Extended Epilogues

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• New series started from scratch.
• A new sequel to an old series.

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• I love it! I love reading about the parent-child connection.
• Not really. I prefer stories where children come in the epilogue, otherwise the story is a bit child-centered.

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The chapel, Castle MacLeod, a month later…

Sofia, looking lovely in her dress, placed the coronet of white and pink roses atop Raven’s shining black hair and then looked in the mirror to admire her handiwork.

“Ye make a stunnin’ bride, Raven, truly beautiful,” she told Raven’s reflection with a smile of delight. “Dae ye nae agree, Dahlia?” she added, turning her sunny smile on Arne’s sister, who was wearing a bridesmaid’s dress that matched Sofia’s. It suited her icy blonde beauty perfectly.

“She absolutely is. Arne’s gonnae be thrilled when he sees ye, Raven,” Dahlia assured her with a smile. She produced a narrow ribbon from the bodice of her dress and gently took hold of Raven’s wrist. She tied the ribbon loosely around it and patted Raven’s hand affectionately when she had finished.

“Thank ye, Dahlia,” Raven said, her nervous anticipation growing apace.

Catalina, the wife of Arne’s other brother Ivar came to stand with them, looking at Raven admiringly, making yet a third bridesmaid. “Ye look radiant,” she said, smiling at Raven in the mirror. “Arne is a very lucky man.”

Raven looked at herself in the glass with wonder. “Is it really me?” she asked, unable to stop smiling. Her dress was cream satin, with a pale-blue jacquard pattern on the bodice. Its simple cut flattered her figure, and she loved it. “I dinnae think I have ever looked so sophisticated.”

“Well, make the most of it then,” Catalina joked, making them all laugh. Raven had soon learned after meeting the dark-eyed beauty that she was wickedly funny and fierce too. But she suited Ivar perfectly. He was a wall of a man, another blond-haired Viking like Haldor. He appeared quite intimidating until one got talking to him about his brothers. Then he turned into a different man, his deep love for them obvious. Raven had warmed to him right away as well.

“Now, if we are all ready,” Dahlia said at last, “I think it is time we left for the chapel. Ye dinnae want tae be late fer yer own wedding, dear, dae ye?”

Raven could not help laughing at that, and as they left the chamber, she felt buoyed up with excited anticipation. It seemed like a wonderful dream that in an hours’ time, she would be the wife of the man she adored.

Arne stood nervously at the altar, feeling hot in his full kilt and regalia as he waited for his bride to arrive. He could hardly breathe with excitement to think that in a short while his beloved Raven would be standing next to him and exchanging vows. Today, she would become his completely, forever. Despite his discomfort, he felt on top of the world!

When he heard the chapel doors creak open behind him and the congregation gasp, he could not resist turning to look. His breath left his body as his eyes alighted on her, her arm linked with Everard’s. His heart swelled with love and pride as he watched her standing there, a vision of beauty in her elegant gown.

In her other hand, she was holding Thorsten’s small paw. They both smiled at him, and Thorsten, looking unbearably adorable in his miniature Highlander outfit, waved at him merrily. Arne’s heart was in his throat as the procession made its way to the altar as fast as little Thorsten’s little legs allowed.

He could see the lovely bridesmaids carrying Raven’s train, but he really only had eyes for her. He hardly took in the guests seated in the pews, a mix of the MacLeods and MacNeils, friends and advisors, who looked on with smiles as she passed.

When Raven finally reached him, she smiled up at him, her eyes full of love. He thought she had never looked more beautiful. Dahlia came up and collected Thorsten, taking him back to sit with her and the rest of the family.

“Ye look stunning, bonny lass,” he whispered, his heart thumping. He took her hand in his and squeezed it as they turned to face the minister.

“Ye look very dashin’ yersel’,” she whispered back, squeezing his fingers tightly.

