Author: Kenna Kendrick
The Kiss of a Highland Brute – Extended Epilogue
Two months later…
“Dinnae go yet,” Elara pleaded with Kaden. “Stay five more minutes.”
“Yer ladies will be coming tae get ye ready soon fer the wedding. If I dinnae leave soon,” Kaden said, though he already felt his determination slipping away, “I’ll be caught in me bride’s bed before we are even married.”
“Oh well.” Elara shrugged it off and reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down into another kiss.
There was not a stitch separating them as their bodies entwined beneath the sheet. Kaden hadn’t been able to resist her the night before. Once they had retired for the night, he’d crept into her chamber. They had made love once then fallen asleep, their limbs entangled together.
To wake up with the sun shining on his face through the curtains and Elara half slung across him, her pale blonde hair strewn across his chest, was a sight more intoxicating than ale. He now was above her as they talked and kissed, though he was trying to fight doing anymore, fearing that at any moment they would be disturbed and discovered.
“We have hours until the wedding,” Elara said between kisses. “Ye cannae leave me now.”
“Why are ye trying tae seduce me again when I am marrying ye today?” Kaden laughed, moving his lips to kiss all the way down her neck. He felt her tremble with delight as his hand passed across her breast, squeezing softly, temptingly, then reaching around her back and down to cup her bare rear. “Ye had me from that first night. Then again, ye kenned that, didnae ye?”
“Well, I tried.”
“Such modesty, Fire.”
“With ye? Aye, already modest,” she jested.
As he moved down her body, kissing her breasts, he took one of them between his lips, kissing it lovingly, pleasuring her, enjoying the way she arched her back, pressing up into him. Her legs had also parted around his hips, ready for them to make love again.
It was impossible for Kaden to pull himself away from this woman. Not only was she the love of his life, but one touch from her made him mad. He reached down with his hand, his fingers toying at the top of her thighs as he teased her with what they could do.
“We dinnae have time fer this,” he whispered against her breasts. “We need tae stop.”
“Then why are ye reaching fer more?” she asked, breathily.
He couldn’t stop himself. Maybe he had just a few more minutes with her before they had to pull away.
He moved down her body, kissing along her abdomen, past her belly button, then across her hip. When he reached her center, he pressed harder with his fingers, slipping one inside of her. She shuddered with pleasure, her hips rocking up toward him. He worked her, being careful to pump her continuously with his hand before he placed his tongue to that pleasurable spot just above where they were connected.
She moaned at once, pressing her hands into the covers beneath them.
He watched her, rocking her body with his tongue and his fingers, desperate to hear her cry his name. She kept writhing, rocking her body into his, completely at his mercy with pleasure.
He needed to hear it, hear those words again. He never thought that hearing Elara tell him that she was his would be such a thrill, but it was. As if she had read his mind, she said it now.
“More Kaden. Only ye. I could only ever imagine this with ye,” she said, breaking off to moan his name again.
He shifted his hand out of her. He would give her more if she wanted it.
He rolled the two of them over, moving her into a new position, so that she was on her hands and knees before him, facing the pillows. He moved behind her, reaching down with his hands to caress her rear before lining himself up with her entrance. He didn’t quite enter her. He just teased her with his very tip.
“Who dae ye belong tae, Elara?” he asked huskily. “Who?”
“Ye!” she said without hesitation, rocking back onto him, trying to move him inside of her. He chuckled deeply, running his hand along the curve of her back. “Today, I will be yers and nay other’s. After the wedding…” she paused, moaning as he pushed into her just a little more. “I am nae sure I will be able tae wait fer tonight.”
Her words conjured all sorts of ideas as to where they could consummate the marriage. They could sneak off to the bedchamber earlier, when their families were celebrating, but they could find somewhere else. They could sneak away to his study when no one was looking, exploring one another on his desk. He planned to live out such a fantasy, as soon as they made it back to the castle later, but first, he had a current fantasy to explore.
He pressed inside Elara, watching as her fingers splayed across the pillows in her passion and she moaned his name.
“More!” she begged.
