Extended Epilogues

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• When his brother is wounded in battle, the MMC is forced to step up as leader. To secure an alliance, he takes an enemy bride—unaware she believes he killed her brother and has been sent by her father to spy on him.
• Sworn enemies by birth, two heirs are captured by a Lowland laird who see them as nothing more than bargaining tools. Forced to rely on each other to escape, hatred turns to reluctant trust, revealing an attraction that could challenge everything they were raised to believe.

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Three Months Later

The ceremony was every bit as grand as Davina had hoped. As she entered the chapel to the sound of the bagpipes, every head turned toward her. But she only had eyes for the tall figure standing by the altar in his great kilt, his black velvet jacket and his white shirt and kerchief.

The priest who had come all the way from the monastery on Iona said the Latin words that were decreed for the marriage service, they responded to the vows and, finally, the priest declared Everard MacNeil and Davina MacKinnon to be husband and wife.

Davina gave Everard a look from under her lashes as those words rang out. Few of the assembled wedding guests were aware that the bride and groom had been handfasted months before.

As they surveyed their guests from their seats in the high table, Everard identified all the various clan members who were gathered. Fergus and his wife from Vatersay were there, as was his uncle from the north of Barra. But all the Council members and their wives were enjoying the feasting, the music and the wine and whisky that flowed freely.

“Who is this grey-hair walking toward us now?” Davin whispered, as the tall, somewhat frail elderly man took his seat along from them at the high table.

“He is someone ye’ve yet tae meet. That is the Laird Nicol Comyn.”

She gasped. “Ye mean…?”

“Aye. He’s yer grandfaither, Sorcha’s faither.”

At once she got to her feet. “I must greet him. It is a wondrous thing that he is here. Did ye…?”

Everard shook his head. “Nay, it was Dùghall who went back after all these years tae Freuchie Castle tae tell his story and yers and tae invite the old man tae this celebration.”

The Laird Comyn beamed as his granddaughter went to greet him. He rose and clasped her hand as she curtsied.

“I see me darling Sorcha again when I look at ye,” he said, his eyes misting.

“I am so happy tae meet ye. And I look forward tae a conversation between us. Mayhap we will meet again on the morrow.”

“Aye, that would be a bonny thing.”

Returning to Everard’s side she smiled up at him, curling her fingers around his hand. “When I came tae Kiessimul I had nae family and I didnae ken me name or me faither’s name. Now I have a family: a husband, a half-braither, a faither and a grandfaither. And a braither and sister-in law who I have come tae ken and love and me other sister, Raven, and her family, whom I met today fer the first time. I am truly blessed.” Smiling, she recalled another blessing. “This day I also received a sweet note from me friend Lyra, who is now safely away from the Priory. I was able tae find her thanks tae me faither’s help. He wrote the nuns tae ask fer information fer me, tae keep me location hidden.”

“And I have won the love of me heart and formed a new alliance between the MacNeils and the MacKinnons and, it seems, the Comyns. And, last but nae least, I have had word from Hugo, who is in France and has been successful in his mission.”

Davina gave a laugh of pure joy and delight. Leaning in to Everard’s broad shoulder, she whispered, “How long will it be, me husband, until we have paid all our dues tae our guests and can retreat tae our bedchamber?” Her eyes shone with equal amounts of love and mischief.

He glanced around the hall where their guests were carousing. He nodded. “Mayhap it is time.” He rose to his feet and raised his tankard. A hush fell over the hall.

“Slàinte mhath me friends. I thank yer fer yer company. It has been a great joy fer me and me lady wife tae be among ye all on this day. Now the time has come fer me bride and meself tae leave ye. I wish ye all happiness and goodnight.”

As they departed, a cheer followed them through the hall.

Mildred and her staff lined the passage leading to their bedchamber, all of them smiling and wishing the bridal couple well. The door of the chamber was open wide, and before they entered and closed the door behind them, Everard and Davina saluted the loyal band of servants who had decorated the bedchamber.

It was lit with a hundred candles, pink roses bloomed from jugs all around the room, the floor was strewn with rose petals. In front of the fire, Feather yawned and stretched on her bed.

On the table beside the bed were a jug of wine and goblets. A brass lamp filled with rose scented oil shed a magical glow over the sheets and pillows.

Everard poured wine for them both. “Tae ye, me beautiful bride. Taenight our marriage is nae only legal in law, but now we are wed in the eyes of the Good Lord.”

Davina took several sips of the wine, placed her goblet on the table and stepped toward her husband. He watched in amazement as she deftly unfastened the gold brooch at his shoulder causing the length of plaid to fall away. Then her busy fingers undid his belt so that his great kilt slipped to the floor at his feet and he was left standing in nothing but his long shirt.

His eyes darkened as Davina moved closer.

“I wish tae see all of ye, me laird. I wish tae feast me eyes on yer beauty and yer scars. Fer ye are mine now, fer all time, and I wish tae see me prize.”

He laughed, “Ye’re a bold lass me love, but I’ll nae object.”

Her head was whirling. Had the wine made her so bold? She wanted this man, and she wanted to feel his hardness in her hand. She reached for the hem of his shirt and he lifted his arms.

