Highland Awakening

by Kathryn Lynn Davis

  Speechless, she stared at him, stricken mute.

  He took advantage of the moment by kissing her again, this time more ardently.

  Throwing her arms around his neck, she returned heat for heat and passion for passion. “Yes,” she said breathlessly, when she could draw away for the instant it took to release the word.

  “Weel then,” he replied, drowning in his need for her, “well then, we’d best be getting home. Soon!”

  His betrothed could only nod vigorously.

  ~ * ~

  That evening clouds gathered, not as if for a storm, but as if for a display. When the sun began to set, many colors streaked across the sky: fuchsias and lilacs, purples and oranges, reds and golds, swirling one into the other, then spreading across the crystalline sky. The colors and patterns held Esmé and Magnus spellbound, they were so powerful and full of beauty—a pageant laid out before them, so they could take the beauty in and hold it forever in their hearts and in their memories. Just before the golden sun touched the shimmering, snowbound earth, the white fawn leapt up before it, front legs extended in a graceful profile, and then it disappeared.

  Both knew without speaking that they would never see it again.

  Magnus turned to Esmé to see the colors of the sunset had reached out and curled around her, touching her everywhere in vivid hues, and outside the colors a curl of crystalline snow began at her feet and rose in a swirl of delicate ice gems about her body and her head. It was one final gift from the gods of old, and he would never forget it as long as he lived.

  They fell asleep soon afterward, seduced by the lullaby of her recorder, and the stillness of the night, and the gentle breeze that sang to them as it drifted past their heads.

  When they awakened in the morning, they were under a great hawthorn tree on the road south from Beauly, and everywhere the snow was melting, revealing new spring wildflowers.

  Magnus and Esmé smiled at one another knowingly, but said not a word to anyone. Delighted, even by the extra mud, they headed toward home.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Breda sat by the window in the front sitting room, trying to sew stitches as fine as her sister’s. She knew it was pointless, but was attempting to make a good impression on Grandmam Caelia and her father. Now that Esmé was gone, she wanted to prove she was no longer simply a brat, that she had grown worthy of their respect. The problem was, she was terrible at sewing and the expressions that crossed her face were downright comical as she struggled with thread and hoop and fabric. “I think I can get it,” she whispered to her young brother more than once, “if I can just hold my mouth right.” She said it, not because she believed it, but because it always made little Geordie laugh.

  “Da and Grandda Rory don’t think Esmé’s ever coming back,” Breda whispered behind her hand to the lad, as if it were a tremendously important secret, which also made him laugh. “But Grandmam Caelia and I know better. Ye mark my words, young lad.”

  Geordie, playing on the Brussels carpet with a wooden train, disgraced himself by giggling outright.

  Pensively taking a deep breath, Breda stared longingly out the window. She’d been astonished by how much she missed her older sister. Breda had always considered Esmé an enemy—or at the very least, a bother, because she was constantly underfoot. She didn’t do anything or go anywhere, so she wasn’t the slightest bit interesting. But once she was gone, Breda found she missed Esmé’s recorder playing in the evenings. The younger girl had always sat back and pretended not to care—had told herself she didn’t. She had not realized until lately that she’d been lying to herself.

  She had felt safe and comfortable knowing Esmé was always nearby and ready to help, that she grew the most delicious carrots and cabbage and onions in her garden, that she knew how to treat a scrape or a sprain or an upset stomach. And only after she was gone, had Breda come to treasure the lovely shawl her sister had embroidered for her birthday. Breda wore it all the time now, often pausing to admire the pattern of blooming roses beside a burn at either end. She did so in that moment and therefore missed the movement far beyond the window.

  Geordie stood up and peered out. “Breda,” he said in an odd voice.

  She rose and followed his gaze, then hurried to the window, staring with her mouth open. She forgot she was holding a needle in her hand and pricked her finger deeply. She dropped the embroidery on the sofa and headed for the door, then went back for Geordie, who still stood motionless. She grabbed his hand and tugged until he followed her from the room.