Their gazes locked as the minister intoned the immortal words, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today tae witness the joining in matrimony of…”

After that, things became somewhat of a blur. There was the time for the handfasting. Ivar came up and joined the ribbon around Raven’s wrist to the matching one he had tied a couple of hours ago around his brother’s. The knot that formed when they moved their hands apart would be a lasting symbol of their union and preserved as a precious keepsake.

At last, Arne heard the minister say, “I now pronounce ye husband and wife. Ye may kiss the bride.”

Needing no second bidding, Arne enfolded Raven in his arms and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, putting into it all his love and devotion and the promise of a lifetime of bliss spent together. Her warm, soft lips responded eagerly to his, leaving him in no doubt that she shared his sentiments entirely.

“Ye’ve made me the happiest man alive, Raven,” he told her as they stepped away from the altar, to be greeted by a chorus of congratulations and well wishes. He found himself deeply touched by the warmth they received.

She smiled up at him and squeezed his arm affectionately. “And ye’ve made me the happiest of women, me darlin’ husband.”

Arne kicked the marriage chamber door shut with the heel of his boot when the final member of the raucous party that had seen them to bed in the traditional manner had left.

“This is very romantic,” Raven said, standing on the rug in her wedding dress as she looked around the room. Lamps had been lit, and a good fire was blazing the grate. The whole scene had a warm, rosy ambience that Raven found perfect for their first night together as a married couple.

“Now, I have ye all tae mesel’, all legal and above board, eh?” Arne exclaimed playfully, coming over and backing her up against the edge of the bed. He gently pushed her down upon it and stood over her. Raven smiled in welcome and opened her arms to him.

“Alone with me husband, at last,” she whispered in his ear, her hands on his shoulders.

“Yer dress is lovely, but ye’ll look even better out of it,” he said in low growl, making her laugh and gasp at the same time as he suddenly flipped her onto her stomach. The flame inside her sparked into life as she felt his hands working rapidly at the fastenings of her dress. It was soon loose enough for him to pull off her bodice. Raven watched as it landed on the rug nearby, to be quickly followed by her stays.

Now clad only in her shift and stockings, she felt Arne behind her, poised above her. She shivered, sensing his eyes burning into her skin.

“Mmm, what a lovely view,” he murmured appreciatively. Then, Raven gasped and giggled when his hands suddenly slipped beneath her shift and cupped her breasts, pulling her upward against him, his warm breath tickling her neck.

She moaned softly as he rolled her soft globes in his warm, rough palms, squeezing the flesh and pinching the soft tips until they turned hard at his touch, sending shivers of pleasure traveling the length of her body. His mouth roved hungrily over her exposed neck and shoulders, kissing, nuzzling, sucking and biting. One hand trailed lazily from her breast, down her belly, where his fingers finally entwined in the soft, curling nest between her thighs.

Raven trembled with anticipation, reveling in the sensation of his right hand still playing with her breasts, while the other slid between her thighs, his thick fingers prizing them apart just wide enough to grant him access to her hidden folds, which were already growing hot and moist. He cupped her entire sex in his palm, working his hand back and forth, while his fingers delved inside her, first one then another, his thumb strumming at her sensitive bud, making her moan and tremble with wanting.

With one fluid movement, Arne suddenly turned her to face him, and just the sight of him, his eyes narrow and dark with desire as his head descended between her thighs, filled her with lust. His hot, questing mouth plundered her flesh, teasing and toying with her sensitive bud, his tongue flickering like lightening in and out of her alongside his fingers. It was not long before Raven felt the waves of tantalizing heat coiling up from her molten center, where Arne’s dark head was moving up and down as he worked his magic upon her.

“Ah, Arne, please, dinnae stop,” she cried out softly, gripping his hair, matching every thrust of his fingers with her hips, riding him as the inexorable waves of pleasure began moving up her body like concentric rings, drawing her once more by slow, deliberate degrees to the delicious edge of delirium.