She raised his shirt, glorying in the sight of his strong muscled chest as she slipped the fine fabric to his shoulders and lifted it free of his head and over his arms. He stood there before her, his arms still raised, in all his naked beauty.

She ran her fingers over his skin, tracing the outline of his muscles on his chest, flicking the dark hairs, and proceeding down his belly. She took his hardening shaft in her hand, and slipped her hand along its length.

Then she pushed him, ever so slightly, so that he subsided back onto the bed.

Now it was her turn. While he lay before her, his eyes burning with a fire she’d never seen so bright, she slowly unlaced her gown and tugged the sleeves, so that the fabric fell from her shoulders and exposed her breasts to his gaze.

He gave a soft moan and went to reach for her, but she put up a finger. “Nay. ‘Tis me time. I’ll grant ye yers soon enough.”

She cupped her breasts displaying their puckering pink nubs, and he moaned again, more loudly this time.

Sliding the dress to the floor she stepped out of it and stood before him in only her petticoat and stockings.

While he lay, his shaft long and rigid, pointing straight up from his groin, she forbade him to move, He moaned and licked his lips, growing ever more ravenous while she reveled in the power she had over him.

Leaning over him she brushed his granite shaft with the softness of her breasts, allowing the hardness of their nubs to tease his tip.

“Och, lass,” he ground out. “Mind what ye dae. More of that and I’ll come all over ye wi’ me seed.”

Straightening, she gave a soft laugh, slowly untying the strings of her petticoat so that now she was clad only in her earbobs, stockings and silk slippers.

His burning gaze raked her body, coming to rest in the triangle of curls between her thighs. She moved a hand lightly over her mound, delighting in the sound of his sharp, indrawn breath as she did so.

He rolled his gaze up to the canopy. “D’ye wish me tae die of longing fer ye? I’m aching something fierce.” He moved his hips and she shook her head to stay him.

He huffed. “Me shaft should be inside that beautiful, hot, wetness of yers. Me fingers should be plying those wicked breasts, me mouth should be on yers. Are ye determined tae drive me mad?”

“Mayhap that is me plan, fer I wish ye tae be as hungry fer me as I am fer ye.”

She pulled the pins holding the braids that were wound around her head, garlanded with flowers. Then, with nimble fingers she unraveled each of the tiny, intricate braids one by one, until her wild mane of chestnut curls fell around her shoulders almost to her waist and the loosened flowers tumbled over him.

“By God, ye’re tormenting me wi’ yer beauty. I didnae ken that marriage would cause me such agony.”

After shedding her slippers, she raised a leg and poised her toes on the bed, affording his eyes a tantalizing glimpse between her thighs. She slowly rolled down her stocking and slid it off her foot. Then she did the same with the other stocking.

She shook her head, her curls spinning, “Methinks I’ll leave me earbobs on.” She grinned. He seemed to be gasping now, rather like a fish out of water. “What d’ye think? Earbobs in, or nae?”

“God’s blood lass, d’ye think me made of stone-cold marble, that ye parade yer nakedness and taunt me so? Have ye forgotten I’m a lad, and the blood runs thick and hot in me veins?”

Giving a small laugh she lowered herself onto the bed beside him. “I’ve nae forgotten ye’re a lad.” She bent and kissed the tip of his nose. “But mayhap ye’ve forgotten that the blood runs hot and thick in me veins also.”

With that she bent one leg over his thighs so that she straddled him. Wriggling, she aligned her entrance over his tip.

His eyes were closed, he was gritting his teeth, his jaw tightening. “Then, lass, by all the saints in heaven and all the devils below, kindly put this poor lad out of his misery.”

Positioning him, she lowered herself slowly onto his shaft, slowly sliding him inside her.

She was half-way there when he groaned. “Good’s blood lass, I can stand it nay longer.” He seized her buttocks with both his hands and pulled her down, his hips rising so that she took all of him in as he ground against her, sending waves of molten heat from her core deep into every part of her.

He took her mouth and now it was her turn to moan into his mouth as his greedy tongue met hers and his hips thrust his hard shaft again and again.

This time there was no restraint. The dam of their passion had broken and she met him, thrust for thrust, abandoned and wanton, both of them groaning and grunting and crying out to the Lord. She screamed “Everard,” as the glorious sensations rolled over her on primitive and fierce waves of passion, inexorably driving to a crescendo so intense, it was if she was coming apart, falling to pieces, spinning with the stars in the heavens.

After what seemed a lifetime, they touched the earth again.

Davina laughed. It was too joyous a moment for anything else. He looked deep into her eyes, and joined her laughter.

The End

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Three Months Later

There had been moments when Isabeau had thought this day would never come. Endless arguments with the council, she and her brothers trying to convince the elders that her marriage to Tiernan may not be beneficial to the clan but that it was still possible, for they had the riches and the allies to allow them to flourish without a political marriage to the youngest MacGregor sibling. Days and nights of negotiations and trying to find a middle ground.

She had been their last hope for a good alliance, after Alaric had refused to wed for politics and instead chose love. She had been raised for that, after all, to be the wife of a powerful laird and bring Clan MacGregor an equally powerful alliance. Everything she had ever been taught had been for this specific purpose, and yet she had forsaken her duty and had chosen to marry a commoner.

