Extended Epilogues

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.

If you have to choose you'd go with... *

• A cold and rude MMC that despises the idea of love.
• A mysterious rake who believes he cannot be tamed by a woman.

While choosing a book, if you could know only one thing, you'd go with... *

• The blurb. I really need to know what a story is about and what to expect.
• A list of tropes/content, e.g. enemies to lovers; he falls first, brother's best friend, alpha hero, etc. This gives me an idea of the story while not giving away too much.

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

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Which was the part you liked most in the book? *

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

Which do you prefer to read? *

• A sequel to an old series, where you already know the world and the characters.
• A sequel to a new series, where everything starts from the beginning - character & world building, main series idea, etc.

If you were about to choose a book with a little bit of magic, you'd go for... *

• A time travel romance, where the "magic" is going back and forth in time.
• A book with magical elements - extraordinary gifts (e.g. healer that can heal all wounds with a touch); ancient curse; enchanted object, etc.

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One month later…

Cathleen stared at her reflection in the looking glass. For the second time in the span of only a few weeks, she was dressed in fine fabrics and jewels, gold and precious stones adorning her neck and wrists. Her dress was a deep blue, not unlike the last one she had worn.

There really was only one thing that made a difference—this time, she couldn’t stop smiling at the thought that she would soon be marrying Macauley. The only tears she had shed since waking up that morning were tears of joy.

“Ye look very bonnie, me lady,” Morven said from where she stood behind her. Next to her, Bonnie was beaming with pride, her eyes misty with happy tears.

“She truly does,” Bonnie said as she stepped forward to help the maids with Cathleen’s hair, braiding it like she used to do when they were young girls. “I think it’s because she’s so happy.”

Cathleen couldn’t deny that. Though she was nervous, her heart beating fast and her chest seizing with every breath, her joy was as undeniable as it was all-consuming.

All this time, she hadn’t allowed herself to hope for a future with Macauley. At first, she had lost herself in the romance of it all, but then with everything Faolan had done, she had resigned to a life without Macauley, with nothing but the memory of him and their time together to help her keep going forward. Now, though, that future was entirely real and it was hers. There was no one to threaten the clan. There was no one to tear the two of them apart.

“Dae ye think Macauley will like it?” Cathleen asked. She wanted to look good for him. She wanted him to have no other thought in his mind other than their wedding night upon seeing her.

“I think he will love it,” Bonnie said. “He loves ye so, ye could show up tae the chapel in armor an’ he would still like it. Perhaps he’d even like the armor more.”

Cathleen couldn’t help but chuckle. If there was one thing that never failed to impress Macauley, it was that she knew her way around a blade and was not afraid to use it, but she wouldn’t go as far as to claim that he would prefer her in armor over these silky fabrics.

Bonnie and the maids pinned her hair back in an intricate updo before securing the veil over her face. Then, they led her to the door and out of the room, the two sisters heading to the chapel.

Cathleen knew Castle MacLaren like the back of her hand, and so even veiled as she was, she could easily maneuver around the corridors. Her gait was fast, her feet eager to take her to the chapel, where she would see Macauley again after being separated from him for an entire day before the wedding.

It was a bright, though chilly day, the wind whipping her dress and threatening to sweep her hair out of the delicate updo the maids and Bonnie had taken so much time and care to construct. Around her, the birds chirped and the leaves rustled in the wind, but she heard none of it.

Her heart leapt to her throat when she and Bonnie stood right outside the chapel a few minutes later, her sister waiting for her to take the step inside. Cathleen looked at the doors of the little church, her palms sweating and her stomach filled with butterflies, and it was only when Bonnie gave her a gentle push that she finally found the courage to walk inside.

All eyes turned on her instantly. Everyone from Clans Drummond, Hay, and Murray seemed to be there, some familiar faces for Cathleen and some she had only heard of until then. Kian and Deirdre were there, of course, Deirdre smiling at her as she wiped the tears off her eyes before they could truly shed.

