by Terry Spear
When they arrived home, she hadn't expected to do anything except that she wanted a bath and to sleep for a week.
But Elspeth had apparently sent men to spy on their return, and knew way before they arrived that they were on their way.
Elspeth had prepared a great celebration, feasting, drinking and dancing, just to welcome them home. Once Ronan helped Sorcha to the ground, Elspeth threw her arms around her. "Welcome home." Her eyes were filled with joyful tears and Sorcha realized Elspeth probably worried she would never make it back here.
She was just as teary-eyed as she hugged her new sister, and the two hurried off to the keep. A bath first, clean clothes, sleeping could wait. She glanced back at Ronan, almost forgetting him in all her excitement to be home.
He was standing with his two brothers and Fagen, all four with their arms folded across their broad chests, all of them grinning.
Sorcha was truly home.
"It worked out well, I take it," Ward said as they watched the two women head inside the keep.
"Aye. I wish she could see her sister and her children more frequently, but someday I am sure it will happen."
"I thought you might slip away with the lass when we arrived home, and we wouldna see you until tomorrow morn," Ward said.
Ronan slapped his brother on the back and headed for the keep. "That may still happen, brother."
And the men all laughed.
He loved his bonny wife and he had every intention of showing just how much so every day of their lives.
Epilogue
Elspeth assisted two other women as Sorcha and Ronan's bairn was born into the world. "She is beautiful, Sorcha," she said, resting Lena at Sorcha's breast.
"She is lovely." Sorcha smiled as Lena sucked from her breast. She was tired, but she couldn't have been any happier than she was this day.
The door opened and the women turned to see Ronan taking up the whole doorway. When he saw the bairn at Sorcha's breast, he smiled and advanced on the bed.
"A girl, Lena," Sorcha said.
"A bonny lass, just like her mother." He leaned down and kissed Sorcha on the lips and would have held the baby, but she was suckling on her breast.
He couldn't have been more proud of Sorcha. And couldn't have adored his daughter any more than he did now. He took Sorcha's hand and caressed it. "And the next one?" He still couldn't believe she would have known what she was going to have.
She looked at him with an expression that said if he could carry their next bairn she was all for it.
He smiled. "Later."
"Much."
He ran his hand over Lena's dark brown hair.
"She has your hair," Sorcha said.
Lena stopped feeding and Ronan lifted her to look at her. She squinted at him. "And your green eyes. Someday I suppose you will teach her how to use a sgian dubh."
Sorcha laughed as he cuddled the bairn in his arms. "And you will want that, too, so she can protect herself from unscrupulous men."
Ronan glanced at Sorcha, still remembering that day so long ago and glad he'd found and protected her, even though she had done a good job protecting herself.
"I will return."
Sorcha frowned. "Where are you going?"
"To show off the new member of our clan."
Elspeth patted her arm. "I will go with him and make sure the bairn comes to no harm. She will be back in your arms in no time. Rest."
Sorcha couldn't help smiling at Ronan as he swaddled the bairn in his arms, one proud da, and she couldn't have loved him any more for it.
Someday they would tell their daughter about her mother and da's magical encounter near the ancient standing stones—and how their coming together had been meant to be.
She watched as Elspeth disappeared from the chamber and hoped that she would soon have her own special encounter with the Highland love of her life. Cheers went up below stairs and Sorcha smiled. Lena would be well loved by all, too.
###
More to Come:
Are you ready for more adventures in THE HIGHLANDERS series? The series continues with Winning the Highlander's Heart. And the characters in this novella will be seen in book 7, The Viking's Highland Lass.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my critique partners, Vonda, Judy and Gwyn, and to my beta readers, Lor Melvin, Donna Fournier, Dottie Jones, and Bonnie Gill for making the novella so much better, to Vonda for making the lovely cover for Kissing the Highlander and to Vonda, Eliza, Willa and Victoria for taking part with me in this venture.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today bestselling and award-winning author Terry Spear has written over fifty paranormal romance novels and four medieval Highland historical romances. Her first werewolf romance, Heart of the Wolf, was named a 2008 Publishers Weekly's Best Book of the Year, and her subsequent titles have garnered high praise and hit the USA Today bestseller list. A retired officer of the U.S. Army Reserves, Terry lives in Crawford, Texas, where she is working on her next werewolf romance, shapeshifting jaguars, cougar shifters, vampires, hot Highlanders, and having fun with her young adult novels. For more information, please visit www.terryspear.com , or follow her on Twitter, @TerrySpear.
She is also on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/TerrySpearParanormalRomantics. And on Wordpress at: Terry Spear's Shifters: http://terryspear.wordpress.com Her Wilde & Woolley Bears, award-winning teddy bears, have found homes all over the world: www.celticbears.com
THE HIGHLANDER'S CHARM
A Stolen Brides Novella
Eliza Knight
About The Highlander's Charm:
They should be enemies… But passion and love know no bounds.
