Legacy of Love_Highland Hearts Afire
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Legacy of Love
A Highland Hearts Afire Novel
By
B.J. Scott
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, locations and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Any actual locations mentioned in this book are used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
All rights are retained by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The unauthorized reproduction, sharing, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Copyright 2017 by B.J. Scott
www.duncurra.com
Cover Design: Earthly Charms
ISBN-13: 978-1-942623-72-4
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
About B.J. Scott
More by B.J. Scott
About Duncurra
Other Scottish Romance from Duncurra LLC
Dedication
To my husband Steve. Your love, support, and encouragement have helped to make my writing dream a reality. To my wonderful street team, who always have my back and do their utmost to spread the word about my books. And to my friend Margaret Driesman, who knows what it means to face adversity and does so with the dignity, spirt, and hope of a true heroine.
Acknowledgements
In addition to my husband, friend, and my street team, I want to thank my family and friends for their support and encouragement.
A huge thank you goes out to Author and friend, Kathryn Lynn Davis, for sharing her writing expertise and helping to make my book the best it can be.
Thanks to Susan Cusack, Lily Baldwin, and the staff at Duncurra for all the hard work and dedication it takes to get books published.
And as always, a huge thank you to my readers. Without you, there would be no need for books.
Prologue
Scottish Highlands, Samhain Eve, 1305
Overpowered by a strong contraction, Lilith MacQuin clutched at her swollen belly with both hands before dropping to her knees. She sucked in a gulp of air, then exhaled slowly. As the birthing pains got closer together, she questioned the wisdom of her decision to leave her chamber, but concern for her unborn bairn prompted her to press onward. Only a little farther, she mentally reassured herself as she called upon the last dregs of her strength, rose to her feet, and stumbled down the forest path toward a small clearing.
Aware her husband would be furious if she did not give him the son he’d demanded, Lilith had sought the advice of the local seer prior to going into labor. A strong believer in destiny, Highland legends, myths, and superstation, she hoped the wise-woman—who was shunned by most of the clan—could answer her questions and put her mind at ease. Not only did the seer confirm her suspicion that the babe was a lass, but she also foretold of Lilith’s daughter’s abusive childhood at the hands of her father and violent death not long after she was forced to marry a tyrant she despised.
Determined to protect her child, Lilith asked if there was anything she could do to change her daughter’s destiny, but she found the answers most disturbing. It wasn’t until today, when the babe’s birth was imminent, that she saw no choice but to do as the seer had suggested. As instructed, Lilith went to the fairy ring in the forest and begged the fairy queen to raise her child and leave a changeling in her place.
“Are you na afraid to be alone in the forest on the eve of Samhain, m’lady? One never knows who...or what you might meet,” a woman asked in a low, gravelly voice.
With a shaky hand clutched to her throat, Lilith spun around, coming face-to-face with a woman who—given her hunched posture, weathered skin, sunken eyes, and distorted features—looked as ancient as time itself. “I have no choice,” she managed to reply, but failed to keep her voice from trembling.
“There is always a choice,” the hag said as she closed the gap between them.
With the next contraction, Lilith doubled over in agony. “That is why I am here,” she replied, then crumpled to the ground—the intensity of the pain making her wonder if God was punishing her for what she was about to do.
“Aye. And none too soon, by the look of things,” the woman said, and squatted beside her. She gently stroked Lilith’s shoulder, then pressed a hand to her belly. “Your time is near and your daughter is about to be born,” the woman said. “When did your birthing water break?”
“This morn when I awakened.” Gritting her teeth against the pain, Lilith peered into the woman’s dark eyes. “How do you know so much about me, and that the babe is a lass?”
The woman’s lips parted, revealing a toothless grin. “I am known as Beatha, and most call me a witch. I know many things, including that you visited the village seer a fortnight ago and asked for her help.”
“Then you also know that she told me my daughter was destined to a life of misery and would suffer an untimely death if I dinna do something to stop it, now.”
Beatha rocked back on her heels. “Aye. But you are aware what she proposed is na something you can change once you’ve made the decision to go through with it? If you do this, you will never see your babe again.”
Her mind racing with questions, and her heart aching at the thought of giving up her bairn, Lilith glared back at the woman. She’d heard tales of witches gathering to conduct pagan rituals each year on Samhain Eve in the forest behind her husband’s castle, but the priests forbade people from speaking about it—warning if they did, they’d be banned from their faith and condemned by the Almighty.
