Seduction of a Highland Warrior (Highland Warriors Book 4)

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  “Nae, I didn’t mean Honor.” Marjory shook her head, turning back to her friends. “I agree, it was a meet gift, though. Alasdair wouldn’t have parted with it if he hadn’t truly made his peace with Kendrew. He felt it was fitting after Kendrew’s timely arrival at Blackshore not so long ago, and I heartily agree.”

  “I know.” Isobel beamed, aiming another quick look at the ceiling.

  “No, it isn’t the painted couples.” Marjory felt her face heating.

  “But you admit the Thunder Caves are a fine place to celebrate your wedding feast?” Isobel winked, not about to back down.

  “Aye, that is true.” Marjory flicked at her sleeve. “Still, I was thinking of something else. A matter of great importance to us all.”

  “Oh?” Catriona and Isobel spoke as one.

  Marjory smiled back at them. “Indeed.”

  “Then what is it?” Catriona stepped closer, clearly curious.

  Isobel cast another glance at her husband, her love for Kendrew so bright in her eyes. But then she, too, edged nearer, waiting.

  Marjory pressed her hands together, tapped her chin with her fingertips. “You will not believe it! I have solved Gorm’s riddle. The prophecy he gave to James just before the trial by combat. You’ll remember what it was?” She dropped her voice, repeating the words…

  “‘Peace will be had when innocents pay the price of blood and gold covers the glen.’”

  Catriona and Isobel now gave her their rapt attention.

  “You’ll recall,” Marjory went on, “everyone believed the men who’d perished in the battle were the innocents and the autumn turning of leaves was the gold covering the glen.

  “But our peace has aye been fragile, the truce endangered many times.

  “Until now.” Marjory looked at her friends, waiting for them to guess.

  When they didn’t, she tsked at them, softening the scolding with a smile.

  “The innocents,” she began, “were the poor pilgrims who were slain by the men serving the King’s blackguard bastard. Sir Walter and his men slew them and, last I heard, the King had dealt harshly with his son, imprisoning him for life, I believe. And” – she took a breath, lifting a hand to touch the ambers at her neck – “the gold covering the glen is our own enchanted necklace.”

  “Ahhh!” Catriona and Isobel again spoke as one. “The amber necklace has circled the glen, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it has.” Marjory curled her fingers around the stones, feeling so privileged to wear them. “First they were Catriona’s, leaving Blackshore to go to you, Isobel. And then after their time with you at Castle Haven, you passed them on to me at Nought. And now” – Marjorie blinked, her eyes beginning to sting – “I have brought them back to Blackshore, where they belong.”

  “You are right!” Catriona was blinking, too, her smile a bit wobbly.

  When she dashed at her cheek and coughed, both Marjory and Isobel pretended not to see.

  Not that it should matter, for their eyes were just as misty.

  “So we kept our pact in all ways, then?” Isobel discreetly dabbed her own cheek.

  “I believe we have.” Marjory would’ve said more, but Alasdair was coming toward her, the look on his face warning that he wished a moment alone with her.

  “Ladies!” He drew up before them, resplendent in his MacDonald plaid, Mist-Chaser, with her gleaming amber pommel stone riding proudly at his side. “I’d have a word with my wife, if you dinnae mind?”

  “O-o-oh, not at all.” Catriona beamed, flitting away as quickly as the star- and moonbeams dancing throughout the cave.

  Isobel gave Alasdair a long, piercing look and then, smiling mischievously, also took her leave.

  Alsadair reached for Marjory’s hand, lifting it to his lips and nipping her fingertips. “Have you decided, my lady?”

  “Decided?” Marjory blinked, pretending not to know what he meant.

  He stepped closer, looking down at her with heat in his eyes. “Then I’ll tell you I’m favoring the couple thon.” He slid a glance at the ceiling, toward a particularly well-made pair. The woman rode astride the man, her head tipped back as if in ecstasy, her long hair spilling free down her back. “What say you to them?”

