Marshall let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Ye all ken he’ll be a fine laird. I was ne’er suited to the job, whereas Marshall has kept this clan’s business going without much help from me.”
Marshall swallowed the lump in his throat when Elgin looked him in the eyes and said, “’Tis my resolve to be more like him, to be a better mon.”
Teagan squeezed his hand as folks applauded. “He already looks different.”
Hope flickered. Could Elgin find his dignity and be a credit to the clan?
“I toast my brother, and his ravishingly beautiful wife.”
Relieved, Marshall rose to answer the resulting cheers. “While I appreciate my brother’s compliments and good wishes, I’m nay certain I liked the lustful glint in his eyes when he looked at my wife.”
The crowd responded to the typical male bravado, and Elgin seemed content to appear chastened. How were they to know of the fierce determination burning in his heart to protect his wife from any man who would think to…
People gaped.
He unclenched his jaw and inhaled deeply, calmed by the certainty Teagan would never be tempted by another man. He intended to spend his life satisfying her every need.
Epilogue
Six years later
Teagan stood on the busy dock, her heart lifting as she watched her husband’s birlinn sail into Wick Bay. She still envied him the weeks he spent at sea, but much preferred staying home with her bairns. She kept a wary eye on Angus as the five-year-old boy ventured closer to the water. With her arms full of three-year-old Jocelyn, she wouldn’t be the one leaping to the rescue if he fell in. Not that her son would need rescuing. He seemed to have been born with an uncanny ability to float.
The boy jumped up and down, clearly excited for his da’s return.
“I wouldna be surprised if he climbed aboard his father’s boat as soon as it docked,” Moira said, her fingers curled into the new collar she’d bought for Bo.
“Aye,” Teagan agreed, glad Marshall’s aunty seemed to be making sense today. Other days were more difficult, but it was comforting to know Bo kept constant watch over his adopted mistress.
Teagan breathed more easily when the rest of the fleet came into view. The large birlinns had been built by craftsmen from both clans over the course of the last several years. She and Marshall often took their bairns out sailing, so she knew first-hand how seaworthy they were. All her brothers were more than competent mariners, but it was always a relief to see them come home safely. The clans’ success in cooperatively building a prosperous trading network that stretched from Iceland to the Baltic had also brought their cargoes to the attention of pirates. It was a big concern, but Marshall and Beathan had outfitted the fleet with impressive weaponry, so she had to trust in their reassurances.
“Dadaidh,” her daughter exclaimed, wriggling to be put down.
“Careful,” Teagan admonished as Jocelyn scurried off to join her brother.
Memories of a day years ago washed over her. She’d fallen into these selfsame waters and been rescued by the man who was now her husband. Little had she known then Fate had delivered her soul mate, though she acknowledged that wasn’t strictly true. There’d been an alchemy between them from the moment they met.
“Ahoy, Husband,” she shouted, waving as Marshall’s boat bumped the dock.
“Ahoy, Wife,” he replied, his eyes filled with love…and the lust that never failed to ignite a flame of need and make her blush.
The gentle, loving giant she’d married strode over the side of his birlinn, hoisted Angus onto his broad shoulders and scooped up his giggling daughter. He carried both grinning bairns along the dock seemingly without effort. Her children couldn’t wish for a more caring father.
She patted her belly. “We’ll tell him tonight,” she promised the new babe within her.
*
Marshall knew what it was to grow up without a father’s love. Moira and Elgin complained he spoiled his bairns, but he didn’t care. In any case, Elgin doted on his nephew and niece and Moira had been known to lavish expensive gifts on them, though she claimed to have no knowledge of it.
“How was Iceland, Papa?” Angus asked from atop his shoulders.
“Cold,” he replied, thinking, not for the first time, his son was sometimes too serious for a lad his age. Perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing for a boy destined to be laird.
Jocelyn patted his cheeks with her wee hands. “I’ll warm ye, Daddy.”
He pecked an appreciative kiss on her nose, but refrained from pointing out that warming him up would be their mother’s job. In truth, his blood had heated at his first sight of her on the docks. Six years wed and he still couldn’t get enough of his incredible wife.
He set his bairns down and welcomed Teagan into his embrace, molding her body to his. There were always tears when he came home and he relished her happy sobs against his chest as he stroked her hair.
He inhaled her familiar perfume as she clung to him—but there was something else, a scent he’d detected only twice before. He stepped back, put his hands on her belly and raised an eyebrow.
“How did ye ken?” she asked, her laughing eyes wide.
Pride soared. He’d sired another bairn, mayhap a brother for Angus and Jocelyn. “I ken everything about ye and yer body,” he whispered as he hugged her.
His daughter tugged at his plaid impatiently. He hunkered down and put his arms around both his bairns. “Yer mammie just whispered a secret,” he said. “Can ye guess what it might be?”
Angus eyed his mother, rubbing his chin in a way that reminded Marshall of his father. “She’s expecting,” he declared with a broad smile. “I kent it. A wee brother, perhaps.”
Jocelyn’s bottom lip quivered.
“Dinna cry, ’tis a good thing,” he assured his daughter as he scooped her up.
