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.

Would you read a Scottish historical romance with a second chance at love trope? *

• Yes, I’d love it!
• No, it involves too much backstory and I prefer fresh beginnings.

What if the hero everyone fears isn’t guilty at all, but a man betrayed and framed? Would you read his story? *

• Yes, I love the suspense of uncovering his innocence.
• No, I prefer heroes who are never cast in doubt.

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Four years later, MacKenzie Keep

The yard of the MacKenzie keep bustled with the sounds of daily life, hooves striking stone, voices carrying across the walls, the clang of steel from the training ring. Yet Constantine’s attention was caught not by the people, but by the peals of laughter from the small figure darting across the packed earth.

“Mama, water!” A small voice piped up from behind him, accompanied by the determined patter of tiny feet.

Constantine turned to see his daughter, Isla, toddling toward the pool of mud with the fearless confidence of a two-year-old who’d never known danger. Her copper hair, so like her mother’s, caught the light as she reached chubby hands toward the mud.

“Nae so fast, little one,” Rowena called, scooping up their daughter before she could stomp in fully clothed. Isla squealed with delight, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“She has yer sense of adventure,” Constantine observed dryly, earning himself a pointed look from his wife.

“And yer complete lack of fear,” Rowena countered, though her voice was warm with amusement. “Remember who taught her tae climb before she could properly walk.”

“Constantine!” Lilias’s voice carried across the yard as she approached, her grown woman’s grace a far cry from the uncertain girl she’d been four years ago. At twenty-one, she’d blossomed into a beauty who turned heads at every gathering, her dark hair and quick wit drawing admirers from across the Highlands. But she’d also grown into a confident, intelligent, and fiercely loyal woman.

“The messenger’s arrived,” she continued as she reached them. “Alasdair will be here before sunset.”

Rowena shifted Isla to her hip, her expression growing thoughtful. “Good. If anyone can help us sort out what’s really happening on our borders, it’s me cousin.”

Alasdair MacDougall was Rowena’s maternal cousin, laird of a clan whose lands bordered both MacKenzie territory and the regions where the trouble had been brewing. More importantly, he was a man Constantine had come to trust completely; a steady leader with a strategic mind and the fighting skills to back up his decisions.

As if summoned by their conversation, the sound of approaching horses echoed across the gates. A small party of riders appeared, their MacDougall banners snapping in the evening breeze.

At their head rode a man Constantine recognized immediately. Tall and broad-shouldered, with the kind of quiet authority that needed no announcement.

“That’s quite an escort fer a social visit,” Lilias observed, watching the dozen well-armed warriors who accompanied their guest.

“These aren’t social times,” Constantine replied grimly. “If Alasdair’s bringing that many men, the situation’s worse than we thought.”

“Cousin,” Alasdair called, striding forward to embrace everyone. “This bonnie lass must be the famous Isla I’ve heard so much about.”

Isla, normally shy around strangers, studied the newcomer with serious eyes before apparently deciding he was acceptable. She reached out one small hand to pat his bearded cheek, earning a delighted laugh.

“She has excellent judgment,” Alasdair declared, gently catching the tiny hand in his much larger one. “Just like her maither.”

“Flatterer,” Rowena accused, but she was smiling. “How bad is it, Alasdair?”

“Bad enough that we need tae talk privately,” he replied, his expression growing serious. “But first, let me greet the rest of the family properly.”

His eyes found Constantine, and the two men clasped forearms in the warrior’s greeting. “Braither,” Alasdair said simply. “Good tae see ye again.”

“And ye,” Constantine replied, meaning it. “How was the journey?”

“Uneventful, which is more than I can say fer—” Alasdair’s words died as his gaze fell on Lilias, who had been hanging back slightly, letting the family reunite. Something shifted in his expression, a subtle change that Constantine caught immediately.

“Alasdair,” Rowena said, following his gaze with growing amusement, “ye remember Constantine’s sister, Lilias.”

“I…” Alasdair seemed momentarily at a loss for words, which was unusual for the articulate clan leader. “I dae. I believe it’s been some time since we last met, Lady Lilias.”

Lilias stepped forward with a smile that held just a hint of mischief. “Indeed it has, Laird MacDougall.”