He plunged inside of her, repeatedly, setting up such a rhythm with the constant movement of his hips that he felt her respond at once, her body coming back to meet his own. The thrill was so great, he could feel it deep within his gut, coiling already as he watched her hair dance about her shoulders.
When she arched her back all the more, making a perfect curve, he reached forward, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling on it ever so softly and teasingly. She moaned in pleasure, rocking her head back as he continued to move inside of her, driving her toward the very edge of pleasure.
Then it happened. He felt her release come quickly. Her body tightened around him.
For the first time, he realized he did not have to pull out. Today, they would be married. What would what it matter if he was a little ahead in staying inside of his wife? He could feel what it was like for the first time, to release inside of her, to feel their bodies completely joined in their pleasure.
As her body continued to squeeze him and she moaned his name, he found he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He hit that cascading wall of pleasure. He groaned, gripping her hips tightly as he rode through his wave, continuously pressing inside of her. He felt his release, felt too the way she kept rocking back into him, as if she could not get enough of this moment either.
As he slowed their rhythm, coming down from their high, she raised herself off her hands, rocking back on her knees so her back fell against his front. He wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her close as she laughed joyously.
“Thank God, ye stayed,” she whispered, dancing her fingers along his arm. “I didnae want ye tae pull out.”
“Ye want me tae stay, ask, and I will, Fire.”
She angled her head around and kissed him on the lips, with such heat that he could practically feel his length hardening again already, but he had to stop. He knew he had to.
“At this rate, ye and I will never make it tae the church,” he whispered.
She laughed, kissing him along the jaw before he pulled out of her.
“Go, go then.” She continued to giggle as she fell back on the bedsheets. “Just make sure tae come back later after we are wed tae finish what we started.”
“Ye have me word.” He pulled on his trews and a shirt after cleaning himself up, then moved back to her, kissing her swiftly on the lips. She nearly pulled him down for another full kiss, but he had to pull back. They laughed together again and then he reached for the door, opening it a crack so he could peer outside.
The corridor was clear.
“Until I see ye at the altar, Fire,” he called back to her.
“I’ll see ye there.” She blew him a kiss, then buried herself seductively back beneath the bedsheets.
Kaden closed the door behind him and crept off down the hallway, moving toward his own bedchamber as quickly as he could. When he reached his door though, he was shocked to see it was open.
“Where the hell is he?” Bhaltair’s voice reached Kaden’s ears.
“If he has run out on me sister…” Cassian’s voice came next.
“Nae bloody likely, is it?” Marcus said. “That man would sooner die than run out on yer sister.”
“Is there a reason ye are all in me chamber?” Kaden asked, stopping in the doorway.
All three men turned to face him with widened eyes.
“Where the hell have ye been?” Cassian asked, a warning in his expression.
From behind him, Marcus waved his hand madly, though Kaden hardly needed that warning. If Cassian had the slightest suspicion that Kaden had been with Elara all night, this was not the time to confirm it. They still weren’t married yet.
“I’ve been for a walk,” Kaden said, gesturing to the nearest window. “I needed tae clear me head before the wedding.”
“Did ye also run?” Bhaltair asked with a smile. “Might explain the fact ye are sweating, me friend.”
“Maybe I did.” Kaden shrugged. “Why are ye all here?”
“Tae get ye ready fer the wedding.” Bhaltair clapped his hands. “Come on, we have everything fer ye.”
Kaden looked at a coffer where everything had been laid out for him to wear, including his clan brooch. He smiled as he walked toward it, picking up the brooch and holding it between his fingers. He thought lovingly of his father and the gift this had been.
Another strip of material caught his eyes from where it laid on the coffer beside the plaid colors of his own clan.
“The colors of the Lamont clan,” Cassian said.
Kaden turned in surprise to stare at his future brother-in-law. Cassian shrugged, attempting some nonchalance though there was a look in his eye that showed it actually meant a lot to him.
“It is a tradition of me family. Me faither wore the colors of me maither’s clan on their wedding day, as well as his own, tae show unity.” Cassian nodded at the plaid strip. “I ken they would like it if ye did the same today.”
Kaden reached for the plaid and lifted it over his shoulder, demonstrating how it would look.
