Extended Epilogues

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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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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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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…

“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 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.
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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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