The Highlander Who Stole Christmas - Eliza Knight

Chapter One

Revenge was a dish best served on a cold, snowy platter.

At least, that was what Laird Thane Shaw told himself as he headed out into the darkness just after nightfall, ignoring how the clouds covered the stars in the inky black sky. A blustery wind blew, and a man with less hate in his bones might have frozen to death. But his thirst for revenge was enough to keep him warm.

This was for his twin sister, Thea. If no one else felt the need to exact revenge on her behalf, then he would gladly take up the mantle. Thea deserved no less—in fact, she deserved so much more. Life, for one.

Damn his clan for fearing the wrath of the Campbells. The bloody bastards deserved to feel the same pain the Shaw clan endured. No matter their size, no matter their might, the Campbells couldn’t get away with murder.

And he was going to teach them just that.

An eye for an eye—or rather, a sister for a sister.

Lady Sarah Campbell was about to become collateral damage in a war waged between clans, and while he did feel a twinge of guilt at putting her life in danger for the sake of his bloodlust, at least he wasn’t going to kill her. Unlike the Campbells who had violently stolen his sister’s life.

And so, Thane ignored the warnings of the weather and rode out into the night before anyone could stop him.

Wrapped in his plaid to ward off the cold along with an extra riding blanket on his horse, Destiny, he rode over the moors. His horse’s hooves knocked against the frozen, packed earth. White clouds puffed from his mouth and the horse’s muzzle, and with each gust of wind, the ice on the tree limbs tinkled like musical wind chimes.

Eight long months had passed since the Battle of Culloden, which had not only changed the landscape of Scotland but the landscape of his clan. His entire life. And ended his sister’s.

He’d been one of the lucky ones. Hell, if one could call him lucky. He felt cursed. Vexed with life, and guilt for surviving, when so many others had died for the cause. More than half of the Shaw warriors had been annihilated in battle. And those who’d made it were filled with such anguish and fear. Not to mention they’d had to hide from those who sought to kill them ever since. The Duke of Cumberland had orchestrated the catastrophic battle, and when it had ended, he’d put out the order for all Jacobite rebels to be murdered.

And still, Thane was here. But without his twin sister in the world, what more did he have to live for?

When he returned to his castle with Lady Sarah in tow, it would raise the morale of his people. Seeing that Thea’s death was being avenged would bring them hope for a brighter future. Or in some way present a future that was less bleak. Even the dogs looked dejected these days. All of the clan’s crops had been burned or stolen by dragoons, and what little stores they’d been able to hide were quickly dwindling. Neighboring clans were all in the same boat. The population itself was dwindling because of it, as some fled to the New World and parts of Europe. Escaping starvation, fear and grief.

At the very least, he might be able to extort some supplies from the Campbells when they came looking for Sarah. A ransom paid was better than a silly chit who required rations.

Lady Sarah Campbell…He’d not seen her since Thea had been wed to the Chief of Clan Campbell, but his memory of her was sharp. The lass had a confidence about her that came with the privilege of belonging to a powerful clan. One that had not seemed to fair as badly as the rest of the nation.

Trailing in undulating waves down her back and threaded with little white flowers, her red locks screamed out to the sun. Her lips were a perfect pink bow, accented by a beauty mark on the indentation of her creamy, dimpled cheek. But most noteworthy were her brown eyes, the kind that saw straight into a man’s soul, disturbing him enough that he’d dreamt of them for months after their meeting.

What sort of things had a lass like that seen?

He hardly had to guess, given the brutality of her brothers. It crossed his mind then that perhaps Lady Sarah had witnessed his sister’s death. A shudder passed through him, imagining what