Once Upon a Highland Christmas
A Highland Warriors Novella
Sue-Ellen Welfonder
USA Today Bestselling Author
Contents
Blurb
Praise for Once Upon a Highland Christmas
Praise for Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Mini-excerpt
Acknowledgments
A Personal Note to Readers
Quote
The Last Yuletide
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Sneak Peek - Sins of a Highland Devil
Chapter 1
About the Author
Connect with Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Also by Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Copyright 2012 by Sue-Ellen Welfonder
E-book Edition Copyright 2019 by Sue-Ellen Welfonder
www.welfonder.com
Cover Design by JennJ Designs
www.jennjdesigns.com
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Blurb
Once Upon a Highland Christmas
Highland Warriors Holiday Novella
In a Magical Season…
Irish lass Breena O’ Doherty has lost everything. Now her only wish for Christmas is to brighten the holidays at her new Highland home, Duncreag Castle, where the laird is determined not to celebrate. Hoping to bring joy to the clan she’s come to love, she’s stunned to see her efforts thwarted by the rugged Highlander who secretly holds her heart.
Love is the Greatest Gift of All...
Highland Warrior Grim Mackintosh, Duncreag’s captain of the guard, knows he isn’t a man to stir female hearts. But he’s stunned when Breena believes he’s been stealing her festive decorations. Having admired her from afar, he seizes an unexpected chance to kiss her beneath the mistletoe. His boldness spurs a quest to bring Yuletide cheer to Duncreag. Together, Grim and Breena travel across the snow-clad hills where passion soon blazes between them. But more than holiday magic is afoot in the wintry Highlands. Can their love survive a shocking threat from the past? Or will the wonder of the season give them the happily-ever-after they deserve?
Praise for Once Upon a Highland Christmas
Night Owl TOP PICK Review
5 Stars
“If you like Christmas full of romance and sexy Highlanders, Once Upon a Highland Christmas will be the read for you. Welfonder makes it seem as if you were there. Quick, fast-paced, and magical.” ~ Night Owl Reviews
“A wonderful story smack full of Yuletide feeling. I loved visiting with old friends whom I’ve missed and was thrilled to see love abounding everywhere including places that it’s been a long time coming! Grim is special to me. I was thrilled to see him find his Happily Ever After and wouldn’t be surprised if I ever found myself out in the mist one day squinting my eyes and seeing him through the thin barrier between here and there.” ~ Bookworm to Bookworm
“Written with Welfonder’s usual finesse and love of Scottish lore, and history, Once Upon a Highland Christmas is an exciting, fast-paced read with passion, the meaning of true friendship, the Christmas spirit and love.” ~ My Book Addiction and More
“If you want to be in a Christmas mood, just let yourself get pulled into this heartwarming and captivating Scottish story. Beautiful sensual chemistry, tenderness and passion - I could feel the surroundings. Magical!” ~ Goodreads
Praise for Sue-Ellen Welfonder
“With each book Welfonder reinforces her well-deserved reputation as one of the finest writers of Scottish romance.” ~ RT Book Reviews
“As always, Sue-Ellen has taken me into another time and place and set me firmly down. You just cannot go wrong when you pick up one of her stories!” ~ Bookworm to Bookworm
“Welfonder takes the reader away from the mundane and gives her an emotional journey that floods the senses and makes the heart pound.” ~ Long and Short Reviews
“Welfonder weaves ancient histories, legends, and fascinating lore into sensual Highlander romance.” ~ Writers and Readers
“Welfonder’s love of Scotland shines on every page.” ~ Romantic Times
“Welfonder writes great tales of passion and adventure.” ~ Romance Reviews Magazine
“Welfonder knows all the best ingredients for the perfect Highland romance.” ~ A Romance Review
“Sue-Ellen Welfonder books are like good friends...you’ll laugh with them, cry with them, dream with them and keep them with you always!” ~ Amazon
Mini-excerpt
A Warrior’s Strength…
He held his hand out to her, his steady gaze commanding. “Come here, lass.”
Breena didn’t move. She was sure he must hear the thundering of her heart. It roared in her ears, wild and dangerous.
“Tell me, lass…” He stepped closer, his arm still outstretched. “Garrison men sometimes wag their tongues more than old women. Have you been listening to tales about me?”
“No…” She stared at his hand. Like the rest of him, it was large and strong-looking. Faint scars criss-crossed the skin, testament to his warrior background. His fingers were long and well-made, and they bore calluses, showing he trained hard and wasn’t a man to shun work. Breena was sure she’d never seen a more perfect hand. Or a man she could love more deeply.
She hoped she didn’t already do so.