Macauley stood by the priest’s side, freezing on the spot when his gaze fell on her, his mouth hanging open. His hand flew to his chest as though he was trying to calm his racing heart, and Cathleen was glad to know she wasn’t the only one so affected by what was happening. Slowly, she approached, and when she reached Macauley, he tentatively touched his fingers to hers, not quite taking her hand.

He couldn’t see her through the veil and she had a hard time seeing him, obscured as he was by the fabric. Still, there was no mistaking the smile on his lips or the love in his gaze, which never strayed from her.

The ceremony began but Cathleen listened to little of it over the sound of her heartbeat and the blood rushing to her ears. It all seemed to pass by in a blur, so fast that by the time she stood outside next to Macauley as the priest brought the rite o an end, she didn’t even know it had all come to pass and the two of them were married. Suddenly, everyone was congratulating her, wishing her and Macauley the best before heading back inside for the feast.

The great hall had been decorated with fresh flowers and tapestries and banners, the council sparing no expense for her wedding. It wasn’t just a matter of pleasing her, though, Cathleen knew, though that was certainly a part of it after everything that had happened with Faolan. It was also a matter of showing the other clans that they still had power and wealth, and that with Macauley as the new laird, there would be an era of prosperity.

The tables were piled with food and drink, platters of roasted meat and vegetables, bannocks, cheeses, and fruit resting atop them along with pitchers of wine and ale, all of it prepared for the grand feast. A band was already posted up in the corner of the room and they began to play as the first guests arrived, clansmen and women filling up the tables.

Macauley and Cathleen didn’t even have time to sit before Deirdre found them. “Come!” she said excitedly. “Macauley, ye will never guess who just arrived.”

With a small frown, Macauley turned to Cathleen, shrugging at her curious expression, before he took her hand and the two of them followed Deirdre around the room. Just as they reached the doors of the great hall, his expression shifted into one of recognition when he saw who was there, but Cathleen was still none the wiser.

“Tate!” Lana!” he called, rushing to meet the two new arrivals and tugging Cathleen along with him. “Ye made it, I thought ye couldnae come.”

“Well, so did we, but we couldnae miss it in the end,” said the man Macauley had identified as Tate. He was a big man, tall and muscular, with bright features—blonde hair and icy blue eyes that made him look cold until he smiled. The woman next to him, Lana, was strikingly beautiful, with fiery red hair and hazel eyes, small save for the belly that bulged under her clothes.

“Cathleen, these are Tate an’ Lana Hay,” Macauley said. “Tate’s a good friend. He lived with us in Castle Drummond fer… how many years exactly?”

“Too many tae count,” said Tate. “But we will visit again once Lana has the bairn.”

Cathleen looked between her and Deirdre, noting the similarities in their features and the way they held themselves, and gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Ye’re Deirdre’s sister!”

“I am,” said Lana with a small smile and a tilt of her head. “Has she spoken about me?”

“Often,” said Cathleen, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought ye wouldnae manage tae come. It must be difficult fer ye tae travel now.”

For the first time, she imagined what it would be like when she would be pregnant with her and Macauley’s children. Would Macauley want a big family? Cathleen had never had anyone but her sister, but they and their parents were so close that she never felt she needed anyone else.

“Och aye,” said Lana. She had a soft, melodious voice and a warm smile that was very much unlike the kind of woman she had expected to see after Deirdre’s descriptions of her. Then again, Deirdre had mentioned that Lana looked deceptively meek, to the point where people thought of her as a fool until she showed her fangs. “But we wanted tae be here fer Macauley. An’ fer ye, o’ course. Welcome tae the family, Cathleen. I’m sure we’ll be great friends if ye can be around me sister.”

“Lana!” Deirdre protested, giving her shoulder a push with barely any force behind the gesture.

Cathleen laughed, shaking her head. “Deirdre is an angel. Truly.”

She still couldn’t believe how much Deirdre had helped her, how kindly she had treated her. Anyone else would have asked for Cathleen to hang, but Deirdre only wanted to make sure that she was safe and happy.