Her head thrown back, she bucked against him as the pleasure reached its ultimate peak and shook her entire being with its intensity.

Dazed and sated as she was, she had little time to recover when she saw Arne standing above her, his face slick with her juices, his glittering eyes pinning her as he kicked off his boots and tore off his jerkin and shirt. She felt a burst of fresh desire to see his muscular torso revealed to her in all its masculine glory. And she knew there was more to delight her beneath his kilt.

“I’ll never get tired of looking at ye. I need more of ye, come tae me,” she enticed him, inflamed by his hunger for her.

He breathed, grinning at her wolfishly. As he came down on his elbows above her, power seemed to ripple through his entire body, the hard muscles flexing like ropes in his arms, shoulders, chest, and belly. Raven was entranced to see how the fire light made the silver trails of his many battle-scars shine like moonlight.

“Nay, ’tis mine tae dae,” she told him breathily, levering herself up and pulling him down onto the bed with her. He laughed delightedly as, feeling bold, she straddled his waist, pressing the hot wetness of her sex against his belly. With a groan, he grasped her and pulled her close, nipping and sucking at her breasts playfully before his mouth captured hers and declared his ownership of her in a deep, intense kiss. Very gently, careful of her still sore scalp, he buried his fingers in her inky tresses as they fell over him like a waterfall, mingling with his own long locks.

“I need ye, all of ye,” Raven whispered, excited to feel his rock-hard manhood pressing into her beneath the material of his kilt. Suddenly, she sat up a little and reached between her legs to capture him in her palm. Then, she guided the head of his shaft to her entrance and slowly, deliberately sank down up on it, her mouth fastened to Arne’s in a passionate kiss as she opened herself up to him completely.

They held each other close, their bodies and tongues entwined, Raven rising and falling, with Arne’s length throbbing inside as if it would split her in two. When they finally came, it was together, panting, slick with perspiration and each other’s juices. Raven collapsed on this chest, and Arne put his arms around her as they lay in the afterglow.

“That was magical,” she whispered, stroking his cheek and looking lovingly into his eyes.

He tilted her chin with a finger and kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, that must be because ye’re a wee witch, and ye’ve put a spell on me. A spell I never want tae break.”

She laughed. “I’m so very happy, Arne. I dared nae dream of this day fer so long, but now, here I am, really Mrs. Arne MacLeod at last. I love ye so much, and I’m so proud tae be yer wife.”

Arne chuckled and hugged her. “I love ye with all me heart, and I’m very proud tae be yer husband, Mrs. MacLeod. I cannae wait tae spend the rest of me life with me beautiful clever, brave bonny lass.”

Raven smiled with contentment as they cuddled up cozily in each other’s arms, to spend their very first night as a proper married couple. The past was swept away by the bright, happy future that beckoned for their happy little family. She could never have asked for more.

The End.

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Castle Mackinnon

One month later

Snow had fallen for a day and a night. Now it was not only the mountain tops that were covered in white frosting. As far as Dahlia could see from the battlements, all the land around Castle Mackinnon was covered in snow. She pulled her hooded cloak around her, covering her head, and looked across the magical, mystical landscape.

It was the perfect day for a wedding. The snow was no longer falling and the wind had given up its onslaught. The land lay quiet under its thick white blanket. The only thing moving on the ground below was a squirrel, disturbing the perfect whiteness with his tiny footprints as it darted between the pine trees lining the road.

Soon the peace would be shattered as the servants busied themselves with their preparations and by mid-morning the last of the guests would have arrived, their horses churning the mud and snow on the road.

But, for now she could lose herself in the dreamy vista and contemplate this longed-for day.

Swiveling at the sound of footsteps behind her the breath hitched in her throat at the sight of Arran’s tall figure striding toward her. She smiled. Would she ever get used to the little flurry of desire every time she caught sight of this handsome man?

He clasped her in his arms and she lay her head on his broad chest, tuning her senses to his breath and the steady beat of his heart.