“Cassian, I would be honored.” Kaden offered him a little salute.
“Good, then I’ll leave ye tae get ready.” Cassian walked toward the door. “And ye better nae be late tae that church.”
“I’ll be there early, trust me,” Kaden called after him as Cassian disappeared.
As Kaden finished getting ready, he could feel Bhaltair and Marcus exchanging worried glances.
“What?” he barked at the pair of them, causing Bhaltair to laugh rather loudly and Marcus to shake his head in dismay.
“Ye nearly got caught on the morning of yer wedding. Are ye and Elara mad taking chances like that?” Bhaltair asked.
Kaden looked at Bhaltair.
“Ye saying ye and me sister didnae take chances?” At Kaden’s question, Bhaltair looked anywhere else in the room, avoiding his gaze. “Dinnae answer that question. I dinnae particularly want tae ken the answer.”
As Kaden turned to face the mirror, he started for a second, shocked when he saw something of his father’s expressions reflected in his own face. He stilled, staring into his own eyes, wishing his parents could be there for this moment, when he realized that maybe that appearance of his father in his own face meant something.
They were not there in person, but they were there in spirit, and he truly hoped that when he stood at the altar, he would feel them with him. He would feel their happiness in knowing that not only was justice served, but that the woman who had brought about that justice was the one there vowing to love him forever.
The End.
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Read the bookThe Kiss of a Highland Brute – Get Bonus Prologue
Would you like to read how Elara and Kaden’s destinies got entwined even before they’d met?
The Kiss of a Highland Brute – Bonus Prologue
Two Years Earlier, Inverness, 1651
“Kaden, Kaden!” the shouts roared up from the castle.
Chuckling under his breath, Kaden leaned over the head of his steed, his dark hair half falling across his eyes, raising his body in the stirrups and urging the horse to gallop hard. It had been months since he had seen Castle Stuart. His travels to Edinburgh and Glasgow, even as far as the English border, had kept him away too long.
Nae fer much longer. I’m home now.
The horse beneath him snorted, as if in agreement with his own thoughts.
Behind him, the guards who always traveled at his side bellowed for him to stay closer, but Kaden ignored them. He didn’t need a guard on a path he knew so well. He’d ridden these lanes when he was a boy, snaking out of Inverness town and out to his father’s castle on the hills that overlooked the ocean.
“Kaden!” the roar came again from the castle walls.
Aye, that’s me sister’s voice.
His sisters, Líadan and Étaín, were clearly thrilled to see him home again. Kaden laughed once more and raced toward the tall, towering red-brick castle. Today, in the gleaming sunlight, it shone blood red. As if the stones had survived some bloodied battle from years gone by. When he came upon the open gravel drive, he shot past the gates.
Somehow, he was distantly aware that someone was gaining on him, racing to keep up.
“Líadan?” Kaden called back as he pulled the horse to a stop on the driveway. The steed whinnied happily as Kaden jumped down, his clan tartan flung over his shoulder, pinned in place by his clan badge, that he wore every day of his life, vowing never to take it off. He looked at the castle, just as the person chasing behind him also came to a halt.
It was Marcus. The strong and overbearing figure was somewhat curious as he came to a stop and turned his head up toward the towering structure, topped with grey turrets. The red hair and cropped beard bristled in the wind as Marcus said nothing.
“It’s quite something, isnae it?” Kaden asked his friend. “Have yer thoughts left this place again?”
He had met Marcus on his travels in Edinburgh, and the two had taken to one another at once. It probably helped that the two had ended up in a pub brawl, not of either of their making, but they had saved each other from what could have been nasty wounds in the process. Marcus was a warrior, through and through, and despite the fact Kaden was confident that Marcus had worked as a mercenary for some time, he was inclined to forgive him for whatever crimes might lay in the past. What mattered now was the future, and Marcus had pledged his life to Kaden’s side.
“What?” Marcus said distractedly, turning the horse around so he could face Kaden.
“Ye dae this often,” Kaden chuckled. “It’s as if yer mind is far away from here.”
“I was just thinking, this place… never mind.” He stilled as two women appeared at the door.
