Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

Which was the part you liked most in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything that you enjoyed.

I'd love to see an opening chapter where... *

• The heroine is a nun who is rescued by the hero during a brutal attack on the church.
• The heroine is abducted by the hero in the middle of her wedding to the villain.
• The heroine accidentally witnesses the hero commit a crime, and he catches her, so he needs to take her with him.
• The hero mistakes the heroine for someone else and takes her hostage.

Which story would you read? *

• The main characters meet without knowing each other’s identities and share a moment of chemistry—or even a kiss—only to later discover a surprising connection (e.g. he’s betrothed to her sister, she’s engaged to his rival, or she’s the younger sister of the woman he’s meant to marry).
• The heroine is sent to marry the hero as part of a political alliance, but secretly she’s a spy who believes he has taken her sister captive to force the alliance.
• The heroine is forced to secure a wealthy match and sets her sights on a powerful laird—only to discover he’s already betrothed. Desperate, she intercepts his intended bride and takes her place, arriving at his keep under false identity and marrying him. But her carefully spun deception begins to unravel when the real bride shows up… and everything threatens to fall apart.

Anything else you'd like to share?

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Two Months Later…

Annora’s heart was full to bursting with joy as she walked down the aisle on Edmund’s arm after the seemingly endless nuptial mass had come to an end. A sea of smiling faces greeted her as they walked, pausing here and there for a special greeting.

A lone bagpiper in the lead, they ascended the steps to the entrance to the keep where she stood side by side with Edmund, welcoming a stream of guests flowing from the chapel, across the courtyard, ready to enjoy the coming festivities.

Among the first revelers to be greeted was a tall, elegant man, with a shock of white hair, clad in the red Munro tartan, his much younger wife beside him.

The couple was Ruairdrih Munro, Annora’s distant cousin who was now the Laird of Clan Munro, and his wife, Mhairi. They had made the journey from the eastern shores of the Scottish mainland to share the joy of her wedding and to ensure there was no lingering ill will between the clans following the death of her father.

Smiling, the man reached out to shake Edmund’s hand. The new Laird Munro, appointed almost immediately following the death of Annora’s father, was an amiable man who had sworn allegiance to King Robert. For him, there would be no aligning his clan with English barons.

She looked up at Edmund who was greeting their many guests with a smile and a friendly word for each of them.

It was with particular pleasure she greeted Laird Tòrr of Dùn Ara and his wife Lyra. They had arrived yesterday and were staying overnight in the castle. Edmund wished them to stay longer, but as Lyra was heavy with child and expected to give birth very soon, Tòrr was determined not to stay too long and tempt fate.

As they finally reached the end of the long receiving line she glanced up at Edmund. He beamed back at her and wove his arm around her waist.

“At last, ye’re me true lady.” He leaned down to land a soft kiss on her cheek. He chuckled. “But ye were me lady from that first moment I saw ye spluttering in the sea with the slaver close on yer heels.”

She pshawed at that and nudged him with her elbow as they turned to walk to the refectory hall.

“Nonsense. Ye saw naught but a half-drowned rat.”

He tightened his hold on her waist. “I saw a lass worth fighting fer.”

She grinned up him, her heart swelling with pride at the sight of her big, handsome, Highland warrior. “And ‘tis just as well, fer ye had much fighting ahead of ye.”

“Ye’re worth every moment of it, lass. And today ye’ve given me me heart’s desire. Yer hand in marriage.”

She sighed, leaning closer. “And ye’ve given me the same heart’s desire.”

As they entered the refectory hall, the assembled guests rose to their feet.

Chief Tormod, who was seated at the high table beside Laird Tòrr and the Lady Lyra, raised a goblet of wine.

“Tae our noble Laird Edmund of Clan MacNeacail and his beautiful lady Annora Munro. Slàinte mhath.”

“Slàinte mhath.”

The cry rang out throughout the hall as the guests drank to the health of their laird and his lady.

They took their seats next to Tòrr, Lyra and Tyra.

“Congratulations dear Sister.” She raised her goblet and sipped the wine. “Ye are a truly beautiful bride. Me braither is a lucky lad indeed.”

Annora smiled. It made her soul sing to see the way Tyra and Edmund had at last been able to embrace each other as brother and sister and the warmth that was growing between them.

Tyra gave a regretful sigh. “I had always thought it would be me wedding celebrated here.” She shook her head. “Yet it was nae tae be.”

No mention was made of the Laird Harris MacDonald, who had broken Tyra’s heart with his reckless greed and treachery. He was gone now, and by order of King Robert, never to set foot on MacNeacail lands again. The king had threatened the confiscation of his lands and a huge fine should he break the terms of his banishment. Given the man’s greed and lust for power, Annora had no doubt he’d not risk such a fitting penalty and they’d see no more of the dishonorable man.

Annora patted Tyra’s delicate hand. “Soon the sparkle will return tae yer lovely eyes, Sister. Happiness such as ours will be yers one day. Dinnae fret.”

Tyra curled her fingers around Annora’s. “I am happy fer ye both.”

“And both of us are happy we have ye as our sister,” Annora countered.

As the evening wore on, Annora’s eyes were drooping. She hid a yawn behind her hand. It had been a busy three days of preparations. Last night’s conversation with Torr and Lyra and Lionel had continued on into the wee hours and many drams of whisky had been consumed.

Now, all she could think of was returning to the bedchamber she shared with Edmund and savoring the joy of the first night of their life together.

He glanced over. “Ye’re tired lass?”

She nodded. “I will welcome some quiet time wi’ me new husband.”

He laughed softly. “Why, ye’ve been my wife these several months.”

She shook her head. “Mayhap it was so fer ye, Edmund, yet I was never sure of what me fate would be. I was betrothed tae another until our good King Robert dissolved that cursed agreement a short time ago.”

