No filmy veil stood between them.
“Scandia!” He ran from the birch wood, leaping over heather and rocks, racing across the clearing before the horrid barrier could appear, separating them. “Precious lass, I’m here! Come to me!”
But she didn’t move, though he could see that her tears were streaming now, their silvery tracks, damping her face. She trembled, too, her entire sweet form quivering as if she’d never be still again.
Then he reached her and pulled her into his arms, holding her close until her trembling slowed.
“Donar!” She spoke at last, her voice a song in his heart. “I thought you were gone to me forever. That” – another great shudder wracked her – “you would turn from me if-”
“Turn from you?” Donar pulled back to look into her eyes. “Why ever would I do that? I’ve searched for you nearly every year since…” He didn’t finish for they both knew what had happened.
Then-
“By all the Valkyries!” A terrible dread swept him, letting him know why the haze wall had loomed so maddeningly between them. She’d put it there herself, however unwittingly. “Scandia, lass” – he took her face between his hands, his heart breaking – “tell me you didn’t think I’d blame you for-”
She gulped, not looking at him. “It was my father who slaughtered your people. Even you-”
He cupped her chin, tilting her face so she was forced to meet his gaze. “He thought you’d taken your life to avoid wedding me. He only meant to avenge you.”
“You are not angry?” She didn’t sound convinced.
“I only want you.” He pulled her closer, burying his face in her silky, raven tresses. “Now, and for all eternity, if you’ll still have me.”
She shivered and caught her breath, the sound giving him hope.
“So you still love me, too.” He wasn’t asking, he knew.
“I do.” Her answer split him all the same. “I’ve loved you forever.”
He grinned. Then he blinked back his own tears, quickly before she could see.
Viking warriors weren’t known for their soft sides.
But just now he didn’t care.
“Then be mine, Scandia. We’ve waited long enough.”
She smiled back at him, her eyes bright. “Aye, we have.”
A true Norseman again, Donar grabbed her by the waist and lifted her high in the air, twirling her round and round, and whooping with all his lung power.
And when, at last, he could whirl no more, he did what he’d ached to do for so long.
He pulled her to him and kissed her.
Again and again, and masterfully, for that skill, too, stayed with a man.
Odin, be praised.
Epilogue
The Glen of Many Legends At the Bowing Stone - Spring 1397
“We must circle the stone three times and then drop one knee, begging good fortune.”
Catriona took care to stay away from the edge of the ravine where she stood with her two closest friends. Cloud and mist swirled around them, making it difficult to see. But a strange, low humming stroked the air and the sound thrilled the three women.
It was the first indication that the towering jumble of broken stones before them truly was the hoary monument they’d hoped to find. They’d already climbed in vain to two other high corries. And while this one appeared no more than a deep and narrow defile, strewn with boulders, the shivering air made their efforts worthwhile.
This gorge felt different.
And Catriona was sure that any moment the blowing mist would brighten and turn luminous with the sparkles said to hover near the enchanted standing stone. Even if – just now - the monolith looked no more sacred than an ordinary outcrop of quartz-shot granite.
Soon all would change….
Her pulse quickening, she touched the amber necklace at her throat and then withdrew a small leather pouch from beneath her cloak.
“Once we’ve honored the Auld Ones, you” – she glanced the two women beside her – “must choose your heathers. The rest-”
“Makes my heart pound, it does.” Her good-sister, Isobel, rubbed her arms against the pre-dawn chill. “To think we’re choosing our future husbands on the draw of a wee sprig of heather.”
“Not all of us.” Marjory, often called Lady Norn, slipped off her shawl and swirled its warmth around Catriona’s shoulders. “One of us is very well wed and” – she smoothed the shawl’s woolen folds over Catriona’s cloak – “already increasing nicely, even if no one is yet supposed to comment on such barely-there plumpness.”
Catriona felt her cheeks color. “I’m not yet certain.”
She was.
But she’d been waiting for the right moment to tell James. He’d been so busy making plans with Alasdair and, more grudgingly, Kendrew, to erect a memorial cairn on the field where they’d fought the trial by combat.
“If you don’t know, I do.” Isobel’s dark gaze dipped to Catriona’s middle. She smiled then, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve seen you turn green each time Beathag sets smoked herring on the high table of a morn.”
It was true. And at the mention of fish, Catriona had to stifle a shudder. “Then pretend you don’t notice or you’ll lose interest in choosing a bloom.”
“O-o-oh, nae.” Isobel flicked her glossy black braid over one shoulder. “I want my heather.”
“Lucky white heather, don’t forget.” Catriona loosened the ties of the leather pouch. “Unless you draw a red bloom and have to wed last.”
Isobel’s smile didn’t fade. “The Bowing Stone is on Cameron land. It’s sure to help me pick the right sprig.” She slid a look at the third woman, a tall blonde with startling blue eyes. “Not wishing you ill fortune, Marjory.”
“The Norse say destiny is everything.” Lady Norn shrugged, good-naturedly. “I shall meet my future husband when I am meant to do so, not a moment before.”