“Líadan, Étaín,” Kaden whispered with joy as his sisters appeared in the doorway of the keep. His two sisters, one with rich dark hair, the other with silverish hair which shone in the light of the day, usually so reserved and formal cracked when they saw him. Étaín was the first to run forward, flinging her arms around him a warm embrace. Líadan quickly followed.
“Ye have been gone much too long,” Líadan said in a rush.
“Ye have. Faither has been asking fer ye every day since ye left,” Étaín agreed, blinking her dark eyes rather rapidly, clearly trying to halt her happy tears.
“Ah, but ye havenae been asking fer me?” Kaden teased his sister. “Have ye been happy tae see me gone fer so long?”
“Tush.” She tapped him around the arm in reprimand, prompting him to laugh.
“How have ye been?” Líadan asked excitedly.
“Have I got some stories fer ye, sisters.” He kissed them both on the foreheads. “Where are me faither and stepmaither?” Kaden asked, rounding the horse as he reached for the pack he had tied to the back of the saddle. “Such gifts dae I have for them,” he chuckled. “Perfumes fer me stepmaither. Aye, she always liked what scents could be found in Edinburgh, didnae she?”
He pulled out a heavy bottle of perfume and tossed it into the air. Líadan caught it in a kerfuffle, half falling over as she did so.
“Though dinnae uncork it out here,” Kaden said, reaching back into the pack with a wink. “If the trader in Edinburgh market is right, a man is said to swoon at the scent.” He laughed heartily, barely registering the fact that Marcus, who had now climbed down from his horse, didn’t laugh. “Maybe me friend Marcus and I will keel over at the scent.” Líadan and Étaín laughed. “I brought gifts fer Faither too.”
Kaden drew out a long sword. The rapier, rather than being built heavy and broad for battle, was thin and elegant, carved with the most beautiful emblems. Old runes were fashioned down the side of the blade, complimented with images of the moon and sun, morphing into one orb on the gilt handle.
“It is beautiful,” Líadan said, tracing the carvings with her long fingers. “Faither will be thrilled with this when he returns.”
“Returns?” Kaden repeated, surprised.
“Aye, he and Lilly have gone traveling. They were asked tae attend a wedding. They will return in a few days.”
Kaden nodded, a little disappointed to have missed them. As much as he had loved his travels, he had been looking forward to being surrounded by his family again, to feel completely at home with the ones he loved.
“And these are the presents ye bring?” Étaín declared in sudden challenge. “Gifts fer our faither and maither, and nae us?” She pretended to pout, though there was a twinkle in her eye.
“As if I could forget ye two,” he said, turning back to the horse with a wink. “Last time I came home, ye two drank so much at Yuletide that yer laughter shook the turret roofs. That memory has kept me company these last few months.”
“Ye make us sound like cackling witches.” Líadan folded her arms, clearly put out by the comparison, though that expression soon softened when Kaden produced his gifts for them.
He passed Étaín her gift first. The beautiful pack of cards had been painted by the finest artists in Venice, that pack then traveled all the way to Edinburgh where it found its way into Kaden’s hands on a stall in market square. He passed her the gift, watching as her eyes widened. Next, he passed Líadan a book. As beautiful as the cards, with heavy embossed lettering, her eyes twinkled as she took it.
“Ye are always so kind tae us,” she whispered.
“Well, I have missed ye both, and yer cackling laughter when ye have shared too much tae drink – ow!” He pretended to be hurt as they both tapped him around the arm in reprimand this time. “Now, I shall tell ye all about me travels later, and I wish tae hear all yer news too, but first, I must feel fresh.”
“Then go, go,” Étaín waved him away. “Ye dae smell like ye have been riding fer days.”
“Oi.” He was now the one who pretended to be offended.
As he turned to enter the castle, he found Marcus still standing a little distance away. Clearly, he was happy not to be introduced and preferred to keep his distance. He was lost in his own world once again, staring up at the castle. Kaden clapped him on the back and steered him into the castle.
“What is it?” Kaden asked, losing all notes of jest from his tone.
“What?”
“Ye have barely said a word.”