&nb
sp; The priest would never condone trading her babe to the fairies for a male changeling, but the seer told Lilith it was the only way to safeguard her daughter. Using the lad to fool her husband and raising him as her own was not something she wanted to do, but she saw no other alternative.
She bowed her head and twisted her hands in her lap. “The seer told me if I offered my daughter to the fairies, along with a bag of silver, they would see she was raised in a loving place where she would want for nothing, and live a long and happy life,” Lilith said.
“You must love your unborn bairn very much to consider giving her up, but a changeling is very different from a normal babe, and you’ll be inviting the unknown into your home.”
“How so?”
“To begin with, the fairies usually swap a changeling for a human bairn as a punishment, na a boon. The lad you raise and pass off as your son will be of fae blood, and there is no way of knowing if he will be evil,” Beatha cautioned. “The fae babe often behaves very differently, cries constantly and has a ravenous appetite, yet never seems satisfied. Also, most humans find their dark, harsh features most disturbing to look upon. They sometimes speak full sentences at birth, have a full set of teeth, and can summon other fairies at will. They can wreak havoc on a household, bring disease and bad fortune,” she continued. “Are you willing to risk that?”
“If it means saving my daughter, it is a risk I am willing to take.” Lilith groaned as another contraction racked her body, then waited for it to pass before she continued. “I ask that you leave me to do what I must and dinna speak of this to anyone.”
Beatha shook her head. “Nay. This is na something you can do on your own. If you’re determined to give up your daughter, I will assist with the birth, then see the babe is delivered to the fairy ring before midnight.” She held out her hand. “It is best you na be there when the exchange is made. Come. I have a croft in the woods.”
Doing her best to tamp down the sense of dread rising from the pit of her stomach, and battling the desire to change her mind and return to her husband’s castle, Lilith took Beatha’s hand. She had never given birth, nor had she assisted a midwife, so what happened next was a mystery to her. Allowing Beatha to help with the birth, then take the babe to the fairy ring might seem like a cowardly act, but it guaranteed she’d not alter her decision to do what was in her daughter’s best interest.
Following a grueling delivery that seemed to go on for hours, Lilith hovered on the edge of consciousness. She was exhausted and needed to sleep, but when she heard the baby’s cry, those thoughts vanished. Her heart leapt with joy and tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached for her daughter. “Please, I want to see her and hold her just once before you take her away.”
“Do you think it wise?” Beatha asked as she cradled the infant to her breast.
“Perhaps na. But if I dinna hold my daughter when I have the chance, I will never forgive myself.”
Beatha frowned and clucked her tongue. “It is too late to change your mind. I have already sent word to the fairy queen and she will have the changeling waiting when I arrive.”
“I willna change my mind. Please.” Lilith held out her arms, relieved when Beatha handed her the babe. Her heart racing, she peeled back the swaddling, counted the infant’s fingers and toes, then smiled at the small heart-shaped birthmark on her right thigh—exactly like the one Lilith had. She stroked the babe’s flaxen curls and stared at her dainty features, tiny nose, and rose colored lips. Her daughter was perfect in every way and her heart clenched at the thought of never seeing her wee one again.
“It is near midnight and I must go to the fairy ring,” Beatha said.
“I want to go with you.” When Lilith tried to sit up, her head began to swim.
“You are far too weak.” Beatha rested her hand on Lilith’s shoulder. “And as I mentioned, it is better if you dinna see the exchange take place.”
Lilith stared down at her beautiful daughter, then kissed her brow. “I love you more than life itself. That is why I must do this, Gweneth,” she muttered softly.
“Gweneth?” Beatha cocked a brow.
“It means blessed and I pray that my daughter will be,” she replied, then before handing the baby back to Beatha, she pinned a small emerald brooch to the blankets. “This was given to me by my mam. I hope it will protect you. And when you look at it, know how much you are loved.”
Beatha scooped up the babe and placed her in a small basket of woven rushes. “You said there was a bag of silver you promised in payment.” She held out her hand.
“Aye. I was told it would please the fairy queen and ensure my daughter’s safety.” Lilith handed the sack to Beatha.
Beatha took the bag of coin, placed it in the basket. “I will see that it accompanies the lass. The hour grows late and I must be away.”
Left alone with her grief, Lilith covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed until exhaustion took its toll and she fell asleep. But she awakened with a start a short time later, shocked to find a babe sucking at her breast. She drew back the cover, hoping Beatha had brought her daughter back, but gasped when a raven-haired babe with harsh angular features and dark eyes stared up at her. While he bore no similar features to her own, and would be considered a homely bairn by most, he did resemble Lilith’s husband. She glanced up at Beatha. “Does he have a name?”