“And if you already know who you wish him to be?” Isobel sounded breathless. She stepped closer to the outcrop, her face almost glowing in her excitement. “What will you do then, h’mmm?”
“I’ll wait, of course.” There was no question in Marjory’s tone. “As will he, I’m sure.”
“Then let’s begin.” Catriona glanced at the setting moon, just visible through the whirling mist. Mist that suddenly glowed as if lit from within by tiny, glimmering lights. “Look! We were right. This is the high corrie of the Bowing Stone.”
On her words, the outcrop shivered and before the women could blink, the jagged rocks vanished and the legended standing stone stood in their place.
Beautifully luminescent, the monolith speared heavenward, humming louder now, its runic-covered surface bright with the pearly sheen of ancient, much-blessed stone.
“Hurry!” Catriona started forward. “We must go deiseal, in the direction of the sun, if we hope the Bowing Stone’s blessing.”
And so they went, holding hands and making three reverent circles around the benevolent stone. Tears shone on Isobel’s cheeks when at last the women halted and dropped to their knees on the cold, dew-kissed grass. Catriona and Marjory exchanged a look, already guessing who would pull the sprig of lucky white heather.
Some things are meant to be.
“Now, while the magic is strong.” Catriona rose, already opening her leather bag. “Who will draw first?” She offered the pouch to her friends, smiling when Marjory gave a Isobel a nudge forward.
“Oh dear!” Isobel bit her lip, her eyes worried and her fingers shaking as she reached inside the bag. But when she withdrew the precious white heather – the only such sprig in the pouch – her face lit with a smile brighter than the sun.
“Oh, dear!” she cried again, pressing the heather to her heart. “It is me! I shall be the next bride.” Her tears spilled freely now. “Dare I tell you who I hope to hope to persuade to marry me?”
Catriona and Marjory laughed.
“You don’t have to tell us.” Marjory spoke for them both. “Anyone wh
o helped tend the men after the battle would know. We all saw how you looked at my brother.
“But I warn you” – Marjory’s smile belied her stern tone – “Kendrew is a wild one. You won’t have an easy time taming him. Though I do think you’ll not have any difficulties turning his head.”
“Does he really dance naked on your dreagan stones?” Catriona glanced at Marjory. “I’ve always wanted to know if that tale is true.”
Isobel blushed. “Catriona! He isn’t that crazed.”
“He is, be prepared.” Marjory glanced at Catriona. “He does dance naked on the stones. All the stories you hear about him are true, every one.”
“Oh, my.” Isobel’s eyes widened. But somehow, she didn’t look alarmed.
Catriona and Marjory stepped forward together, hugging their friend. “If our blessing worked” – Catriona was the first to pull back, for the Bowing Stone had already turned again to its usual jumble of broken, lichened stone – “we’ll hope to celebrate another autumn wedding in the glen.”
“I shall do my best.” Isobel tucked the white heather inside her bodice.
“And I have something to help you.” Catriona lifted her hands to unfasten her amber necklace. “This” – she slipped the ambers around Isobel’s neck – “will protect you if the dreagans around Castle Nought get too restless and decide they want a bite of you.”
“It will be my brother who’ll be after supping on her.” Marjory pulled her cloak tighter against the wind. “I’d suggest we return to Castle Haven now before all three of our brothers come looking for us.”
But before they started down the hill, Isobel grabbed Catriona’s arm. “You know I can’t keep your necklace. I know it’s a clan heirloom and-”
“So it is, aye.” Catriona patted her friend’s hand. “But you wear it in love and faith. James told me Gorm’s prophecy about the battle. It was that peace shall come to the glen when innocents die and gold covers the hills.
“Something like that, anyway.” She spoke as they picked their way through rock and heather. “Innocents have already shed blood here and James believes the autumn gold of whin and broom fulfils the rest of the riddle. We wed last October and you, then Marjory, must also be autumn brides.
“Until then, my ambers will keep you safe.” She lowered her voice, not wanting Marjory to hear. “There are strange things around Castle Nought. You’ll be glad for the protection of my charmed stones.”
“Then I thank you. But-” Isobel started, pointing. “Oh, look! Here comes James.”
Catriona turned, spotting her husband at once. Looking furious, he was just striding out of the thick wood where, so many months ago, they’d had their fateful encounter in the morning mist.
And he was heading straight for the hill where Catriona now stood alone.
Her friends – damn their faithless eyes – had dashed off in the other direction, leaving her alone to face James’ anger.
“Odin’s balls!” he roared when he reached her. “I knew you’re headstrong, but what were you thinking coming out here before sunrise and” – his fierce gaze flashed to her aching breasts, then lower to her somewhat thicker middle – “putting our son in danger?”
“You knew?” Catriona blinked. Her heart split. The hot passion in his words filled her with more joy than the whole world could contain.
“To be sure, I know!” He swept her up in his arms, holding her hard against him. “Everyone in this glen knows and we’re all tired of waiting for you to tell us.”