Suddenly, Kian appeared next to them and Macauley paled as he saw him, swallowing drily. Cathleen had never seen such terror in his eyes, especially not when Kian approached him, and she couldn’t help but stare in confusion.

“What is it?” she asked in a low voice, only for Macauley to shake his head fervently.

“Ye have been avoidin’ me,” Kian said, striding menacingly towards Macauley. Had they fought, Cathleen wondered? But no, it couldn’t be. Just at the ceremony, they seemed fine. “Did ye think ye could get away from me fer the whole feast?”

“I wasnae avoidin’ ye,” Macauley said quickly, taking a few steps back. “I simply… had to greet Tate an’ Lana.”

Kian hummed, seemingly not believing Macauley’s words. Something rattled in his hand and Cathleen looked down to see a pair of cuffs there, heavy iron joined by a long chain.

“We had a bet, Macauley,” Kian said. “I ken ye havenae forgotten.”

“A bet?” Cathleen asked. “What kind o’ bet?”

“It’s silly,” said Macauley.

“A very important bet,” said Kian at the same time.

“Ach, nae this!” Deirdre said, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. “I thought ye would have forgotten about this foolishness.”

“A bet is a bet, Deirdre,” Kian said. “An’ Macauley took the bet.”

It was then that Macauley seemed to relent, sighing as he presented his wrists to Kian. Kian was almost gleeful as he snapped the cuffs around Macauley’s wrists, binding his hands together.

“These stay fer the rest o’ the night,” Kian said. “I’ll remove them in the morn.”

“What?” Macauley shouted, indignant. “How dae ye expect me tae… tae dae me duty with these on?”

For a few moments, Kian regarded him, then he turned his gaze on Cathleen. “Ye may yet enjoy them,” he said, and turned on his heel, walking away.

Cathleen’s cheeks heated wildly at the implication. With a weary sigh, Deirdre followed her husband as Lana and Tate rushed after them, leaving Macauley and Cathleen alone. She looked pointedly at the cuffs and to his credit, Macauley blushed, a wash of color spreading over his cheeks.

“I made a bet with him that I would never wed,” he mumbled. “I have tae wear these cuffs.”

For a few moments, Cathleen looked at him in disbelief, before she burst out laughing. It was such a silly thing but Macauley seemed incensed about it, fuming with anger and embarrassment.

“Well, perhaps he’s right,” Cathleen said, leaning close to whisper in Macauley’s ear. “Perhaps ye will come tae enjoy them.”

She, too, turned around to walk away, smirking as she left a bewildered and undoubtedly aroused Macauley behind her.

The rest of the feast was spent with Cathleen and Macauley pulled in different directions, each of them dragged away to talk to people they already knew and meet those they didn’t. It was only later in the evening when they managed to find their way back to their table, but the moment Cathleen sat down, the Toiseach stood and raised his cup in a toast.

“Tae Macauley Sinclair, new Laird o’ Clan MacLaren, an’ his wife, the Lady MacLaren,” he said, announcing Macauley’s new role officially to the guests, who raised their own cups and echoed his toast. Cathleen didn’t miss the way the Toiseach stared at his bound hands in disapproval, though the man had said nothing all night about it.

Next to Macauley, Kian grinned and gave him an encouraging slap on the shoulder. Cathleen watched it all—Macauley’s small, bashful smile, Kian’s and Deirdre’s pride for their friend, the joy that erupted in the room, and she couldn’t help but think she was the luckiest woman in the world that day.

Now that they had greeted everyone in the room, Macauley and Cathleen could finally enjoy the feast, but it wasn’t long after that Macauley took her hand and subtly pulled her away through the back door of the great hall. By then, everyone was either too intoxicated to notice or too focused in their own conversations or dance to see them slip out. Cathleen followed him hurriedly, a giggle bubbling up inside her, until they reached a secluded corner of the castle in one of the more deserted hallways. The moment Macauley knew they were alone, he pushed her against the wall and claimed her lips in a searing kiss, Cathleen arching up to meet him.

