Dragonblade Holiday Bundle: A Historical Romance Collection

by Alexa Aston

  Calum had insisted on being First-foot at each cottage to meet the clan and hand out gifts to begin the new year, though it took several hours. She’d changed from her dress into more suitable attire and happily accompanied this astounding man. Hogmanay was once again a day for celebration and hope. His kind words and caring gestures endeared him to the families. Calum was neither condescending nor pitying when he offered the traditional symbols but sincere and gracious. Hope replaced the dimness of despair in their eyes. He’d also told her the rest of his plan and the ceremony in Dunderave where the MacNaughtons would be waiting.

  Her father greeted them upon their return. “Calum sent word from the village early today. I went to meet him and he told me of his plan. I’m sorry we kept it a secret, but I ken how stubborn ye can be.”

  “We needed the element of surprise,” added Uncle Archie with a chuckle. “I think we managed that.”

  Mairi hugged her. “Yer bag is packed, and I’ll send the rest on. Now we need to get ye into bed for a few hours’ sleep before ye take off again. I have warmer traveling clothes laid out for the long journey.”

  “I wish ye could be there,” she said wistfully, clinging to the woman who was like a mother to her.

  “Och, I wouldna miss this for all the whisky in Scotland. My bum will be sore from the unaccustomed ride, but I’ll be with ye, my sweet. I’ve made arrangements for the Craigg to be fed and tended.” Mairi kissed her on the cheek. “Now, up the stairs with ye.”

  Though exhausted from a day of cleaning and emotion of the night, Peigi barely slept. Her mind was too full of the day’s events and the fact Calum had come for her. She wondered if he lay awake, too. I’m too happy and nervous to sleep.

  The next morning was hectic between last-minute instructions and hasty goodbyes. The journey would take most of the day. By afternoon, her lids drooped and she almost fell off her horse as they moved through the snow. Calum reined in his horse. “It’s a losing battle, love. Ye need some sleep. I want my bride alert and willing.” He grinned, dismounted, and pulled her down into his arms, giving her another long kiss.

  She leaned into him, letting his strength seep into her bones. It was dream to be sure. She would wake in her own bed, with the same melancholy heavy upon her shoulders.

  “We willna make midnight if ye keep up this lovemaking all the way there.” Malachi chuckled indulgently. “Hoist her up and let’s be off.”

  Settled in front of Calum, she leaned back with a contented sigh. His plaid wrapped around both of them, she snuggled her face inside the warmth and closed her eyes. She would enjoy every precious second of this dream.

  Chapter Ten

  The Merry Shall Marry

  Calum wiped the sweat from his brow and silently commanded his rolling stomach to cease. The Craigg’s words echoed in his brain. Ye’re a long time dead. Had he done right by the lass? He tended to be a mite forceful once his mind had been made up. And then she entered the room with his mother and Mairi. All doubt dissipated as he took in his exquisite bride. He hadn’t noticed what she’d been wearing earlier. But as she walked toward him, his heart pounded.

  The pale rose satin dress showed off her tiny waist and the creamy white of her full bosom, the swishing of her petticoats the only sound in the room. Until Mairi sniffled and a smile lit Peigi’s face and sent a rush of desire running through his blood. Soft, satin slippers peeked out from beneath the hem, bouncing the tiny bows that sat above. Her hair fell in thick waves down her back, a delicate, cream veil covering the top of head. The glowing peat highlighted the reds and browns of her shining tresses and his fingers itched to feel their silkiness.

  Reverend Robertson stood solemnly in front of them. The mantel had been decorated for the holiday with the traditional pine boughs and holly. Mrs. Robertson, in anticipation of the ceremony, had found some winter heather. Its pink blooms dotted the green along with the deep fiery leaves of acer twigs. The colors danced with the flames of candles placed within the boughs and made Peigi’s dress shimmer as she moved slowly across the room. There had not been time for many of the wedding rituals, but his mother and Mairi had maintained as much tradition as possible. They had washed Peigi’s feet, and made certain Hamish and Finley blackened Calum’s with soot and feathers. Soot represented hearth and home and was thought to be lucky. The feather poking and tickling his feet had not felt so lucky, but he’d endured it to please his mother. A wedding cake of shortbread sat on a side table with scones, cheeses, mead, ale, and whisky.

