He smiled. “In size or number?”
She laughed softly. “Both.” She glanced back over her shoulder where Calder asked Gideon tactical questions about their cavalry units. “It seems crowded, this new home of ours,” she said, keeping her smile. “We may never find a quiet, peaceful place again.”
Before he could respond that he planned to carry her to a most private place as soon as possible, they rose to the level of the four armies on the bank. A great cheer erupted through the ranks as the men saw him. They roared, their fists high in the air, in welcome. He looked behind him to see his brothers doing the same; even Cain roared in celebration that Joshua was home and very much alive. Kára smiled up at him, laughing at the surprise lighting his face. It grew into a joyful smile.
In answer, he raised his own arm with Kára’s, their fingers linked. “To Clan Sinclair!” he yelled.
“To Clan Sinclair!” the men responded, their voices sending a deafening wave of force. These were his people. And now Kára and her family would join them in peace and continued prosperity. Happiness welled up within him until it felt like a tangible flood to pour out, and he laughed. He pulled Kára into his arms, kissing her before the clan.
Another wave of cheers erupted, but he was lost as soon as the warmth of Kára’s lips pressed against his own. Power roared around him, but it was small in comparison to the power of the love that joined them together. As she pulled back, a dazed smile curling her lips, she mouthed I love you to him.
He leaned in, his lips to her ear. “I love ye, too, in war and in peace, forever.” He raised his fist to his heart, giving her his oath. She blinked, her eyes filling with tears in contrast to the huge smile she displayed.
“In war and in peace,” she said, and he could hear her as the cheers subsided. “I love you forever.”
Summer 1590
Epilogue
“Kára is with child,” Hilda said to Erik as she squinted over the letter. Smiling, she held it closer to the peat fire spreading light throughout the earthen house. The flames crackled to punctuate the sea breeze that whistled across the hole leading outside above them.
“Mayhap she will have a girl this time after Geir,” she said. Her sister, Harriett, would probably be the one to help with the birthing.
Erik held the soles of his feet to the fire. “So the Sinclairs have truly taken them into Caithness.” He picked up an iron stick and poked the hot embers with his one hand.
Hilda exhaled. “I stayed here to help those who remained behind or returned, but only a couple returned to Orkney. And they moved away from Lord Robert’s immediate reach. It is only you, Fiona, and me here at Hillside now.” She folded the letter, tucking it into her shawl. “I will journey there before winter sets in,” Hilda said. “I wish to see my sister again and Kára and all the others.”
Erik looked at her, his eyebrow cocked. “Then who will lay flowers on their graves?”
“You should come with me,” she said, ignoring his bait for another argument about her keeping up the appearance of Kára’s death. The disappearance of John Dishington had been easily explained with a forged letter saying he had journeyed back to mainland Scotland. No one knew that as Hilda placed flowers on the graves of her nephew, his wife, and their two daughters, she spit on the grave where the bones of The Brute rested under the headstone of Joshua Sinclair.
Erik rubbed the stump where he had been thieved of his right arm. “What would they want with an old chief who cannot even raise a sword?”
“The great Sinclair warriors could train you to swing with your left arm.”
He grumbled something and stared into the fire. The flames bent as the door opened. “I am off to the palace,” Fiona said as she ducked inside. Even bent with age and regret, she whisked over to the jars along the back shelf. Since her son, Torben, had died, her vengeance had grown until she was nearly unbearable to live with. All she talked about was the need for Robert’s death.
She sniffed into a few jars, selecting two of them that held the sleeping herbs Hilda used occasionally. “I hear Lord Robert is ailing, and I have something to help.”
“Help?” Erik snorted. “Likely you will be giving him poison.”
Fiona spun around on her heel to stare at him, a slow smile spreading over her features. “Tut,” she scolded. “Do not let the fae folk hear such talk or they may poison him.” She cackled at her own jest and darted out the door.
Hilda looked to Erik and shook her head. “That man will likely not live out the year.”
…
The door flew open. “Kára!” Joshua called, dodging past Harriett, his aunt Merida, and Brenna to where Kára kneeled on the bed, Brenna’s hand supporting her back as best she could.
Kára panted. “’Tis about time you got your arse here, Highlander,” she yelled. She called him that when she was angry at him or ready for a night of raucous lovemaking. And, since she was in labor with their first child, it was definitely anger.
“I was at the MacKay castle, helping Gideon move his belongings there,” he said, but knew that no one was listening to him. “Angus and Mathias rode to tell me, and I jumped on Fuil to race home.”
“I need to take a look, Kára,” Harriett said.
Kára let out a low moan and then seemed to hold her breath.
“Remember to breathe,” Aunt Merida said and sucked breath loudly in and out through her teeth. She lifted and lowered her aged hands with her breaths.
“She must lie back on the bed or hang from the rope,” Harriett said, indicating the loop hanging above.
“I will hold her up,” Joshua said, kicking off his boots as he climbed onto the large bed that they shared at Girnigoe Castle. They were almost done building a secluded cottage in the woods, but Kára had become such great friends with his sister, Hannah, and Cain’s wife, Ella, that they would continue to live mostly in the castle with the growing Sinclair family.