“Me darling, I hope ye’ll nay catch cold up here in this raw weather.”

“Nay. Dinnae fash. ‘Tis gentle and peaceful and I’ve a warm fur cloak tae wrap meself in.” She smiled up at him. Despite the cold, his hazel eyes twinkled, mirroring her excitement.

The quiet was broken by sudden voices from below. A team of servants, armed with shovels, began clearing snow from the courtyard and laying straw to dry the cobbles, ready for the guests who would be arriving before long.

She sighed, giving Arran a cheeky grin. “’Tis time I took tae me chamber, me laird. I have preparations tae make. After all, today I’ll finally be wed tae the Laird of the Mackinnons.” Standing on tiptoe she brushed his cheek with her lips in a quick kiss before darting down the stairs.

Sofia and Catalina were waiting in her chamber with Beattie, while several maids came and went with pitchers of hot water filling a large copper tub in front of the fire.

Catalina chuckled when Dahlia hurried in. “We were thinking that ye’d decided ye didnae wish tae marry and ye’d saddled yer wee mare and ridden away.”

Dahlia tossed her cloak onto the hanger beside the garde robe. “Nay.” She grinned. “I already escaped marriage with two Mackinnon lairds I didnae fancy. Number three is the one I’ve wanted all along.”

Once the tub was filled, she stepped daintily into the water and sank up to her chin in the warm, rose-scented suds. Beattie soaped her back with a special cake of rose-soap and when she was done Sofia washed her hair into a giant lather. It was Catalina’s task to pour warm water from a jug to rinse the long tresses.

They dried her with linen towels before the blazing fire where she took up position in her warm robe while Catalina combed her hair. Once it was dry, Beattie’s nimble fingers formed it into a dozen tiny braids which they threaded with green ribbons and wound around her head in an elaborate coiffure. She studied herself in the looking-glass. Who was this elegant, beautiful lady and where on earth was Dahlia MacLeod?

Beattie slipped the wedding-gown over her mistresses head, taking care not to ruin her elaborate hairstyle. She smoothed the skirt making sure there was no hint of a wrinkle in the delicate fabric. It was made from yards of cream-colored silk trimmed with dark green velvet. It had a deep, flattering neckline, and a full skirt that swayed over her petticoats when she twirled in front of the glass. Just looking at the bonny garment made Dahlia’s head swim and brought a smile to her lips. It was by far the grandest dress she’d ever worn.

Sofia had made her a little circlet of green ivy and scarlet holly berries threaded with green velvet ribbons to match the ones in her hair.

“This will bring ye a long life with a loyal and devoted husband by yer side.”

Before leaving her bedchamber, she looped her hand through the charming wreath and carried it on her wrist.

When she entered the chapel, Sofia and Catalina walking before her as her maids of honor, she looked up to see Arran clad in his new kilt, his long hair combed so that it sat tidily on his broad shoulders. His eyes shone as he gazed at her making her way down the aisle toward him.

And there it was again. That familiar frisson of desire rippling through her at the sight of him, making her smile. In that moment, her most fervent wish was that they were already wed and alone, enjoying the pleasure she knew was in store for them tonight.

Father Deiran officiated and, as they spoke their vows, she caught a glimpse of Emilia wiping a tear from her eye. Then came the exchange of rings. As she slipped the ring over Arran’s finger, the old priest lifted his head calling on heaven to bless their union.

Haldor, Sofia, Ivar and Catalina stepped forward to perform the handfasting, lengths of ribbon in their hands.

Commencing with Haldor, each of them wrapped Arran and Dahlia’s joined hands with a ribbon. As they did so they wished them peace, prosperity and longevity. Then the ribbons were tied together, signifying the joining of the pair in marriage.

Father Deiran stepped forward; his head bent in prayer.

