by Carmen Caine
It seemed like an eternity had passed since Duncan had left to fetch Gyllis. What if she suddenly had a change of mind? Sean clenched his fist. Gyllis wouldn’t do that.
The church pews were filled with people. In fact there were so many in attendance, groups stood at the back of the nave. Where did they all hail from?
John Campbell took his place in front of the altar, holding a black prayer book. “You could sit until they arrive. You look like a caged dog.”
Sean shot the priest an annoyed glare. But he did sit—for about two blinks of an eye and then he was back on his feet. “Sitting only makes it worse.”
John frowned—probably because he thought he should. If the former knight hadn’t gone off and joined the priesthood, he’d be laughing and giving the Dunollie Chieftain a good rib about now.
When the double doors finally opened, Sean held his breath. Duncan led Gyllis inside and they stood at the rear of the aisle. She smiled. Sean’s insides melted. By God, she was stunning. Wearing a golden headdress, the silken wimple framed her face, enhancing her vivacious coloring. Green eyes, pink cheeks, lips as red as rubies. She wore a high-collared, woven red-and-gold mantle over a silken kirtle that made her look as regal as the queen. When they proceeded down the aisle, Sean hardly noticed her limp. God, she was amazing. It hadn’t even been a half-year since she’d contracted paralysis and look how far she’d come.
By the time she arrived beside him, Sean’s nervousness had been replaced by complete and utter adoration. Duncan offered her hand and he grasped it, hoping never to let go. “I’ve missed you.”
Her radiant smile melted yet another piece of his heart. Gyllis inclined her lips toward his ear. “I though this past month would never pass.”
“I cannot wait until the feast is over so I can whisk you above stairs,” he whispered out the corner of his mouth.
She leaned into him and winked. “But we shall need sustenance first.”
If he hadn’t been in a church, Sean would have burst out laughing.
John cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
Sean gave a nod and the Latin mass commenced. There was only one thing he could focus on, and that was the face of the incredible woman who stood before him. How such a lady could love a man such as he, the Chieftain of Dunollie—former Lusty Laddie—he would never know, but he loved her with a fire so passionate the torch he carried for Gyllis could never be snuffed.
Author’s Note
Thank you for joining me for Gyllis and Sean’s journey. This was an interesting story to write, indeed. Because there are so many people named John in this series, I used “Sean” for the hero’s first name. As you may have guessed, the 11th Chieftain of Dunollie was John MacDougall, of MacDougall. I also left the date of this story ambiguous, because I believe John was much older when he actually married Gyllis Campbell.
The facts in the genealogy record do detail that John MacDougall’s uncle, the Lord of Lorn (also named John) asked for protection from the MacDougall Clan during his wedding at Dunstaffnage Chapel. Alan MacCoul, MacDougall’s illegitimate brother, stabbed Lorn outside the chapel doors. The Lord of Lorn took his vows while he was dying, thus granting his son the lordship. Alan MacCoul then laid siege to Dunstaffnage Castle and did imprison John MacDougall in irons on the Isle of Kerrera where he almost died.
The Campbells (reported as being led by Colin Campbell, the Lord of Argyll) fought and reclaimed Dunstaffnage, and Alan MacCoul is said to have slipped away. The record says nothing about who actually rescued John MacDougall from the cave, thus it was convenient to have Gyllis perform that act of heroism.
Next up in the Highland Dynasty series is Lady Helen and her abominable marriage to Aleck MacIain. With luck, Eoin MacGregor might perform his own acts of heroism in Highland Knight of Rapture.
Excerpt from Amy’s Next Release:
HIGHLAND KNIGHT OF RAPTURE
Highland Dynasty Series ~ Book Four
Chapter One
Mingary Castle, the Highlands. March, 1493
Clenching every muscle in her body, Helen bore down with her remaining shreds of strength. She’d crossed the threshold of her endurance hours ago. Pain no longer mattered. After twenty-four hours of labor, she needed to expunge this bairn from her womb if it killed her, which may very well come about.
Her body shuddered as she shrieked through her grating voice box, pushing until her eyes bulged. “I…” she panted. “Cannot. Take. Anymore!”
“You can,” Glenda shouted. “Just a bit longer, m’lady.”
Helen sucked in a gasp of air. If she weren’t on the brink of death, she’d give her chambermaid a strong rebuttal. But before she could open her mouth, the blinding pain intensified. Panting, she gripped the bed linens and clenched her teeth so taut, they might just shatter. “Eeeeeeee,” she screeched.
“I see the head, m’lady. Keep. Pushing!”
Helen loved Glenda, but by the saints, the woman had to be the spawn of the devil to encourage this mounting torture.
Straining so hard her skull throbbed, Helen gulped one more deep breath and pushed. This had to be the end. Swooning, she could take no more. Stars darted through her vision. Her insides ripped and tore. Many women died in childbirth.
Would she, too?
Blessed Mother Mary, help me, I must survive.
Then as if her prayer had been answered, the bairn slid out between her legs. Her pain subsided.