Returning from France to his family’s manor in England, Samuel de Mowbray discovers that his two younger sisters have been stolen away to the Highlands by the Sutherland brothers. Determined to save his sisters from the hands of vicious warriors, he convinces the king to send him north on a mission. While there he discovers not only that his loyalties are beginning to waver, but that a head-strong, feisty lass could destroy everything he believes.
Catriona Buchanan needs to travel north to gain the help of her distant relations in saving her brother and ridding her castle of brutal English knights. Unfortunately, it appears the only way to escape their clutches is by trusting in the very thing she mistrusts the most—an Englishman. Minute by minute, the man who should be her enemy breaks down her defenses. There is something different about him and she can’t help but be captivated by Samuel, and his steamy kisses.
Other Stolen Brides by Eliza Knight:
The Highlander’s Temptation – Prequel, The Stolen Bride Series
The Highlander’s Reward – Book One, The Stolen Bride Series
Wild Highland Mistletoe—a winter adventure
The Highlander’s Conquest – Book Two, The Stolen Bride Series
The Highlander’s Lady – Book Three, The Stolen Bride Series
The Highlander’s Warrior Bride – Book Four, The Stolen Bride Series
The Highlander’s Triumph – Book Five, The Stolen Bride Series
The Highlander’s Sin – Book Six, The Stolen Bride Series
A Kilted Christmas Wish – a contemporary spin-off
DEDICATION
To my amazing readers. You are all near and dear to my heart!
Dear Readers,
I write Highland romances because I love Scotland, I love its rich history, the magic of its landscape and the endless possibilities for exhilarating tales. I’m thrilled to introduce you to Samuel de Mowbray and Catriona Buchanan. If you read, The Highlander’s Reward or The Highlander’s Conquest, then you’ll recognize him as Arbella and Aliah’s brother who was off fighting in France. Well, he’s back and he wants to know what’s happened to his sisters. Not only is he going to find out, he’s going to fall for a little Highlander’s charm himself! I loved Samuel and I really hope you do, too!
Thank you so much for reading!
Cheers,
Eliza
www.elizaknight.com
Chapter 1
CATRIONA Buchanan stood in the middle of her own worst nightmare.
Feet anchored in the center of the great hall of her family’s castle, she felt her stomach drop to somewhere around her toes. At least a dozen English knights surrounded her. Completely covered in armor, their beady eyes narrowed at her from beneath their iron helmets.
At the head of the circle of Sassenachs was one man she abhorred in particular—Sir Geoffrey. These were his men, the wastrels, and they were acting upon his orders—supposedly handed down from Longshanks—to take up residence in her home. That was an outcome she could not allow to happen.
Sir Geoffrey licked his lips, his snake-like gaze roaming from her forehead down to her knees. She suppressed a shiver and swallowed the burn rising in her throat.
“Well, savage, what will it be?”
Savage? How dare he! She was no savage. The man standing before her, looking as though he were ready to rip out her heart and eat it right in front of her startled eyes, he was the savage.
Keeping her lips firm, she refused to answer his absurd question—the bastard actually thought she might let them stay—and take her to bed for sport.
He took a threatening step forward. “We’ve got your walls surrounded. My men line the courtyard, and here you are all alone.”
Catriona looked the man square in the eye, refusing to let him intimidate her. “Where is my brother?”
The man leered. Her brother Gregor was Chief Buchanan. Where had he gone? When the English had ridden up to their doors she’d heard him shouting orders. The fact that she was alone in the great hall with this monster was too much to take in. For it could only mean one thing—something terrible had happened to Gregor. Bile rose in her throat and she fought hard to keep her tears at bay. Do not cry now. Not with him looking. She had to remain strong. She dug her nails into her palms and bit the tip of her tongue, forcing herself not to react.
“Your brother?” Sir Geoffrey slid his fingers around the hilt of his sword, a silent show of what had occurred. “I do not believe the chief will be a problem for us, savage. I’ll need your answer now. Willingly lift your skirts, else I’ll have my men hold you down.”
She’d never let this jackanapes or any of his men violate her. Willingly or otherwise. Catriona straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, taking pleasure in the fact that her height nearly matched the knight’s.
“Ye’ve no right to me. If I am the king’s subject, as ye say, he would not condone your threats of violence on my person.”
Sir Geoffrey let out a rusty laugh, and she had to suppress the urge to turn and flee—though where could she go? The Sassenach beasts surrounded her. Her brother’s men had yet to enter, which only made her feel all the more desperate. They’d not been a strong clan to begin with. Picked off over the years by their rival neighbors. Her parents had been murdered nearly a decade before and her older brother made chief. He’d not been ready for the position, hadn’t been able to build up their clan as he could have if he’d been prepared. Their father’s debts had been so vast… There was barely anything left once Gregor had seen them met.
“Have you not heard the king’s edict of prima nocte?” The man was moving closer.
Catriona’s blood chilled at his nearness, at the coolness of his grey eyes. She’d heard of it. Heard that it was a rumor. But this man stated it as though it were fact. “I am not yet wed. Nor am I betrothed. The right is only for those women about to be married.”
“Aye, and to have their virginity given to an English knight on the eve of their marriage.”
She shook her head. “Then it does not apply to me.”
