Extended Epilogues

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Two months later…

“Dinnae go yet,” Elara pleaded with Kaden. “Stay five more minutes.”

“Yer ladies will be coming tae get ye ready soon fer the wedding. If I dinnae leave soon,” Kaden said, though he already felt his determination slipping away, “I’ll be caught in me bride’s bed before we are even married.”

“Oh well.” Elara shrugged it off and reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down into another kiss.

There was not a stitch separating them as their bodies entwined beneath the sheet. Kaden hadn’t been able to resist her the night before. Once they had retired for the night, he’d crept into her chamber. They had made love once then fallen asleep, their limbs entangled together.

To wake up with the sun shining on his face through the curtains and Elara half slung across him, her pale blonde hair strewn across his chest, was a sight more intoxicating than ale. He now was above her as they talked and kissed, though he was trying to fight doing anymore, fearing that at any moment they would be disturbed and discovered.

“We have hours until the wedding,” Elara said between kisses. “Ye cannae leave me now.”

“Why are ye trying tae seduce me again when I am marrying ye today?” Kaden laughed, moving his lips to kiss all the way down her neck. He felt her tremble with delight as his hand passed across her breast, squeezing softly, temptingly, then reaching around her back and down to cup her bare rear. “Ye had me from that first night. Then again, ye kenned that, didnae ye?”

“Well, I tried.”

“Such modesty, Fire.”

“With ye? Aye, already modest,” she jested.

As he moved down her body, kissing her breasts, he took one of them between his lips, kissing it lovingly, pleasuring her, enjoying the way she arched her back, pressing up into him. Her legs had also parted around his hips, ready for them to make love again.

It was impossible for Kaden to pull himself away from this woman. Not only was she the love of his life, but one touch from her made him mad. He reached down with his hand, his fingers toying at the top of her thighs as he teased her with what they could do.

“We dinnae have time fer this,” he whispered against her breasts. “We need tae stop.”

“Then why are ye reaching fer more?” she asked, breathily.

He couldn’t stop himself. Maybe he had just a few more minutes with her before they had to pull away.

He moved down her body, kissing along her abdomen, past her belly button, then across her hip. When he reached her center, he pressed harder with his fingers, slipping one inside of her. She shuddered with pleasure, her hips rocking up toward him. He worked her, being careful to pump her continuously with his hand before he placed his tongue to that pleasurable spot just above where they were connected.

She moaned at once, pressing her hands into the covers beneath them.

He watched her, rocking her body with his tongue and his fingers, desperate to hear her cry his name. She kept writhing, rocking her body into his, completely at his mercy with pleasure.

He needed to hear it, hear those words again. He never thought that hearing Elara tell him that she was his would be such a thrill, but it was. As if she had read his mind, she said it now.

“More Kaden. Only ye. I could only ever imagine this with ye,” she said, breaking off to moan his name again.

He shifted his hand out of her. He would give her more if she wanted it.

He rolled the two of them over, moving her into a new position, so that she was on her hands and knees before him, facing the pillows. He moved behind her, reaching down with his hands to caress her rear before lining himself up with her entrance. He didn’t quite enter her. He just teased her with his very tip.

“Who dae ye belong tae, Elara?” he asked huskily. “Who?”

“Ye!” she said without hesitation, rocking back onto him, trying to move him inside of her. He chuckled deeply, running his hand along the curve of her back. “Today, I will be yers and nay other’s. After the wedding…” she paused, moaning as he pushed into her just a little more. “I am nae sure I will be able tae wait fer tonight.”

Her words conjured all sorts of ideas as to where they could consummate the marriage. They could sneak off to the bedchamber earlier, when their families were celebrating, but they could find somewhere else. They could sneak away to his study when no one was looking, exploring one another on his desk. He planned to live out such a fantasy, as soon as they made it back to the castle later, but first, he had a current fantasy to explore.

He pressed inside Elara, watching as her fingers splayed across the pillows in her passion and she moaned his name.

“More!” she begged.

He plunged inside of her, repeatedly, setting up such a rhythm with the constant movement of his hips that he felt her respond at once, her body coming back to meet his own. The thrill was so great, he could feel it deep within his gut, coiling already as he watched her hair dance about her shoulders.

When she arched her back all the more, making a perfect curve, he reached forward, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling on it ever so softly and teasingly. She moaned in pleasure, rocking her head back as he continued to move inside of her, driving her toward the very edge of pleasure.

Then it happened. He felt her release come quickly. Her body tightened around him.

For the first time, he realized he did not have to pull out. Today, they would be married. What would what it matter if he was a little ahead in staying inside of his wife? He could feel what it was like for the first time, to release inside of her, to feel their bodies completely joined in their pleasure.