Helen collapsed against the pillows.
A slap resounded through the chamber. A wee cry sang out.
Helen’s heart soared.
“’Tis a lass, m’lady.”
She could have floated to the canopy above. Pushing the sweat-soaked hair from her brow, Helen smiled. “A wee lassie?” Joyful tears welled in her eyes. Suddenly, all the pain and agony seemed worthwhile as the infant’s angelic voice gasped and cried. It was the most delightful sound she’d ever heard. She reached up. “I want to hold her.”
“Let me finish cleansing her, and then you can make the bond,” Glenda said from across the chamber.
With a sigh, Helen gazed at the scarlet canopy above. She’d never been so elated, yet so exhausted.
Glenda came into view, a wide grin on her careworn face. She settled the bairn in Helen’s waiting arms. “What will you call the lass, m’lady?”
Helen regarded the beet-red infant yawning at her. She had a tiny bow-shaped mouth, enormous blue eyes and a smattering of black curls atop her head. “You shall be named Margaret after my mother, but I shall call you Maggie, because you are the most adorable wee bairn I have ever seen.” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “And your second name shall be Alice after my younger sister. I like the sound of Alice ever so much.”
With a fragrance as fresh as morning’s dew, Maggie turned her head toward Helen’s breast and nudged.
“She can smell your milk, m’lady.” Glenda untied Helen’s linen shift and opened the front. “Hold Maggie to your teat. She’ll ken what to do.”
Helen moved the bairn in place, and just as Glenda had said, Maggie started to suckle. But it burned. Alarmed, Helen gasped and shot a panicked look at her chambermaid.
“Do not worry, m’lady. It stings a bit at first, but eases as soon as your milk starts to flow.”
Again, Glenda was right and the stinging lessened as quickly as it had come on.
Watching the miracle in her arms, Helen sighed. “I do not ken what I would do without you, Glenda. You are so wise with these things.”
“Aye?” The chambermaid chuckled. “Having three bairns of my own gave me all the learning I needed, I suppose.”
Helen stiffened when the door opened. Her husband strode into the chamber, his heavy boots clomping over the floorboards while the sword and dirk belted at his waist clanked against his iron hauberk. She would never grow accustomed to Aleck MacIain’s harsh mien. With a bald head and black steely eyes, she’d yet to discover his compassionate side, despite five years of marriag
e. That the bulky man entered wearing his weapons, along with muddy boots, spoke volumes about his lack of respect for her.
Though Helen’s skin crawled, she feigned a smile—the same one she always used to mask her fear. “Come meet your daughter, m’laird.”
He stopped mid-stride and glared. “You mean to tell me that after five miserable years of waiting, you only manage to produce a lass?”
Helen tensed and glanced to Glenda. The chambermaid met her gaze with a frown, then snapped her attention to gathering the soiled linens. No one in the clan dared confront the Chieftain of Mingary, lest they be turned out to fend for themselves. A knot clamped in Helen’s stomach. Aleck may be a tyrant toward her, but he would respect their daughter. “She is our firstborn—a lovely, healthy bairn. ’Tis not always a misfortune for a daughter to come first. We will have other children, of that I am certain.”
He dropped his gaze to her exposed breast and frowned. “I have misgivings about your ability to be successful at bearing lads, given the length of time it took to conceive a lass.” He grunted. “At least you’ve gained some shape to your udders, though I doubt they’ll stay that way.”
Helen turned her face away, heat prickling the back of her neck. Bless it, she’d just birthed his bairn, and he hadn’t a kind word to say? She bit back the tears threatening to well in her eyes. A long time ago, she’d vowed Aleck MacIain would not make her weep. She’d spent every day of the past five years trying to please him—looking at every insult as another chance to better herself. But her efforts had never been enough.
If only I could do something to make him like me.
She regarded the helpless bairn in her arms. Hit with an overwhelming urge to protect Maggie, she pulled the comforter over the lass to shield the child and her breast from Aleck’s stare.
Glenda clapped her hands. “I’m afraid Lady Helen is very weak, m’laird. She has lost a great deal of blood and needs her rest.”
Aleck’s gaze darted to the chambermaid as if about to spit out a rebuke. But his lips formed a thin line and he nodded. With one last odious look at Helen, he turned on his heel and left.
Helen allowed herself to breathe.
Glenda dashed to the side of the bed. “I’m ever so sorry, m’lady.”
“’Tis not your fault. I kent Sir Aleck wanted a lad.” Helen smoothed her hand over Maggie’s downy soft curls as the bairn continued to suckle. “He just doesn’t ken how precious a lass can be.”
“No, he does not. I doubt he ever will.”
“Wheesht, Glenda,” Helen admonished.
The woman crossed her arms. “I’ll not pretend. I disprove of his boorishness, especially toward you, m’lady.”
Her serving maid had never been quite so forthright. Helen should scold her further, but presently she hadn’t the wherewithal to do so. At long last, she held Maggie in her arms and even Aleck MacIain could not quash the joy in her heart. Helen grinned. “She is beautiful, is she not?”