  Hamish took a breath and began playing the bagpipes. Malachi escorted his daughter and handed her off to Calum. The panic and doubt had vanished from her clear, green eyes. Her smile caught his breath. Caught up in her beauty and the good fortune the Lord had bestowed upon him, he barely heard the words spoken by the reverend. Peigi squeezed his hand, and he realized it was time to speak. His gaze locked with hers. “I vow ye the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine. From this day it shall be only yer name I cry out in the night and yer eyes that I smile into each morning. I shall be a shield for yer back as ye are for mine, nor shall a grievous word be spoken about us, for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance. Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honor ye through this life and into the next.” He saw her the emotion glistening in her eyes and squeezed her fingers in reassurance.

  She responded in a husky voice that held a promise of later passion. “Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my body, that we two might be one. I give ye my spirit, ’til our life shall be done.

  “Ye canna possess me for I belong to myself, but while we both wish it, I give ye that which is mine to give. Ye canna command me, for I am a free person, but I shall serve ye in those ways ye require and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.”

  As she spoke the words, and a look of love passed between them, his pulse slowed and that familiar calm filled him that only came with her presence. He had found the woman he wanted to grow old with, watching the lines of time appear around her eyes and mouth, stroking the silver threading her hair and kissing the lips that would always be soft and willing.

  Reverend Robertson ended the ceremony with a Scottish blessing.

  Lord help us to remember when

  We first met and the strong love between us.

  To work that love into practical things so that nothing can divide us.

  We ask for words both kind and loving and hearts always ready to ask for forgiveness as well as to forgive.

  Dear Lord, we put our marriage into yer hands.

  Hamish began playing the bagpipes again, the haunting notes putting tears in any dry eyes left in the small cottage. He bent and kissed his wife, lingering on soft lips that tasted of honeyed mead. As much as he loved his family, Calum wanted to be alone with this woman who had haunted his heart and mind. His desire had been kindled and stoked, and he could not wait to make her his in body and soul.

  Malachi wrapped his daughter in a fierce hug. “Yer face tells me what I ken in my heart. Ye did right, Peigi. Yer mother is smiling down upon us.” He shook Calum’s hand. “It’s an honor to call ye my son.”

  Mairi was next, sobbing and beaming at the couple. “Och, my handkerchief is a sodden mess. I’m so happy for ye both.”

  “May I kiss my sister?” asked Finley, his light red hair shining with streaks of gold in the candlelit room. He pulled her into a hug and pecked her cheek. “No’ to worry, Brother. I willna go to extremes.”

  Calum tried to remove his frown, but when Hamish pulled his Peigi into an embrace, he’d had enough. “Away with ye both, or ye willna see yer own wedding.”

  Angus had been silent throughout the ceremony, a grin on his ruddy face. Now he came forward, a warning look at his son. “Ye’ll have her to yerself soon enough, Son.” He turned to Peigi. “I’d like to welcome my daughter to the family.” He took both her hands and kissed the top of her head then gave way to Ailish.

  The two w
omen shared a look that spoke of affection. “I finally have a daughter to call my own. May ye always be this happy, lass.” Ailish handed her a beautiful scarf in the MacNaughton colors of red, blue, and green with a pewter clasp pinned to it. In the center of the circular clasp was the round tower of the castle, gems matching the clan colors glittered between the crenellations.

  Peigi gasped and held her new mother-in-law close. “Och, it’s stunning, and I thank ye for all yer words of wisdom.”

  Calum’s heart was full. His family around him, a woman by his side who would stir his blood and be a good confidante and mother, and a future that promised good fortune. The New Year’s Day could not have ended any better, he thought, until his wife tugged on his sleeve.