No, not only a commoner, but a former brigand. That, more than anything else, did not sit well with the council.

In the end, though, they had no choice but to accept it, as Ewan would not back down. It had been nothing short of a battle, in its own way, although not bloody and full of death but just as savage.

In the three months it had taken them to agree somehow and prepare for the wedding, Isabeau had spent all her free time trying to get Tiernan accustomed to this new kind of life, with Lucia’s help. She was the one, after all, who had already been through this as Alaric’s wife, the one who had to learn to act the part of a lady once they were married. And just like her, Tiernan took to this new kind of life like a fish to land, which was to say not at all.

Sitting next to her at their wedding feast, Tiernan tugged at the collar of his tunic. Not for the first time, Isabeau pulled his hand down and held it in hers, feeling his rabbit-fast pulse where her thumb rested over his wrist.

All day, he had been uncomfortable being at the center of attention, but now all the nobles at the feast were too busy dancing, drinking, and laughing amongst themselves to pay them any real mind.

Even her brothers were enjoying themselves freely with their wives, all four of them dancing the night away. From the corner of her eye, Isabeau glanced at Tiernan, laughing softly when she found him stiff as a board.

“Ye look like ye’re about tae faint,” she said, making him roll his eyes. Still, he didn’t try to deny it.

“These people, I dinnae belong among them,” he said, looking at the nobles with some distaste. Isabeau couldn’t blame him; for him, just like for Lucia, this was all an unnecessary flaunting of wealth when the gold could be used for something better. He saw their garments, their jewels, the pins in their hair and imagined all the families they could feed in the villages. He saw the same garments on himself and didn’t know what to do with them.

“But we belong together,” Isabeau said.

Nonetheless, ever since she had seen the real world, ever since she had been out there, among the common folk, she had come to understand how difficult their lives were. She and Tiernan had made sure to send all sort of necessary goods to the neighboring villages in honor of their wedding, but she was aware that was far from enough. They had been speaking to the council to find ways to give the clan more constant sustenance. The elders had been stubborn so far, claiming the clan couldn’t lower taxation or provide any help, but Isabeau knew better than that. She knew they simply needed a firm hand and she was prepared to become that.

At her words, Tiernan turned to look at her with a small smile, bringing her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “That we dae,” he said. “But it doesnae change the fact that I wish it could be the two o’ us right now. Nae one else.”

“Well, let us go tae our chambers, then,” Isabeau said and Tiernan looked at her with wide eyes full of surprise, as though it was the last thing he expected her to say. She laughed as he leaned closer, his eyes, now more blue than grey in the candlelight, shining brightly.

“Dae ye mean that?” he asked.

Isabeau nodded. “Aye. Why wouldnae I?”

“Because, well, ‘tis our weddin’ feast,” he reminded her. “Are we nae obligated tae be here?”

“We’ve stayed long enough,” Isabeau decided as she stood and pulled Tiernan along with her. They would still have to slip away, but it was easier now that everyone else was distracted. Besides, she wanted to be alone with him too. They had shared a few dances, a few cups of wine, a few conversations with friends and family. Isabeau could have stayed a while longer, made some more small talk with some important people, but she would rather be with Tiernan, sharing their first night together as husband and wife.

Quietly, without drawing any attention to themselves, Isabeau guided Tiernan to the back of the great hall, where there was a back passage to the stairs that led to the upper floor and their chambers. Once they were safely out of the room, they both dissolved into giggles, running through the hallways like children, Tiernan chasing her down the corridors all the way to their rooms. Once there, and once the door was closed, Tiernan wasted no time before he grabbed Isabeau and pulled her into his arms, Isabeau laughing against his shoulder as he half-carried her to the bed.

But before they got there, Tiernan came to a sudden halt, letting go of her and instead looking around the room suspiciously, giving her a warning glance from the corner of his eye.

It took Isabeau a few moments to notice what was wrong, but then she saw it—the sword on the bed, nestled among the covers.

At the sight of it, her blood ran cold and her mind flashed back to the days she had spent chasing down Constantine. Slowly, carefully, she approached the bed, and there, right next to the sword, she saw a piece of paper.

“Tiernan, there is a note,” she said, reaching for it and unfolding it. Tiernan approached her quickly, standing behind her to read over her shoulder.

There wasn’t much written on the paper. Only a few words in slanted, elegant letters.

I believe this is the sword. Remember the debt. Constantine.

“Is this yer faither’s sword?” Isabeau asked as Tiernan reached for the blade, picking it up in his hands. It was a beautiful sword, obviously well-crafted, and Tiernan held it with such reverence that there could only be one answer to her question.

“Aye,” he said. “Aye, it is.”

How could Constantine have gotten inside the walls, Isabeau wondered? How could he have made it all the way to their chambers? Or had he simply given it to one of the guards, who had decided to place it on the bed?

She feared she might never know. She feared that Constantine would one day come back and demand payment for this debt. She feared many things, all of which melted away when Tiernan came close to her once more, the sword placed carefully to the side, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Dinnae fash,” he told her. “I’m right here. I’ve got ye.”

And Isabeau knew it to be true.