“Ye said yerself, that is hardly unusual fer me,” Marcus muttered, his eyes drinking in the sights around him.
“Maybe sometimes I am curious about yer thoughts. Ye never give too much away.” Kaden smiled at him, and Marcus smiled back.
In truth, Kaden wasn’t concerned with pressing Marcus too far for his secrets. He knew Marcus had many, but the effort Marcus had gone to this last year in protecting him, time and time again, told him everything he needed to know about who Marcus was at heart. He had the best of hearts.
“A castle like this… let’s just say it isnae something I am used tae,” Marcus murmured as Kaden steered him down corridors, past standing armor, put together like statues, and under great displays of swords nailed into the red-stone walls.
“Ye will get used tae it, in time.” Kaden clapped him on the back once again.
Before heading to his chamber, Kaden went to his father’s study, with Marcus still behind him. Rather than finding the room empty as he expected it to be, he found his father’s advisor instead.
Liam, an elderly and withered man, with skin crinkling around his face in multiple great gaping folds, brushed his grey beard absentmindedly until he saw Kaden enter.
“Ah, sir.” He struggled to stand, pressing his weight down into a cane at his side.
“Liam. How are ye?” Kaden moved to his side and clasped his hand in greeting, then used it to gently return Liam to his seat.
“These bones grow older and wearier by the day. Look at ye.” Liam beamed at him. “Ye have grown stronger in yer time away, and I see ye return with friends as well.”
“Aye, let me introduce ye.” He steered Marcus forward. “This is Marcus. A finer warrior ye would struggle tae find, much less one with a truer heart.”
“Ah, a finer warrior than ye?” Liam said, mischief in those old eyes.
“On his good days,” Kaden teased him, prompting even Marcus to laugh. “I hear me faither and stepmaither arenae here?”
“Nay. They have gone to Laird MacNaughton’s wedding. They should be back in a couple of days. Ye were specially invited too.”
Kaden paused from circling his father’s study, turning to face the advisor in curiosity.
“Aye, aye, I ken that look.” Liam nodded. “Yer father didnae wish tae bring ye back from yer travels any sooner. He kenned ye were enjoying yerself very much. ‘A young man must have his adventure before he is called tae the responsibilities of being a laird.’ Ha, ye dinnae ken how much he has said those words these last couple of weeks.”
Kaden shifted uneasily, though he forced himself to smile. The matter of being laird someday was still something that sat uneasily on Kaden’s shoulders. He preferred not to think about it, hoping that being a laird would be some distant thing that he wouldn’t have to worry about for some time.
“Hey, hey!” a sudden bellow went up from outside. “I need water.”
“Get him some water.”
“Look at the man. Cannae ye see he’s burning up? Someone get him some water?”
“What’s going on?” Liam asked, once more struggling to get to his feet with his cane.
Before he could move far though, Kaden and Marcus shot to the window, peering out through the lead-lined glass to the gravel drive far below.
There was a young soldier on a horse. His hair looked singed, his face bright red. Completely exhausted, he could do nothing but fall off the horse when it came to a stop and was barely caught in time by one of Kaden’s guards.
“That’s Alaisdair,” Kaden muttered to Marcus. “He is one of me faither’s guards.”
They exchanged an uneasy look. As fast as Kaden darted from the room, Marcus was on his tail. Without a word said between them, they sprinted down the corridors of Castle Stuart and out onto the open driveway, just as a bucket of water was thrown over Alaisdair’s head. He still reached out another hand toward a man beside him, who promptly pressed a flagon of water into his grasp. Alaisdair must have drained the whole flagon before he dared speak.
“Alaisdair?” Kaden asked, dropping to his knees in front of the soldier. He didn’t look around. For a minute, he didn’t even think to check if his sisters were nearby, to see if they were witnessing this or if they had gone into the castle. All he was aware of were the soldiers gathering around the guard, trying to cool him down from the clear intense heat he was suffering. “What is it? What has happened?”
“A terrible thing,” the soldier murmured weakly, his voice croaking like that of a man three times his age. “I couldnae stop it. I tried. Oh, I tried, Kaden.” He reached out a hand toward Kaden, grabbing his arm. Kaden laid his hand upon it, suddenly noticing the blistered skin across his knuckles.
