by Unknown
“I do have a comfortable hammock below,” she teased.
He snorted and kissed her forehead. “I think it’s time for ye to meet yer new family in the Highlands.”
“Caden’s wife, the witch?”
“Aye, the two of ye and her aunt must be related somehow.” He kissed the birthmark on her wrist. “Ye still have blood family, Dory, up in Scotland.”
Thunder rumbled overhead. “What if they don’t like me?” she asked.
“No swiving on the deck,” boomed Will’s voice from the wheel above.
Ewan chuckled and leaned in to kiss her. “Pirates and Highlanders, not so different after all.”
“It’ll be a bloody interesting summer,” she said and laughed.
“And a perfectly complicated life,” he added, his laughter joining hers, their voices tangling together like their hearts.
Epilogue
2 Years Later
June 1540, Whitehall Palace, London England
Henry VIII held the little wooden box in his hands, opening and shutting the lid. The hinges were tiny and well made, though time had tarnished the silver. He glanced down at the short note that had accompanied it.
Your Majesty,
Our bargain is complete. You now know the truth and we have concluded our business with your realm. May God keep you safe from traitors.
Faithfully,
Ewan and Pandora Brody
A knock at the door brought him up straight, his indifferent mask covering the fury roiling inside.
“Your majesty?” Thomas Cromwell asked as two guards ushered him inside the king’s privy chamber where Henry sat at his large desk. Henry indicated the seat across from him and Cromwell sat with a nervous flourish. The man knew Henry was extremely unhappy with his new wife, Anne of Cleves, the German princess that Cromwell had arranged for him to marry after his sweet Jane died birthing his beloved heir.
“Again, your majesty, I am very sorry for your inability to find comfort with your bride.”
“I can barely stand the sight of her,” Henry said. “Nor the smell of her. I will never begat an heir on her.”
Cromwell’s face paled, making his eyes seem beady like those of a rat, a scared rat. “We will work to find a way out of the contract,” he promised.
“That you will,” Henry agreed. He held the box on his desk in front of him, playing again with the lid. Cromwell looked at it until Henry spoke again. “You can dwell upon this problem in the Tower.”
On cue, the guards stepped forward. Cromwell leapt up from his chair. “You can’t mean to execute me because you don’t like your bride!”
Henry raised his eyes to the frantic man and flipped open the lid of the small box that had been delivered several days before. From it he took the large gold ring and held it up so Cromwell could see the rose on the outside. It was gold, like the other rings from the time of civil war, the war Henry’s father had put to rest when he’d won at Bosworth Field. Henry tipped it a bit so he could see the inscription.
“It seems Katharine Wellington saved this from her time working with Rowland Boswell here at court.”
“They were traitors, your majesty,” Cromwell said, his words shallow, his shoulders slumped.
“Aye.” Henry nodded, his voice low, lethal. “And there was a third, one that Katharine may have been trying to stop. Is that why she stole the ring? Because she didn’t want its owner to kill the king and rule England?”
“I’ve seen several rings like that, my lord, with the rose. You wear one yourself.”
“Ah,” Henry said with a smile, though his eyes narrowed. “But mine doesn’t say,” and he glanced again inside, “vivant et rex Thomas Cromwell.” Long live King Thomas Cromwell.
Historical Note
Henry VIII did indeed free himself from his second wife, Anne Boleyn, by beheading her on false charges of incest and adultery. Less than twenty-four hours after her execution, Henry and Jane Seymour were formally betrothed. They married two weeks later. In less than a year, Jane died after fulfilling her grandest dream—giving England its prayed-for living heir, Prince Edward VI. Henry mourned her deeply and willed himself to be buried next to her when his time came.
Thomas Cromwell, Henry’s chief minister and lawyer, arranged for Henry to marry Anne of Cleves to gain an ally with northern Germany against the Holy Roman Emperor. The marriage was a disaster. Anne of Cleves cleverly made it out alive, but Cromwell was sent to the Tower and executed for his part. Or so the history books say…
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much to my amazing editor, Libby Murphy! Your LOL comments and spot-on advice kept me polishing this book until it glittered with brilliant candlelight stars.
Also to Julie, my beta-reader and fabulous cheerleader. Thank you for your keen eye and kind words. Your enthusiasm gives me courage.
And always – thank you to my wonderfully supportive husband, Braden. You are every hero in every book I write. Mo ghaol ort gu brath.
About the Author
Heather McCollum is a mom of three spirited kids, a dog-mom of one rescued golden retriever, a daughter, and a wife to her real life Highlander. She also donned the teal uniform and fuzzy hat of an ovarian cancer warrior when she was diagnosed in 2011.
“After fifteen months of chemo, I’ve beaten the sneaky, vicious stealer of women, but I will continue to SHOUT about the whispered symptoms until every sister, mother, daughter, and best girlfriend knows what to watch out for.”
Symptoms of Ovarian Cancer:
Bloating that is persistent
Eating less and feeling fuller
Abdominal pain
Trouble with your bladder
Ovarian Cancer cannot be detected by a PAP Smear. Additional symptoms may include fatigue, indigestion, back pain, pain with intercourse, constipation, menstrual irregularities. If you experience several symptoms almost every day for three weeks, please see your GYN for an exam.
Together, we will “SHOUT against the Whisper” until every woman knows these symptoms.
For more information on OC and Ms. McCollum, please visit her website at www.HeatherMcCollum.com. She can also be found on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/HeatherMcCollumAuthor and on Twitter at https://twitter.com/HMcCollumAuthor.