The End

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Three Months Later

The tiny kirk was filled to overflowing and excitement was in the air as the crowd awaited the arrival of the bride. Beside the altar with his brother, Maxwell fidgeted, stepping from one foot to the other.

Everard watched him, grinning. “Dinnae fash lad. She’ll be along soon enough. Patience.”

Maxwell huffed. Patience was not one of his virtues. It had been a long three months since their betrothal, and he chaffed over the time it had taken. Waiting for his sister to be able to travel with his newborn nephew had caused a delay. But Aileen – and Raven – had insisted his sister should be the bride’s sole attendant. The banns had been called and now, at last, the day he’d been longing for had arrived.

The heavy oaken door of the chapel creaked open and a sudden hush fell over the assembled guests as they craned their necks to see the bride as she walked down the aisle.

Maxwell swallowed a giant lump in his throat at his first glimpse of Aileen on her father’s arm, as she followed Raven toward her waiting groom-to-be.

He’d never seen such beauty as Aileen MacAlpin in her wedding gown.

Her arms were laden with wild white roses, sprigs of purple heather, and dog violets. The fragrance filled the kirk and he breathed it in, his heart pounding, his palms damp and clammy.

Aileen’s hair flowed in a glorious cascade down her back to her waist, violets and roses woven through her red-gold tresses. She wore a gown of sky-blue silk over a white silk embroidered underskirt.

When she smiled up at him as it was as if the heavens had opened and taken him in.

Scarcely aware of the words spoken during the long ceremony, he could only wish for the nuptials to come to an end so that he and Aileen would be husband and wife.

Father Henricus had sailed from Iona three weeks prior and had stayed as a guest at the castle. He’d seemed a jolly enough fellow, fond of his ale and whisky as were most priests, and he’d kept them amused with his stories and anecdotes. But today he seemed determined to drone on indefinitely.

Maxwell ventured a wry smile at Aileen, who smiled back conspiratorially, her eyes sparkling.

At last, the mass was over and they made their vows before God and the congregation. It was the happiest moment of Maxwell’s life, when he slipped the gold ring onto Aileen’s finger.

They walked down the aisle past rows of smiling faces. Once outside the kirk, the crowd headed into the castle, where a grand feast was to be held in the great hall, while Maxwell and Aileen made their way to the slipway.

Alone beside the water, they held the chosen oath-stone in their joined hands, symbolizing their unbreakable union.

“I pledge me love and protection tae ye and our children tae come, fer all the days I live on this earth and beyond.” His hand tightened with Aileen’s over the stone.

Gazing deep into his eyes, she repeated the words he’d spoken. The vows were for protection, not obedience, as Maxwell understood Aileen was no meek, submissive, woman who would ever take orders from him.

Once they’d both spoken their pledge, they hurled the stone into the waters of the Bàgh á Chaisteill, where it would remain until the end of time.

Aileen turned, as if to return to the castle, but Maxwell placed a gently restraining hand on her arm.

“Come wi’ me across the Bàgh milady. There is something I wish tae show ye.”

She looked at him askance. “But… our guests?”

He chuckled. “There will be time enough fer our guests. They’ll be feasting and drinking and scarcely notice our absence fer an hour or so.”

She protested. “But Everard and Raven will have tae deal with our absence.”

“Aye. They’re aware of what I’ve in store and they’re happy with it.”

He pulled up the same small boat they’d journeyed in since Torridon and now, on their wedding day, it was to take them on one more journey. Aileen stepped aboard, leaving the sail furled as Maxwell took the oars, turning the boat toward the village. The boat skimmed across the bay and in a matter of minutes they arrived at another small jetty on the main island.

Waiting, as they stepped out of the boat was a stable-lad, holding a fine bay horse decked out in flowers and ribbons, matching Aileen’s.

She took all this in, amazed. “How did ye ken?”

“I had good words with Raven and Mildred and they made sure all the arrangements were attended tae.”

She took the horse’s bridle, marveling at the flowers tumbling over its mane and adorning the saddle.”

“Come.” While Colban, the young groom, held the horse steady, Maxwell helped her onto the its back. Once she’d made herself comfortable, Maxwell leaped up behind her taking the reins.

They clip-clopped through the cobbled streets passing throngs of well-wishing villagers waving and smiling and tossing wild roses in their path as they passed.

They left the scattered houses behind and continued past open fields for a mile or two before turning into a smaller road. Passing through a pair of iron gates, they continued along a tree-lined avenue for several minutes, eventually arriving at a large stone house.

Aileen looked at him, one eyebrow raised in puzzlement. “Whose house is this we’re visiting?”

After tethering their steed, they entered the house through a heavy timber door and confronted a stone staircase.

Aileen looked around. “I think there is nae body in this house. It has nae furniture.”

“Wait,” Maxwell put a finger to her lips. “Ye shall see.” He took her hand, leading her up the stairs.

There were three further rooms, the door to one room lying open.

He took her in his arms and transported her into the room. It was filled with the same kind of fragrant flowers she’d carried in her bouquet. At the center of the large room was a four-poster bed hung with velvet drapes. A fire blazed merrily in the fireplace.

“Yer bridal room, milady.”