“He is very good at that,” Brenna said, nodding vigorously. She fetched the stack of clean linen and then glanced about. “I will find a knife for the cradle.”
Joshua lifted Kára under her arms, helping her into the rope that hung from the rafters and through a cut in the canopy draped over the four corner posts of the bed. He braced his feet, holding her fully against him, his arms wrapped under her breasts. His mouth dipped to her ear. “Geir will be pleased to have a wee brother or sister,” he said, trying to distract her as he felt her body tense again. “He helped me build the cradle,” he said, glancing at the smoothed wooden bed for their bairn.
“I found it,” Brenna said, holding up a long sgian dubh. She set it in the cradle.
Harriett sat back, and Joshua released his breath at the sight of her smile. “I see a wee head. Just a bit more, Kára.”
“Ye are doing fine, lass,” Aunt Merida said, patting her hand.
“Joshua,” Kára said.
“Aye?”
“Next time we have a child, you should be the one to bring it forth. Speak to God and have him send down another horseman on a cloud from Heaven instead of a babe from between my thighs.”
He chuckled, hugging her close. “I would take this pain from ye if I could, my brave warrior queen.”
“’Tis time. Push,” Harriett called.
Kára’s lips pulled back to show her teeth as her groan turned into what Joshua could only call a war cry. As the sound faded, the sweet sound of a bairn’s first lusty cry came from the bed where Merida and Harriett worked. Brenna had tears in her eyes as she smiled up at Kára. “’Tis a boy, Kára, a sweet wee lad.”
Joshua held her tight, slowly lowering her down to the thick tick where the two experienced women worked to cut the bairn free of Kára, wiping him clean. Joshua kissed Kára’s head as they watched. “Ye did it, love.” He moved to sit beside her on the bed and wiped her hair back from her face.
&nbs
p; “Look at you,” Harriett said, smiling at the bairn. She lifted him up for them to see.
“Bloody beautiful,” he said, and she set him in blankets that Merida had ready, wrapping him deftly.
She placed the swaddled lad in Kára’s outstretched arms, and Joshua realized she had tears running down her face. “He is perfect,” she whispered and smiled up at him. Lord! He was certain he had never seen anything so beautiful before in his life. He would battle a million wars to keep them safe, or sail a thousand seas to take them to safety, or build a hundred castles to protect them.
“Thank ye, Kára Flett. I love ye and our wee bairn,” he said.
“Adam,” she said, touching the blinking bairn’s cheek with her thumb. She looked into Joshua’s eyes. “I would call him Adam,” she said. “To honor the boy in South Ronaldsay.”
Joshua inhaled deeply, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, as his chest filled with even more love. He nodded. “I would like to bring another Adam into the world,” he said. “’Tis a strong name for a strong lad.”
“Like his da,” Kára said, smiling brightly up at him. “I love you, Joshua Sinclair Flett.”
Joshua leaned in to kiss her lips, and they both turned to the bairn whose blue eyes seemed to focus on their near faces. Gently, Kára handed the bairn over to Joshua. He took him into his arms. “This babe you can hold as much as you want,” she said.
“Aye.” He smiled down at wee Adam, his gaze sliding to meet Kára’s.
How much his life had changed once he let love into it. A year ago, he was a cold warrior, discontented with life and the world. Unsure about his purpose. But now… As he sat next to his warrior queen wife, holding his newborn bairn, he had never felt so content in his life.
Love was risky. It could tear one apart, but it could also build one into a mountain of strength. It made life sweeter, brighter, and so worth living. Love had conquered the constant simmering anger within him. Aye, his brother might call upon him to be the Horseman of War, and he would go to defend his people. But in his heart Joshua was now truly a man of peace.
Want to attend Joshua and Kára’s wedding, and read about their special wedding night? Click HERE to sign up for Heather’s monthly newsletter to receive the extra content. PS. She wrote it ONLY for newsletter subscribers.
Join me back in Caithness, Scotland to continue the adventure in the third book of my Sons of Sinclair series! Gideon Sinclair, the Horseman of Justice, is tasked to bring Clan MacKay to heel at Varrich Castle. Weighing the scales of justice, everything is good or evil in Gideon’s world, until he meets a lovely MacKay lass who excels at breaking his laws.
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Historical Note
Lord Robert Stewart, Earl of Orkney, was considered a tyrant by the people of Orkney. He had nine legitimate children and several illegitimate children from several mistresses. His first son, Henry, died “mysteriously” when he was twenty-five, leaving the second son, Patrick, in line to gain the earldom. Even though Robert was imprisoned during his lifetime on suspicion of treason, he was released to the Earl’s Palace and died on Orkney, in his bed, in 1593. Of natural causes? Or from the handiwork of a vengeful mistress? The history books do not say.
In 1594, Patrick Stewart, Second Earl of Orkney, accused three of his brothers of trying to kill him when poison was found on one of his brothers’ servants. The servant and “a witch,” who was thought to be an accomplice, were tortured and executed even though the brothers were later acquitted.
