The Draig's Choice Read online

  The Draig’s Choice

  Lisa Dawn Wadler

  LDW Group, LLC

  Copyright © 2018 by LDW Group, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Lisa Dawn Wadler

  For Jason – and the choices for tomorrow

  Prologue

  Scotland

  March 2, 1314

  “Hand me your sword.” The man before Robert should have questioned the command, but he held the weapon out by its blade. Few dared to argue with the Bruce. Taking the engraved pommel in his hand, the light and manageable weight of the long sword surprised Robert. He could feel the etched dragon on his palm and knew the creature had no end, it wrapped around the pommel with a head on each end of the beast. Marveling at the even balance of the sword, his hand covered the blue eyes of each dragon head.

  It struck him as odd that the famed weapon of the Draig laird had blue eyes, when those born to rule those lands always had green ones, at least according to any who had contact with the Highland clan. Conall was no exception. His green eyes lit his face and saw all. Like his father, Conall carried the build of a man born to do battle: tall and strong with muscle visible even through his linen shirt and leather trews. Dark black hair never hid his gaze due to it constantly being pulled back and secured; something he had insisted all his men copy to ensure clear sight. Robert knew Conall’s strength had saved him in battle more than once and would be a needed asset for those yet to come.

  With regret, he handed the sword back to Conall. “‘Tis the finest I have ever held.” As was his way, Conall nodded in agreement, but said nothing. “Your father once told me your clan has held this weapon for generations and that ‘twas forged by a dragon-god. While I doubted his tale, I never held a finer sword.”

  “I have heard the same tale the whole of my life.” Conall’s expression fell to one of grief at the mention of his late father. Robert also grieved for the man who had come seeking vengeance against the English years earlier and had stayed to become a trusted advisor, a role currently filled by the man’s son.

  Taking his seat at the table in his hall, Robert bid Conall do the same. Eyeing the rolled parchment on the table, he braced for the conversation that could strain their relationship. He needed Conall and was certain the man would do as commanded, but he wondered if Conall could leave behind clan traditions for the greater good.

  “The feud between the Draig and Campbells must end. It interferes with the fight for Scotland. I will have it no more.”

  Conall’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “Mayhap you should be speaking to the Campbell Laird, the man who slew my father merely one moon ago.”

  Sitting up straighter and leaning toward Conall, Robert glared at him. “In case you have forgotten, the Campbell died of the wounds your father inflicted in their fight. Vengeance has been served and must be put aside by you and your clan.”

  “Then tell the Campbells to cease raiding my herds and torching my crops.” Conall spat at him, fury blazing in his eyes.

  Robert sat back and drew in a deep breath. Arguing would never accomplish his goals; he wanted compliance. “You are correct and such actions will cease immediately. I have the new laird’s word and written pledge. Tearloch also sees the need for peace. Now I need yours.”

  “I will send word to the clan that none are to set foot on Campbell lands unless Draig lands are attacked.” Conall paused and Robert waited for the unspoken thoughts to be shared. “The Campbells started the raids long before I was born, allegedly due to a broken betrothal contract, though none has ever been found in our records. The Draig defend and have never sought to inflict injury.”

  While Robert believed him, he had two clans to pacify to bring peace. “It makes little difference who attacked, ‘tis over.” He handed the rolled parchment to Conall and waited for the man to read its contents. As expected, red mottled Conall’s face as he read, his rage easily seen.

  “Nay.” The growled one-word reply made Robert smile because it was exactly what he expected.

  “You have always obeyed me in all, I would see this done. If a broken marriage contract started the feud in generations past, a marriage will see it ended. You will marry the Campbell lass to bring peace.” Robert’s voice carried no doubt his order would be done.

  “The Campbell killed my father and you expect me to marry his daughter?” Conall rose to his feet and stomped the empty hall with his hands clenched at his sides.

  “The Campbell claimed blood-lust due to the battle. It happens, men have been kenned to fight even once the enemy is vanquished.”

  “Or he saw the opportunity to kill a man who had already sheathed his sword.” Conall’s accusation sounded valid to Robert, but he would never speak it aloud.

  “The Campbell begged my forgiveness before his death. He agreed to the match and sent word home commanding it be done. The son, Tearloch, the new Campbell laird, has consented to my demand and his father’s wishes, as you have read. Be wise and marry for peace.” Robert waited for the agreement.

  “‘Tis nay our way. The Draig marry for love, nay for treaty.” Conall stopped his strides before Robert. “I would have what my parents and their parents before them had: a wife I choose.”

