by Diana Cosby
“Now, my love,” he said, his deep burr tender, “open your eyes.”
Unsure what she would see, she lifted her lids. A single arched window heralded a pure stream of sunlight that filled the entire room with its brilliance. Near the wall stood a bed, covered with an elegant, hand-stitched coverlet, the color of moon-kissed daisies. A small table sat nearby, adorned with a myriad of her personal items; intricately carved jewelry, a bone comb, and an ivory-framed mirror. On the far wall hung a beautifully crafted tapestry with images of fairies woven amidst the leaves.
Emotions stormed her. She’d anticipated many things about what the chamber would look like from her view in the courtyard, but nae this.
“The embroidery King Alexander gifted me,” she whispered, moved beyond belief, “with images of my sisters woven within.”
Love shone in her husband’s eyes. “His thanks for your aid.”
“’Twas unnecessary. King Alexander’s support and allowing us the help of his knights in finding Princess Elspeth was payment enough.” Grief swept her at thoughts of her aunt.
“You look upset.”
She gave a shaky exhale. “Though over half a year has passed since her death, I canna believe the poor decisions my aunt made, nor that she is gone. I grieve for the lives she destroyed, and for the loss of Prince Johan and my uncle. Never will I forget them.”
Sadness weighed on Trálin’s face. “All because of Princess Elspeth’s greed for power.”
“Never will I understand my aunt’s twisted decisions.” Tears blurred her eyes, and she wiped them away. “Look at me, mulling what I canna change when you brought me here to surprise me with the gift of this chamber. ’Tis beautiful, Trálin. More than I ever imagined.”
A warm smile touched his mouth. “I am glad you like it. I was hoping you would.”
“As if with the magnificence inside, I would do anything else?” She paused. “What will we do with the claymore presented to you by King Alexander? I admit, I was surprised by the crafted fairy he had installed on the leather-bound hilt, but his explanation ’twas to represent our merged worlds touched me deeply.”
Trálin lifted her hand, pressed a kiss upon her knuckles. “I have decided to have portraits made, one of each of your warriors holding their respective stone. Nearby, I will hang the claymore.”
“’Twill be perfect.”
He arched a playful brow. “There is another surprise.”
“More?”
“Aye,” he said. “Look up.”
Up? What could possibly . . . “Ohhhh.” Captured in various aspects of flight, hand-painted images of fairies adorned the ceiling. Overhead lay a raven-haired fairy in a moss-green gown, her silver-tipped wings caught in mid-flutter, hiding behind a lush, purple-tipped thistle.
Overwhelmed, she glanced toward the wall hanging, then back up. “The images of my sisters on the ceiling are an exact match to those in the tapestry!”
He chuckled. “They are indeed.”
“Who did such a beautiful painting?”
Pride shone on his face. “Sionn.”
“When could he have done this? How could he . . . It must have taken—”
“—a fortnight to be exact,” Trálin finished. “’Twas his wedding gift to you.”
Moved beyond belief, she shook her head. “I never expected anything so grand.”
“’Twas nae planned,” Trálin admitted. “When I explained that after you had sacrificed living in the Otherworld and given up your fey powers to wed me and live in Scotland, and that I was building you a special chamber to celebrate your homeland, Sionn asked if he could paint this for you.” He gestured toward the bowl on the small table. “Look inside.”
Humbled by the outpouring of love, the thoughtfulness in each detail, Catarine walked to the table. “Oh my . . .” She lifted her warriors’ gemstones in her palm.
“Atair brought them,” Trálin explained. “With you no longer living in their world, you had nay need of their service. And they, nay need for the gemstones. He thought you would want the stones to remember them.”
“As if I could ever forget my fey warriors?” Fresh tears slid down her cheeks. “I will cherish them always.” She hesitated. “Why are they halved?”
Trálin walked over to her side. “Each of the warriors kept half, to remember you.”
She sniffed. “’Tis amazing.” She gently set them back within the bowl. “I shall honor my warriors as well. I shall pass the halves on to our children.”
“Our sons,” he said, pride in his voice.
She laughed. “Or our daughters.”
Trálin drew her to him, caught her mouth in a tender kiss, then slowly drew away. “I will love our children, regardless.”
