“Whether it was or wasn’t, it’s done now and we’ll need to find another way to ally with the MacNicols. I think I must consider Bhaltair’s daughter for Boyd, and the sooner the better. We need to get that sorted while they are young—before either of them gets any foolish notions about love in their heads.”
Bram just shook his head at his father’s utter dismissal of the emotion. Bram had understood from an early age that he would marry a woman of his father’s choosing, a woman who strengthened clan ties. He hadn’t thought much about love and perhaps had discounted its importance as thoroughly as his father had. That was until he saw Fiona and Eoin together. He didn’t want to admit it, but he envied them.
His father must have taken his silence for agreement, because he continued, “Aye, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced. I will take care of it as soon as Laird MacNicol has recovered. And we will find a bonny bride for ye too, Bram. That young Anna MacKay is quite a pretty thing, even if she is a bit too bold for her own good.”
“A bit too bold? That is an understatement. Whoever marries her will have his hands full. I’m not sure I’m up to the task. Besides, she is very young.”
“Seventeen is not that young. But there is also Annice…”
“Nay, Da, please, can’t this wait? I don’t wish to discuss another betrothal at the moment and I need to see to Goliath.”
“Fine, we won’t discuss it now. It can wait…a few days. Don’t dwell on this, Bram.”
“Aye, Da.”
His father turned towards the keep, calling as he went, “Don’t be all night. Yer mother will want to hear every detail of what happened and I don’t have the patience.”
By all the saints, Bram loved his mother but he didn’t have the patience for an inquisition tonight either. Bram led Goliath into the stable, removed his tack, rubbed him down, and fed him an extra portion of oats. When he had finished, he was still not anxious to face the crowd certain to have formed in the great hall. He could avoid it by going straight to the kitchen. Innes would give him food and ale and he could slip up the backstairs, avoiding the great hall altogether tonight. He actually might be able to get through this day without having to rehash everything yet again.
Bram walked from the stables through the outer bailey heading to the rear entrance to the inner bailey, near the kitchens. As he passed one of the small dwellings located within the outer bailey, a woman’s voice, perhaps the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, drifted towards him on the breeze. He stopped to listen. The tune was unfamiliar and he couldn’t quite catch the words, but it was delightful.
He followed the enchanting melody, drawing close enough to the source to understand the lyrics.
Hush my sweetling, hushaby,
The sun sets slowly in the sky,
Tis time to sleep for evening’s nigh,
Hush my sweetling, hushaby.
Hush my sweetling, little dove,
Mama’s heart is filled with love,
Papa watches from above,
Hush my sweetling, little dove.
They were the nonsense words mothers crooned to bairns, but he was entranced by the soft, sweet voice of what could only be an angel. He stopped in front of the tiny cottage to listen.
Hush my sweetling, little sprite,
Too soon ye’ll wake to morning bright,
So sleep now through the still dark night,
Hush my sweetling, little sprite.
The woman stopped singing words but continued to hum her lullaby until finally her voice faded away altogether. Bram was so captivated by the music it took him a moment to realize it had emanated from Innes’ cottage. However, it certainly was not Innes singing. She would be in the kitchen or the keep now, overseeing the evening meal. Who was it then?
As if in answer to his unspoken question, a young woman he had never seen before stepped out of the cottage. She was perfectly lovely. Her face was delicately beautiful; as angelic as her voice. Rich auburn hair spilled from under a white kertch in soft curls that reached well past the middle of her back. Tall for a woman, she had full breasts and her belt cinched a narrow waist. She stretched and rolled her shoulders, her movements graceful and oddly enticing. Bram felt a twinge of disappointment when his brain registered the kertch. She was married. Of course she was—she had been crooning a lullaby to a child.
When she cast a glance his direction, she gasped and stumbled backwards, feeling blindly for the door latch. “I didn’t see ye there. Ye startled me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to.” Why was he apologizing to her? He had committed no offense. He took a step towards her.
She went from frightened to ferocious in a matter of seconds. “Stay back. What are ye doin’ here anyway? Who are ye?” she demanded.
Who did she think she was? She was certainly in no position to demand anything from him. “I think, lass, it is ye who needs to start explaining. Who are ye and why were ye in Innes’ cottage?”
“Innes is my grandmother, she asked us to stay with her.”
“Yer grandmother? Innes has no children. I won’t tolerate liars, no matter how lovely they are. Who are ye? I want the truth and I won’t ask again.”
She scowled, affronted. “I am not a liar. I told ye, Innes is my grandmother and she did have a child, a son named Tristan. I am his daughter, Grace Breive.”
Tristan, aye, he had a vague memory of that. “I stand corrected. She had a son. But Tristan died years ago.”
“Nay, Tristan disappeared years ago. He didn’t die.”
“And ye are his daughter, Innes’ long-lost granddaughter. How sweet. And unlikely. What game is this? Innes is important to Clan Sutherland. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of her, playing on her feelings.”
“I am not playing on her feelings. I am her granddaughter and have proven that to her. But it’s a long story and I don’t see how any of this concerns ye.”