  “Nonsense.” Robert dismissed the foolish notion with a wave of his hand. “Leave the tales of love for the bards. Times have changed. A man in power must wed for the security of his title and lands. With your marriage, the feud will end. Your people will sleep without fear and raise your crops and cattle to fatten your belly and purse.” For the first time he didn’t miss the elder Draig. Robert had suggested a marriage to make peace several times and each time the Draig laird had refused him due to the same reason. Only fools and peasants married for love.

  “I have more wealth than needed.” Conall’s reply caught him off guard. While the Draig supported his fight with more silver than any ruler could have expected, never had the wealth been flaunted.

  “Aye, your clan is most fortunate. Be more fortunate still, let all have peace and the safety it brings.” Robert waited while Conall again sat. “As laird, th
eir well-being is up to you.”

  “Are you sending me back?” The question was fair, and Robert nodded.

  “Only long enough to wed and bed the lass. With luck, you will return to me with your heir planted in your bride’s womb. Your father had no concerns leaving the clan duties to your Uncle Peter, and by now your younger brother should be of an age to assume responsibilities. I would have you by my side as we fight the English and make certain there is no question that I rule Scotland.”

  Conall once again read the contract, dropped it on the table and let his head fall to his chest in defeat. “I have no choice, do I?”

  “None. If you wish to continue to serve me, then obey me in all. As your reward, I will keep you at my right hand in council and battle.” Robert laughed at his own words. “Actually, that ‘tis my reward. I need your cunning mind and strong sword arm. I also need to ken ‘tis peace in the Highlands. Besides, you are past an age to marry and begin filling your keep with heirs. See it done.”

  Conall turned his hard gaze back to the rolled parchment. “The contract makes no mention of bride-price or lands exchanged.”

  Robert withheld his grin at the signal that once again he would be obeyed. Conall had learned much over the decade in his service, including the art of negotiation. “One of my men will accompany you home to make certain the negotiations are calm and agreed upon. Once details are settled, wed and bed, then return to me.” To the somber man before him, he added, “‘Tis said the Campbell lass ‘tis fair to look upon. Bedding her should be quite enjoyable.”

  Conall ignored the lascivious comment. “When?”

  “I would have you leave on the morrow. The sooner all ‘tis accomplished the better. Once you arrive home, send word to Tearloch. He and his sister will come to you for negotiations and the marriage.”

  Conall’s face twisted as if he had drunk sour wine. “I have nay been home in close to a decade. Mayhap I should spend a wee bit of time seeing to the clan.”

  Robert couldn’t argue with the statement. A laird should see to his lands and people before once again leaving for wars far from home. When Conall’s father had traveled back each winter, the son had always remained behind to serve the Bruce. “Aye, you should. I will send for you. Leave on the morrow and take with you some of your men who have long been absent. Remind them why they fight.”

  Sensing the end of the conversation, Conall rose and bowed. “I will see it done.”

  For once the comment didn’t carry the same reassurance Robert had come to expect. He let it pass. After all, Conall was about to break with clan tradition. All knew Highlanders were creatures of habit, a bit too dependent on their own traditions for a world moving towards the future. The way Conall’s shoulders slumped as he left, one might have assumed he had been sent on to a horrid fate, not into a warm bed.

  Chapter 1

  Phoenix, AZ

  Present Day

  “It’s about time you answered your phone. I’ve only called you four times,” Sarah snarled. “How’d the doctor’s appointment go?” While she preached patience, she owned none.

  She would swear she heard her sister smile. “Sorry, but you know I had classes tonight. The visit went really great.”

  Rachel’s schedule meant little to Sarah when she was waiting for news from several states away. Then her phone chirped with the request for Facetime. “Answer it. I need to see your reaction.”

  Sarah groaned, but hit the button. “Where are you?” Rachel asked.

  Straightening her posture in the patio furniture after throwing the soggy tennis ball for the dog, Sarah demanded, “Well?”

  “Two heartbeats.”

  Moisture pricked her eyes and she swiped at them with the back of her free hand. “Twins.” The awe alive in her response.

  “Just like us,” Rachel said with a huge grin. “Mom and Dad are going to go nuts when we tell them I’m pregnant with twins.” Then Rachel shook her head at the yells in the background. “Sorry, there’s a weapons program tonight. Kids are crazy excited.”