“Oh, but it does, chit.” Geoffrey turned to one of his men. “Bring him in.”
Panic gripped her spine and she tried to push it aside, tried not to be afraid of what this man was implying, but ’twas impossible.
The doors to the great hall were opened and a bloodied, old man was shoved through.
“Fergus,” she breathed out with fear. He was their blacksmith. A man of such great age no one was certain exactly how old he was. Widowed the previous year, he had a brood of children that could have populated one of the northern isles—at least that was what her brother had said.
“Ah, so you know this man? Count yourself lucky then that you are at least acquainted with the man whom you will spend eternity taking care of.”
Catriona shifted her gaze from Fergus to Geoffrey. “What? No… I canna…”
The pain of Geoffrey’s hand slapping her cheek registered before she realized that he’d struck her. “You will. And you’ll do it now before God and these many witnesses.”
She shook her head, desperate for a way out. “But he is not of my station,” she said, hoping to appeal to what the English clung to—social castes.
“Oh, what a pity for you. ’Tis a good thing then that we English see you savages as all one and the same, as does God. I’m doing you a favor at least. I could simply rape you, then let all of my men have their turn. But you see, I am nothing if not merciful. I will leave you a wedded woman. Is that not what all you wenches desire?”
The man was mad, sick, deranged. Not all women desired a husband, and none that she knew desired being violated or stepped on, or treated worse than the muck in a horse’s stall.
“I do not desire such,” she managed to say through gritted teeth.
Geoffrey shrugged. “Pity. Did your nursemaid not tell you that you do not always get what you want? My mother said it often enough.” He snickered. “And now look at me.” He reached out, yanked the front of her gown so she was hauled up against him. “Now I take whatever I want.”
SIR Samuel de Mowbray had not signed on to this jaunt into the Highlands to watch his superior officer violate a young maiden.
The woman embodied beauty. She was nearly tall as a man, but he guessed he had a few inches on her. Dark, sleek hair was pulled tight in a plait down her back. Her skin was pale, made paler by her fear he surmised, but her amber colored eyes shot fire. She wasn’t timid—if anything she was spitting with rage. She had a good way of keeping it tightly leashed, which impressed him greatly.
It had been hard not to wince when Geoffrey slapped her. Samuel had two sisters of his own. Both of which had been stolen out from under his love-struck father’s nose and now resided here in the Highlands somewhere. He was bound and determined to find out exactly where they were, too. He’d rip off their husbands’ limbs and then carry his sisters back to the safety of England. When he’d arrived home after fighting the French to find that his father had gone off on something of a honeymoon with his sisters’ nursemaid and that his sisters had been married off to savage Scots—brothers no less!—he about died of shock.
Getting a position within Geoffrey’s unit had been a bit of a quandary, but his superior officer had finally allowed it when Samuel said he wanted to lay his blade into a Scot or two—and the king had been more than happy to send him into Scotland thinking he might be able to gain access to the Scottish rebellion leaders. Theoretically, joining Geoffrey’s ranks was a step down for Samuel since he’d been at the same level as the bastard when he returned from France.
“Leave her be, ye wicked Sassenach!” shouted the old goat Geoffrey intended to wed the chit to. “God will strike ye down for what ye’ve done, just ye wait and see. Run, Catriona, run!”
So Catriona was her name? Had a hint of magic to it, and seemed to match her fae-like beauty.
“Somebody shut that man up,” Geoffrey said with a roll of his eyes, though he did take a step back.
Relief flashed on her face, but was gone when she looked down to smooth her gown. Something in his chest tightened. The Scots were brutal bastards, worse so than his own people. Watching the woman—Catriona—be so abused by Geoffrey only pained him more in regards to his own sisters. Were they now being beaten by the barbarians who’d stolen them?
; One of the knights holding the old man, bashed him on the head with the hilt of his sword knocking him from the present.
Blazes, but he wanted to step in. They were not here to pillage, plunder and rape. They were here to take control of the castle as the king had ordered. The small holding was nothing really on its own, but the several surrounding clan holdings when combined controlled the crossing between the Highlands and Lowlands. Having control of a major part of the border would be beneficial in gaining access and more power in the north.
How could he go about bringing up that point with Geoffrey? The man would not like to be called out in front of his own unit. Would make him look bad. Would be bad for Samuel, too, considering the leering, hungry eyes of the men watching Catriona.
“Mowbray,” Geoffrey growled, startling him from his thoughts. “Take the lady to the library. Mayhap she’ll be more amenable to our plans without interruption from her kin.”
Samuel gave a curt nod, though he’d have to ask Catriona to show him the way. Unknowingly, Geoffrey had given him the perfect opportunity to speak with him without the prying eyes of his men. With hope, he’d be able to convince him to leave the chit alone. ’Haps appeal to his Godly side, mention what a sin it was to abuse the less fortunate and wouldn’t he want to be seen as a merciful leader? But Samuel had his doubts a line like that would sway this brutal man. He seemed to enjoy harming others, especially those who couldn’t or wouldn’t fight back. Men like that were never reasonable.