Memories of Trálin’s brother shadowed her thoughts, and she looked away.
“Catarine?”
“I think of Faolan. I am sorry for the rift between you and your brother at my arrival to Lochshire Castle.”
“Do nae apologize,” Trálin replied, a touch of anger in his voice. “I could nae allow Faolan to remain when he confronted me and stated he’d fallen in love with you and planned to win you over.”
Memories of that horrible day replayed in her mind of Trálin and Faolan’s falling-out. “I was stunned by his claim, that he wanted me as his wife.” She shook her head. “Never could I love anyone but you, neither would he believe me.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a tender kiss on her knuckles. “I know, my love, but my brother could nae accept that fact. I have confidence that over time I could deter Faolan’s belief that he could win you over. But when he drew his blade against me, he was fortunate to leave Lochshire Castle with but a broken sword arm.”
Leave? Nay, cast out in a fierce fight. “What will come of Faolan?”
He released her. “I didna wish to worry you, but a month after my brother left, I found him living in a crofter’s hut with a woman. In an attempt to make peace, I gave him our mother’s lands.”
Warmth filled her. “’Twas a wonderful gesture.”
“Mayhap,” Trálin said, “but he was still in love with you and angry from our fight, and my attempt to repair our family bond mattered little. I tried to reason with my brother, but he would have none of it. Before his woman and I, Faolan denounced the MacGruder name and claimed that of our mother, Brom.”
Regret swept Catarine. “I am sorry. Mayhap with the years will come reason?”
“I pray so, but regardless of how close my brother and I were in the past, with his irrational anger, I doubt we will ever see him again.”
Tense silence filled the chamber.
She exhaled. “’Tis sad.”
He nodded.
Catarine offered a prayer that in time Faolan would find the strength to release his anger. She again gazed around the room, focusing on this special moment, and the man to whom she’d pledged her love.
“Thank you, Trálin, I am humbled by your gift. Whenever I am within this chamber, ’twill indeed bless me with memories of my homeland.”
“’Tis worth anything to bring you happiness.” A twinkle lit his eyes. “Do you think any in the future will wonder about the fairies in the tapestry or on the ceiling and of their origin, or the touch of magic your presence gives the chamber?”
“If they do, I shall explain that while I was in the woods gathering herbs, King Alexander was hunting with several men nearby. His mount stumbled and the king was injured. I witnessed the entire event and offered to care for him. In return he gifted me with the tapestry.”
Trálin chuckled. “’Tis close to the truth.”
She smiled. “Close enough.”
“Aye.” He swept her in his arms. “I love you, Catarine MacGruder, and I am blessed to have you as my wife.”
“And,” she said, her heart full, “I am blessed that you are my husband.”
“I admit I held doubts your father would allow us to handfast,” Trálin said. “But, in private he admitted that
he knew you were unhappy with your betrothal, but proud of you for planning to adhere to your promise. Never did he wish you unhappiness. And, with you free to wed, he was thankful that you would marry for love, one I assured him I felt for you. And, that always would I protect you.” He strode with her toward the bed.
“Protection you are about to offer, is it?”
He laughed. “I believe,” Trálin said as he lay her atop the coverlet, “I am going to make love to my wife.”
Her heart full, Catarine savored his every touch as he caught her mouth in a heated kiss. Aye, she was indeed blessed, for this day was but the first in their forever.
A retired Navy Chief, AGC(AW), DIANA COSBY is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, appeared at Lady Jane’s Salon, in New York City, in Woman’s Day, on Texoma Living Magazine, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happily Ever After,” and onMSN.com.
After retiring from the Navy, Diana dove into her passion—writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. Diana is currently working on the sixth book in the award-winning MacGruder Brothers series, and in August 2013, released her story “Highland Vampire” in the anthology Born to Bite, with stories by Hannah Howell and Erica Ridley. Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and to meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.
Please visit her at www.dianacosby.com.
Don’t miss the other books
in the MacGruder series
eKENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2013 Diana Cosby
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
eKENSINGTON and the k logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First electronic edition: December 2013
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3169-9
First print edition: December 2013
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-218-4
ISBN-10: 1-60183-218-4