“Ye have been in a fire.”
“Aye. Aye, I have.” Alaisdair dropped his hand, slumping back into the grasp of the guard behind him who was barely keeping his head off the ground from where he had fallen. “The tavern.”
“Tavern? What tavern?” Marcus asked, appearing on the guard’s other side, his face serious.
“Laird and Lady Stuart. They were resting fer the night. The tavern at the edge of the clan…” He broke off, wheezing then coughing. When he coughed up into his other hand, something black came out in his palm.
Kaden looked at Marcus, seeing the same concern mirrored in his friend’s face.
“I couldnae get them out. I couldnae save them.”
Something tightened in Kaden’s chest. He felt as if a hand made of steel was gripping his heart.
“Them?” he whispered. “Alaisdair, ye speak of myeparents, aye? Tell me… tell me they arenae dead.”
“I wish I could.” A great gasping breath escaped Alaisdair, his blue eyes filled with unshed tears. “I tried tae save them, we all did, but we couldnae. They burned tae death, along with everyone else in that tavern. Some dreadful accident, some awful thing, maybe a candle was knocked over and it got out of control, I dinnae ken, but I dae ken this.” His blackened hand gripped Kaden again. “They are gone, Kaden, I mean… me laird.”
Kaden stumbled back onto his haunches.
He couldn’t look at anyone, though he felt every pair of eyes turn toward him.
He wasn’t sure what haunted him more as the sensation of that steel hand closing over his heart grew worse. Was it the thought that he was now laird, the thought that he’d never see two people he loved so much again, or the fact that if he had returned earlier, and had gone with his parents to the wedding, he would be dead too?
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The Highlander’s Sinful Bride – Extended Epilogue
Two months later…
Only a month after Catalina and Ivar tied the knot, there was more excitement at Castle Matheson when Anastasia and Dunstan walked up the aisle to solemnize their love.
Catalina and Ivar had had a great deal of fun teasing the couple about how they had played such an important part in bringing the pair together and were therefore partially responsible for their happiness. They claimed this was particularly the case after what had happened at Catalina and Ivar’s own wedding breakfast.
The ceilidh that had followed the ceremony had been a merry, raucous affair. It had begun sedately, according to tradition, with Catalina and Ivar surrounded by their family and a multitude of well-wishers as they each drank the traditional dram of whisky from the ceremonial quaich. The two-handed lovers cup signified the bonding of two hearts as well as two clans.
After the bride and groom had drunk from the quaich, it was passed around for all to take a drink. It was then that another happy event occurred that had made their wedding day all the more memorable and precious.
When the quaich had been passed to Dunstan, who was standing with Anastasia, he had set it down carefully on the table and suddenly turned to Ivar and Catalina instead of immediately drinking from it. The unorthodox action had subdued the crowd, who watched with interest to see what he would do.
Anastasia had cast him a puzzled look. “What are ye at, Dunstan? Are ye nae going taee drink?” she had asked.
“Aye, in a moment,” he had replied, suddenly looking to Catalina and Ivar. “I ken we’re here tae celebrate yer weddin’, but would ye mind if I said a few words?”
“Of course, we wouldnae mind, would we, Cat?” Ivar had asked her, grinning broadly, his arm around her shoulder.
“Nae at all,” she had agreed cheerfully, intrigued to notice that her husband spoke with the air of a man who knew exactly what was about to happen.
“Ye go ahead and say yer piece, man,” Ivar had told Dunstan, slapping him on the back jovially and winking at him. It was at that moment that Catalina had realized that he did indeed know what Dunstan was up to, and she had thoroughly approved.
“Aye, go ahead, Dunstan,” she had said, smiling at her sister’s bemused expression. “I’m sure we’d all like tae hear what ye’ve got tae say.”
“Thank ye both,” Dunstan had said, looking a little nervous as he had turned to Anastasia and had taken her hand in his. He had gazed at her earnestly. “Anastasia, ’tis nae secret now that I love ye dearly. I’ve loved ye fer years, and I hardly could have imagined in me wildest dreams that this moment would come. But here it is.”