  She whispered in his ear, a shy smile on her face, “I find myself getting so verra tired, Husband. Shall we retire soon?”

  Or maybe it could.

  Epilogue

  A Fulfilling Finale

  Four years later

  Hogmanay

  MacNaughton Castle

  Calum stretched and rolled over on the thick, heather-stuffed mattress. His head lay on the pillow, breathing in the scent of heather and woman. A satisfied woman.

  He’d been gone too long. A trip to America and a long stop in Edinburgh. Six months without his wife. Six months without his daughters, Glynis or Maeve. Six months without the feel of Peigi’s skin against his, her image the first he saw upon awakening. He would not leave her again if he could help it.

  Arriving on Hogmanay—for he rode like a demon chased by an archangel to make it on time—Peigi had met him in the hall with mistletoe, requesting a kiss. It had been their custom each year following their marriage. This year, she’d turned the tables on him, and demanded a kiss of him. The girls had been there to greet him and his heart was full, surrounded by his females. Glynis, now three, ran to him, her auburn curls bouncing, and grabbed his knee with chubby arms. “Da, Da!”

  Peigi had set down Maeve and the child toddled after her older sister. The bairn had her mother’s dark hair and face but the deep blue eyes of her father. “She took two steps last week and hasna stopped,” his mother had informed him. And he’d missed it. No more.

  Now, he looked down at this woman who had come into his life through a mishap. A merry mishap for this MacNaughton. Saints and sinners, he was a lucky man. A beautiful, intelligent wife who loved him, two lovely and precocious daughters, and a prosperous future before them. The old seer from The Thistle Inn had predicted this. He was glad he’d paid her well, though he’d thought her words nonsense at first. But Hogmanay had a long history of superstitions, faeries, and spirits past and present. Who was he to question fate? Especially when it favored him in such a way.

  Peigi’s thick tresses fell across the pillow, and he rubbed a lock between his fingers. The coverpane had fallen to her waist, her breasts bared. He traced the outline of one creamy mound with his finger, leaned over her shoulder, and nuzzled her ear. She stirred; her eyelids fluttered open. A lazy smile curved her lips as she lifted an arm and allowed him free access. He dipped his head again, his lips trailing along her shoulders and neck.

  “Mmm,” she moaned, a sultry sound that made him hard and aching with need. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled over, setting her on top of him.

  “Good morning, Wife. It’s good to see ye again when I open my eyes.”

  Peigi chuckled, a smile curling her plump lips.

  “Perhaps we made a son last night.” She kissed him and laid her head back on his chest.

  “It doesna matter,” he said as he stroked her disheveled hair. “I ken it bothers ye, but ye must believe it truly doesna make a difference. I love my bairns no matter the sex.”

  “Ye dinna care if ye have sons to inherit?” She leaned up on an elbow, digging it into his armpit. “I do find it hard to believe.”

  “Mo chridhe, our daughters will give us males that will carry the MacNaughton Clan into another generation. If we dinna have a son, I plan on living long enough to pass the title on to a grandson.” He kissed her nose. “So worry about something more important like keeping yer husband fed and satisfied.”

  “But how can ye no’ crave sons? It’s a man’s legacy, his driving desire to continue his name through his male offspring.” Peigi’s eyes were bright, and he knew this was one of the few regrets she had in their marriage thus far.

  “Do ye remember what I told ye when I asked ye to be my wife?”

  Peigi nodded and gave him a watery smile.

  “I’ll no’ have a woman telling me what I feel or dinna feel, what I want or dinna want.”

  She finished for him. “And I’d be wise to remember that in the future.”

  “And it shall be a long and happy future. A wee faerie told me so.”