He settled an arm on her shoulders, the glint of desire in his eyes. “Then let us retire to our chamber so we can at last be joined as husband and wife.”

When she nodded with a grin, Edmund got to his feet and raised his goblet.

“To our merry friends, ‘tis time fer meself and me lady wife tae bid ye all good night.”

The company rose to their feet with a cheer and drank to their health again.

Edmund took Annora’s hand in his as she rose. They stepped down from the high table and began to walk through the crowd, raucous cheers following as they went.

To Annora’s surprise, Tormod, and his wife Margaret, fell into step behind them, closely followed by the other three elders and their wives, with Tyra, Lionel, Torr and Lyra joining in. She glanced up at Edmund, arching a puzzled brow, but he seemed oblivious to the procession trailing behind them.

As they reached the stairs, still with the company following close behind, she whispered to Edmund. “Are they accompanying us tae our bed?”

He looked around and laughed. “I believe we are now participating in the Bedding Ceremony.”

“The bedding… what?”

“Just keep walking, lass, it will become clear soon enough.”

The same piper who had piped them from the chapel awaited them as they climbed the stairs.

Dougie, the Seneschal and his household servants, lined the passageway to their bedchamber where the door stood wide open. The piper led them into the room and there was much merriment as the procession of their friends crowded in behind them.

Annora hesitated, unsure what to think. “What now. Surely, they’re nae staying fer…?”

Edmund chuckled. “Let us wait and see Annora.”

Their chamber was awash with flowers. Roses stood in jugs on the table, the mantlepiece, on the floor beside the bed. A path to their bed from the doorway had been laid with hundreds of rose petals.

Annora breathed in the luscious, heady scent as Edmund seized her in his arms and carried her, in all her finery, across to the bed which was also scattered with rose petals. He laid her back against a hillock of soft feather pillows and, without further ado, climbed onto the bed and reclined on one elbow beside her.

Tyra and Lyra walked across solemnly and removed Annora’s shoes.

A cheer went up as the shoes were handed around. Then Lyra and Tyra each took one of Annora’s legs and made a great show of rolling down her stockings and throwing them to the group. Tormod caught one, and Lionel the other.

Then it was Edmund’s turn to be symbolically undressed.

Lionel and Torr stepped forward to remove his boots and stockings, flinging them into the crowd with gusto. They all laughed when Gaufried and Gilleasbuig managed to catch them.

“Seems ye’ll be next tae wed, lads.” Tormod’s words brought forth another burst of laughter.

Annora couldn’t stop giggling. She’d heard of such ceremonies being popular with some clans, but she’d no idea it was part of MacNeacail tradition.

Edmund roared with laughter.

“Now that ye’ve undressed us, I’m expecting ye’ll bid us a very good night and depart.”

Tormod laughed. “Are we nay welcome tae stay fer yer private feast, me laird and lady?”

“Indeed, ye are nae,” Edmund said firmly.

Meanwhile Lionel was busy with a carafe of whisky and a large two-handled cup on the table. He filled it to the brim and moved across to the bed where he handed the cup for each of hem to take a handle.

“Here’s yer loving cup, yer quaich. When ye drink, it signifies the joining of yer two clans, the Munros and the MacNeacails. After ye’ve take a sip, pass it round so we can all drink.”

As they lifted the joined cup and sipped, a loud cheer circled the room. Lionel took a sip and passed on the cup.

As each person took a sip from the quaich, they raised it with the words: “Mo sheacht mbeannacht ort!”

My seven blessings tae ye.

When the last of the whisky had been supped, the men bowed, the women curtsied, they turned and trooped from the room, laughing and chattering as they went.

They left Annora and Edmund still laughing as well. Then, without a word, he hauled off his shirt and unbuckled his kilt, letting it fall to the floor.

He stood naked before her and she caught her breath at the magnificent sight of him.

“Fer a moment there, I was afeared our friends were bent on undressing us.” she said.

“Now that I would ne’er permit.” Edmund’s eyes were on fire as he looked down at her resting on the pillows. “Fer taking off yer clothing and letting me eyes feast on ye as I dae so is me delight, and only mine.”

With that, he reached for the neckline of her gown and bent to kiss the base of her throat where it met her shoulder.

Her heart beat faster as he took his time undoing every one of the buttons on her gown Then he peeled it open, exposing her to his lusty gaze, trailing his hands to cup her breasts and present them to his lips to nuzzle and torment.

She threw her head back, closing her eyes, allowing the pleasure to seep into every part of her being.

He lowered his head, kissing her all the way to her mound, plying his tongue while his fingers worked their magic on her wet quim. She was shaking all over with the pleasure and delight of it.

His kisses became more heated, her body vibrating with every touch, as his tongue found its way into her most secret and sensitive of places, thrusting inside her, mimicking the actions of his shaft.

Her hips rose to meet his hand, and a torrent of glorious sensations cascaded over her, stealing her wits, rendering her speechless save for the strange moans and whimperings that were all her tongue could manage.

Then came the deluge, as the rippling pleasures washed her away, and she could only cling to him, crying out, moaning, calling his name, clutching his shoulders, as the tempest of sensations poured through her.

Yet, still, it was not enough.

Her body and soul needed to claim him as her husband. As he lifted his head, she brought up her knees and reached for his hard shaft.

“I want ye, me husband.” She could barely pant the words, yet he understood her meaning, needing no more urging than the touch of her hand on his manhood and her fierce demand.

“And I want ye, me true wife,” His voice came out as a deep, guttural, growl, the primal sound of it sending shivers coursing through her. She lifted her hips, opening herself to greet his thrust as he whispered, “Heart of me heart, and soul of me soul.”

Then there were no more words, only love and the joyous union of two souls.

The End

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