times he said it—“it is undoubtedly true.”

  Whatever blood Joan had left in her body drained to the floor. She swayed, lowering herself to the recently vacated bench opposite her father to prevent her legs from giving out. “But it can’t be. I heard them say that she’s been imprisoned in a cage high atop the ramparts at Berwick Castle . . . like an animal.”

  Her father’s gaze hardened, his eyes two pinpricks of onyx with the unmistakable shiny gleam of malice. “It is true.”

  Horror made her forget herself. “But that is barbaric! Who could have thought of such a thing? You must do something to help her! The king will listen to you.”

  Even in England, the Scottish Earl of Buchan was not without considerable influence. Her mother, too, was important in her own right. Isabella MacDuff was the daughter of the previous Earl of Fife and the sister of the current earl—one of Scotland’s most ancient and revered families. It was inconceivable that King Edward of England could punish any woman like this, but a lady—a countess—of her mother’s position . . . surely her father would be able to put a stop to it?

  His face turned florid and his eyes sparked with an unholy fervor.

  Joan shrank back in the face of the temper she had unwittingly unleashed.

  “I won’t do a damned thing! The whore is getting no better than she deserves for what she’s done.”

  Joan’s throat choked with tears. She’s not a whore! She wanted to scream in protest, but fear held her tongue.

  Perhaps guessing her thoughts, he slammed his fist down on the table. The whole room seemed to shake—including her. “As if putting a crown upon the head of her lover wasn’t enough, she is said to have taken the most notorious pirate in the Western Isles to her bed. Lachlan MacRuairi,” he bit out disgustedly, spittle foaming in the corners of his mouth. “A bastard and a brigand. If she’s being confined like an animal, it is because that is what the rutting bitch deserves.”

  Joan loved her mother more than anyone in the world. She refused to believe what they said about her. They were lies meant to discredit her and explain what people thought was unnatural bravery in a woman. They needed an explanation for how