“It concerns me, Grace, because everything at Sutherland concerns me. I am Bram Sutherland, Laird Sutherland’s heir.”
Grace became immediately contrite. “I’m sorry, sir. I meant no offense. But, I have told ye the truth.”
“The babe ye were singing to is yers?”
“Aye, I have a young daughter. I should go back inside. I just stepped out for a bit of air. The rain kept us indoors all day.” Again, her hand groped behind her, searching for the door latch.
“This isn’t over, Grace Breive. If ye and yer husband want to live at Sutherland, ye will need permission from the laird, whether ye are Innes’ granddaughter or no. And I hope ye do have proof of who ye are. I won’t allow ye to hurt Innes in any way and giving her false hope about a long lost son would kill her.” He took a step towards her, reaching past to lift the latch, which so far had eluded her hand. “Goodnight, Mistress Breive.”
He was surprised by the expression on her face. It wasn’t anger or fear of discovery. The green depths of her eyes were guileless and she appeared…was it grateful?
“Goodnight laird—I mean Bram—I mean sir. Goodnight.” She backed through the door and closed it.
He stood there for a moment, trying to sort out his thoughts about this newest addition to the clan. It all seemed odd. He would speak with Da about this…but not tonight. He resumed his walk, entering into the inner bailey. He had almost reached the kitchens when his brother Ian called to him. “Bram, there ye are. Da sent someone to fetch ye from the stables, but I figured ye were avoiding dinner in the hall and I’d find ye in the kitchens.”
Ian was two years younger than Bram. For brothers, they looked nothing alike. Both were tall, but Bram had fair hair and blue eyes like their mother and Ian had dark hair and brown eyes like their father. Their temperaments were vastly different as well. Although Bram smiled easily, he tended to be quiet and often serious. Like Laird Sutherland, he revealed very little of what he was thinking, sometimes appearing aloof. Even so, most of their clansmen considered him level-headed and fair. They believed he
would make a good leader when his time came. Ian, too, was quick with a smile but that was where the similarities ended. He enjoyed a good time, and seemingly took very little seriously. However, Ian was acutely observant and absolutely forthright. Most people knew exactly where he stood on any issue. As different as they were, Ian was truly his best friend. “Aye Ian, ye know me well. Do me a kindness and tell Da ye didn’t find me.”
“Ah, well now brother, I could tell Da ye weren’t in the kitchens, because ye weren’t. But Mother is anxious to see ye too and ye and she can see right through any guile.”
Bram sighed heavily. “I suppose it was vain hope to think I could avoid this.” Bran fell in step by his brother as they walked to the keep.
“Aye, it was. Ye know how excited mother was to finally have a daughter, or at least a daughter-to-be. Da would only say that ye were the one who chose to release the MacNicol lass from the betrothal. When Mam kept asking questions he roared for someone to fetch ye from the stable and then he stomped off to his solar with a jug of whiskey under one arm.”
“Damn, I wanted to talk to him about Innes.”
“Ye heard about her long-lost granddaughter?”
“I just met her. Ye knew about her?”
“Aye, she arrived the day ye and Da left for Naomh-dùn. She seems nice enough. Innes adores her.”
“I wish we knew more about her. It is hard to believe their story and yet I don’t see what they have to gain by lying.”
“Innes is certain the lass is her granddaughter. She had a brooch that belonged to Tristan.”
“What about her husband? Have ye met him? What is he like?”
“She has no husband. She’s a widow. She arrived with just her daughter, a few days ago. It was the day ye and Da left.”
“A widow? She is an awfully young widow.”
“Bram, let this go for now. Innes is thrilled. Tomorrow will be soon enough to sort out Innes’ granddaughter. Besides, it will likely take ye all evening to answer to mother’s questions.”
“I suppose ye are right. Well then, let the interrogation begin,” said Bram as they entered the keep.
~ * ~
Grace leaned against the door, listening for Bram Sutherland’s retreating footsteps. For much too long a moment, she heard nothing. Then, finally, the crunch of the gravel told her he was leaving.
So that was Bram Sutherland. How could ye have been so rude and stupid, Grace? Her initial shock at finding a man standing outside the cottage had quickly shifted to fear. She supposed that feeling threatened, her protective instincts had kicked in and she had gone on the offensive to keep Kristen safe. Perhaps that is also why she didn’t correct him when he assumed her husband was with her. Still, he would find out soon enough.
She had to admire how he wished to protect her grandmother though. But the idea that he thought he would have to protect Innes from Grace was worrisome. Now Grace feared she had only made it worse. She sat down and put her head in her hands as she realized she had just stirred the ire of another laird’s son.
Highland Echoes is available as an e-book, audio book and paperback.
Highland Angels - Excerpt
Eoin MacKay’s younger sister Anna’s story continues in the third book
in the Fated Heart series
Northern Highlands, Late February 1342
Anna MacKay knelt with the child at the loch’s edge, looking up at the MacLeod warriors who surrounded her. Numb with cold from the icy loch water soaking her wool chemise, she was painfully aware she had made a terrible mistake. After fighting with her brother, at the midday meal she was angry and just wanted solitude. Eoin never allowed her to ride alone but as long as she was on foot and didn’t go too far, her brother assumed she was safe.
