Bound by Song (Cauld Ane Series) Read online

  Book #4 in the Cauld Ane Series

  2013 Tracey Jane Jackson

  Copyright © 2013 by Tracey Jane Jackson

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States

  Bound by Song is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Photo

  Couple:

  Tracey Jane Jackson

  Landscape:

  Stefan Krause

  http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Ritchyblack

  This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

  Cover Art

  Jackson Jackson

  Cover Models

  Paige Wilson

  Brett Young

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Northern Lights

  About Tracey Jane Jackson

  Other books in the Cauld Ane Series

  Bound by Blood

  Cauld Ane #1

  Bound by Fire

  Cauld Ane #2

  Bound by Secrets

  Cauld Ane #3

  Other books by Tracey Jane Jackson

  The Bride Price

  Civil War Brides Series, Book #1

  The Bride Found

  Civil War Brides Series, Book #2

  The Bride Spy

  Civil War Brides Series, Book #3

  The Bride Ransom

  Civil War Brides Series, Book #4

  The Rebel Bride

  Civil War Brides Series, Book #5

  The Bride Star

  Civil War Brides Series, Book #6

  The Bride Pursued

  Civil War Brides Series, Book #7

  The Bride Accused

  Civil War Brides Series, Book #8

  The Brides United

  Civil War Brides, Book #9

  Acknowledgements

  Another HUGE thank you to Ása Erlingsdóttir who helped me with the beautiful Icelandic translations.

  Paige and Brett, thanks so much for returning one year later to recapture your beauty for the cover!!!

  A big thanks to the best editor EVER, Ellen Tarver, you're a rock star. And Vandy, Cathi, and Amanda, thanks for all the hard BETA reads!

  For Paige

  You are such an amazing young woman and I’m proud to call you friend!

  Thanks for being beautiful inside and out!

  CHAPTER ONE

  GRACE WILSON TAPED up the last of her packing boxes and set it in the corner with the others. She couldn’t believe her life had come to this. She felt like she’d done everything she was supposed to do and yet, here she was, twenty-four years old and being forced to move back in with her parents. She felt like a failure. But after losing her job four months ago, and being unsuccessful in finding a new one, she had to face facts.

  She was broke.

  Maybe not broke, broke, but her savings was dwindling, and with half the country in the same state as she was, or worse off, finding another job was proving to be impossible. She was one of the lucky ones, really. Her parents had a large home and had graciously offered for her to move home again until she got back on her feet.

  This meant moving back home with her siblings. Joy.

  Truth be told, she loved her family, but she loved her peace and quiet as well, and her siblings didn’t seem to be interested in leaving the family nest. Her brother, Spencer, was a year younger and still living at home because…well, because he could and her baby sister, Margaret, was in her third year at Washington State University and planning to live at home until she finished school.

  “Grace!” Spencer called from the front room. “Ready?”

  “No,” she grumbled under her breath.

  He appeared at her bedroom door, a grin on his face. “Hey. It’s not the end of the world, you know.”

  “I know, Spence.” She smiled. “It’s all first-world, white girl problems. I get it.”

  “Just so long as you remember that,” he joked. His chestnut hair fell over his forehead and his hazel eyes sparkled with both mischief and reassurance. He held his hand out. “You dropped your phone.”

  Grace took the bane of her existence from him with a groan and shoved the phone into her pocket. “Thanks.”

  “You’d be a perfect candidate for a microchip of some kind,” Spencer retorted. “I’m sure the technology to surgically implant a phone isn’t that far off.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Hey, I’m not the one who insists on me having one of these stupid things. Your father bought it for me.”

  “Oh, he’s my father now, hm?” Spencer laughed. “He just wants us safe, but with the number of phones you’ve lost in the last four years, he could probably have hired a bodyguard instead.”

  “Oh, you are hi-larious,” she droned as she picked up one of the lighter boxes. “Grab a box, weird one.”

  Spencer picked up the box labeled “kitchen” and followed her toward the front door. “Did I tell you I got tickets to the Fallen Crown show on Friday night?”

