“Where is the rose?”
For the love of God, why was the silly rose so important? Alice stamped her foot. “You ask about a flower when our kin have broken the protection of parley?”
“Is it still alive?”
“Aye,” Quinn said, rising to his feet. “It grows more beautiful by the day.”
Gran hobbled forward and removed his bounds. “More beautiful than my granddaughter?”
Alice gripped the woman by the shoulder. “You are speaking nonsense.”
“I will answer.” Rubbing his wrists, Quinn took Alice by the hand. “Nothing of this earth can ever surpass the beauty of Miss Lamont. She is bonny within and without. She may not think she possesses magic, but she has bewitched my heart and it belongs to this woman and only this woman.”
To the sound of her grandmother’s gasp, tingles spread throughout Alice’s entire body as she stared into the kindest, most loving eyes she’d ever beheld. “Truly?”
Quinn squeezed her hands. “Truly.”
Gran’s sigh echoed between the walls. “The rose blooms to turn enemies…”
“Into lovers,” Quinn finished. He grinned as wide as the sea. “I do not believe in the power of the rose, but I do believe in this woman standing before me.”
“In the name of the Earl of Argyll, throw down your arms!” a shout bellowed from the wall-walk.
At least a hundred Campbell men stood elbow to elbow, ready for battle.
Boom!
A cannon fired. The entire castle shook.
“Stand down!” Quinn ordered. “I have committed to a peaceable resolution.”
“Without consulting me first?” Archibald Campbell sauntered into the courtyard, wearing a courtier’s periwig and a bold plaid. “You might be my first-born son, Lord Quinn, but I am still earl.”
“You are, but there are circumstances to which you should be aware.”
“Oh? Pray tell afore I order the execution of these miscreants.”
“I have a question to ask first.” Keeping one of her hands between his palms, Quinn kneeled. She started to pull him to his feet, but stopped when he grinned. “Alice MacDonald Lamont, you have brought me back from the brink of death. You have shown me kindness when you had every right to hate. Before God and our clans, I ask you. I beg you. To be my wife.”
Gasping, a myriad of emotions swelled in her breast—bewilderment, a wee bit of fear, surprise and finally joy. Suddenly it all made sense, Gran’s rose, sending her to him in the dead of night, and helping them escape at the fête. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she smiled and nodded. “’Tis right for us to marry.” And by the warmth spreading through her entire body, she knew for her entire life she had been fated to marry this man.
Standing, Quinn faced his father. “I have chosen my bride, the future Countess of Argyll.”
The earl clutched his hand atop his chest, looking as if he’d taken an arrow to the heart. “A Lamont?”
Quinn tightened his grip on her hand. “My Grandfather—your father wronged these people. All they want is to return to their rightful lands.”
“My lands.” Argyll pointed his finger. “You cannot give away that which is not yours.”
“Perhaps, but the only wedding gift I ask for is the lands of Dunoon. If you grant me this one thing, I will see to it the fishing industry is restored and the crofts pay our coffers tenfold what they earn now.”
By the narrowing of his eyes, the earl was actually considering Quinn’s proposal. “And how do you propose to guarantee this turn of fortune?”
“If I do not return these profits within five-year’s time, I forfeit my title, but Dunoon will remain in the hands of the Lamont clan.”
“Hmm.” The earl paced for a moment before he met his son’s gaze. “This is not the alliance I would have wished for you to make, but given you are willing to put so much on the line, I agree to your terms.”
As shouts of joy rang around the courtyard, Alice pulled Quinn into an alcove. “Are you certain about this?”
“I am.”
“But we barely know each other.”
“Does it matter?”
“Did you propose merely to avoid bloodshed?”
“That was a secondary reason. And I ken my father. He would fight to the death to keep Dunoon in the family. Our marriage serves two purposes.”
“To unite Lamont and Campbell forever.”
“Aye, but there is something more important.”
Alice’s tingles returned tenfold as she smiled, encouraging him to continue.
“I’m in love with you.”
“Truly?”
Quinn cupped her cheeks and kissed her mouth like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. “I meant every word I said. I love you and I want you to be mine with every fiber of my being.”
Sliding her fingers to his waist, Alice drank him in, reading the love in his eyes. And in that moment, she knew she would never want to be parted from this braw Highlander in all her days. “I love you, too.” Throwing her head back, she laughed. “How did it happen so quickly?”
He surrounded her in a heavenly embrace that filled her with warmth. “I think it may have had to do with a damask rose and something about wisdom and the reversal of a curse.”
“Nay, ’twas no curse that came between our kin. ’Twas the hate between two men who took a clan feud too far.”
“And together we will mend our differences and our children will grow stronger, their hearts beating with the blood of Campbell and Lamont.” Quinn tilted her head back, his dark eyelashes lowering as he captured her mouth in a slow, claiming kiss. A kiss powerful enough to douse the fires of hell. A kiss that would end hatred in their corner of the Highlands once and for all.