  “Da! Grandmam! Grandda! Come quick!”

  Covering one ear with his hand to try to protect himself from her mighty voice, Geordie followed helplessly behind.

  “Ye must all come at once. Esmé is home! Hurry!”

  “I don’t know why ye must shout so,” Geordie protested.

  Breda released his hand and he headed for the main door, except he was frustrated, because he couldn’t see out.

  The rest of the family came tumbling down the stairs, or so it seemed to Geordie, bouncing on their happiness at Breda’s news.

  “Are ye sure?” Da asked.

  “Positive,” Breda replied, “though she looks a fright.”

  “Is she all right?” Caelia demanded. “Is she ill?”

  “How would I be knowing that, when I’ve only seen her from far away? But—” the girl drew out the pause until everyone was staring at her curiously. When their expressions began to turn angry, she hastened to add, “She’s brought a man. He looks as much a fright as she.”

  The family fell silent. No one knew what to say. The three males—including Geordie—tightened their muscles as if ready to swing, and set their jaws, ready to turn the stranger away.

  The two females smiled at one another, but quickly forced their lips into a long thin line.

  Thus the battle lines were drawn.

  They all stood where they were, as if their feet were stuck in plaster, until the door knocker rose and fell. As if released by some magic hand, everyone flew about, flustered, excited, bewildered.

  Finally Geordie went to answer the door. He tried to block the threshold, but his legs weren’t long enough. He glared up at wild-haired Magnus. “I’m Geordie. I’m her brother, and if I were big enough—”

  “Tis happy I am to meet ye, Geordie. I’m Magnus MacLeod. And I’ll tell ye a secret. I’ve always been too big, and tis no fun at all.” He offered his hand, half-covered in dirt, the sleeve of his shirt caked with mud, but Geordie declined to take it.

  “If ye hurt my sister, I’ll never forgive ye.”

  “I never did hurt dearest Esmé; ye can ask her yourself.” Magnus raised his voice slightly. “I’ll swear on anything ye like she’s in the same condition and health she was when she left ye. Except, mayhap, a mite more dirty.”

  Everyone burst into laughter at that, even Esmé, though Magnus was not certain exactly why.

  “Come in, come in. Welcome home, Esmé, lassie. We’ve missed ye so,” Da said, taking his wee girl in his arms.

  Then it was Rory’s turn and Breda’s, and Esmé introduced Magnus each time.

  Finally she turned to her Grandmother Caelia. “Esmé, my love, tell me you’re staying.”

  The young woman reached for Magnus’s hand. “I want to, but only if ye have room and an open heart for my betrothed, who’s soon to be my husband.”

  “Aye,” Caelia said. “I knew he was coming, ye see.” She swept her hand behind her to the wall above the great fireplace in the hall.

  There hung a painting of Esmé surrounded by lilacs and fuchsias, purples and oranges, reds and golds, that had reached out and curled around her, touching her everywhere in vivid hues, and outside the colors a curl of crystalline snow began at her feet and rose in a swirl of delicate ice gems about her body and her head. Just visible in the background was a tall man with long dark hair, and eyes full of wonder, admiration and love.

  Magnus held his betrothed’s hand tightly, unable to take in a breath
.

  “My grandmother painted that with her pastels.”

  He shook his head back and forth, back and forth.

  “I told ye,” Esmé said. “Now do ye believe me?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. “How can I not?”

  He reached for her and drew her into his arms, where she felt at home and on fire—both at once. She raised her face and he lowered his until his lips touched hers, softly, tenderly, with all the love and desire he had been born to give. And she, in turn gave him her heart and soul and her yielding, pliant lips, promising the world, and beguiling him with the magic that bound them from that moment to forever.

  About Kathryn Lynn Davis

  Kathryn Lynn Davis was born with what the ancient Celts called "the fatal gift of the imagination: a crown of stars and a stinging sword." She had no choice but to become a writer. Since Scotland is the home of her heart, and she loves history (having a Masters in the subject), it was inevitable that she should write historical novels, most of which are set in Scotland. An award winning, New York Times best-seller, she has published eight historical novels and one historical novella.