“But you’ve been so busy. I didn’t want-”
“What I want is to shout my happiness from the battlements, you little vixen.” He stopped, lowering his head to kiss her. “We’ll have a celebratory feast this e’en to announce the news. It’s a good time with Alasdair and Kendrew at Castle Haven just now.
“But first, I’m of a mood to take you on a journey.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, and so savagely that her toes curled. “Aye, we need to be on our way - quickly!”
Catriona pulled back to look at him. “A journey?”
He nodded, smiling. “So I said.”
“But where?” Catriona puzzled.
“You cannae guess?” He lifted a brow, looking amused. “It’s a place I vow you’ll love.”
“Then tell me.” She slid her arms around his neck, wanting to know.
Something told her he had something very special in mind.
“I thought we might visit the north lands.” He winked, the heat in his eyes melting her.
“The north lands?” Catriona’s heart began to pound.
“Oh, aye, sweetness.” He kissed her again. “I thought we’d explore a few ice floes. If you’re of a mind?”
“I am!” She could hardly wait. “You know how much I love the cold.”
“That I do,” he agreed.
And then he set off for his castle, carrying his bride, and grinning.
Life was good in the Glen of Many Legends.
And as the morning progressed, the soft spring air filled with frost…
Author’s Note
Dear Readers,
Sins of a Highland Devil was originally published in 2011 by Hachette Book Group, also known as Grand Central Publishing. I loved this story so much when I first wrote it and still do, so I’ve pretty much left the tale as it stood. As book one of my Highland Warriors series, I believe it launches a truly exciting series sure to appeal to anyone who loves Scotland.
After all, wild, heather-clad hills, empty glens, and the skirl of pipes stir the hearts of many. Female hearts beat fast at the flash of plaid. Yet I’ve seen grown men shed tears at the beauty of a Highland sunset. So many people love Scotland, and those of us who do, know that our passion is a two-edged sword. We live with a constant ache to be there. It’s a soul deep yearning known as ‘the pull.’
In my Highland Warriors trilogy, I wanted to explore the fierce attachment Highlanders feel for their home glen. Love that burns so hotly, they’ll even lay down their lives to hold on to the hills so dear to them.
James Cameron and Catriona MacDonald, hero and heroine of Sins of a Highland Devil, are bitter foes. Divided by centuries of clan feuds, strife, and rivalries, they share a fiery passion for the glen they each claim as their own. When a king’s writ threatens banishment, long-held boundaries blur and forbidden desires are unleashed. James and Catriona soon discover there is much pleasure to be found in each other’s embrace. But the price of their yearning must be paid in blood and the battle facing them could shatter their world.
Fortunately, true love can prove a more powerful weapon than any warrior’s sword.
There are a lot of swords in this story. And the fight scenes are fierce. But passions flare when blood is spilled as James and Catriona showed me each day during the writing of their tale.
It was an exhilarating journey.
Catriona is a strong heroine who will brave any danger to protect her home and to win the heart of the man she never believed could be hers. James is a hardened warrior, proud clan leader, and he faces his greatest challenge when his beloved glen is threatened.
Because this book is a romance, James and Catriona are triumphant. Their ending is a happy one. Numberless Highlanders after them weren’t as blessed. Later centuries saw the Clearances, while famine and other hardships did the rest. Clans were scattered, banished from their glens and hills as they were forced to sail to distant shores. Their hearts were irrevocably broken. But they kept their deep love of the land, their proud Celtic roots remaining true no matter where they settled.
Their forever yearning for home still beats in the heart of everyone with even a drop of Scottish blood. It’s the reason we feel ‘the pull.’
I hope you’ll enjoyed watching as James’s and Catriona’s passion for their glen rewards them with a love more wondrous than their wildest dreams.
Before I leave you, I’d like to share my inspiration for Rannoch, the glen’s magical white stag, Laoigh Feigh Ban…
>
Rannoch was created in honor of Big Boy, a friendly red deer stag who enjoyed greeting visitors at Rannoch Moor’s popular Black Mount viewpoint on the A-82 in Glencoe. Tame and trusting, Big Boy delighted travelers from all over the world. He was a highlight of my own drives through this spectacularly beautiful part of the Highlands. And he was the special friend of kindly Earle MacDonald, who was so good to him.
Big Boy’s gentle nature brought his sad demise. But he lives on in the hearts of everyone who loved him. Big Boy was even more extraordinary than my fictional Rannoch. I wish he’d also been as immortal.
As he wasn’t, I’d like to extend a thousand blessings on Earle MacDonald of Black Mount, and other dedicated animal lovers everywhere. God bless you all.
Wishing you Highland Magic!
Sue-Ellen Welfonder
(aka Allie Mackay)
* * *
Please watch for the next two books in my Highland Warriors trilogy…
Temptation of a Highland Scoundrel
Seduction of a Highland Warrior
* * *
Coming soon!
Enjoy a sneak peek at Temptation of a Highland Scoundrel…
The Legacy of the Dreagan Stones
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.
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