Aileen gave a laugh of delight. “Why, ye’ve arranged all of this in secret fer this day. But ye’ve yet to tell me whose house this is?”

He chuckled. “Why, ‘tis our house, lass.” Then his faced clouded. “D’ye like it? If ye wish, we will live here and ye shall choose whatever ye wish tae furnish it with.”

“I believe I dae like this house, MacNeil, more than any other house I’ve ever seen. I cannae believe ye’ve kept this secret fer so long.”

Lowering her onto the middle of the bed among the flower petals, he brushed a kiss on her lips.

“Years ago, I had a mind tae build a house and live here one day. Once Everard became the laird, I bought this land and commenced building.”

“Go on.”

He continued his tale. “The house sat here lonely fer years, only needing a few small touches tae finish building. It was only when ye said ye’d wed wi’ me that I set tae work tae make it suitable fer a home where we can spend our days.” He brushed her lips with another kiss.

She snaked her hands around his shoulders and along his broad neck, untying the leather thong at his nape and allowing his dark hair tae flow freely tae his shoulders.

“Is that the best kiss ye can manage, husband?”

“Mayhap I can improve on that wee taste.” He lowered his eager mouth to take hers, in their first kiss as husband and wife.

His hands worked their magic, untying the laces on the back of her dress and lowering it from her shoulders so that he could run his fingers over her satin skin and layer it with kisses.

He huffed at the sight of her stays. “Ye’ve nay need fer these instruments of torture. Shall I help ye tae remove them?

He kissed her some more as he unlaced the stays and drew them off. Now she was bare to the waist and he took no time at all to cup her firm breasts, his fingers seeking the hard little nubs so that he could roll them between thumb and forefinger.

She moaned, arching herself against his busy hands, her head resting on the flower covered pillow.

“Ye approve me plan?”

She pressed her nakedness against him. “Mmm. I think…”

Before she could finish her sentence, he buried his head in her sweet-scented breasts, licking and suckling, tasting each in turn, so that she groaned loudly.

“Ye’ve still tae discard yer kilt, husband, and ‘tis time ye took me petticoat.”

He was quick to oblige and, in a trice, he’d unbuckled his kilt, stripped off his shirt and hauled off his boots. Then he turned his attention to her petticoats, sliding them slowly down so that her mound and her bare thighs were revealed to his eyes.

He ran a finger across her mound and along the folds of her quim, making her writhe and groan and mutter his name under her breath.

“I wish ye tae scream me name as loud as ye wish fer there’s nae body tae hear ye.” He teased her folds open with his finger. “Why, lass, ye’re so wet and ready fer me.”

She moaned and lifted her hips to encourage his finger in its exploration. He leaned in and circled her sensitive nub with his tongue and licked and suckled at her folds while entering her with first one finger, then two, then a third finger.

He groaned loudly. “I cannae wait any longer. Take me shaft in yer hand.”

She seized his magnificent, granite-shaft, sliding her hand from the hilt to the tip and down again.

He was wild with the longing for her that seemed to have been consuming him forever. Now, at long last, she was his. The very thought brought ripples of pleasure coursing through him so that he could scarcely tell where he was or whether it was day or night.

“Enough, wife.” He gasped. “I must have ye. Now.”

He rolled over, his tip poised at her entrance as she bucked under him.

“Is it right fer ye now?”

For an answer, she reached down, guiding his shaft and lifting her hips and bending her knees so that she took him inside her with one swift move.

The sweet scent of roses teased his nostrils as he buried his head in the long strands of bright hair that tumbled over her shoulder and spilled across the pillow.

He raised himself on his elbows, gazing into her green eyes as they flickered shut, their hips rising and falling in an age-old rhythm that brought intense, intoxicating pleasure taking him to heights of primal sensation he’d never experienced.

Beneath him, he felt the beginning of Aileen’s spasms tightening her velvet sheath around his shaft.

It did not take long before she screamed his name, raking his back with her nails, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

Then it came. The inevitable, exquisite moment of rapture as he spilled his seed inside the woman he loved with all his body and soul.

Afterwards, she laughed, a sound of pure delight and joy, holding him as if she’d never let him go.

“I wish tae hold ontae this perfect moment forever.”

He nodded. “Dae ye think we could forego our wedding feast and stay in this place this night?”

She pondered on this. “Mayhap we’d be needing food and drink.”

“Nay bother. Young Colban is waiting wi’ the horse. I’ll send him tae the village fer good fare that will bide us until the morrow.”

Laughing, she reached up to kiss the tip of his nose, while he took her hands and kissed her scars. “Would it cause a scandal if the bride and groom didnae appear fer their wedding feast and the cèilidh tae follow?”

“Aye. Nae doubt we’d be the talk of the Islands fer years tae come.”

“Well, that’s as good a start as any tae our married life.”

They were both laughing as he rolled her over and kissed her lips.

The End

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What type of series do you prefer? *

• Series that follow people in the same family
• Series that follow people in the same clan or group
• Series with people united by an event

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Two months later…

Isabeau and Bonnie had both fussed over Lucia for the past several hours, and in that entire time, Lucia couldn’t help but feel like a doll with which the two of them were playing, trying to decide what she would wear and how she would do her hair.