  Kathryn has a BA in English and history from the University of California, Riverside, where she graduated Magna Cum Laude, Phi Beta Kappa. She also received her MA in history there.

  Toward the end of the 20th century, she gave up writing out of frustration. Only when she discovered Indie publishing did she return to her love of writing with great enthusiasm. She has re-published part of her backlist as e-books: Child of Awe, and the Too Deep For Tears Trilogy: Too Deep for Tears, All We Hold Dear, and Somewhere Lies the Moon. In November, 2014, she had the honor of being included in the first volume of The Scrolls of Cridhe, Highland Winds. That novella, A Tear for Memory is a prequel to her Too Deep Trilogy. It is now available as a single e-book.

  Currently, she is re-working and republishing her backlist novel, Sing To Me Of Dreams. She's so excited by all this activity, and all the new friends--both authors and readers--that she's made on Facebook.

  Follow Kathryn Davis on Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/kathrynlynndavis.

  More by Kathryn Lynn Davis

  Too Deep for Tears

  Late 1800s: Three sisters. Three corners of the British Empire. Three lives intertwined… forever.

  As he travels the British Empire, diplomat Charles Kittridge leaves behind three daughters: Ailsa in the Scottish Highlands; Li-an in Peking, China; and Genevra in Delhi, India. Bound by threads they neither see nor understand, the three sisters are haunted by their absent father--each in her own way. Creative and intuitive, often lost and without hope, they come together through their dreams in times of fear and need. Those dreams grow vivid, changing as these extraordinary women learn the lessons the Empire has to teach. And the all-important lessons within their own hearts. No matter the courage and passion, betrayal and loss they experience, their dreams never leave them.

  In the end, they believe Charles Kittridge has the power to heal them. But the truth is far more complicated than any of them understand.

  All We Hold Dear

  All We Hold Dear is Book II in the Too Deep for Tears Trilogy. Full of suspense and haunting emotion, it follows Mairi, Ailsa and Alanna—three generations of Highland women--who must call on all their strength and the wisdom of the ancient Celtic gods, when strangers come to Glen Affric. The intruders bring greed, conflict and treachery, pitting brother against brother, father against son, husband against wife. Yet among them is a new love for Alanna. More mysteriously, and without intention, they reignite Ailsa’s old and precious memories… In the epic struggle of man against man, and man against nature, who will suffer and who will thrive?

  Somewhere Lies the Moon

  Four generations of Scottish Highland women live in Glen Affric. Their stories intersect through Ena Rose—barely past childhood, not yet a woman—who faces choices she cannot understand, and a love that may never fulfill her dreams. Ailsa Rose is content in her familiar home, until she finally recognizes the turmoil she has refused to see, the pain she knows not how to heal. She calls out across the world to her half sisters: Wan Lian, struggling to outlive the shadows of her past in a small country town in France; and Genevra, back in India, searching for her future among the multi-colored patterns engraved in her soul. Together again in their Glen Affric sanctuary, they learn that they are strong enough to face any challenge…as long as they hold on to one another.

  Child of Awe

  From the moment of her birth, Muriella Calder is heiress to a great fortune many Highland clans desire to make their own. Touched by The Sight, she struggles to understand herself, while fighting those who threaten her world: the violent clans who relish war; her cunning guardian, Archibald Campbell, the powerful Earl of Argyll—callously ambitious, and bound by loyalty to the Crown; John Campbell, the Earl’s second son—a strong, experienced warrior on the battlefield—who cannot begin to understand the mysterious woman he is forced to wed; and Elizabeth Campbell Maclean, a gentle woman whose heart is forfeit in a treaty with a man her father hates.

  A Tear for Memory

  How can a seer paint ‘Truth’ when she’s lived a life of lies? Will she allow a man who has twice deceived her to open her heart to the truth?