“But I dinna want to be the only lass,” she wailed.
Teagan’s face reddened. “I’m afraid that’s my fault,” she admitted. “I suppose I complain too much about being teased by my brothers.”
She took Jocelyn from Marshall’s arms. “My seven brothers teased me, ’tis true,” she whispered. “But, looking back, I wouldna change that for anything. A lass with lots of brothers is a very lucky lass.”
Seemingly comforted, Jocelyn stuck a thumb in her mouth and lay her head on her mother’s shoulder.
Marshall hoisted Angus back on his shoulders. “Let’s away home. The crew can unload and I’ve many a tale to tell ye about Iceland. One of the volcanoes erupted while we were there.”
“I’d love to see a volcano,” Angus exclaimed, thrusting his arms in the air. “Boom!”
Jocelyn covered her ears and buried her wee face.
Exchanging an amused glance with his wife, Marshall put his arm around her waist and led her to the horses waiting to take them to Castle Robson. He remembered a time when he dreaded returning to the enormous castle overlooking the sea, but that was before Teagan MacCray had brought light and happiness into his life.
The folks of Clan Robson loved her. She’d proven to be a capable chatelaine and the castle was a more comfortable place to live and work in because of her efforts to modernize and redecorate. Together, they’d expanded the library with more noteworthy tomes. Lively discussions often ensued after the acquisition of some controversial treatise.
The extended trade networks had brought prosperity and hope to both their clans.
“I canna wait to hear about Iceland,” she told him with a naughty wink. “Especially the eruption.”
“Hmm,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “Saucy wench! I think that might have to wait until we’ve…”
She pressed a fingertip to his lips, nodding at Angus. “The walls have ears,” she said softly.
“Ye’re silly, Mammie,” Jocelyn exclaimed. “Walls canna have ears.”
Contentment washed over Marshall as he looked out over Wick Bay. “I doot there’s a happier mon anywhere in
this world.”
*
If you enjoyed Marshall and Teagan’s story, you might like to check out other books in the Clash of the Tartans series.
Book One, Kilty Secrets
As the chief’s second son, Ewan Mackinloch resents being offered up as the sacrificial lamb in a marriage arranged to end a 300-year feud with the MacCarrons.
Ewan trades places with a one-armed clansman in the hopes Shona MacCarron will refuse to go through with the wedding, but unbeknownst to him, Shona, too, has traded places with an aunt known as Lady Lazy-Eye so she can avoid the marriage arranged after the recent death of her father.
Confusion reigns when alchemy draws them to each other and they risk aiding the cause of factions ambitious to usurp the hereditary MacCarron chieftaincy.
Will each discover the other’s KILTY SECRETS?
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Book Two, Kilted at the Altar
Who jilted whom?
Darroch MacKeegan vows revenge when his intended bride, Isabel MacRain, fails to show up for a marriage arranged to settle the long feud between their clans.
Isabel’s father lays waste to MacKeegan lands in retaliation for Darroch jilting his daughter.
Who stands to gain from the mix-up?
Perhaps a blue dog and a wee lass who never speaks can help solve the mystery and reconcile two people who were always meant to be together.
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Book Three, Kilty Pleasures
The ascension of King James of Scotland to the throne of England has united two countries at loggerheads for generations. The king is determined to stamp out the clan feuds that have led to centuries of murder and mayhem.
When his father is executed for assassinating the laird of another Lowland clan, Broderick Maxwell is unexpectedly thrust into leadership of his clan. He strives to resurrect his clan’s reputation at a time when change is sweeping over Scotland.
He must also take responsibility for raising his 11-year-old sister.
Kyla MacKeegan is the daughter of a powerful Highland chieftain, and an accomplished sea captain who has plied the waters of the Hebridean Sea since childhood. Broderick is drawn to her from their first inauspicious meeting. But a union between a Highlander and a Lowlander would never work. Especially after Broderick accuses Kyla of smuggling opium by way of the Solway Firth and sinks her father’s galley.
Laird Corbin Lochwood is determined to avenge his uncle’s assassination by Broderick’s father and will do his utmost to gain control of Maxwell lands. Can a romance survive a sunken galley and age-old hatred?
*
Book Four, Kilty Party
Secret tunnels, benign ghosts, and ruined castles—the ingredients of a mystery. Right? Except Kilty Party is a romantic comedy. Shaw Drummond and Caitlin Blair balk at King William’s command they marry to end an age-old feud between the two neighboring clans.
As luck would have it, they unexpectedly fall in love at first sight, but other family members seem determined to thwart their union—particularly Shaw’s bossy sister and Caitlin’s older brother. However, defying a king comes with consequences and royal dragoons eventually arrive to confiscate both castles in the name of the crown.
When Caitlin mysteriously disappears without a trace, accusations of shenanigans fly from all sides.
Who is the “kilty” party?
*
Book Five, Kilts in the Wind
An amusing and heartwarming tale of mistaken identity, a derelict windmill, and a wee lad who eats like a horse.
