The Kissing Stone

Also by Amanda Scott

Series

THE BATH TRILOGY

The Bath Quadrille

Bath Charade

The Bath Eccentric’s Son

BORDER NIGHTS

Moonlight Raider

Devil’s Moon

THE BORDER TRILOGY

Border Bride

Border Fire

Border Storm

THE BORDER TRILOGY 2

Border Wedding

Border Lass

Border Moonlight

THE DANGEROUS SERIES

Dangerous Games

Dangerous Angels

Dangerous Illusions

Dangerous Lady

THE GALLOWAY TRILOGY

Tamed by a Laird

Seduced by a Rogue

Tempted by a Warrior

THE HIGHLAND SERIES

Highland Fling

Highland Secrets

Highland Treasure

Highland Spirits

THE HIGHLAND NIGHTS SERIES

The Reluctant Highlander

The Kissing Stone

THE ISLES/TEMPLARS SERIES

Highland Princess

Lord of the Isles

Prince of Danger

Lady’s Choice

Knight’s Treasure

King of Storms

LAIRDS OF THE LOCH

The Laird’s Choice

The Knight’s Temptress

The Warrior’s Bride

SCOTTISH KNIGHTS TRILOGY

Highland Master

Highland Hero

Highland Lover

THE SECRET CLAN

Abducted Heiress

Hidden Heiress

Highland Bride

Reiver’s Bride

Novels

An Affair of Honor

The Battling Bluestocking

The Bawdy Bride

The Dauntless Miss Wingrave

The Fugitive Heiress

The Indomitable Miss Hariss

The Infamous Rakes

The Kidnapped Bride

Lady Escapade

Lady Hawk’s Folly

Lord Abberley’s Nemesis

Lord Greyfalcon’s Reward

The Madcap Marchioness

Mistress of the Hunt

The Rose at Twilight

The Kissing Stone

the highland nights series

Amanda Scott

To Maggie Crawford,

editor extraordinaire, who inadvertently planted

the seed for The Kissing Stone’s secondary theme.

Thank you!

Author’s Note

I based The Kissing Stone on historical versions of an incident during the ancient feud between Clan Comyn (later Cumming/s) and the Mackintoshes of Clan Chattan. The basic plotline of the feud and its result are historical, and the major events are as accurate as I could make them, including the ending.

The following note comes from one fascinating, bestselling source on which I relied for the way we use (and abuse) intuition, and how it works:

"Intuition is usually looked upon by us thoughtful Westerners with contempt … [and] often described as emotional, unreasonable, or inexplicable. Husbands chide their wives about ‘feminine intuition’ and don’t take it seriously. We much prefer logic, the grounded, explainable, unemotional thought process that ends in a supportable conclusion. Americans worship logic, even when it’s wrong, and deny intuition, even when it’s right.

Men, of course, have their own version. … Theirs is more viscerally named ‘a gut feeling,’ but it isn’t just a feeling. It is our most complex cognitive process and at the same time, the simplest.

—Gavin de Becker, The Gift of Fear: Survival Signals That Protect Us from Violence (Copyright 1997, 2010, Gavin de Becker, Dell 1997)

Glossary

For readers’ convenience, the author offers the following guide:

Catriona—Ka CHREE na

Clachan—village

Fain—glad

Forbye—besides, in addition, not to mention

Gillichallum Roy—Gilli HA lum = Young Malcolm; Roy = red

Glen—valley, typically narrow and deep

Glen Mòr—the Great Glen

Hellicat—a good-for-nothing

Mo chridhe—sweetheart

Moigh—Moy (which is Loch Moy’s modern spelling)

Plaid (great kilt)—pronounced played. All-purpose garment from a length of wool kilted up with a belt. Wearer flings excess over his shoulder.

Stone (the)—when capitalized = the kissing stone

Strath—broad, flat valley; typically a river runs through it (Strathnairn)

Tables—early name for backgammon, played much the same way

Tail—a powerful man’s retinue, limited at the time according to rank

Tocher—dowry

Whisst—as in Hold (haud) your whisst: Be quiet.