“I couldnae wait tae get ye out o’ there,” he said, mumbling against her neck as he kissed the heated skin there. “I’ve been thinkin’ about ye all day. I was thinkin’ about ye all day yesterday, too. I cannae spend another moment away from ye.”

Cathleen laughed at the frenzied way Macauley’s hands pawed at her, as though he would truly explode if he didn’t touch her right that instant. The chains rattled between them and she had half a mind to grab them right there and then, just to see what he would do. Still, Cathleen ran a soothing hand over his shoulder and cupped his cheek, stilling him for a second. Before anything else, she had to say this.

“I love ye,” she whispered against his lips, brushing her own softly over them.

Macauley sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed their foreheads together. Though the urgency hadn’t left him, she could tell, he was holding it back, content to enjoy that small moment between them first.

“I love ye,” he echoed back to her. “I love ye more than anythin’. Ye’re the brightest thing in me life.”

Cathleen huffed out a soft laugh, fearing that if she didn’t, she would start crying instead. She had already spent too much time crying, though. Even happy tears seemed too much now. She would rather laugh and smile for the rest of her life.

And with Macauley by her side, it seemed like such a simple thing.

The End.

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This is the story of Gale, an adventurous English lady who runs away to escape her murderous mother and finds herself in the company of an alluring Highlander. There she is called to change her ways, and he helps her see the world from a different point of view. But her past is catching up with her. How will she elude her mother? And will this be the only obstacle in their relationship?

Read the book

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.

Which plot do you prefer? *

• A time-travel story where the MMC is a Scot from Modern times and falls in love with MFC only to have to fight her fiance for her hand.
• MFC falls in love with the MMC. There's only one problem, she is the only one that can see him. MMC is a ghost and now the MFC has to find the witch who trapped his soul so he can come back to life again.
• MFC's father marries again and she finds out her new step-brother is the man she had her first night with.

What do you think of darker tropes such as BDSM? *

• I like it. I think if can make a historical romance spicier.
• I do not like it. I prefer more romantic and traditional approaches for a historical novel.

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Ten years later…

Evander looked around the Great Hall. It was the celebration of the anniversary of Alec’s lairdship, and the whole clan had gathered. His heart filled with joy as he looked around at the full hall, the quiet discussions of adults punctuated by the happy shrieks of children as they played.

There were several children, and Evander let his eyes follow each one in turn.

Alec and Kira had two sons – twin boys who, at eight summers, were already bidding fair to inherit their father’s height and their mother’s mannerisms. Kieran was quieter than his brother Devon, but both were full of trouble when they took it into their heads to cause mischief. He’d had to fish them out of ponds and various other scrapes more than once.

Catreena and Tad had a son as well, only a season younger than Alec and Kira’s boys. Ian was very much his mother’s son, a matter Tad often bemoaned, even as he beamed with pride. When he and Alec’s sons were together, the kitchens had learned to watch any pastries that might be cooling, lest they wander off.

Bran and Ilyssa had one child, a daughter named Kathleen, who had been a spitfire since the moment of her birth, seven years ago. She was active and boisterous, and just as inclined to play with the lads as she was with the lasses. She was also the apple of her father’s eye, and Bran bid fair to spoil her, though Evander pitied whatever man came to court the child when she grew up. She was as mischievous as her mother.

Not that he could talk, when his pride in his son was matched by his protectiveness toward his daughter. Conrad was the same age as Kathleen, older by a month, and the two alternated between getting along, and quarreling in a manner that drove all the adults to distraction.

Evander and May’s daughter Eileen was much younger – only four years old, and content to sit in corner and play quietly. She had her mother’s quiet spirit, but she could be just as stubborn as Evander when she wanted something. She had also inherited May’s protective nature, and a fondness for cats. Her joy in the creatures had actually helped May begin to heal from her fears. She would never be easy around dogs of any type, but she had a small cat she’d tamed, which often sat on her lap when she read or embroidered.

The last child Evander looked for was Dunn and Elayne’s child – five-year-old Diana. She seemed to alternate between trying to keep up with her older cousins, and keeping her younger cousin company. She was good-natured and friendly, and already showed signs of being a healer when she grew older.