She would never admit it, but it was far more enjoyable than she would have thought.

“She must wear green!” Isabeau insisted for what seemed to Lucia like the dozenth time. “It will bring out the color o’ her eyes.”

“Purple is far more royal,” Bonnie insisted, and Lucia had to suppress the urge to remind her there was nothing royal about her. She was nothing but a peasant girl, who had spent her whole life in plain, drab clothes and now whatever Isabeau and Bonnie could give her to wear would surely be far better than anything she had worn before.

The color of her dress didn’t matter to her, neither did the style of her hair. She didn’t care what jewels would be placed around her neck and wrists. She didn’t even really care if she would look royal enough, though she supposed she now had an image to uphold. Everyone expected her to act like a lady, like someone who had spent her whole life in castles instead of safe houses and taverns. In the past two months, ever since the council had agreed to allow her and Alaric to wed, Bonnie and Isabeau had taken it upon themselves to make a lady out of her. Lucia had quickly found out there were rules about everything, from how she should eat and how she should speak, to how she should walk. She could only assume it meant nobleborns had far too much free time their hands if that was how they chose to spend it—learning all those rules of etiquette that seemed entirely useless to her.

She still had trouble with many things; most of all, she could not hold her tongue. No matter how many times she was reminded she should speak gently, it seemed to her that she simply didn’t have such gentleness within her.

“What dae ye think, Lucia?” Isabeau asked, turning to look at her reflection in the looking-glass. “Green or purple?”

“Which one dae ye think Alaric will like the most?” Lucia asked.

It had seemed like a logical question to her. She was marrying the man, after all, and she wanted Alaric to think she looked her best at the ceremony and the feast that would follow. Isabeau’s and Bonnie’s response startled her, though. They both oohed and aahed at her, fawning over her as though she had said the most romantic thing in the world.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll think ye look bonnie nae matter what ye wear,” Isabeau said. “Besides, ye should never ask a lad what he thinks about what ye’re wearin’. They’re never right.”

“Especially Alaric,” Bonnie added, drawing a laugh from Isabeau.

“Can I nae wear somethin’… simpler?” Lucia asked as the two women held up the choices for her. Both gowns seemed too extravagant for her; rich colors, golden embroidery, beautiful designs. She feared all eyes would be on her if she showed up like this, but then again, she supposed she had little choice on the matter.

It was her wedding day after all; of course, all eyes would be on her.

“Ye must make an impression on everyone!” Isabeau said. “The entire clan will be there an’ many, many more guests!”

“Och , how great,” said Lucia and if either Isabeau or Bonnie realized she was only being sarcastic, they didn’t mention it.

In the end, she went for the green gown, and Bonnie had two maids untangle the mess that was her hair, pinning it up in an intricate updo. The women proceeded to drape jewelry over her, and by the time they were done, Lucia could hardly recognize her own reflection.

“Ach! Ye look so bonnie,” Isabeau said as she pulled her into an embrace. “Alaric will be so happy tae see ye.”

Lucia would be happy to see him, too. The two of them had been kept apart since the previous day as they prepared for the wedding and she already felt unmoored without him by her side.

It willnae be fer long, though. It is almost over.

All she had to do now was meet Alaric in the chapel, where many—too many—people would watch them wed, and then she would simply have to survive the feast.

Somehow, it seemed much harder than heading to battle.

“Come,” said Bonnie, taking her hand. “Let us head tae the chapel. Alaric must already be waitin’.”

Lucia followed the two women, the three of them making their way out to the courtyard and then towards the chapel that stood at the edge of the castle grounds. It was a small building, but no expense had been spared at its creation. It was just as opulent as the rest of the castle, and sometimes Lucia was still amazed at how much wealth was gathered in one place.

When they made it there, she paused by the entrance, heart leaping to her throat. It wasn’t uncertainty in the face of a lifetime by Alaric’s side; she was certain about that. She wanted to marry him, to be his forever, but there was still something holding her back.

Am I good enough fer him?

As much as Isabeau and Bonnie had worked to help her become a lady fit to wed a man like Alaric, Lucia still felt like a fraud. She was no lady. She was nothing but a simple girl and she couldn’t help but feel like an impostor, never quite able to blend in. There was no doubt in her mind that Alaric was telling her the truth when he claimed to love her, but was that truly enough to bind them for the rest of their lives?

Would it be better, she wondered, if he married someone more like him? Someone who knew how to eat and talk and walk, someone who didn’t constantly make a fool of herself?

Perhaps sensing her agitation, Bonnie grasped her hand tightly and pulled her aside, her voice dropping to a low whisper.

“Whatever it is ye’re thinkin’, forget it,” she said, and though her tone was firm, it was neither cold nor scolding. “Alaric adores ye. Naethin’ else matters tae him, so why should it matter tae ye?”

It was precisely what Lucia needed to hear to be able to breathe again. She felt as though she was drawing breath for the first time in days, a weight lifting off her shoulders, and she smiled at Bonnie, thankful to have someone like her as a friend.

Behind her, Isabeau beckoned her closer and Lucia approached her, now ready to face whatever she would find in the chapel.

“Are ye ready?” Isabeau asked, gentle as always.

“Aye,” said Lucia and knew it to be the truth.