  Marjory leaned up on her toes, whispering her agreement in his ear.

  And before she pulled away again, she let her hand glide ever so briefly over a certain most masculine part of her husband.

  “Norn!” He inhaled sharply, his gaze darkening even more. “How will I ever wait until the festivities are over?”

  “I can’t imagine.” Marjory didn’t know how she’d wait either.

  But she couldn’t resist teasing him.

  So she leaned close again, this time letting her breasts brush his side. “Perhaps we can slip away early?”

  “Ah, lass!” Alasdair flashed a smile. “I always knew you were the woman for me.”

  Then he captured her hand, linking their fingers. Walking briskly, he led her away. Out of the Thunder Cave and into the night, the revelry continuing on behind them.

  “Did you ever see a pair more in love?”

  A soft, familiar voice startled Drangar as he hovered in the Thunder Cave, watching Alasdair and his lady depart.

  Scarce trusting his ears, he spun about, his heart almost bursting to see his beloved Seona shimmering before him.

  “Seona!” He reached for her and then lowered his arms when she flitted out of his grasp. “What are you doing here?” he voiced a simple question, not wanting to frighten her away.

  To his delight, she shimmied nearer. “Perhaps I wished to attend Alasdair and Marjory’s celebration? Unlike you, my husband, I have not forgotten what it is like to be young, passionate, and in love.”

  Drangar frowned. “You think I have?”

  His wife sniffed, looking so lovely in her agitation. “You know much of the like. That is what I think.”

  “Seona…” He reached for her, his heart thundering again when she didn’t vanish when he took her hands. He brought one to his lips, kissing her wispy knuckles. “You are as beautiful now as you were then. Can we no’ let bygones be begones, here on this neutral ground?”

  “And when we return to Blackshore?” She lifted a brow, plainly determined to provoke him. “Shall I then remain on my rocks of doom near the castle while you skulk about your Warrior Stones on the cliffs?”

  “I dinnae skulk, woman.” He scowled at her. “I guard the coast, as I have aye done.”

  “And do you still chase selkie maids?”

  “I erred once, my heart.”

  “Say you.” Seona turned her back on him. “Your erring had dire consequences.”

  “Think you I have not regretted that all my life? And” – he whisked himself around in front of her – “every bluidy day of my afterlife?”

  She appeared to consider.

  “I did not mean to leave you, you know.” Her voice was soft, low. “I wanted to reclaim you for my own. That’s why I perched on the tidal rocks. To show the seal people that you were mine and I wouldn’t let another of their females have you. But…

  “The tide rushed in faster than I’d anticipated.” She paused, her gaze on the slanting swirls of moon- and starlight. “My skirts became tangled in the rocks. I couldn’t get away. And then-”

  “I never knew!” Drangar reached for her, pulling her close. “Sweet Seona, can you forgive me? Will you believe I ran down to the shore, tried so desperately to save you. But you were gone. And with you, my heart-”

  “Your heart?” She looked up at him, her eyes misting. “Did I have ever have it?”

  “You have always had it.” He cupped her face, smoothed back her glittering hair. “You still do. And you always shall, whether or not you claim it.”

  He leaned in, kissed her cheek. “I hope you will.”

  “Drangar…” For a moment, she shimmered brighter than the sun.

  Encouraged, Drangar took her hand again, lacing their fingers. “Dare I t
ake that as a yes?”

  She smiled. “You may.”

  “Then shall we celebrate in style?” He nodded toward the center of the cave where couples whirled, smiling and laughing, love in their eyes.

  “That would make me very happy.” Her smile brightened as Drangar led her into the most lustrous of the twirling star- and moonbeams.

  And they danced.

  The festivities lasted well into the small hours, a grand time had by all. And although it’s only clan lore, there are many who will swear that the Glen of Many Legends smiled that night.