About Amy Jarecki
Award winning and Amazon All-Star author, Amy Jarecki likes to grab life, latch on, and reach for the stars. She’s married to a mountain-biking pharmacist and has put four kids through college. She studies karate, ballet, yoga, and often you’ll find her hiking Utah’s Santa Clara Hills. Reinventing herself a number of times, Amy sang and danced with the Follies, was a ballet dancer, a plant manager, and an accountant for Arnott’s Biscuits in Australia. After earning her MBA from Heroit-Watt University in Scotland, she dove into the world of Scottish historical romance and hasn’t returned. Become a part of her world and learn more about Amy’s books on amyjarecki.com.
Social Media Links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/amyjarecki/
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Other Books by Amy Jarecki:
Highland Defender & Lords of the Highlands
The Highland Duke
The Highland Commander
The Highland Guardian
The Highland Chieftain
The Highland Renegade
***
The Fearless Highlander
The Valiant Highlander
The Highlander’s Iron Will (a Novella)
Guardian of Scotland Series:
Rise of a Legend
In the Kingdom’s Name
The Time Traveler’s Christmas
Highland Dynasty Series:
Knight in Highland Armor
A Highland Knight’s Desire
A Highland Knight to Remember
Highland Knight of Rapture
Highland Force Series:
Captured by the Pirate Laird
The Highland Henchman
Beauty and the Barbarian
Return of the Highland Laird
And look for the Devilish Dukes Series:
Prelude: The Duke’s Fallen Angel
Christmas in Camelot
Brenda Jernigan
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2004 by Brenda K. Jernigan
Copyright 2016 by
Brenda Jernigan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
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Cover by Kim Killion
Created with Vellum
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my husband, Scott.
to all the Christmases past,
to the Christmas present,
to all the Christmases to come.
I love you.
PRAISE FOR CHRISTMAS IN CAMELOT
Praise for Brenda Jernigan
“Brenda Jernigan’s warmhearted CHRISTMAS IN CAMELOT, involving an unconventional Christmas gift and an unusual wager, contains equal parts, romance, adventure and holiday magic.”
~ Publisher’s Weekly
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"A talented writer ... her characters are interesting, her plot action-packed, and her love story filled with conflict and emotion."
~ Rendezvous Magazine
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"A Rising Star!" ~ Romantic Times Magazine
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"Blending adventure with fairytale magic, Jernigan crafts page-turners." ~ Rashmi Srinivas - Road to Romance.
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"Jernigan deftly weaves magic, suspense, and romance ... what more could a reader want?" ~ Huntress Book Reviews
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Praise for Christmas in Camelot
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"Ms. Jernigan writes with a true flair. This will be a welcome addition to your Christmas romance treasury."
~ Debbie Kepler - A Romance Review
"This engaging story will tempt you away from Christmas shopping and give you a few hours of pleasure and joy."
~ Kathe Robin - Romantic Times Magazine
"Brenda Jernigan does what no other author has accomplished yet: create a special place of honor for you at fabled Camelot’s Christmas holiday celebration. It’s a fresh change of pace and picked number 1 in my book."~ Julie Sturgeon - Pages Magazine
"WOW! I have always loved the tales of magical Camelot . . . and they are all here! I loved it." ~ Detra Fitch - Huntress Book Review
BLURB
Caught
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Nicholas’s arms went around Noelle. He was going to end this attraction he felt for her once he gave her a thorough kiss. Her arms slid around his neck, and he shook with a raw need that shot through him like a lance.
When he pressed his mouth against her lips, she parted them slightly and let him delve into the sweetness of her mouth.
* * *
God, she was pleasing. She responded to his touch, and when she molded her body to his, he thought that what little reason he held on to had surely deserted him.
Where was the strong discipline that Sir Nicholas prided himself in?
Evidently, he’d left it on the battlefield.
Good thing she wasn’t the enemy. Or was she?
PROLOGUE
The Great Hall of Camelot stood silent.
The two men watched each other warily.
They waited.
Who would be the first to speak?
Both were Pendragons ... a stubborn lot.
“Do you know why I have summoned you?” King Arthur finally asked as he leaned on the arm of his chair, gazing evenly at the only knight present at the Round Table.
“Aye, sire,” Sir Nicholas the Dragon, and cousin to the king, replied, neither flinching nor casting his gaze away from Arthur. Nicholas was, however, thankful that his king had chosen a private audience to discuss these matters.
“It is a difficult decision I have to make,” the king said, waiting for Nicholas to explain his actions.
Nicholas was in no mood for any of this. He did not make a habit of explaining himself, but since it was the king who’d asked, it was probably prudent that he answer him.