She feared she did.
Dedication
With all my heart for Leah Weller, dear and long-time friend, fellow nature girl, champion of needy animals, old soul, and lover of all things medieval and Scottish. Leah and I go way back, right to Devil in a Kilt days. She’s shared my path since then. In truth, we’ve walked tandem even before that and surely will again, someday.
For very special reasons, this story simply had to be hers. She knows why. Merry Christmas, Lady Leah. With Highland love from Grim.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to give special thanks to my long-time friend and first critique partner Brenda Jernigan. She’s also the most Christmas-loving soul I know, so a nod in this story is appropriate. She makes the holiday so magical I’d dare even the hardest hearts not to melt (and feel like Santa-believing children) in her company. And no one decorates more beautifully – her Christmas trees are works of art. Her giving spirit is evident all year and I am thanking her here for the beautiful formatting she does for my books. Thanks, too, for all the times we laugh about Kathy’s favorite dinner – you have no idea how those chuckles brighten my days. Merry Christmas, old friend.
As always, for my very handsome husband, Manfred, who is all my heroes rolled into one and then some. I do not want to know where I’d be without him.
And in memory of my precious Jack Russell terrier, Em, who accompanied me through so many of the books I’ve written. He was the love of my life and the
best Christmas present I ever received. I hope he knows how much I loved him – and always will. Em’s best buddy Snuggles is at my side now. Once a feral kitten but now a much-loved, indoor-only cat, he’s also my writer’s muse, 00Snugs Super Spy Kitty, and the Ruler of my World. I am so blessed to have him.
A Personal Note to Readers
Please note this is a work of fiction and not meant to reflect cold, hard reality. The following pages contain elements of fantasy such as Yuletide legend and lore, a touch of magic, men who honor the old ways, etc. A suspension of belief is therefore required. As this is a romance novel, there is also lust and explicit sex. As a romance novel written by me, it does not contain the F-word or other profanity. It does include rugged Highland warriors, bold lasses, snow and starry skies, plus all the wonder of Yule in medieval Scotland. Some places are written as enchanted, locations where magic dwells. Above all, this story is filled with hope, love, and the miracle of Christmas. The real world won’t be found in this story’s pages, only a reflection of how I wish the world could be. I hope you’ll enjoy spending time there.
Wishing you Highland magic,
Sue-Ellen Welfonder
(aka Allie Mackay)
Quote
“Little holds more magic than the glitter of stars … except, of course, a heart that beats true.” ~ Breena O’Doherty, Irish lass, lover of frosty night skies, forever grateful to grumpy old lairds and mistletoe
The Last Yuletide
In the hills and glens of Scotland’s most rugged bounds, the clans brightened winter darkness with blazing log fires, well-flaming torches, and the golden glow of fine wax candles. Proud Highlanders would tell you that this was the most glorious corner of the world and that fierce, wild weather only made it better. To be sure, they knew how to live with the cold, and how to make merry.
Christmas was a joyous occasion.
The frosty nights provided a reason for kith and kin to gather in crowded great halls where festive lights and noisy revels welcomed one and all. Honeyed mead and hot spiced ale warmed gullets and spirits alike. And the feasting was a sight to behold, each holly-draped table decked with scrumptious fare, every delicacy imaginable.
Times were good and folk made merry.
Pipe and fiddle music filled halls lavishly decorated with evergreen. In some castles, lovely ladies strummed harps. Everywhere in these rugged bounds, men and women danced and sang beneath boughs of ivy and mistletoe. And always, bards stood before hearthsides, spinning wondrous tales. All ages enjoyed the gaiety.
Outside, the nights were cold and crisp, snow gently falling.
The beauty of such bright moonlit landscapes put tears in the eyes of the hardest men.
Women were too busy for such sentiment. But despite the bustle and toil, they smiled and laughed, their faces shining and their hearts full.
For the joy of the season was bountiful, and shared by everyone.
So it was sad when Yule fell out of favor with a clan famed for its celebrations.
MacNabs, they were.
And their home was Duncreag, a jewel among castles. Splendid and remote, the stronghold perched high atop jagged peaks and was ever crowned with a wreath of mist. Lofty and proud, Duncreag was well-loved by Clan MacNab and always drew awe from visitors.
Folk came often in those days for the MacNabs were known for their storytelling and song. How gladly they shared a roaring fire and plentiful victuals and ale. Indeed, their larder and cellar were bottomless, aye bursting with enough feast goods to entertain an endless stream of guests.
The MacNabs’ openhanded generosity earned them many friends. And even their enemies grudgingly admitted no clan hosted a grander feast.