  Some say the glen is smiling still.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Readers,

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  Seduction of a Highland Warrior concludes my Highland Warriors series and I hope you enjoyed the story. As the final hero and heroine, Alasdair and Marjory had to wait for their happy-ever-after, but I can promise you that they are celebrating now, even as I type these lines. They have a lot of lost time to make good, after all. (as do Drangar and Seona) If you read the other three Highland Warriors books, I hope you will agree that the very special place known as the Glen of Many Legends is indeed happy now.

  This book was originally published in 2012 by Hachette Book Group, also known as Grand Central Publishing. This new edition is pretty much the same. I did make some tweaks, but they were few. I really enjoyed writing this series ‘back in the day’ and I loved revisiting these characters and their beloved glen as I readied each book for re-release.

  Read on for my thoughts on the series as a whole and a few behind-the-scenes glimpses at Alasdair and Marjory’s journey…

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  Inspiration ~ Writers are always asked where we get our ideas. The simple answer is that ideas are everywhere. Once you ‘open the writerly faucet,’ the idea-flow is constant. A more personal response is that my books are inspired by my lifelong love affair with Scotland, home of my heart and land of my ancestors. I also believe in Highland magic. I experience it whenever I visit Scotland. When I can’t be there, I find it when I’m writing and slip into the ‘zone.’ The story then springs to life, taking me back to the breathtaking Scottish land-and-seascapes that fire my imagination.

  Highland Warriors was inspired by a place of spectacular beauty, an area known for its rugged and remote splendor even today. The Glen of Many Legends may live only in my imagination, but its real-life counterpart is a corner of the Western Highlands known in Gaelic as Garbh-chriochan, the Rough Bounds. This area was home to men and women every bit as bold, proud, and devoted to their beloved land as Alasdair and Marjory in Seduction of a Highland Warrior.

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  Aye ~ The Scottish word aye has two meanings. Yes and always. I use the word in both ways in my stories. I believe/hope the ‘always usage’ is clear in context, but should anyone wonder, now you know.

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  Good-sister ~ Old Scottish term for sister-in-law.

  * * *

  an cu glas ~ Scottish folklore claims these little-known fairy dogs interbred with mortal dogs, were usually green, though sometimes blue. There are other fairy dogs in Scottish myth and legend, but I chose this type because they were said to be lonely, always seeking companionship. As the fairy dog reference in this story related to animal-loving Grim, they seemed a good fit. Unfortunately, if these beasties barked three times and a man heard them, his certain death was said to follow. (good thing Grim is so brave!)

  * * *

  Hercules ~ Longtime readers will likely guess that Marjory’s wee dog Hercules was inspired by my now late Jack Russell terrier, Em. My beloved Em was still around when I originally wrote this book and it is safe to say he was napping on my lap during most of the hours spent writing. Like Hercules, Em was my shadow, always with me, glued to my hip. He was also just as protective as Hercules. He hated the mailman and would go into almost convulsive barking fits whenever the mail truck neared our door. Bicyclists in my neighborhood knew to expect a similar reaction if they passed us on a walk. He also gave the best-ever sloppy wet kisses and tail wags, and he was best buddy to my writer-cat Snuggles. What Em didn’t do was ‘water shoes.’ That trick belongs to Hercules alone. It seemed a fun way to let the little guy needle Kendrew.

  If you have a dog, please cuddle him or her for me tonight. I miss my darling Em more than anything and hope he knows he isn’t forgotten.

  * * *

  Chapter Four (Marjory’s Nightmare) ~ Writing is a strange undertaking and I’ve always said that writers have to be a bit crazy to, well, write. So much weirdness can happen in the process. An example is Marjory’s horrifying experience in chapter four – her dream of a Viking lord’s fiery ship burial and how she was almost forced to join him. You see…

  Her dream was mine.

  One night during this book’s original deadline, I worked in the basement to avoid the noise of my husband’s soccer game on television. At some point, I fell asleep on the basement couch – and I had that dream.