As she stepped foot into the chapel, she saw several familiar faces staring back at her. The entire council was there, of course, to witness their union, as well as several members of the clan. One face she hadn’t expected to see was Tiernan, though it was a pleasant surprise. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been as surprising, though, she thought, as he had been the man to save them from more torment from Callum. Had it not been for him, Lucia was certain he would still be chasing her and Alaric, refusing to let them have a moment of peace. He was now a blacksmith at the castle and had left his days as brigand behind.

Dragging her gaze to the far end of the chapel, Lucia saw Evan next to the priest, smiling brightly. And there, next to him, stood Alaric, his dark hair for once combed neatly, his beard trimmed, and his clothes befitting of such an occasion, looking more handsome than Lucia had ever seen him.

And it was then, and only then, seeing the man who had captured her heart, that she knew everything was alright.

The End

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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.

You prefer a series about... *

• Forbidden romance stories (father's best friend; sister's fiancé; brother's best friend; etc.)
• An "academy" for future lairds and ladies

You think step romance is... (*A step romance is a trope where the romantic leads are connected by step-family ties (e.g., step-siblings, step-parent/step-child of similar age). *

• Too taboo for me. I don't like books with this trope even if I know the MCs are not related and have not spent years under the same roof.
• I like it as long as the MCs didn't grow up together and meet as grown ups.

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Two weeks later…

When they stepped out of the chapel, a great roar went up from the crowd standing outside. The chapel was just too small to fit them all, and thus, many of the guests had waited outside with growing anticipation until the ceremony was over.

Domhnall grinned down at Katherine, who grinned back up at him with delight.

“To Laird and Lady MacLeod,” someone cried.

“To Laird and Lady MacLeod,” the crowd repeated.

If someone had told Domhnall that there would be a day where he would feel as happy as he did in that moment, he would have called them a liar. In fact, if he had been asked to describe the feeling that currently ran through him, he wouldn’t have had the first clue where to begin.

Of course, Katherine had given him an answer immediately after he had asked her to marry him, and it was a yes with no hesitation. He had practically known, before he had asked her, especially after the conversation they had had beside the fire.

When he had told her he had sent a letter to the king, telling him that he was refusing to abide by his arrangement, and that neither of them wanted it, she had completely misunderstood him. But her disappointed reaction, and what came afterward, had proven to him that Katherine wanted exactly what he did. For them to be together for the rest of their lives.

With everything already prepared, and guests already on their way, if not, already arrived, there was really nothing much to organize, and thus, they made their vows to each other in front of friends and family.

Just before the wedding, Domhnall had been concerned, for Katherine would have no family present. He had taken her to the side to speak about it.

“We can postpone if ye like,” he had said. “I feel selfish rushing through this if there are people ye would like tae be present.”

Katherine had gazed up at him and smiled softly. “Everyone I want tae be here is already here,” she said. “Ye and yer brothers and sisters are my family.” A slight sadness had tainted her smile as she continued. “I have no more family.” But then, she pinned the smile back. “Well, that’s not really true. I have a new family.”

“Are ye sure?” Domhnall pressed.

“That I have a new family?” she quipped, purposefully misinterpreting his question. “Of course. Besides, I have never had sisters, and let’s face it, I had the worst brother in the world. I’m not sure Magnus and Kai can do any worse than blackmailing me against my will, using me to capture my beloved, and then threatening to kill me and the man I love.”

He hadn’t been able to help himself, for as dark as her remark was, it was also witty, and he had chuckled.

“Nay. I think yer braither set the bar so high, even me braithers cannae top it. Besides, they have fallen in love with ye, almost as much as I have.”

“Well, I do hope you have told them I’m spoken for,” she said, grinning widely.

He had leaned down and kissed her then. “Indeed. They ken that ye’re all mine.”

While on the outside, Katherine did appear a little more relaxed, Domhnall did not stop worrying about what was going on inside her head. Her night terrors still tortured her, but since the night he had asked her to marry him, he had not had to travel from his bed to get to her.

On occasion, during the day, he had found her gazing out of the window, her eyes glazed over in some sort of trance-like daze. And while his brothers and sisters had all agreed to try and lift her spirits by keeping her occupied, there was only so much they could do. However, knowing how deeply he loved her, he also knew he would be by her side as she faced each and every one of her troubles.

Once in the great hall, the light of hundreds of candles twinkled while the Yule log burned in the fireplace and the decorations made by the ladies of the castle adorned each and every corner, Domhnall, encouraged by the loud applause and whooping, stood before all those present and gave his speech.

“First, I would like tae thank all o’ the people here present, from near and far. I am grateful fer the people o’ our clan fer their continued support, and I am thankful fer all o’ ye that have travelled great distances tae be here tae share this wonderful day with us.”

The crowd clapped and whooped before he continued.

“I am also more than fortunate tae have a wonderful family beside me. Without me braithers and sisters, I wouldnae be the man I am.”

“Here, here,” Kai called out, sending the crowd into fits of laughter.

Grinning, Domhnall said, “I am lucky tae have so many siblings, though, I can say with certainty that some are loved more than others.” He then smirked at Kai, and the crowd, again burst into laughter.