He had paused for a moment and had taken a deep breath, appearing to gather his courage. “Anastasia Matheson, I want tae ask y if ye would ye dae me the honor of bein’ me wife?”
Ivar and Catalina had hugged each other in excitement as they had watched, and the room had held its breath, as everyone had awaited Anastasia’s response. For a few moments, she had gazed up at Dunstan, an expression of wonder on her lovely face. Then, her lips had curved into a radiant smile, and she had replied, “I love ye too, Dunstan, and I can think of naethin’ I’d rather be than yer wife.”
Dunstan had given a whoop of joy and had seized her in his arms, lifting her off her feet and whirling her around as she had hugged him, and they had exchanged joyful kisses. The whole hall had erupted into cheers, hoots, and applause to congratulate them. When it had all calmed down a little, and Dunstan had set Anastasia on her feet again, the pair had drunk from the lover cup to seal their engagement. Then, as if remembering something, Anastasia had suddenly looked over at her father questioningly.
Catalina had watched, wondering how her father would react, but his face had split into a grin of obvious delight, and he had raised his tankard high at the couple. “I’ve already given the lad me blessin’,” he had declared. “Tae be truthful, I’m glad tae have the last of me daughters taken off me hands. And I couldnae ask fer a better pair of son-in-laws.” More applause and cheers broke out at this.
Catalina, excited and happy for her sister, had hugged her. “Congratulations, me dear sister, I’m so happy ye’re actually marryin’ the man ye love, as I always said ye should.”
Anastasia had laughed and hugged her back, her face radiant with happiness. “Thank ye, Cat, fer makin’ it possible by fallin’ fer me betrothed. At least this way there’s nae need fer me tae run away as ye always said I should,” she had said jestingly.
Catalina had then turned to Dunstan, who was looking happier than she had ever seen him. Ivar and Arne and their father had gathered round him, all grinning and offering their congratulations in their hearty masculine way. When she could get a look in, Catalina had given him a kiss on the cheek and hugged him too. “Well done,” she had whispered, “I ken ye’ll be as happy as me and Ivar. But dinnae forget who it was that brought ye together,” she had added jokingly.
“I willnae,” he had promised, laughing as he returned her embrace. Catalina had gone to Ivar’s side then, and he had beamed down at her and drawn her to his side.
“Ye kent all about this, did ye nae?” She had asked him.
“I cannae tell a lie. Dunstan came tae me a few days ago and asked me about it. Since our love brought them together, I was happy tae agree,” he had explained.
“But why did ye nae tell me?”
“I didnae want tae tae spoil the surprise.”
“It certainly was a surprise. A wonderful one,” she had told him, kissing his cheek, full of love for him.
Just at that moment, the musicians had started up a merry tune, a county reel.
“Husband, d’ye recognize this tune?” she had asked Ivar, tugging at his sleeve.
He had nodded. “’Tis engraved in me mind for some reason,” he had told her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I seem tae recall gettin’ very wet dancin’ tae it with ye in the woods in a rainstorm.”
“That’s right,” she had told him. “I’m pleased ye remember that. So, shall we dance tae it again, as man and wife this time?”
He had nodded and bent to kiss her lips before leading her to the dance floor. “I think we definitely should.”
Now, two months later, towards the end of a fine September, Anastasia and Dunstan were married. Haldor, Sofia and Dahlia had returned to Castle MacLeod shortly after Catalina and Ivar had married. It was another happy occasion, and Cat was thrilled to see her sister joined to the man she adored, just as she was.
Then, a few days after that, she and Ivar made their farewells and set off overland on the long journey back to her new home with the MacLeod family. They settled happily into their married chambers as they began their life together as a couple.
It was at the beginning of November, when the days grew short and darkness fell early, that another event occurred that was to indelibly mark the annals of the MacLeod family.
With people’s thoughts starting to turn to Christmastide, Ivar and Catalina had traveled to the nearby town to do some early gift buying at the market. It had been a joyous day spent together. On the way back, they had stopped at the inn where she and Anastasia had spent that first night on Skye all those months ago, when her sister had been on her way to wed Ivar. They had only just arrived back at the castle when they encountered Arne in the vestibule of the keep. He looked very serious.