“As these ribbons hold ye bound together, may ye always hold fast tae the vows ye’ve made together this day. Ye’ve journeyed far tae come tae this sacred place, enduring many hardships, anger, fear and threats from wickedness. But yer love has never faltered. I now remove the ties.” He slipped the binding ribbons off their wrists and over their hands.

“Before I proclaim ye tae be husband and wife, ye must kiss three times. One for love, one for a long life and one for luck.”

He stood, smiling, as Arran leaned down to press his lips to Dahlia’s hand, then to her cheek and, finally, he kissed her gently on the lips.

“Now, by the power of the Heavenly Faither vested in me, I declare ye tae be truly husband and wife.”

Dahlia had no idea that such happiness existed as she and Arran walked together, hand in hand through the thronging well-wishers, out of the chapel, through the snowy courtyard and into the keep, their guests forming a cheerful, delighted gathering behind them.

The villagers came rushing in, taking their seats on the benches in the great hall ready to partake of the feast and to drink the health of the laird and his bride.

Their new laird’s wedding was a great celebration. Not only because they wished Arran and Dahlia well, but because they, too, were looking forward to a time of peace and prosperity. No longer would Bairre and his men terrorize the village. Men and women alike could now go about their business without fear.

The troubadours and jongleurs moved among the crowd, adding to the jolly atmosphere and heightening the festivities.

Seated beside Arran, in the center of the high table, Dahlia soaked in every little detail. Even the dogs lurking under the table begging for a piece of roast lamb or venison, made her smile. She wanted to remember this day forever.

“Are ye as happy as I am,” she asked.

“Aye. ‘Tis great happiness. Yet—.” Fer an instant sadness flickered in his eyes.

“What is it, me love?”

“I’d always thought Craig would be at me side when I was wed.”

She squeezed his hand, understanding the loss and his grief at Craig’s betrayal.

He gazed down at her, his green-gold eyes shining with love. “But there is naught that will disturb me happiness tonight.”

Tomorrow there would be talks between Arran and her brothers, discussions concerning lands and tithes and her dowry, but tonight Dahlia merely wished to luxuriate in the glorious sense that she was, at last, wed to Arran, and that their happiness was only just beginning

The musicians moved to the center of the hall and a space was cleared for dancing. As they struck up, she followed Arran to the center of the floor for the wedding cèilidh. They took up their position and, as the first notes rang out, they were joined by Dahlia’s brothers. Haldor took Sofia’s hand, Ivar was ready to spin Catalina into his arms and Arne, smiling for once, entered with his laughing toddler son, Thorsten. The wee lad, clad in his first ever kilt, joined hands with his proud father for the first round. Soon the hall was filled with wild laughter and whooping cheers.

By the time the musicians took a break, Dahlia was out of breath and her legs were almost giving way.

Arran escorted her back to their table. “Methinks it is time fer us tae leave our guests. They can enjoy the night without us,” he whispered, squeezing her hand.

She nodded “I wish fer naething more than tae share yer bedchamber with ye this night.”

After farewelling their guests, they quietly took their leave, their departure hardly noticed by the throng participating in the boisterous dancing.

Once they’d arrived at Arran’s quarters, he pushed open the door. She peeped in, curious to see the place where she would be spending her nights and many of her days from now on. It all seemed so strange and new. Arran’s rooms were far more spacious than hers. Having taken over the suite that had belonged to the lairds who came before him, including, of course Bairre, James and his own father, he’d taken great care to remove all traces of the rooms’ previous occupants. There was fresh, bright paint on the patterned walls and he awaited new tapestries to arrive from France.

Dried rose petals had been strewn across the rush floor and over the Persian carpets and a fire blazed merrily in the hearth. On a small table was a flagon of wine and two goblets inviting them in.

But before she could step into the room, he hoisted her in his arms.

“’Tis me greatest joy tae take me bride in me arms across the threshold of yer new dwelling place.”

She wound her arms around his neck as he slipped through the doorway. “And mine tae be taken.”