Stalling for time, Nicholas glanced at the beautiful wooden table which had been a gift to Arthur from Lady Guinevere. Letters of gold marked the place of each knight, with Nicholas’s seat directly across the table from the king. No knight could claim himself to be better than another, for there was no “high” or “low” table, simply the Table Round, where all men were equal.
Of course, King Arthur’s seat was a bit higher, which wasn’t really necessary, for none of his knights doubted that Arthur was in charge. All had sworn loyalty to their king, which brought Nicholas to the problem at hand.
He turned a baleful eye on the king and finally asked the words Arthur had waited patiently for. “Would you care to hear the truth, sire?”
Arthur nodded slowly. “Aye.”
“I have never pretended to be other than I am with the Lady Clarisse. She knew from the start that it was not marriage I would be offering, merely a liaison for a while. Nothing more.”
“What is this nonchalance that you have for women?” Arthur asked. “Do you think they are mere amusements?”
“There have always been damsels, sire. Everywhere. I have many times climbed into bed at night to find I was not alone. I did not bid them come. So why should they be treated as special?”
“I see,” Arthur said. “As to Lady Clarisse . . .” Arthur paused as a serving maid, Matilda, appeared to refill his gold chalice, clumsily spilling the red liquid on the Siege Perilous seat. “God’s teeth, will you ever learn to hit the goblet and not the chair?”
“Sorry, sire. My vision, you see, is not what it used to be,” she explained, paying absolutely no attention to Arthur’s reprimand. She moved over to Nicholas and filled his chalice, giving him a brilliant smile. Matilda had been at the castle so long that she had grown bold in her old age, and she more or less ran the household. She was truly Arthur’s favorite and, for that reason, he put up with her insolence.
She looked at Arthur. “Would you desire anything else, sire?”
“That will be all, Matilda.” Arthur smiled fondly as she shuffled from the room, then he turned back to Nicholas. His smile instantly faded. “As I was saying, Lady Clarisse claims she is ruined.”
“I can truly say that I have never ruined any woman, including Clarisse. I was not her first and will surely not be the last.” Nicholas paused and then decided a bit more was needed. “At the moment, I have no desire to marry. When I do, it will be to someone of my own choosing.
“I saw with my own eyes how my mother destroyed my father and drove him to his death. I want none of that.” Nicholas paused, taking a swallow of wine to wipe the bitter taste from his mouth. “I am not certain that the woman for me exists. You are fortunate to have Guinevere, sire.”
“Aye. My queen is a rare gem indeed,” Arthur said with a smile. “But I felt the same as you not so long ago,” he confessed as he watched his favorite knight. Nicholas was favored not because they were cousins, but because he had saved Arthur’s life twice in battle, earning his place at the Round Table in spite of his inauspicious beginnings.
Nicholas lost his birthright when his mother burned their castle to the ground. She perished in the fire, leaving Nicholas to fend for himself at ten. How the boy had survived, Arthur didn’t know. Maybe Nicholas’s ability to feel nothing had allowed him to persevere.
Since Sir Nicholas had stormed into the king’s life, proving his bravery over and over again, Arthur had had little peace. An aura of excitement surrounded the knight wherever he went. Nicholas feared nothing, so it seemed except love. He had broken at least five hearts that Arthur knew about and probably countless others.
King Arthur finished his wine before he spoke. “I want
you to take your men and pay a visit to the King of Ireland. There are heathens there who do not support us. They must be convinced otherwise.” Arthur paused noting the excitement and anticipation in Nicholas’s eyes.
It was apparent that Nicholas looked forward to the challenge, so the task was little punishment. A bit more was needed Arthur thought.
“I also want your promise that you will not look at another woman for three months. I will relieve you of your promise on December first.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed and his brow wrinkled; then he said, “It is a bit harsh, sire.”
“You said yourself that women meant little to you. I conclude, then, that you will not miss them. Perhaps they will mean more after you have done without a fair lady for a while. I wager you will have a different opinion upon your return.”
“And what would you like to wager?” Nicholas challenged with a sly smile.
Arthur thought for a moment. “How about the two white warhorses you have been wanting?”
Nicholas nodded. “Agreed. And if I lose?”
“I want two of your black ones.”
Nicholas rose to his feet with a triumphant smile. “As you know, sire, I never lose.” He gave his I-am-already-the-victor smile, then picked up his chalice and raised it in a toast. “To God and King,” Nicholas said, then drained the wine from his cup and left the room.
Arthur stared at the door long after it shut. Would Nicholas ever find the peace he sought? He was a man who feared nothing, a man who served Arthur faithfully, but cared not for his own welfare. Arthur hoped that one day Nicholas would find a woman he desired above all others. However, if the conquest were easy, he would tire and turn from her.
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