“Ye’ve grown intae a remarkable woman, me lady,” he managed, his voice slightly rougher than usual.

Constantine exchanged a meaningful glance with Rowena, who was trying not to smile too obviously at the byplay between their cousin and sister. This was an interesting development.

“Why dinnae we get everyone settled,” Rowena suggested. “Supper will be ready soon, and I’m sure ye’ll want tae rest before we discuss business.”

“Actually,” Lilias interjected, “I was planning tae show Laird MacDougall the new fortifications Constantine had built on the eastern wall. If he’s here about border security, he might find them interesting.”

Alasdair’s face brightened considerably at the prospect. “That would be most helpful, Lady Lilias. I’d be honored by yer guidance.”

“Then I’ll leave ye tae it,” Rowena said, hefting a squirming Isla higher on her hip. “This little one needs her supper before she becomes completely impossible.”

They made their way back inside the castle, Isla chattering happily in her mixture of words and babble as she pointed at everything that caught her interest. The domesticity of the moment, his wife beside him, his daughter in her arms, struck Constantine with unexpected force. Four years ago, he’d been a lone mercenary with no ties beyond gold and survival. Now he had everything worth fighting for.

“Ye’re matchmaking,” Constantine murmured to Rowena as they headed inside.

“I’m nae,” she corrected primly. “If anything develops naturally, well… Alasdair is a good man, and Lilias deserves happiness.”

“And a MacDougall alliance wouldn’t hurt our strategic position,” Constantine added pragmatically.

“That too,” Rowena agreed with a grin. “Though I suspect our Lilias is quite capable of making her own choices about such matters.”

As if to prove her point, the sound of Lilias’s laughter drifted across the courtyard, followed by Alasdair’s deeper chuckle.

***

Later that evening, after Isla had been settled for the night and the family had gathered for supper, the conversation inevitably turned to the troubles plaguing the borderlands.

Alasdair’s news was grimmer than expected, organized raids, coordinated attacks, and evidence of foreign coin backing the violence.

“‘Tis nae random banditry,” he explained, his weathered hands gesturing over a map spread across the table. “Someone’s stirring up the smaller clans, promising them rich rewards fer destabilizing our territories.”

“Any idea who?” Constantine asked, though his expression suggested he already suspected.

“Nay. But there’s English gold involved,” Alasdair confirmed grimly. “They’re trying tae weaken us from within before making any open moves. Classic strategy, let us bleed ourselves fighting each other, then step in tae claim the spoils.”

Lilias spoke up unexpectedly. “What about the coastal routes? If they’re using English ships tae move supplies…”

“Aye, if we could intercept their supply lines, or at least disrupt them…”

“Then the smaller clans would lose interest quickly enough,” Rowena finished. “Take away the gold, and most of these alliances will crumble.”

The discussion continued late into the evening, with ideas flowing freely between the four adults.

“It’s time fer us tae retire,” Constantine said and rose from his seat, reaching for Rowena’s hand. He guided her from the great hall, leaving Lilias and Alasdair still seated by the hearth as the fire burned low. The keep was quiet at this late hour, the heavy stones holding the day’s chill.

At the stair, Rowena hesitated, glancing toward the door of the chamber where their daughter slept. Constantine caught the look and answered softly, “She’s safe, lass. Her maid keeps watch close by.”

Rowena’s shoulders eased, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “Ye ken I’ll always look first tae her.”

“Aye,” he said, his voice rough with pride. “As ye should. But taenight…” Constantine stopped in front of their chamber and drew her hand more firmly into his. “Taenight I’ll have a share of ye as well.”

He opened the door to their chamber and pulled Rowena inside. The fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers, casting the room in a soft, ruddy light. Constantine closed the door behind them and turned to her, his gaze dark and intent.

“At last,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “At last, we’re alone.”

Rowena laughed, the sound low and warm. Constantine bent, capturing her lips in a kiss that was tender at first, then deepened with a hunger long restrained. She leaned into him, her hands curling into the folds of his plaid, her breath quickening as his arms closed around her.

Constantine lifted his head only long enough to whisper against her mouth, “Ye’re mine, Rowena. Wife, lady, heart of me. And I’ll nae let another hour pass without showin’ ye just that.”

The End

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