As her body continued to squeeze him and she moaned his name, he found he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He hit that cascading wall of pleasure. He groaned, gripping her hips tightly as he rode through his wave, continuously pressing inside of her. He felt his release, felt too the way she kept rocking back into him, as if she could not get enough of this moment either.

As he slowed their rhythm, coming down from their high, she raised herself off her hands, rocking back on her knees so her back fell against his front. He wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her close as she laughed joyously.

“Thank God, ye stayed,” she whispered, dancing her fingers along his arm. “I didnae want ye tae pull out.”

“Ye want me tae stay, ask, and I will, Fire.”

She angled her head around and kissed him on the lips, with such heat that he could practically feel his length hardening again already, but he had to stop. He knew he had to.

“At this rate, ye and I will never make it tae the church,” he whispered.

She laughed, kissing him along the jaw before he pulled out of her.

“Go, go then.” She continued to giggle as she fell back on the bedsheets. “Just make sure tae come back later after we are wed tae finish what we started.”

“Ye have me word.” He pulled on his trews and a shirt after cleaning himself up, then moved back to her, kissing her swiftly on the lips. She nearly pulled him down for another full kiss, but he had to pull back. They laughed together again and then he reached for the door, opening it a crack so he could peer outside.

The corridor was clear.

“Until I see ye at the altar, Fire,” he called back to her.

“I’ll see ye there.” She blew him a kiss, then buried herself seductively back beneath the bedsheets.

Kaden closed the door behind him and crept off down the hallway, moving toward his own bedchamber as quickly as he could. When he reached his door though, he was shocked to see it was open.

“Where the hell is he?” Bhaltair’s voice reached Kaden’s ears.

“If he has run out on me sister…” Cassian’s voice came next.

“Nae bloody likely, is it?” Marcus said. “That man would sooner die than run out on yer sister.”

“Is there a reason ye are all in me chamber?” Kaden asked, stopping in the doorway.

All three men turned to face him with widened eyes.

“Where the hell have ye been?” Cassian asked, a warning in his expression.

From behind him, Marcus waved his hand madly, though Kaden hardly needed that warning. If Cassian had the slightest suspicion that Kaden had been with Elara all night, this was not the time to confirm it. They still weren’t married yet.

“I’ve been for a walk,” Kaden said, gesturing to the nearest window. “I needed tae clear me head before the wedding.”

“Did ye also run?” Bhaltair asked with a smile. “Might explain the fact ye are sweating, me friend.”

“Maybe I did.” Kaden shrugged. “Why are ye all here?”

“Tae get ye ready fer the wedding.” Bhaltair clapped his hands. “Come on, we have everything fer ye.”

Kaden looked at a coffer where everything had been laid out for him to wear, including his clan brooch. He smiled as he walked toward it, picking up the brooch and holding it between his fingers. He thought lovingly of his father and the gift this had been.

Another strip of material caught his eyes from where it laid on the coffer beside the plaid colors of his own clan.

“The colors of the Lamont clan,” Cassian said.

Kaden turned in surprise to stare at his future brother-in-law. Cassian shrugged, attempting some nonchalance though there was a look in his eye that showed it actually meant a lot to him.

“It is a tradition of me family. Me faither wore the colors of me maither’s clan on their wedding day, as well as his own, tae show unity.” Cassian nodded at the plaid strip. “I ken they would like it if ye did the same today.”

Kaden reached for the plaid and lifted it over his shoulder, demonstrating how it would look.

“Cassian, I would be honored.” Kaden offered him a little salute.

“Good, then I’ll leave ye tae get ready.” Cassian walked toward the door. “And ye better nae be late tae that church.”

“I’ll be there early, trust me,” Kaden called after him as Cassian disappeared.

As Kaden finished getting ready, he could feel Bhaltair and Marcus exchanging worried glances.

“What?” he barked at the pair of them, causing Bhaltair to laugh rather loudly and Marcus to shake his head in dismay.

“Ye nearly got caught on the morning of yer wedding. Are ye and Elara mad taking chances like that?” Bhaltair asked.

Kaden looked at Bhaltair.

“Ye saying ye and me sister didnae take chances?” At Kaden’s question, Bhaltair looked anywhere else in the room, avoiding his gaze. “Dinnae answer that question. I dinnae particularly want tae ken the answer.”

As Kaden turned to face the mirror, he started for a second, shocked when he saw something of his father’s expressions reflected in his own face. He stilled, staring into his own eyes, wishing his parents could be there for this moment, when he realized that maybe that appearance of his father in his own face meant something.

They were not there in person, but they were there in spirit, and he truly hoped that when he stood at the altar, he would feel them with him. He would feel their happiness in knowing that not only was justice served, but that the woman who had brought about that justice was the one there vowing to love him forever.

The End.

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• A cold and rude MMC that despises the idea of love.
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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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• 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.

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• 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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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.
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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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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 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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