“A more precious bairn does not exist.” Glenda reached in. “’Tis time for her to suckle on the other side.”
End of excerpt from Highland Knight of Rapture
Other Books by Amy Jarecki:
Highland Force Series:
Captured by the Pirate Laird
The Highland Henchman
Beauty and the Barbarian
Return of the Highland Laird (A Highland Force Novella)
Highland Dynasty Series:
Knight in Highland Armor
A Highland Knight’s Desire
Highland Knight of Rapture
Pict/Roman Romances:
Rescued by the Celtic Warrior
Celtic Maid
Visit Amy’s web site & sign up to receive newsletter updates of new releases and giveaways exclusive to newsletter followers: www.amyjarecki.com
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If you enjoyed A Highland Knight to Remember, we would be honored if you would consider leaving a review. ~Thank you!
About the Author
A descendant of an ancient Lowland clan, Amy adores Scotland. Though she now resides in southwest Utah, she received her MBA from Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh. Winning multiple writing awards, she found her niche in the genre of Scottish historical romance, writing steamy edge-of-your-seat action adventures with rugged men and fascinating women who weave their paths through the brutal eras of centuries past. Amy loves hearing from her readers and can be contacted through her website at www.amyjarecki.com.
My Highland Love
Highland Lords Series
Tarah Scott
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Tarah Scott
http://www.tarahscott.com/
Reviews
The chemistry between these two characters will leave you breathless! This is one book I will defiantly read over and over! Starry Night Book Reviews
The story is not only well written, but flows at just the perfect pace.One of the most important things in this genre is chemistry between the characters. My Highland Love's Marcus and Elise will set fire to the pages, or your e-reader screen! It's romantic and sensual with a good dose of suspense and action added in. Set in the beautiful Scottish Highlands this tale of love and second chances truly shines among other Highland novels. If you're looking for the next greatest Highland tale, pick this one up! Kristina Haeker's Reviews
My Highland Love by Tarah Scott is a great story. I like the fact that Elise is not some wayward, whiny virgin, she is a woman with a past, a woman with her tragedies that make her evolve into the lass that Marcus comes to love. I adore Marcus being an older man with an 18 year old son and loads of responsibilities. Book Obsessed Chicks
The erotic chemistry between Marcus and Elise is sizzling hot and definitely will raise your heart level up a notch or two with their courting chase. The ending was brilliant; my emotions were running wild with sadness one moment and gasping but ending with a great big smile on my face for the happy ever after. Excellent Read. Queentutt
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my two very good friends and critique partners, Kimberly Comeau and Evan Trevane. You guys read this book above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you.
Chapter One
America
Winter 1825
"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." Or so her eulogy would begin.
The heavy gold wedding band clinked loudly in the silence as he grasped the crystal tumbler sitting on the desk before him. He raised the glass in salutation and whispered into the darkness, "To the dead, may they rot in their watery graves." He finished the whiskey in one swallow.
And what of that which had been hers? He smiled. The law would see that her wealth remained where it should—with him. A finality settled about the room.
Soon, life would begin.
* * * *
Solway Firth, Scottish-English border
Elise jumped at the sound of approaching footsteps and sloshed tea from the cup at her lips. The ship's stateroom door opened and her grip tightened around the delicate cup handle. Her husband ducked to miss the top of the doorway as he entered. He stopped, his gaze fixing on the medical journal that lay open on the secretary beside her. A corner of his mouth curved upward with a derisive twist and his eyes met hers.
With deliberate disinterest, Elise slipped the paper she'd be
en making notes on between the pages of the journal and took the forestalled sip of afternoon tea. She grimaced. The tea had grown cold in the two hours it had sat untouched. She placed the cup on the saucer, then turned a page in the book. As Robert clicked the door shut behind him, the ship's stern lifted with another wave. She gripped the desk when the stern dropped into the swell's trough. Thunder, the first on the month-long voyage, rumbled. She released the desk. This storm had grown into more than a mere squall.
Robert stepped to her side. "What are you doing?"
"Nothi—" He snatched the paper from the book. "Robert!" She would have leapt to her feet, but her legs were shakier than her hands.
He scanned the paper, then looked at her. "You refuse to let the matter lie."
"You don't care that the doctors couldn't identify what killed your daughter?"
"She is dead. What difference can it possibly make?"
Her pulse jumped. None for you. Because you murdered her.
He tossed the paper aside. "This has gone far enough."
Elise lifted her gaze to his face. She once thought those blue eyes so sensual. "I couldn't agree more."
"Indeed?"
The ship heaved.
"I will give you a divorce," she said.
"Divorce?" A hard gleam entered his eyes. "I mean to be a widower."
She caught sight of the bulge in his waistband. Her pulse quickened. Why hadn't she noticed the pistol when he entered?
Elise shook her head. "You can't possibly hope to succeed. Steven will—"
"Your illustrious brother is in the bowels of the ship, overseeing the handling of the two crewmen accused of theft."