  “Really?” Grace asked. “I thought it was sold out.”

  “I managed to get in just under the wire.” He pushed open the door and waited for Grace to precede him to the truck. “Aisha’s coming, and I was gonna ask Maggie, but thought you might wanna go instead.”

  “We just saw them.” Grace set her box in the bed of his truck and pushed it to the front.

  Three months ago, their parents had surprised them with a trip to the United Kingdom. Their mother had been secretly squirreling money away each month for the last ten years in an effort to pay for the lavish trip. Having never left the United States, the siblings jumped at the chance to see another country, particularly Grace, who needed a distraction from job and boyfriend woes.

  Maggie nearly lost her mind when Spencer informed them that he was able to purchase tickets to an exclusive Fallen Crown show in Edinburgh. Grace wasn’t much of a fan, but the Wilson threesome was a team…and Spencer had bought three tickets.

  “So?” he challenged.

  Grace rolled her eyes. “So, once is good enough for me, and Maggie would absolutely kill you if you didn’t take her.”

  “She doesn’t scare me,” Spencer joked as he set his burden into the truck bed, grabbed a roll of twine, and handed Grace an end. “You loved them. Admit it.”

  “I’ll admit the band put on a good show,” she said as she tied down her end of rope. “But that doesn’t mean they made me a fan.”

  “Oh, really? You seemed like a fan when you spent almost an hour with Sir Maximilian MacMillan.”

  “Sir Maximilian MacMillan? Seriously?”


  “Yep. Knighted and everything.”

  “Well, in any case,” Grace snorted, “it was twenty minutes, dude. Not an hour.”

  At the end of the show in Scotland, Maggie had flirted her way backstage and Grace had been singled out by the Fallen Crown’s lead singer. At first she’d been a little taken aback by his attention, but brushed off her thoughts when security moved them through the line and out the back door. Max probably spent that much time with every woman. He was, after all, a notorious womanizer.

  “Well, he seemed to like you,” Spencer said.

  “Oh, please. That man likes women, period. I’m no one special.”

  “You were attracted to him, admit it.”

  “Who wouldn’t be? He’s beautiful.”

  “He spent more time with you than anyone, Gracie. Pretty sure he liked you.” Spencer chucked her the roll of twine and she tied off the end and threw it back to him.

  “I’m pretty sure he likes anyone with boobs.”

  Spencer laughed again. “Well, you weren’t watching him watching you, because you were too busy looking for an escape, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  “You’re high.”

  “No, seriously.”

  Grace sighed. “It doesn’t matter if the lead singer of some stupid band spent time with me, you weirdo. He’s a degenerate rock star, and I’m a good girl. Besides that, even if he was remotely interested and available, I’m not looking. Why this sudden need to set me up with someone?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve just been kind of sad.” He shrugged. “You could always get back with Trey.”

  Grace had broken off her relationship with her boyfriend just after she’d returned from Scotland. Putting distance between the two of them had made her realize they were going nowhere, and she wanted something more than football games and testosterone-filled bar and grill dinners.

  “Not gonna happen,” Grace stressed, and then forced a smile. “You can still be friends with him, Spence. He’s a nice guy. He’s just not a nice boyfriend, and he’s sure as heck not the right guy for me. I’m fine. I promise. I’m just working some stuff out.”

  “Okay. On the Trey subject, though, he was kind of a jerk at the end there, and you know me, sisters before misters,” Spencer quipped.

  Grace giggled. “That’s why you’re my favorite brother.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Once Spencer secured the final loop of rope, he dropped the remainder into the truck. “Is there anything in here you don’t want stowed in the basement?”

  Grace shook her head. “Nah. It’s all good.”

  “Okay. I’ll drop this off and then I’ve got a date.”

  “Thanks for all your help.” She hugged him and then wrinkled her nose. “Oh, and make sure you shower before your date, mm-kay? I don’t know how Aisha puts up with you.”