And soon, she’d have a brother or sister of her own to look after, which was doubtless why she was spending the majority of her time with Eileen this evening. Evander’s eyes went to where Elayne was sitting, her belly softly rounded to show the growing life within.

May nudged his side. “What are ye thinking about?”

“How nice it is tae be here, with friends and family. How good it is tae see everyone happy and healthy, after all we’ve been through.” Evander looped an arm around her, and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “And how nice it would be tae give Eileen a sibling tae play with.”

“Och! Is that right?” May shoved at him, laughing.

Evander laughed too, knowing well that what he had just suggested was not just in jest. The sound of their laughter echoed off the stone walls, and Evander laughed louder, just to hear the sound.

Alec then rose to make a speech and the hall fell silent.

“Dear family, friends, clansmen, and women. Welcome to this celebration, a feast nae just fer me anniversary but fer us all, a strong, united, and proud clan.”

Murmurs of approval supported his words.

“I am naething without yer support and help and I am grateful fer the presence of each and every one of ye, fer ye are what makes me a laird. I am proud tae be yer chosen leader, but may ye all ken, that ye often lead me. After so many years, and so many trials, today Clan Mackintosh is full of laughter, joy once more. So let us raise a glass to our beloved Clan! Slàinte Mhath!”.

All the guests, who had stood during the speech, raised their cups and cheered “Slàinte Mhath! Long live our laird!”

After a long drink from his mead, Evander leaned towards his beloved wife and whispered again “Why dinnae we go work on that sibling right now? I have a pressing need tae retire tae our chambers this instant.” And with that he quickly flicked his tongue into her ear.

May giggled like a young girl and took him by the hand. “As yer wife I must cater tae yer ever need, me dear husband, especially the more pressing ones.”

“Never was there anything better said or a more wonderful wife!”

The End.

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Which POV do you prefer for the bonus scene at the beginning of the book? *

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• MFC. It is easier to feel more connected to the MFC and I would like to read extra scenes from her POV.

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Three months later…

Étaín was excited as she stared out the window of the carriage as it bustled through the Highlands. It had been three long months of preparations, but finally she and Bhaltair were on their way to MacThomas lands before they traveled on to Baird lands in the Lowlands. They were to go to see his brother Tristan first, after he had sent a letter asking for a visit. He had heard that Bhaltair was to become Laird Baird, and he wanted to see him, and Étaín knew that Bhaltair was nervous. He was to be the Laird of Clan Baird, and she was to be his lady. Sometimes at night she repeated it to herself, and sometimes she had to say it to Elspeth to really believe that it was true.

“Ye deserve it, lass,” Elspeth had told her, tears in her eyes at their departure.

Étaín had invited her to come, asking if she would, but Elspeth and Angus were to be wed. There was a tearful goodbye that created an ache in Étaín’s chest. But it was a pleasant ache of love and friendship. She would return home from time to time, and she was so very glad for Elspeth’s happiness. She gasped lightly at the sight of the beauty of the rolling hills. As Lady Baird, she would miss her Highland home, and she wanted to soak in every last bit of it before it left. She finally felt as if her life was going somewhere. There was some direction, a plan. She was no longer sitting around feeling sad and sorry for herself, acting as her brother’s hostess. She now had a new home to go to, a home that she would lead.

“Tell me what ye are thinkin’ of, Étaín,” Bhaltair said from across the way in the carriage.

She turned to look at him and he was sitting, his hands folded on his lap, smiling at her. Grinning back at him, she turned to face him fully.

She said, “I was just thinking that ye look more handsome every day that passes.”

“Is that so?” he asked, leaning forward, a mischievous look on his face.

She leaned forward to touch a hand to his cheek and feel the harshness of his beard under her palm. She had not been lying; it was true. It was not simply every day, but every time she turned back to look at him. The sight of him grew more and more welcome, and it made her happier and happier each time.

“Aye.” She grinned as she looked into his eyes and then down at his mouth.