In order to get the hated Lockies to agree to refurbish the derelict windmill that sits on the border between their lands, Spenser McDool must wed Jane, the Lockie laird’s daughter. The successful processing of a bumper harvest depends on it. He’s never met Jane (or so he believes) but has fallen hard for a scullery maid named Jennie who visits the mill.
Jane disguises herself as a servant when she escapes the cruel tyranny of her stepmother for a short while. She is unaware the man she meets at the mill and falls in love with is the laird of the hated McDool Clan.
*
Enjoy the lighter side of clan feuding!
About Anna Markland
“Getting Intimate With History”
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Thank you for reading Kilts Ahoy! If you’d like to leave a review where you purchased the book, and/or on Goodreads, I would appreciate it. Reviews contribute greatly to an author’s success.
I’d love you to visit my website (where you can sign up for my newsletter if you wish) and my Facebook page, Anna Markland Novels.
Tweet me @annamarkland, join me on Pinterest.
Follow me on BookBub and be the first to know when my next book is released.
New members are always welcome to join my street team, Markland’s Medieval Merrymakers.
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I was born and educated in England, but I’ve lived most of my life in Canada. I was an elementary school teacher for 25 years, a job I loved.
After that, I worked with my husband in the management of his businesses. He’s a born entrepreneur who likes to boast he’s never had a job!
My final “career” was as Director of Administration of a global disaster relief organization.
I then embarked on writing a romance, something I’d always wanted to do. I chose the medieval period because it’s my favorite to read.
I have a keen interest in genealogy. This hobby has had a tremendous influence on my stories. My medieval romances are tales of family honor, ancestry, and roots. As an amateur genealogist, I cherished a dream of tracing my own English roots back to the Norman Conquest—most likely impossible since I am not descended from nobility! So, I made up a family and my Montbryce Legacy stories follow its members through successive generations.
I am a firm believer in love at first sight. My heroes and heroines may initially deny the attraction between them but, eventually, the alchemy wins out. I want readers to rejoice when the power of love overcomes every obstacle and lovers find their soul mates. For me, novels are an experience of another world and time. I lose myself in the characters’ lives, always knowing they will triumph in the end and find love. One of the things I enjoy most about writing historical romance is the in-depth research necessary to provide readers with an authentic medieval experience. I love ferreting out bits of historical trivia and including them in my stories.
I hope you’ll escape with me to where romance began and get intimate with history.
Perhaps, you’ll come to know and love my cast of characters as much as I do.
I’d like to acknowledge the assistance of my critique group partners, Reggi Allder, Jacquie Biggar, LizAnn Carson, and Sylvie Grayson, and the invaluable contributions of beta reader extraordinaire, Maria McIntyre.
Historical Footnotes
WICK
Vík is the Norse word for bay.
Excellent information about the history of Wick can be found at
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wick,_Caithness#Historic_descriptions_of_Wick
And at
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wick,_Caithness#History
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From Wikipedia-“Today Wick has little in the way of tourist attractions except for a ruined castle that was probably built in the 12th century, presumably by the Norse earl, Harald Maddadson. One of the oldest and best preserved in Scotland, the castle’s tower still reaches four stories up, and its defensive ditches and perilous cliffs keep it cut off from the mainland. It is a stirring place, desolate and imposing.”
Robert Louis Stevenson referred to Wick as “the meanest of mean towns”.
The feud between the MacCrays and the Robsons exists only in my imagination. They are not clans found in that area which has traditionally been Sinclair territory.
There are, however, two ruined castles a short distance apart from each other on the headlands near Wick. That got my brain working on the idea of the nonsensical nature of a feud between two clans who lived so close to each other in such a remote part of
Scotland. Girnigoe/Sinclair Castle and old Wick Castle (see previous) are a 45 minute walk from each other.
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BIRLINNS
Readers have sailed with me in birlinns before. (Kilted at the Altar & Kilty Pleasures) If you’d like more information check out en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birlinn.
Strictly speaking, the birlinn was no longer commonly used by the time our story takes place, and it’s more of a Hebridean vessel. However, it didn’t become clear to me in my research exactly what type of craft evolved from it. And, in any case, I’m fond of the word birlinn!
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MARITIME NAVIGATION
Teagan MacCray might understand the science of sextants and astrolabes, but I’m afraid it is beyond me! Still, it’s awesome to think sailors navigated with these instruments for hundreds of years. The sextant was invented in 1731, a year before our story.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sextant
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SCANDINAVIA
For more about the Limfjorden, visit
www.britannica.com/place/Limfjorden
For more about the body of water known as the Skagerrak.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skagerrak
Norway was ruled by Denmark for generations. Interestingly enough, Wick and all of Caithness used to belong to Norway until the reign of William the Lion (1165-1214)
Numerous attempts to stop the drifting of sand on the Danish coast finally succeeded in the 19th century by the planting of trees and lyme grass. However, many low coastal areas between the former islands had already been covered with dunes. South of Hanstholm, a unique dune landscape of approximately 4,000 hectares has become a national park. Thisted is directly east of the park on the fjord.
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KEISS (Cèis)
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keiss
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Kilts Ahoy! Page 20