Yet those who soar are prone to crashing.
When the fall came, Clan MacNab suffered a mighty blow. Some say they spiraled clear down to hell’s deepest pit. Hardship and ill-fortune hammered them with a vengeance. As if such troubles weren’t enough, a band of rogue warriors launched a vicious attack on Duncreag. Their leader, Ralla the Victorious, so named because he’d never lost a fight, wanted the stronghold as his own. And all because of the treasure he believed was hidden within Duncreag’s walls. The castle fell easily, but the hoard of gold was never found. Ralla’s fury was terrible and brought the loss of many MacNab loved ones. The clan’s sorrows mounted, their grief untold. Darkness descended and shadows lengthened until the clan’s gaiety was no more.
Instead of laughter, music, and song, a sad stillness cloaked the castle.
And so as days and months passed, and then a full year, it came as no surprise when it became known that Duncreag’s famed Yuletide revels weren’t to be held.
Most folk were sympathetic. But some voiced disapproval. Either way, those who said anything, did so in whispers.
That was because, regardless of opinion, everyone knew why Archibald, the aging MacNab chieftain, took such drastic measures.
And it was beneath Highland dignity to rub salt into his wounds.
No one knew how to heal them either, so folk stayed away.
Archie was left to stew in gloom as the winter nights drew in and cold, north winds rose to howl around Duncreag’s towers. The snow also deepened and the brittle air chilled everyone to the bone. Of Yule, there was no sign whatsoever, not even a sprig of holly.
Man and beast skulked about, silent as possible, for no one wished to break the brooding laird’s peace.
Nor did anyone want to risk his wrath.
Only two souls dared…
A battle-hardened warrior who believed in love for everyone except himself and the spirited lass determined to change his mind.
For the good of all, it came to pass that they set out to prove Duncreag and its cantankerous, unwilling laird deserved a festive season.
That’s when their trouble begins.
Grim, the fierce Highland warrior, might not believe in tender feelings, but he’s never tangled with a bold and beautiful lass like Breena, a one-time Irish slave girl. And Breena isn’t above using all her wiles to win the heart of the man who already holds hers.
Yet as they surrender to passion and even Grim begins to suspect he’s fallen in love, an unexpected threat rises from the past.
And it’s powerful enough to tear them apart and ruin Duncreag’s Christmases forevermore.
Chapter 1
The Great Hall at Duncreag Castle
Scottish Highlands
Winter 1398
The Christmas thief was the wrong man.
Breena O’ Doherty was too stunned to blink as she stared across the night-darkened hall at the surprising culprit. The hour might be late, but sleep hadn’t dulled her wits. Besides, there could be no mistaking Grim Mackintosh, Duncreag’s captain of the guards. Huge and powerfully built, he stood head and shoulders over other men.
Even through the shadows, she recognized him.
Until this moment, she’d secretly admired and even desired him, though it wasn’t her place. As a village lass from Ireland, unable to claim noble birth, she was only here at Duncreag because Ralla the Victorious and his band of raiders had captured her and brought her with them to Scotland.
If Grim hadn’t ridden from a neighboring glen to oust the invaders, the gods only knew what might have come of her. That Archie MacNab had allowed her to stay on at his castle would never have happened if Grim and his men hadn’t rid Duncreag of the marauders. Her own home in Ireland had been destroyed, the village burned and all inhabitants slain. She wouldn’t have had anywhere to go.
So she had always looked on Grim kindly. Until this moment.
Now, Grim only shocked her. That he was guilty of ridding Duncreag of its already meager holiday decorations was clear. Any fool could see the long strand of beribboned ivy trailing from his belt. But only she knew the ivy had been part of the high table’s centerpiece.
She knew that because she’d placed it there that morning.
Christmas was only days away. Brightening the hall and slipping li
ttle bits of cheer throughout the castle mattered to her. It was a season of hope and miracles, after all. She missed the festive celebrations she’d enjoyed in Ireland. She’d seen how Yuletide wonders could happen, lifting spirits and healing hearts.
Duncreag needed Christmas.
Truth be told, so did she. And so she frowned at the now-empty high table. The beribboned ivy should be there still. It would be if not for the man across the hall.
He just wasn’t who she’d expected.
She’d been sure Archie MacNab was responsible.
The old laird had been her prime suspect. She could see him sneaking into the hall at night, gathering the bits of cheer she took such care to set upon tables or drape on the walls. Then she’d imagined him slipping out again, his arms laden and his feet silent as he absconded with her holly and ivy, and even the white-berried balls of mistletoe.
Once Upon a Highland Christmas (Highland Warriors Book 3) Page 1