His hair had grown longer as well, but he kept it firmly tied back. He, Marcus and Kaden had been training for the past three months, and Bhaltair was like a different person. He no longer remembered his old injuries or his old fatigue, and that weight she’d first seen on his shoulders when he had come back into their lives was gone now. There was only clear happiness in his eyes.

“Well, then I should say the same fer ye, Étaín. Ye are like me bright star, and ye guide me home.”

Étaín felt a tightness in her chest. It was strange. How did some people not find such a love? She felt so happy, so grateful, and she now fully understood Líadan’s happiness with her husband. She wished it for everyone.

“Dae I now?” She asked with a mischievous look on her own face.

And even as the carriage rumbled along, she pulled up her skirts and moved across the carriage until she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips.

She put her hands on his shoulders, and he turned his face up to her, looking a little surprised but pleased as well, and his smile widened.

“Aye,” he said, his hands sliding up her skirts and gripping her backside, roughly pulling a gasp out of her mouth.

Her smile faded, and she leaned down to kiss him. Their kiss was instantly deep and passionate, and it made her wet far faster than she’d expected. But he pulled away roughly, and he stared at her.

In a hoarse voice, he said, “Get those lovely breasts out fer me.”

He held her skirts up while she pulled at the ties of her bodice, her eyes not leaving his. She watched the hungry look in his gaze once her breasts were bare to him with eagerness. Even though he gripped her buttocks painfully hard, pressing his length against her, he nestled his face in between her breasts gently before he kissed along one and then pulled a nipple into his mouth.

“Bhaltair,” she breathed as he suckled against her, and her hands moved into his hair.

She leaned her head back, forgetting where they were for the moment, as her body was lost in pleasure.

“God in Heaven,” he said, turning to the other breast and giving it the same treatment, his tongue swirling around the hardened nipple. “I never am satisfied, me love, whenever I am with ye, I want more.”

She whimpered at the feel of the ache between her thighs, and when he rubbed his length against her, moving his hips upward, she cried out.

“Please,” she begged him, and he smiled against her mouth as he kissed her.

It only took a few moments for him to free himself, and then he was pressing into her, his hands on her hips, his eyes looking into hers. She was breathing hard, staring down at him. Every time they made love, it was better. There was something new to discover, some new realization, some new feeling, but every time the same feeling of gratitude and happiness washed over her. This was what she had desired for so long, and now they were one in every sense of the word.

She moved up and down his length, but he set the rhythm, his hands tight on her hips as he moved her body the way he wished. Her hands traveled from his shoulders and up his neck to his face again. And then as the pleasure grew, she threw her head back once more, crying out into the carriage, knowing she could be as loud as she wished.

Bhaltair started grunting as his thrusts grew harder. “Come fer me, love,” he told her roughly, and then he moved a hand between them, licking his thumb before he rubbed it against her. And then she came, loudly and quickly, shocked at her release. It shot warmth through her veins and every muscle relaxed. She shook on top of him, leaning forward, her forehead on his shoulders. It was as if she could not control her own body anymore. He thrust into her three more times before he held her tight, shaking and cursing aloud.

They sat like that for a little while, and then, when she pulled back, they were both smiling. “I love ye,” she told him.

“I love ye, and I cannae believe I married a woman who would let me bed her inside a carriage.”

“I would let ye bed me anywhere, Bhaltair.”

He winked at her. “I will remember that.”

***

Bhaltair, of course, loved making love to his wife at any moment in the day, but he was especially glad in that moment for there was a lot of nervous tension in his body. He was about to see his brother after five long years, and whom he knew did not care for him. It was rather out of politeness than anything else. And he was grateful for Étaín’s company as they rumbled along, closer and closer to MacThomas lands, lands he had once called home.

But now there was no home there for him any longer. It had not been home for many long years. He wondered what he would say to his brother, what he would ask him, what he would tell him. He wondered what his brother would say back to him. Why on earth did his brother wish to see him?

The closer they got, the more tension he felt in his body, and Étaín brushed a hand against his arm. “All will be well,” she told him, and then she leaned against his shoulder.