  The sounds heard in the office of the dojo had never bothered either of them. They’d practically grown up in the martial arts studio owned and operated by their mother. “No biggie. But why are you still at work? It’s after nine by you.” Part of her respected Rachel’s calling to teach martial arts. The rest of her couldn’t comprehend why her sister adored what she always thought of as an obligation.

  “The extra class ends in a few minutes. I handled the bo staff section and left the nun-chucks to Eleni, our newer instructor, who rocks, by the way. Mom’s doing the early Saturday morning kickboxing. Seemed fair.”

  Sarah nodded at the trade-off and stared in wonder at her twin. Her sister’s dark hair bore no resemblance to her own bright red. But both were cursed with frizzy curls thanks to their mother. They shared similar facial structure, but no more so than traditional siblings. Their eyes matched, both with brilliant blue thanks to hidden recessive genes in the family tree. Both also shared what they referred to as a porcelain complexion complete with loads of freckles. Sounds so much better than pale and pasty.

  The whole of their lives, they’d shared everything. No secrets and nothing withheld. Their dad still teased that they shared a brain. Given that they talked three to four times a day, the distance from Green Bay, Wisconsin, to Phoenix, Arizona, usually seemed minuscule. That shifted for Sarah as she realized Rachel’s babies wouldn’t have their auntie there on a daily basis.

  “I won’t be with you,” Sarah’s voice came out as a hushed whisper. Then she grimaced as the sloppy tennis ball landed again in her lap, leaving doggy drool marks on her pants. Without really focusing on the canine, she launched the ball to the back of the yard.

  Rachel frowned into the phone. “You and the pooch could always move back.”

  With a deep exhale, Sarah mentally gave the not-so-new-suggestion deeper consideration. But the reply came quickly, thanks to considerable time previously spent examining her personal life choices. “Then I’d be moving for you and not taking into consideration the life I’ve started to build here. I love the practice I’m with; the other therapists are wonderful. Plus, the practice is expanding to include several more integrative medical doctors. I can’t even begin to express how much I learn every day. Not to mention the fact I have a full schedule of regular patients.”

  Rachel laughed, which caught her off-guard. “Did you just place your life in front of someone else’s?”

  Sarah frowned and then nodded. “Damn, looks like this introspection crap I preach actually has some merit.”

  “Good for you,” her sister praised. “About damn time. Though I wish you’d done it before you moved, then you’d still be here.”

  The praise mixed with regret stung, but Sarah deemed it appropriate. After all, she’d left Green Bay two years ago to follow someone else’s dream. She’d dotingly followed her boyfriend and his dream job offer, despite setting her fledgling career back. She had left her family and friends, not to mention a full-time job at a local health care center where her Master’s in psychology had been put to good use.

  Gazing past the phone and into the small fenced yard of the small ranch home she’d purchased a year ago, true regret didn’t resonate within her. She adored the climate, loved her home and had made quality friends. If her sister lived nearby, her life would have been idyllic. That Scott had dumped her eight months after rearranging her life to suit him had been a life lesson, albeit a rough one.

  Sarah held her sister’s eyes. “I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. Already have a boarding reservation for Bella, so no worries there.” Finding a decent facility had been a challenge. Several had turned her and Bella away solely based on breed, not temperament. Staring at the one-hundred-ten pound pit bull, her light beige coat gleamed in the fading light of day. The heavily scarred muzzle and left side still made her wonder what the dog had suffered in her first two years of life.

  Maybe I’m not quite done needing to be the res
cuer. Oh, the hell with introspection. Who could have said no to the sweet creature about to be sent to death row? What the hell is wrong with people, and why don’t more adopt? I thank my lucky stars to have volunteered at the dog shelter and for finding my dog.

  “That’s over two months away,” Rachel whined, bringing her back to the conversation.

  “What are you complaining about? I’m going to have to deal with winter. So good with what the locals here call cold.”

  Rachel nodded. “Yep, dig out the sweaters. Maybe we’ll even be able to offer some snow.” Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a reason you’re sitting on your patio in your pathetic jammies? I know you ran into shithead this morning, but I thought we worked through that.”

  Sarah’s day had started with a taste for a latte, a Friday morning treat to pick up during the dog walk. Of course, she hadn’t showered yet and had been wearing ancient yoga pants and a t-shirt straight from the floor. “No, I’m so past that lovely encounter. But did I tell you the jerk made a snarky comment on my figure not having changed? For the record, he used full-on snark.”

  “Shut up. He did not. And, what the hell? Like he was built like a Greek god?” Rachel countered. “Why didn’t you tell me that part?”