Sounding a little more somber, and yet, not overly so, he said, “O’ course, I ken all o’ ye would, like me, have been delighted had me maither and faither been here tae see this and celebrate with us.”

The crowd nodded and muttered words of agreement.

“They were fine parents tae me and me siblings,” and then, looking up to the ceiling, he said, “but I ken they are here with us in spirit.”

“Indeed, they are,” someone called out from the crowd.

“Finally, I would like tae say how delighted I am tae have Katherine as me wife,” he said, gesturing to her as she sat beside him, gazing up at him adoringly. “I ken she is English, but we cannae hold that against her.”

The crowd burst into laughter, and when Domhnall gazed down at her, he delighted at her giggles.

“Over the last few weeks, I have seen a strength in her that would match any one o’ us here, and I ken she is going tae bring only joy tae this clan.”

“Here, here,” Magnus said, smiling across at Katherine.

“And now,” Domhnall lifted his tankard and watched everyone do the same. “I make a toast. Tae Clan MacLeod and all our allies. May we unite as Scotsmen and forever strengthen our bonds. And may we all have a very joyful Yuletide.”

The crowd roared and whooped, and when the drinks were downed, the music began.

The celebrations went on late into the night, and at some point, Domhnall noticed Katherine had gone missing. Panic washed over him as he searched the great hall, but he could not see her anywhere.

Magnus grabbed his arm and frowned. “What has ye so worried, braither?”

“Have ye seen Katherine?” Domhnall demanded.

Magnus glanced about him, as though she might magically appear, and then shook his head. “I havenae.” He then thought a moment, and said, “But I ken where she might be.”

Domhnall left the great hall and made his way to the library. The fire roared in the large room, and, at first glance, he could see no one. Perhaps Magnus had been mistaken by saying this was Katherine’s favorite room to escape to. But then, approaching the high-backed chairs beside the fire, he saw two tiny feet sticking out.

“There ye are,” he said, rounding the chair to see Katherine sitting with her knees tucked under her chin. “Are ye all right?”

He lowered himself to the floor, placing a plate of black buns he had brought with him onto a low table, and sat gazing up at her.

She smiled sadly. “Of course, I am.”

Domhnall frowned. “Did I ever tell ye, ye’re a terrible liar.”

“Well, we both know that isn’t true,” she replied with a knowing smile.

“Aye. I suppose, I cannae argue with ye there. But ye’re nae all right, me love. What’s bothering ye?”

Tilting her head, she said. “Do you want the list?”

“There’s a list?” he said, his eye brows flying up.

“Well, not a big one.”

He gazed into her eyes. “I can guess one o’ them. Ye’re saddened that yer faither isnae here tae see ye married.”

She nodded. “I am. I think you and he would have got along very well. In fact, you do, every night in my…”

Domhnall frowned.

“My nightmare,” she finished.

She had never told him what she actually saw in her dreams every night, and now, he was curious.

“What else happens?”

“Well, you and Father meet and are the best of friends. And then there’s a big gathering in the great hall. Not unlike tonight, actually. Father and I are dancing in the middle, and then,” she sighed heavily, “and then, he bends over and there is blood pouring from his stomach. And when, I look down, and I am holding the knife that has killed him.”

Swiftly, Domhnall pushed himself up onto his knees. “Och, me darling,” he said, taking her two hands in his. “I am so sorry. So very sorry.”

“I know I didn’t kill him. I just cannot ever change what happens, no matter how hard I try.”

He wanted to tell her that it would get better, easier, that the dream would eventually fade. But Katherine was no fool. She didn’t need to hear something she knew already. Besides, what use was that to her now?

“I have had many dreams about me faither these past few days too, me love. And dae ye ken what stays with me after each dream? It’s the feeling I felt in his presence. The feeling of complete and perfect love. When I was with him, it soaked through me very being, and never have I felt such immense love.”

“That sounds amazing.” She nodded.

“It was. But it has me thinking, Katherine. When we pass over, when we move into the next life, everything in this life falls away. The people who have gone before us love us perfectly, and are waiting for us. Just like yer faither is waiting fer ye.”

Domhnall was trying to comfort her, and show her something he could hardly put into words. He didn’t quite know if he was making sense, but then, Katherine gasped and her mouth fell open.

By her expression, he knew she had heard what he was trying to convey, and with adoration in her eyes, she gazed at him. “Thank you,” she breathed.

They shared that special moment together in the quietness of the library, and then Domhnall said, “Actually, I have another thing tae share with ye and then after that, we will need tae return tae our guests.”

“What is it?” Katherine asked, her curiosity now piqued.

Rolling up his sleeve, Domhnall revealed the surprise he had been keeping from her.

“Yer wedding gift. Well, one o’ them, at least,” he said, showing off his inner forearm.

“Oh, Domhnall,” she gasped.

With her eyes wide, she tugged at her own sleeve, pressing her slim arm against his thick one. With beaming smiles, they gazed at their matching tattoo marks before gazing at each other.

“Ye are me fire, me love,” Domhnall said. “Ye taught me how tae love, and now, the fire of passion I have fer ye will forever burn in me heart.”

And leaning toward her, he softly brushed her lips in a tender kiss.

The End

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