When the carriage finally stopped, he took a deep breath, ready to face what lay ahead. But he barely had enough time to help his wife out of the carriage before he turned and was tightly embraced by Tristan himself. He hadn’t even seen or heard the man coming towards him, and he held his hands out to the side, shocked at what was happening. But eventually, he hugged him back, and it felt like a final weight that had encumbered him had now disappeared.

“What is this?” Bhaltair finally asked, curious, as Tristan pulled back and stared at him, still holding his hands on his shoulders.

“Dear God, braither, it has been five long years,” Tristan said.

“Aye, I ken it,” Bhaltair replied with a nod, still confused at his brother’s odd behavior.

He had no idea what to say, and so he began with the obvious, sliding his hand to Étaín’s back.

“This is me wife, Étaín Stuart.”

With a smile, Tristan turned to Étaín, and he took her hand and laid a kiss upon it. Bhaltair took the time to study his brother. He looked a little bit older. And they looked far more similar than he knew Tristan probably would have liked. He did, however, look tired.

“It is so good tae meet ye. I ken that ye are likely tired from yer journey, but there is somethin’ I must say afore ye go in.”

“Very well,” Bhaltair said slowly, unsure of what he was about to hear.

Tristan looked uncomfortable, clearing his throat before he began. “Fergive me, Bhaltair, I beg ye.”

Bhaltair blinked, and his mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Forgive me. I was terrible tae ye, and I was angry about maither’s death, but ye didnae deserve what ye received, tae be traded fer me in Sloan Baird’s dungeons. I heard Baird died, and that his son tortured ye fer five years past.”

“Four, really,” Bhaltair corrected, trying strangely to sound cheerful. “I escaped after four, and I have been on the run since. But Euan is dead now.”

His voice was steady and calm, but he had no idea what to do with Tristan’s apology.

“Aye, true enough. I tried fer a long time tae get ye from Euan, but he never allowed it. He even killed a few of me men who went in search of ye.”

Étaín gasped and then took Bhaltair’s hand, threading her fingers through his. He knew what she wanted him to do.

“Ye did that?” Bhaltair asked.

Tristan nodded, and then he said, “But when ye ran away, I couldnae find ye, until I heard about the news of yer new lairdship. Forgive me, Bhaltair. Let us be braithers again in truth. I want tae be part of yer family.”

Bhaltair hesitated for a moment, but Étaín squeezed his hand. “Ye dae ken that we are only half-braithers now?”

“Aye.” Tristan smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Perhaps it is the reason we had such difficulty growin’ up. But what dae ye say? Braithers in truth?” He held out a hand and looked at Bhaltair eagerly.

Bhaltair turned to Étaín, who nodded smilingly at him. He was yet again on the precipice of something new and better. He knew he would regret it if he did not take this chance, and so he took his brother’s hand and shook it.

“Aye, Tristan. Braithers in truth.”

The End.

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• Yes, I do like them a lot. I love to bet with myself and see if I've made the right suggestion in the end.
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• Yes, I did like it. I think it is exciting to get a glimpse on one of the characters before the actual start of the story.
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Two months later…

The rain was clearing as the little group left the chapel and wended their way across the cobblestones to the castle. Grey clouds gave way to blue skies and rays of morning sunshine beamed down on them.

Although tears had been shed during Father Padraig’s Mass and the long service that followed, it was a happy occasion.

Haldor looked around at his family. The annual memorial service held for the memories of their sadly missed brother Thor and their much-loved parents, the Laird Ulf, and his wife, Ingrid, although similar in many details to the other years, was very different this year.

In the past, the celebration of lives well-lived had been tempered by bitterness and the knowledge that Thor’s killer had never been brought to justice. It was an unhealed wound on Haldor’s conscience that his brother’s murder was unavenged. The ongoing hostilities wrought by the MacKinnons had weighed heavily, standing between himself, his brothers and sister and the sense of peace and acceptance they craved, which, until now, even the holy service failed to provide.