She had walked westward out of the village surrounding the MacKay stronghold, Naomh-dùn , then turned north once she reached the top of the bluff rising out of the east side of Loch Islich. She should not have walked that direction because it took her very close to the disputed MacLeod border. Her brother would be furious when he found out but she had wanted him to be as angry as she was. It would serve him right. She also wanted to be alone and no one would follow her onto the windy bluff on this bitter cold day. She didn’t intend to actually enter the disputed land by the strait where Loch Islich and Loch Uarach joined together, but that was before she saw the wee lad.
Lost in her thoughts, she had walked along the bluff until it began to slope more gently towards the northern tip of Loch Islich and the strait. Aware that she had come much farther than she intended, she started to turn towards home when the bright colors of his plaid caught her eye. He seemed to be alone walking on the thick ice covering the strait. He wielded a wooden sword as he pretended to do battle with an invisible enemy. She was momentarily amused by his antics but became worried as he moved off of the thick ice covering the strait and farther onto the deep loch where the ice thinned dangerously. Anna had yelled at him to go back, but he didn’t seem to hear. There was nothing else to do, she lifted her skirt and ran headlong towards him, down the slope to the loch’s edge, straight into the disputed territory. Trying to get his attention, she waved her free hand and continued to yell.
She was too late. As he lunged forward, thrusting his sword into his invisible prey, the ice gave way. He plunged into the loch screaming and flailing just as she reached the shore. She ran out onto the solid ice as far as she dared. Knowing she would need something dry to wrap him in, she pulled off her mantle and plaid, hurling them backwards onto the solid ice. She threw herself onto the ice on her stomach, distributing her weight over as wide an area as possible before she slid to the broken edge. While her body weight pushed the sheet of ice under the surface of the water soaking her, it didn’t completely give way. She was able to stretch far enough to grab the back of his tunic just as he slipped under the surface. Staying as flat as she could, she pushed backward, dragging him with her onto the ice, the edges breaking away as she moved.
Finally reaching ice thick enough to hold their weight, she scooped him up, grabbed her dry clothes and carried him the nearest shore. They were on the eastern bank of Loch Islich, in MacKay territory. She whispered a prayer of thanks. The child was unconscious and blue with cold, but still breathing. Vaguely aware of the sound of horses approaching, she quickly pulled his wet clothes off, wrapping him in her dry plaid and mantle. She rubbed his limbs gently through the cloth trying to warm him. His eyes blinked open and his little body began to shiver violently.
She smiled at him. “You’ll be all right now little one.” Looking up, she saw the source of the pounding hooves, men on horseback thundered down the western side of the strait. In an instant a tall, broad shouldered warrior with golden hair, a closely trimmed beard and angry crystal blue eyes was off his horse and had crossed the strait. Several of the others were not far behind him. The angry warrior pulled the child from her arms. These were clearly MacLeods, the clan with whom the MacKays had feuded for years and this was exactly why she wasn’t supposed to have walked northward. In a moment of terror-filled realization, it was abundantly clear—she stared trouble squarely in the face.
Highland Angels is available as an e-book and will be available as an audio book and paperback soon.
Other titles published by Duncurra LLC
Lily Baldwin
Jack: A Scottish Outlaw
Freedom is not won…it is stolen
Jack MacVie and his brother are thieves, robbing English nobles on the road north into Scotland. They’re about to attack the Redesdale carriage when another band of villains, after more than Lady Redesdale’s coin, sweeps down and steals their prize. Despite his hatred for the English, Jack’s conscience forces him to kidnap the lady to save her life.
In the aftermath of the Berwick massacre, Lady Isabella Redesdale’s world is shattered. Her mother is dead, her father lost to grief, and she’s risking it all, journeying north into war-torn Scotland to be with her sister.
Altho
ugh they come from different worlds, Jack and Isabella are more alike than they first realize. They both crave freedom from war and despair, but in a world where kings reign and birth dictates one’s station, freedom is not won, it is stolen.
Quinn: A Scottish Outlaw
He is an outlaw…And the only man she can trust.
Quinn MacVie is in pursuit of a prize, but it is unlike any plunder he has stolen before. He seeks neither gold nor jewels, but something infinitely more valuable—Lady Catarina Ravensworth. Sent by the lady’s sister, who fears Catarina is in danger, Quinn’s mission is to steal the lady away from Ravensworth castle. But nothing there is as Quinn expected.
Lady Catarina has been accused of a horrific crime and is forced to run or face a fate worse than death.
But she is not alone.
Thief and Scottish rebel, Quinn MacVie, is at her side. With a price on her head, they must disappear into the wilds of the Scottish Highlands where the only thing greater than the danger following at their heels is the desire burning in their hearts.
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.
MJ Platt
Somewhere Montana
The Midwife: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 27