“Ah lass, I didnae believe we would ever arrive at this place. It was more than I could have ever hoped fer. That we were wed this day is me greatest joy.”

He kicked the door closed behind them and, as he lowered her to the floor, holding her as if he’d never let her go, he took her mouth in a long-awaited kiss.

She sighed, melting into him, her body turning to liquid at his touch.

When it became necessary for them both to gulp in a breath, she looked up at him through long dark lashes. “Ye dinnae ken how long I’ve waited fer such a kiss.”

“The first of many such exquisite dalliances,” he said, chuckling. He led her across to the fire, looking her up and down. “Ye were by far the finest lady in the hall this night, wife. And the bonniest.” He took up position in the large over-stuffed armchair and pulled her onto his knee.

“’Tis a bonnie gown if a tad uncomfortable. Would ye nae prefer tae have me take it off ye?”

She laughed as his fingers busied themselves with the laces that fastened the front of her dress. It fell away and he wasted no time in pushing down the gown and sliding her stays so that they pushed up her naked breasts making it easy for him to apply his fingers, his mouth and his tongue.

Moaning as he cupped her round breasts and took a hard nipple between his forefinger and thumb, she sank lower in the chair, leaning back against him.

He nuzzled her neck, breathing in the fragrance of roses and musk tormenting his senses. While one hand was busy with her rosy nub the other hand ruffled her skirt up over her knees, stroking the smooth softness of her thighs as he went.

She moaned again, shifting her position, parting her thighs so his clever fingers could gain access.

He slipped his middle and forefingers between her damp folds, stroking the slick flesh, causing a deep guttural sound to escape her throat. “Aye. That’s what I’ve been aching fer.”

As he caressed her swollen quim she squealed, writhing and gasping under his hand.

Almost overwhelmed by their passion he groaned. “Mistress Mackinnon, dinnae ye ken what I’ve been aching fer?”

She gave a soft laugh and trailed a hand over his thigh, pushing up the hem of his kilt so that she could easily take his granite manhood in her hand.

He threw his head against the high-backed chair, and closed his eyes. “Och!” he exclaimed. “I am suffering something fierce, needing tae slip inside ye.”

She shifted again, and he lifted her thighs so that her legs opened wider. He pressed each of her knees across an arm of their chair, stretching her, so that what he wished for was wide-open to his gaze. Then he raised her so that his manhood was poised at her entrance.

“D’ye wish me tae be inside ye, wife?”

Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. “’Tis all I wish fer, husband.”

With one thrust his hardness slid inside her. With a moan she raised her buttocks to better let him enter. Then he thrust again and they soared into their very own slice of paradise, somewhere between heaven and hell, where everything fell away except their own glorious ride.

The End.

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Read the book

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

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

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

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

Do you enjoy previews (2-3 chapters sent before the official release date)? *

• Yes! I love reading a short teaser before actually getting the book.
• No. I find them pointless and almost never read them. I prefer to start the book when it's out and I can continue reading.

Do you pre-order books to make sure you'll receive them before anyone or you wait for the release date? *

• I love pre-ordering books! This way I can have them earlier straight to my library and read them immediately.
• I usually wait for the official release date and get the book then.

Anything else you'd like to share? *

Submit

Two months later…

Music and laughter echoed in the great hall, where the entirety of Clan MacGregor had gathered, along with key members of Clan MacLaren, the two families coming together for Bonnie’s and Evan’s wedding. The day had passed by in a blur for Bonnie, as she had woken up in the morning and had instantly been thrown into preparations for the wedding. The ceremony itself had been so quick that Bonnie had hardly realized when it was over, and then the feast had begun, and everyone had come to offer her their congratulations.

Now, Bonnie sat with all her family, old and new—Evan, Alaric, Isabeau to her right and Macauley and Cathleen to her left, all of them enjoying the night.