But today, instead of the heavy pall of grief hanging over them, there was a lightness, a burgeoning sense of optimism at what the future might hold. With the death of James MacKinnon, the dues owed to their brother had at last been paid, justice was done and their enemies vanquished. At last, Haldor could hold his head up without the nagging aggravation of unfinished business that, for years, had dogged his heart.

There was, at last, an end to the long feud between Haldor’s people and Clan MacKinnon. Following the strange disappearance of Bairre MacKinnon from the ship, and with no knowledge of whether he lived or died, his clan had appointed a distant cousin to lead them. Arran MacKinnon was now the laird. He’d met with Haldor weeks ago and although both Arne and Ivar voiced their suspicions of this new leader, the encounter had gone well. On meeting and talking with him, even they were well satisfied. The man sought peace and a settling of all the affronts and offences between. The MacKinnons had suffered, as had the MacLeods, from the years of hatred and fighting and he’d made a pledge to Haldor to settle their differences and live in harmony, united with their King against a common foe.

Being able to put the past in its place meant they could move on, dealing with the more pressing issues at home and now more able to contribute their support to King Robert the Bruce.

Breathing in the crisp autumn air, Haldor waved to a small group of villagers who stood nearby to wish them well. He walked arm-in-arm with his beloved wife, the Lady Sofia who, only last night, had given him the news that their longed-for babe might well become a reality in the coming months.

Dahlia was laughing, chatting with Arne and Ivar. No longer was she forced to look over her shoulder and jump at shadows. The man she’d feared for so long would never haunt her nightmares again. Today, even Ivar had exchanged his glum expression for an occasional smile. His perpetual scowl had eased, and there had been times when his mood lifted and there were glimpses of the lad he’d been before he’d lost his twin brother.

Haldor knew it would take time for them all to completely put the years of hatred behind them, but today, for the first time, there was a thrum of optimism in the air.

He squeezed Sofia’s arm and she looked up, beaming. Would he ever become tired of gazing into her shining eyes?

The afternoon wore on with feasting and entertaining the guests who had arrived to share the celebration with them.

Laird Payton MacDonnell was there with his wife Kayla, Sofia’s sister, and their new baby, a wee boy.

Laird Mackenzie had also arrived last night for the day’s festivities. He’d sought out Haldor in his study to ask, privately, after his daughter’s wellbeing. It felt good to be able to reassure him that his marriage to Sofia was bringing them both great happiness, far beyond what he could have ever dreamed. As each day passed, he loved her more.

“I’m am glad tae hear of yer mutual happiness, Haldor. Ye ken I was gravely afeared fer me daughter’s wellbeing when we first attended here. I kent how timid and afraid she was, scarred by her abduction and the time she’d spent as a captive of those terrible men.”

Sofia had never told her father about the role Haldor had played in calming her fears, or of the fact that he’d offered all his gold to purchase her freedom. That was their secret, and it was one that strengthened the bond between them.

“Me daughter assures me she is happy, Haldor. I see a different Sofia nowadays. She is stronger, a confident lass in charge of the castle doings, fulfilling her wifely duties with a smile. Nae longer the fearful wee lass that journeyed here with me those months past, greatly afeared of yer choosing tae wed her.”

Haldor smiled at this. “Och, she is everything I could hope fer as me life’s partner.”

The older man took his hand and shook it. “I am proud tae have ye as me son-in-law Haldor and I owe ye everything fer making me daughter so happy. If ye are in need, if it should be in me power, I will only be too happy tae offer whatever ye may require.”

Haldor dipped his head in gratitude. “I thank thee. It was yer soldiers that added tae our strength and enabled us tae at last defeat the MacKinnons.”

They left the study and headed for the great hall where the minstrels were adding to the merriment and the assembled guests were raising their tankards in thanksgiving.

Haldor took his place at the high table beside his wife, his heart swelling with joy and pride as he looked around the assembled company.

Raising his goblet of wine, he rose to his feet. “Slàinte Mhath tae ye all. Me dear friends and family, ye are close tae me heart. Our future is assured.” He glanced down at Sofia who met his gaze with her own clear eyes. “And may our days be long and happy together.”

The End.

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