“Damen.” Beatha took the babe as he began to fuss and cry and placed him in a wooden cradle beside the bed. “You must rest a while longer, then return to your castle and present your husband with his son. I have a gathering I must attend.”
Lilith nodded, but before Beatha left, she had to ask about her daughter. “Did all go well with the exchange? Is Gweneth safe?”
“Aye. The fairy queen was most pleased with the lass and promised to see your daughter was cared for. However, it is best you try to forget about the wee one. Now that she has crossed over, she canna return. Not unless—” Beatha stopped midsentence and turned away.
“Unless what?” Lilith clutched Beatha’s forearm. “Tell me. Please.”
“The only way she can ever return is if she steps inside the same fairy ring on Samhain Eve.” Beatha said. “But the chance of that happening is naught. Your daughter will live a long and happy life, but na here, perhaps na even in this time.”
Chapter One
Scottish Highlands, October 2017
Gwen Lindsay threw open the French doors and stepped onto the balcony of the hotel room, her gaze taking in the breathtaking view of heather-dotted meadows and the majestic mountains in the distance. A visit to the Scottish Highlands had topped her wish list since she was a child, and the sights, sounds, and smells were every bit as enchanting as she’d imagined. While she’d only been in the country a few days, she could swear she’d lived here her entire life, that this was where she belonged, that she was home.
Her parents were of Scottish ancestry, but both were born and raised in the USA. However, her grandmother, Flossie Lindsay, immigrated from a small village north of Inverness to Winchester Virginia when she was a teen, and made it her goal in life to familiarize Gwen with her Scottish roots.
Gwen loved the tales Flossie shared and often found herself daydreaming about mythical places, fairies, and the other fae creatures of which her grandmother spoke. Not to mention the recurrent dreams she’d had about medieval Scotland, and being rescued from a dungeon by a brave knight she was madly in love with. Flossie also insisted her granddaughter learn to speak Gaelic, and while she hadn’t spoken it in years, when the need arose, Gwen was surprised how much she remembered.
Thrilled to receive the trip to Scotland as a gift from her parents upon her graduation from law school, Gwen was pleased when her best friend, Beth Williams, agreed to accompany her—even if she did take forever to get dressed.
“Are you almost ready, Beth? It’s a glorious day, and we are only in Scotland for two weeks.” She chuckled to herself. “I swear you give credence to the claim that women take fo
rever to get ready and are always late.”
“Dinna fash, lass, we have lots of time,” Beth replied in an attempt to imitate a Scottish brogue. “I’ll be right oot.”
Gwen glanced at her watch, then blew out a sigh of frustration. Unlike Beth, she had never been one to wear a lot of make-up or to fuss for hours on her hair and attire—opting for the comfortable girl-next-door look. She caught her reflection in the glass of one of the balcony doors and combed her fingers through her mane of blond hair. A lack of suitors had never been a problem, but between school and her part-time job at Legal Aid, she didn’t have a lot of time to date. Besides, Dr. Kyle MacKay—her boyfriend for the last year—told her she was beautiful and that was all that mattered.
“Is that what you decided to wear?” Beth asked as she appeared in the doorway, dressed in a short, form-fitting, emerald green cocktail dress. She cocked her head to one side, then began clucking her tongue. “Honestly, hon, how do you expect to get guys to look at you if you dress like that?”
Gwen shrugged, smoothed her hands down the front of her jeans, then tugged at the hem of her ivory-colored, cowl-necked sweater. “I’m here to immerse myself in Scottish culture, not to meet men. Unlike what you’re wearing, this is the perfect outfit for a day of sightseeing and touring castle ruins.” Frowning, she pointed at Beth’s feet. “And I’d wager my hiking boots will prove to be a lot more practical than your heels. Besides, Kyle says he likes the way I dress.”
“Kyle’s so smitten by you, he’d say he loved you in a potato sack,” Beth said, laughing. “Speaking of which, did you return his phone call yet?” She disappeared into the hotel room and returned to the balcony a few minutes later with Gwen’s cell phone in hand. “Call him back and then we can leave.”
“With the five hour time difference between here and the US, it’s only four in the morning there,” Gwen pointed out. “I’m sure he’s still sound asleep and I don’t want to wake him. I’ll call him later.”