“What’s up, Braither,” Ivar asked him as he helped Catalina off with her cloak. “Ye’ve a face like a disappointed horse. Has somethin’ happened while we were out?”
“Aye. A summons from Haldor. He wants tae see us all in his study right away,” Arne replied with none of his habitual light-heartedness. “He’s received a letter,” he added grimly.
“So? He gets letters every day,” Ivar said, frowning slightly. “What’s so special about this one?”
“That’s what I wantae ken. Are ye comin’?”
“Aye.” Ivar exchanged a concerned look with Catalina who shrugged. She linked her arm in his, and they followed Arne along the hallways to the door of Haldor’s study. Just as they arrived, they saw Dahlia hurrying along from the other direction. They waited for her. She too looked worried.
“What’s goin’ on,” she asked them.
“We have nay clue why Haldor’s called us all here,” Ivar explained, while Arne rapped on the study door.
“Come in,” came Haldor’s deep, raspy reply from the other side.
“I’ve a bad feelin’ about this,” Arne muttered as he opened the door, standing aside for Dahlia to pass before entering himself, with Ivar and Catalina following him. Ivar shut the door behind them.
Haldor was standing by the hearth, where a large blaze was cracking, throwing heat out into the room. As they all joined him by the fire, Ivar’s mind went back to a few months before, to the summer day when he had learned that he was betrothed to Anastasia.
Suddenly, he felt in his bones that the letter Haldor had received was from The Bruce, just as it had been back then. He realized then why Arne and Dahlia were looking so worried.
“What is it,’ d’ye think?” Catalina whispered to him.
He shrugged and said, “I dinnae ken, but I feel like we’ve been through this before, and it doesnae bode well.”
“Thank ye all fer comin’ so quickly,” Haldor greeted them, his face unreadable. Sofia was sitting in a chair nearby, her pretty face devoid of its usual warmth. She greeted them with a nod. “I’m sure ye’re all wonderin’ why I summoned ye,” Haldor said gravely, looking around from face to face.
“I’ve got a feelin’ I ken why,” Arne muttered grimly, “and I’m nae lookin’ forward tae hearin’ what ye have tae say one bit.”
Ivar looked across at Dahlia, and she looked even more worried than before. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she was twisting her fingers nervously. Ivar could relate to that feeling, and his heart went out to his brother and sister, for he had a horrible suspicion what was coming, as they evidently did too.
“I’ve had another letter from The Bruce,” Haldor said, his keen blue eyes flicking from Arne to Dahlia.
“Ach, for the Wee man’s sake,” Arne murmured, rubbing a hand through his hair.
“Well, dinnae keep us in suspense,” Dahlia said testily. “What does he want this time?”
“Another match,” Haldor replied simply.
“I kent it!” Arne said, shaking his head, his expression dark. “So, who’s the victim this time?”
“Aye, which one of us is it?” Dahlia echoed, her voice tense. Haldor looked at her. “Me?” she breathed, her hand going to her chest in obvious shock. She tottered slightly, and Ivar quickly pulled a nearby chair over and pushed her into it. Catalina went to stand next to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“But I’m nae sure I can agree tae what he’s proposin’. ’Tis a step too far,” Haldor said, an edge of disapproval to his voice.
“Are ye goin’ tae tell me or nae?” Dahlia asked, looking at her brother with drawn brows. “Who is it I’m supposed tae wed?”
“I told ye, I’m nae sure we can agree tae it,” Haldor repeated. Ivar detected a reluctance on Haldor’s part to disclose the name of Dahlia’s intended. That was not good at all, and he had a sense of foreboding.
“Now, when I tell ye, Dahlia, dinnae go mad,” Haldor hedged.
“Haldor, ye’re nae helpin’” Sofia interjected. “Just tell them.”
“All right. Well, ye’re nae going tae like this, but The Bruce wants a match between Dahlia and none other than Bairre MacKinnon. The braither of the man responsible fer Thor’s death.”
The End.
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