  In the Highlands of Glen Affric, years after The Forty-Five—the Jacobite rising led by Bonnie Prince Charlie—Celia Rose lives happily in Faeries’ Haven, where the lies that protect her from the past keep the magic and the faeries away. She finds her only magic when she paints, and “sees” things she cannot possibly know.

  When a stranger comes on a mysterious errand, he threatens those who want to keep her safe at home. Little by little, he shows her new colors, new worlds and, most compelling—new passions. But he also brings danger, for he, too, lives a lie and is not what he seems. Still, danger comes in many forms, and the truth he offers leaves Celia with a difficult choice: to believe in those who loved and raised her; or trust this man, and learn the dark secret that could both destroy her innocence and forge in her a woman’s heart.

  Sing to Me of Dreams

  One woman’s journey of discovery…through all the mysteries of the human heart.

  As a child, Saylah held the magic and wisdom of her Salish Indian people. But when tragedy ravages the Salish, she must leave them for the world of the Ivys – an English/Scottish family whose traditions are as strange to her as her spirit world is to them. The Ivys have come to fertile British Columbia in search of paradise, but the secrets and mysteries surrounding them are overwhelming – until Saylah comes to help them understand the darkness holding them back.

  Frustrated Julian Ivy, in whom sophistication and fury entwine, is drawn to Saylah's healing strength and disquieting beauty. Through sorrow and elation, the two discover the fullness of love...but no one can resolve for her the contradictions of her birthright. Following the songs of her heritage, she will finally make the most wrenching choice of all....

  Other Titles by Duncurra LLC

  Stephanie Joyce Cole

  Compass North

  Can you ever run away from your own life?

  Reeling from the shock of a suddenly shattered marriage, Meredith flees as far from her home in Florida as she can get without a passport: to Alaska.

  After a freak accident leaves her presumed dead, she stumbles into a new identity and a new life in a quirky small town. Her friendship with a fiery and temperamental artist and her growing worry for her elderly, cranky landlady pull at the fabric of her carefully guarded secret. When a romance with a local fisherman unexpectedly blossoms, Meredith struggles to find a way to meld her past and present so that she can move into the future she craves. But someone is looking for her, someone who will threaten Meredith's dream of a reinvented life.

  Ceci Giltenan

  The Pocket Watch

  When Maggie Mitchell, is transported to the thirteenth century Highlands will Laird Logan Carr help mend her broken heart or put it in
more danger than before?

  Generous, kind, and loving, Maggie nearly always puts the needs of others first. So when a mysterious elderly woman gives her an extraordinary pocket watch, telling her it’s a conduit to the past, Maggie agrees to give the watch a try, if only to disprove the woman’s delusion.

  But it works.

  Maggie finds herself in the thirteenth century Scottish Highlands, with a handsome warrior who clearly despises her. Her tender soul is caught between her own desire and the disaster she could cause for others. Will she find a way to resolve the trouble and return home within the allotted sixty days? Or will someone worthy earn her heart forever?

  Available as an e-book, audio book and paperback

  Highland Revenge

  A 35,000 word novella, originally published in the collection, Highland Winds, The Scrolls of Cridhe Volume 1.

  Does he hate her clan enough to visit his vengeance on her? Or will he listen to her secret and his own heart’s yearning?

  Hatred lives and breathes between medieval clans who often don’t remember why feuds began in the shadowed past.

  But Eoin MacKay remembers.

  He will never forget how he was treated by Bhaltair MacNicol—the acting head of Clan MacNicol. He was lucky to escape alive, and vows to have revenge.

  Years later, as laird of Clan MacKay, he gets his chance when he captures Lady Fiona MacNicol. His desire for revenge is strong but he is beguiled by his captive.

  Can he forget his stubborn hatred long enough to listen to the secret she has kept for so long? And once he knows the truth, can he show her she is not alone and forsaken? In the end, is he strong enough to fight the combined hostilities and age-old grudges that demand he give her up?

  Highland Revenge is available as an e-book, audio book and paperback.