  The End

  About the Author

  Bestselling and award-winning author Aubrey Wynne is an elementary teacher by trade, champion of children and animals by conscience, and author by night. She resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule, and barn cats. Obsessions include wine, history, travel, trail riding, and all things Christmas. Her books have received the Golden Quill, Aspen Gold, Heart of Excellence, and the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence.

  Aubrey’s first love is medieval romance but after dipping her toe in the Regency period in 2018 with the Wicked Earls’ Club, she was smitten. This inspired her spin-off series Once Upon a Widow. In 2020, she will launch the Scottish Regency series A MacNaughton Castle Romance with Dragonblade Novels.

  Find Aubrey

  Website: aubreywynne.com

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  Twitter: @aubreywynne51

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  A Christmas Kiss for the Highlander

  Heart of a Scot Novella

  Collette Cameron®

  Sweet-to-Spicy Timeless Romance®

  For Skye, he’d walk through molten lava.

  His pride was as inconsequential as thistle down.

  Chapter One

  Eytone Hall, Scottish Highlands

  September 1720

  Cantering his horse up the well-maintained drive to Eytone Hall, Quinn felt the tension easing from his muscles. It had always been like this when he visited Liam MacKay, Baron Penderhaven, one of the few men he called a true friend. One of the very few people he trusted. The doors to Eytone Hall were open to him whenever he decided to drop in for an unannounced visit, and today would be no exception.

  He called no place home, preferring the freedom to come and go at will. But if he had, Eytone Hall came the closest. In fact, Liam’s mother, Lady Penderhaven, made certain his usual chamber was always prepared, his clothes inside the wardrobe, clean.

  “Thank ye.” Handing Benedict’s reins off to the liveried footman who’d hurried from the grand mansion to attend the gelding, Quinn skewed his mouth into a grin. It truly was good to be here.

  He untied his pack from the saddle while sending his gaze around the familiar courtyard and lands. Creamy, shorn sheep dotted one sloping hillside, and reddish-brown Highland cows milled about on another.

  Even he could admit there was something enjoyable about the familiarity and comfort of returning to a place where he’d known a degree of contentment and peace. Contentment? Peace? That was a stretch and neither were things he’d particularly coveted.

  Until recently.

  Nevertheless, if he didn’t relish his freedom so much, he might envy Liam MacKay. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he drew his mouth into a grim line. No, he didn’t. Liam had been through bloody hell these past few years.

  “Simmons.” He nodded to the austere butler poised beside the mansion’s double doors. “Ye’re lookin’ well.”

 
Simmons angled his hoary head. “As are ye, Mr. Catherwood.” He closed the doors then reached for Quinn’s satchel. “I’ll have yer bag delivered to yer usual chamber.”

  “Thank ye. Is Liam at home?” More than once, Quinn had arrived to find Liam absent, not that he wasn’t still made wholly welcome by Lady Penderhaven and her daughter, Kendra. He’d known that minx since she’d worn braids, and she was still inevitably embroiled in some sort of mischief or other.

  “Nae, he isna, though he is expected back any day.” He passed Quinn’s pack to the footman before angling toward the corridor. “Will ye join her ladyship for tea at half-past three?”

  Quinn would rather lick the marble floor than perch on a settee and exchange trivial comments, but he summoned a droll smile nevertheless. He was capable of acting the part of a gentleman. After all, he’d been raised as such even if he’d chosen to leave that life behind a decade ago.

  What time was it, anyway?

  His pocket watch had been rather smashed on his last mission, and he hadn’t replaced the timepiece yet. He didn’t relish cooling his heels in the salon for an hour or two, waiting for the lady of the house’s arrival when he could traipse about outside or enjoy a long relaxing soak in the tub while sipping a glass of Liam’s superior cognac.

  “Lead on, good fellow. I shall endeavor to appear civilized.” He clasped a palm to his chest. “I promise no’ to slurp my tea or chew with my mouth open.”

  He might talk with his mouth full though.

  One of Simmons’ wiry eyebrows shied upward the merest bit. Ah, that’s right. The butler didn’t possess a sense of humor.