Using mostly forced labor, Patrick built his own Earl’s Palace at Kirkwall on Orkney, southeast of Birsay. He is considered one of the most tyrannical noblemen in Scotland’s history. Patrick ran up such high debts and was so brutal to his subjects on Orkney that he was called before the Privy Council of Scotland in 1609 and imprisoned at Edinburgh Castle and then Dumbarton Castle. When imprisoned, Patrick had his illegitimate son, named Robert, rally a rebellion back on Orkney to take back both Earl’s Palaces. Robert succeeded, but then the Earl of Caithness, George Sinclair (named Cain Sinclair in my series), besieged the palace with the backing of the crown.
The Sinclairs won, and Robert was arrested. Robert was hung and Patrick was taken to Market Cross in Edinburgh and beheaded. After Patrick’s death, the palace at Birsay was rarely occupied, and the palace at Kirkwall was inhabited by the bishops of Orkney until 1688 when it became the property of the crown of Scotland.
…
The Art of War was written around fifth century BCE by a Chinese strategist noted most frequently to be Sun Tzu (although some feel the manuscript is a compilation of warring advice through the ages). There were several translations and interpretations created throughout the centuries. By the eighth century AD, the work was translated into Korean and Japanese. It was translated into French by a Jesuit missionary in the 1770s, which is where I deviated from the historical timeline, giving Joshua’s father the ability to find a French copy much earlier. It wasn’t translated into English until 1905. The teachings, captured in thirteen chapters, are still studied today by people from CEOs of successful companies to military commanders.
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much for reading the second book in my Sons of Sinclair series! The more I write about this family, the more I fall in love with them and want to share their stories with all you wonderful readers. Every note or comment you send, or review you give, brings me such joy. Sharing my stories with you is a dream come true.
Thank you to my fabulous Highlander husband, Braden, for being my inspiration (especially for the love scenes)
Thank you to my fabulous agent, Kevan Lyon, for always being in my corner and “talking me down” when the business gets daunting. To my publisher, the fabulous Liz Pelletier at Entangled Publishing, thank you for helping me create my dream career! To Alethea Spiridon, my talented editor, thank you so much for coming back and working with me again! You are smart and funny and so kind when you tell me all the things I need to fix. And a huge shout-out goes to my publishing team at Entangled, book reviewers, and book bloggers. Without you, no one would be able to find my books!
Also…
At the end of each of my books, I ask that you, my awesome readers, please remind yourselves of the whispered symptoms of ovarian cancer. I am now a nine-year survivor, one of the lucky ones. Please don’t rely on luck. If you experience any of these symptoms consistently for three weeks or more, go see your GYN.
Bloating
Eating less and feeling full faster
Abdominal pain
Trouble with your bladder
Other symptoms may include: indigestion, back pain, pain with intercourse, constipation, fatigue, and menstrual irregularities.
About the Author
Heather McCollum is an award-winning historical romance writer. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood of Golden Heart finalists. She has over twenty romance novels published and is a 2015 Readers’ Crown Winner and Amazon Best Seller.
The ancient magic and lush beauty of Great Britain entrances Ms. McCollum’s heart and imagination every time she visits. The country’s history and landscape have been a backdrop for her writing ever since her first journey across the pond.
When she is not creating vibrant characters and magical adventures on the page, she is roaring her own battle cry in the war against ovarian cancer. Ms. McCollum slew the cancer beast and resides with her very own Highland hero, a rescued golden retriever, and three kids in the wilds of suburbia on the mid-Atlantic coast. For more information about Ms. McCollum, please visit:
www.HeatherMcCollum.com.
URL and Social Media links:
facebook.com/HeatherMcCollumAuthor
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Get swept away with Heather McCollum’s bestselling Highland Isles series.
The Beast of Aros Castle
On the run from a dangerous man, Ava Sutton flees to the Isle of Mull off the coast of Scotland. Ava must convince the cynical and darkly handsome chief of the Macleans of Aros to wed her before the devil tracks her down.
The Rogue of Islay Isle
Waking up not knowing who she is or where she comes from, Rose is at the mercy of the man who found her, but the more she recalls, the more she realizes the jeopardy she brings to the Highlander who has captured her heart.
The Wolf of Kisimul Castle
Mairi Maclean is kidnapped on her wedding day and taken to Kisimul Castle where she is held captive. Alec MacNeil, The Wolf of Kisimul Castle, soon learns Mairi is not a docile pawn in the game of war between neighboring Scots.
The Devil of Dunakin Castle
Is Keir MacKinnon the passionate, kind man Grace Ellington saved in a Highland blizzard, or is he truly the cruel executioner who seeks to solve all issues by the sword?
The marriage game is afoot in this clever blend of My Fair Lady meets Pride and Prejudice with a twist!
Edward Stanhope, the icy Duke of Thornfield, likes his life in a certain order. Give him a strong drink, a good book, and his dog for company, and he’s content. But when he goes to his library and finds a woman sitting in his chair, petting his dog, what starts as a request for her to leave quickly turns to a fiery battle of wits, leading to a steamy kiss that could ruin them both if they were caught.
So of course, damn it all, that’s when Edward’s aunt walks in, and thereafter announces Miss Georgiana Bly is the future Duchess of Thornfield.
Highland Warrior Page 30