  “Get a good whiff, sis.” He raised his arm and leaned into her. “My manliness is a beautiful thing.”

  Grace groaned and shoved him away just as Maggie drove up. “Your ‘manliness’ should be considered a deadly weapon.”

  “Hi,” Maggie called as she climbed out of her ’90s Honda. Her dark hair, darker than Grace’s and with red highlights, fell just below her shoulders. Even though she had on her oldest pair of jeans and a paint-stained sweatshirt, she still looked like she was stepping out of the pages of a fashion magazine. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Grace smiled. “No problem. We just got the last of it loaded. Now we can clean.”

  “Yay,” Maggie droned. “The best part.”

  “See you guys tomorrow,” Spencer said. “I’ll be out late.”

  “How is that different than any other night?” Maggie asked.

  Grace shook her head. “Careful, Magpie, he may give you a whiff of his ‘manliness.’”

  “Oh, he already did. His smell lingered in the house for several hours this morning.” Maggie shuddered. “You are disgusting, Spence.”

  He gave them a mock salute. “And my job is done.”

  “Thanks again,” Grace called as Spencer climbed into his truck. “You’re a life saver.”

  Spencer waved out the window and took off toward home.

  “What’s left to do?” Maggie asked as Grace led her back into the apartment.

  “Just a final deep-clean. Kris’ll be here in about fifteen minutes to help, and then I’ll turn the keys into the landlord.”

  Kristen Armstrong and Grace had been close friends since meeting at church six years ago. Both were on the worship team and often found themselves paired up. The timing of their friendship had been perfect as Grace’s best friend, Charlotte, had just moved to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career.

  Maggie sneezed and pulled a tissue from her pocket. “Ugh.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “I think something’s starting,” she said. “Been feeling a little run down. But it’s no big deal. I’m too excited about you moving home to let it bug me. This is going to be awesome. You know that, right?”

  Grace nodded. Sometimes her sister looked so much younger than twenty-three. “I think spending more time with you will definitely be awesome.”

  Maggie grinned and hugged her. “Good answer.”

  * * *

  Maximilian MacMillan flopped onto the sofa in his well-appointed Portland, Oregon hotel suite and glared at his brother, Niall. “How hard is it to find one woman in this damned country?”

  Niall grinned from his place at the desk and shrugged. “Broc did find her. She just doesn’t live there anymore.”

  “He bloody well missed her by one day,” Max snapped. “He should have gotten a forwarding address.”

  “Her landlord wouldn’t give it to him.”

  Max scowled. “You know, for a man whose name means ‘badger,’ he’s lousy at badgering people.”

  Niall laughed.

  “What the hell are you laughing at?”

  Niall raised his hands in surrender. “Nothing.”

  Max shook his head. “Sorry, Nye.”

  “There are other ways to find her, you know,” Niall said.

  “I know.” Max sighed and dragged his hands through his hair. “But Pepper insisted I not stalk her. The problem is, at what point does looking for my mate cross over to stalking? You’re the one who seems to have a problem with me using a satellite to track her.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I do have a problem with that.” Niall chuckled. “But I think you’ve already crossed the stalking line.”

  “I shouldn’t have let her go in Scotland.”

  “It’s not like you could have made her stay,” Niall pointed out.

  “I could have tried.” Max scowled, knowing Niall was right. “Anyway, I’m open to suggestions, brother.”

  “We could hand out raffle tickets to random people at the show on Friday night.”

  Max frowned. “Random people?”

  “Well, random given that the staff would give them to women who match her description.” Niall shrugged again. “Better yet, draw a picture of her.”

  “I’ve already done that,” Max admitted.

  “Of course you have.” Niall smiled. “Will you let me see it?”

  Max shook his head. His art was something very personal to him, and he rarely shared it.

  “Never?”

  “Not ‘never,’” Max said in exasperation. “Just not yet. Anyway, I think your idea falls under the stalking definition. Besides, what if she doesn’t come to the show? I’ll be stuck playing nice with a bunch of annoying females.”