Through the crowd, Bonnie spotted Macauley’s best friend and laird of Clan Drummond, Kian, approaching their table. On his arm, his wife, Deirdre, strode next to him with the presence of a woman much larger than her small stature.

Not for the first time, Bonnie considered how striking they looked together. Kian, tall and broad, with his blonde hair gathered at the nape, and Deirdre, a beautiful girl with hazel eyes that seemed to stare right through her.

“Kian!” Macauley shouted, standing to greet his friend. They clasped each other’s hand, their matching grins lighting up the whole room. “Deirdre, ye’ve been keepin’ him too busy, lass.”

“Ye’ve been keepin’ him too busy,” Deirdre said, the hand that wasn’t holding Kian pointing an accusatory finger at Macauley. “Always askin’ him tae visit ye.”

“Ye can visit with him!”

“Aye, as if I have naething better tae dae!”

Kian turned to Bonnie and Evan with a long-suffering sigh and an apologetic smile. “They love each other,” he assured them as he bowed. “Congratulations, Bonnie. Laird MacGregor.”

“Please,” said Evan, standing to greet Kian. “There is nae reason fer such formalities. Are we nae all family here?”

“So we are,” said Kian, visibly pleased. “I look forward tae learnin’ more about ye.”

“We’d be happy tae host ye fer as long as ye wish,” offered Evan. “Ye’ll always be welcome here.”

Bonnie could hardly believe just how much her life had changed in such a short time. Only a few months prior, she was fretting over her marriage, thinking that she would have to wed a stranger, a man who turned out to be cruel and selfish. Now she was there, with Evan, and there was nothing that could separate them anymore.

Only then did it sink in that they were finally married. They had been through so much, both of them, but now there was nothing but happiness ahead of them and anything that came to be, they would face it together.

As Kian and Deirdre turned to speak with Macauley and Cathleen, Bonnie turned her attention to Alaric, who had been sitting next to Evan with a look that seemed all the more morose as the night passed and with each refill of his cup. Leaning back on her seat, Bonnie waved at him behind Evan’s back, getting his attention.

“What is the matter?” she asked, concern seeping into her tone even as she tried to keep it light-hearted.

Alaric shook his head with a sigh. “Naething.”

It was just the answer Bonnie had expected to hear, but that didn’t mean she was going to simply accept it.

“I can tell somethin’ is botherin’ ye,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Ye cannae hide from me.”

For a moment, Alaric gazed at the laughing, dancing crowd, before he dragged his eyes to Bonnie, giving her a small, half-hearted smile. “I am glad fer ye,” he said. “I really am. I am glad Evan didnae have tae wed simply fer an alliance.”

Bonnie waited for something to follow, but when nothing did, she asked, “But?”

“But I might have tae.”

This was news to her. She didn’t even know if Evan knew it, but then again, he surely had to. His council would have spoken to them both, announcing their intentions before they made any decisions.

“Alaric… I’m sorry,” Bonnie said, for lack of anything better to offer him. She knew just how hard it was to accept that one could spend one’s entire life married to someone they didn’t love.

“It’s alright,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. He smiled and though it seemed forced, it still gave Bonnie come comfort. “Perhaps it will be a very bonnie lass. An’ besides, there is nae one else in me life. It isnae like it was fer Evan. I’m nae disappointed. Only… apprehensive.”

As much as that could be true, Bonnie’s heart still ached for him. She wanted Alaric to find a love like hers and Evan’s. She wanted to see him happy, to see him smile like Evan did.

When Alaric turned away without another word, Bonnie looked at her husband, taking in his every feature as if she was seeing it for the first time—the high, handsome forehead, the slope of his nose, the full lips under a well-trimmed beard. With a smile, she reached for his hand under the table and the moment their fingers touched, Evan laced them together, taking a momentary break from his conversation to return her smile.

Surrounded by her family, her friends, with Evan by her side, Bonnie had never felt so loved.

The End.

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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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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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