Intuition (15c): n 1: quick and ready insight; 2 a: immediate apprehension or cognition; b: knowledge or conviction gained by intuition; c: the power or faculty of attaining to direct knowledge or cognition without evident rational thought and inference.

—Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Eleventh Edition

Prologue

Scottish Central North Highlands, Raitt Castle, November 1432

"Sir, you cannot do this! Such hangings are not only illegal but barbaric!"

Standing outside the open main gate of the castle, twenty-three-year-old William Comyn—namesake of an ancient Lord of Badenoch—clutched his fists at his slim hips in outraged fury and faced his equally furious father with more than his usual courage. Having said, for once, exactly what he thought, Will fell silent, awaiting the explosion.

A wintry chill and gloomy sky augured a thunderous outcome for the day, too.

Nearby, men had almost finished stringing the ends of four long ropes through holes in four of the iron bars that protruded high on the stone wall framing the castle’s fifteen-foot arched gateway. The other end of each rope dangled near its intended victim, waiting for Comyns to form nooses around the men’s necks and haul each one up to hang until death claimed him.

The two angry men glowering at each other were both an inch or two over six feet with the same shoulder-length light brown hair, dark hazel-green eyes, and breadth of shoulder. However, Comyn of Raitt—or Sir Gervaise Comyn de Raite, as he now insisted others address him, employing the French pronunciation with emphasis on the second syllable of his first name—was a warrior of many more years’ standing.

Descended from Norman knights, de Raite was also heavier in shoulders and thighs than his lanky youngest son, and his unbound hair and beard revealed more gray than brown. His temper being legendary, none of his sons—despite the Fates’ originally blessing him with six—had ever so blatantly challenged his authority.

He reacted just as Will had expected.

"Nowt that I do be illegal! de Raite roared, putting his face close to Will’s. I am the law at Raitt, from Nairn tae Lochindorb, and should be treated as such, ye impudent hellicat. What’s more, them four Mackintosh villains trespassed on my land. For that, they must hang as a warning tae other such egregious ill-doers!"

Although Will’s focus remained fixed on what was doubtless a lost cause, he knew that his father was overstating his authority, which was oft contested by neighboring chiefs and chieftains, especially the Mackintoshes, from whom de Raite had seized the castle two decades ago.

Sir, he said, cooling his tone, "recall that after you seized Raitt from Fin of the Battles, the Regent and, later, his grace, the King ordered the Mackintosh to let you keep Raitt and commanded you both to maintain the peace hereabouts."

Jamie Stewart be a feckless dafty, de Raite retorted. He’s nobbut a puppet o’ the English King a-trying tae bring English notions tae Scotland. By such doing, he undermines the powers o’ his nobles, most notably those of our liege lord, Alexander o’ the Isles. So, I’ll ha’ nowt tae do wi’ the King.

Having clapped eyes on the King of Scots only once, at a distance, and therefore having no set opinion of James Stewart or his notions, Will nevertheless knew right from wrong. What his father was about to do was wrong.

That road has been a public one for centuries, sir, he said. You have long given safe passage to travelers there, yourself. To change that practice only to hang four Mackintosh members of the powerful Clan Chattan Confederation is wrong in the eyes of the law and of God Himself. You gave them no warning and arrested them only because they were born Mackintoshes. To what end?

"Tae what end, ye say? I’ll tell ye what end. Did Alexander’s forces under the command o’ Donal Balloch no defeat the Mackintoshes and the royal army at Inverlochy? Did Jamie Stewart not imprison Alexander after Jamie’s victory at Lochaber, when Alexander submitted tae him at Holyrood? Aye, he did! Alexander be free now at last but be a broken man who ha’ done nowt tae reclaim his heritage!"

All of that is true, Will admitted. Even so—

Nae, then! de Raite interjected. We ha’ sworn fealty tae the Lord of the Isles. It be our bounden duty tae bring down all o’ them insolent Mackintoshes and their ilk, now and for all time.