  Every single detail of her dream was in my dream. It was 3D, in vivid color, and so real that to this day I can close my eyes and relive the horror. At the time, I woke up screaming and shaking, drenched in sweat. I scared my husband and dog, who both came running down into the basement thinking a mad man must’ve burst into the house.

  At that point in the story’s deadline, I had no such plan for Marjory to have such a dream. Nor did I yet know who the villain would be, nor why he wanted her – but then I knew. As soon as I settled myself, I went to my computer and wrote the dream scene, which is chapter four in this book. It is described exactly as I ‘lived it’ in the dream.

  So you see, truth really is stranger than fiction.

  * * *

  Artistic License ~ Eagle-eyed readers might notice that the Viking longboat on the cover is not black-painted. I wanted the more colorful, red-and-white longboat to stand in, going with artistic license to make the cover ‘pop’ and also to avoid spoilers and/or confusion should readers wonder why an all-black ship. The answer comes in time, as you now know.

  * * *

  Speaking of Vikings ~ Vikings appear in many of my books and the reason is their significance in Scottish history. They were raiding Scotland as early as the 700s, ruled the Hebrides for 400 years, while their hold on northern Scotland lasted even longer. They left a powerful legacy, their influence remaining to this day. Their strong blood and bold, fierce nature mixed with the equally strong, but creative and sentimental Celts is the ‘magical blend’ that gives us the Highlander so loved and admired today.

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  Grim and Malcolm ~ If you loved these two characters, be sure to read Once Upon a Highland Christmas, a heart-stirring, series-based holiday novella. Grim is the hero and Alasdair’s romantic ‘old warrior’ great uncle, Malcolm, has a cameo appearance sure to bring a smile. (grab tissues, though – you’ve been warned)

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  That’s it till next time. Thank you so much for reading Seduction of a Highland Warrior. And for taking the time to read this Author’s Note.

  * * *

  Wishing you Highland Magic!

  Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  (aka Allie Mackay)

  Sneak Peek

  Enjoy a sneak peek at book two in the Highland Warriors series…

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  Temptation of a Highland Scoundrel

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  The Legacy of the Dreagan Stones

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  Tales are told of a wild and untamed vale deep in the Scottish Highlands. Protected by high, rocky crags, blessed with rolling heather moors, and kissed by soft mist and the silver sheen of the sea, this fair place is known as the Glen of Many Legends.

  Three clans - MacDonalds, Camerons, and Mackintoshes - call the glen home. These clans feuded in the past but now bide a recent truce. Each clan believes their corner of the glen is the finest. Clan Mackintosh boasts that their holding is more. They speak true, for their rugged, upland territory is home to the dreagan stones, strange
outcroppings that litter the rough ground beneath Castle Nought, the forbidding Mackintosh stronghold that rises almost seamlessly from the cliffs that edge the glen’s northernmost boundary.

  No one knows the true origins of the dreagan stones.

  Odd things happen on Mackintosh land, especially on nights of dark, impenetrable mist, so many believe the unusual rock formations are sleeping dreagans. Dragons turned to stone, but able to waken and wreak terror if they wish to do so.

  Some tales are even more chilling.

  Kendrew Mackintosh, clan chief, is proud of this legacy. Dreagans do lie beneath the dreagan rocks. He has seen them and knows.

  And now they are stirring.

  Kendrew suspects the dreagans resent the fragile peace that has descended on the glen. Clan Mackintosh has always been a warring tribe. Quiet living runs against their heated nature, so he welcomes the dreagans’ unrest.

  He, too, is restless. He’d rather stir trouble than pace his keep like a caged beast.

  A man was born to fight, not lay idle.

  He needn’t worry because tragedy is about to strike, giving him ample cause to swing Blood Drinker, his huge war ax. Only along with sword-wielding foemen and stony-backed, fire-breathing dreagans, he’ll be fighting a greater challenge than he would’ve believed.

  His opponent is a woman.

  And their battle begins in the shadow of the dreagan stones.

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  Chapter 1