Cait moved over beside him. After standing very still a long while, she raised her beautiful eyes back to Brice, and her voice was very soft as she asked, “Whose bairn is this?”
He wanted to memorize every tiny detail of the way she looked as he waited for her reaction. “I found software online that let me upload photographs of the two of us to see what our child would look like. He’s not exactly like I saw him in the loch, but he’s as close as I could come.”
She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly, and fixing on him again, she mouthed a “thank you” before turning to her father. “You said you didn’t have anything left to live for, but a bairn needs a grandfather, and you’re the only candidate. A boy needs to know where he comes from as he grows up. He needs to know all the things you taught Robbie. You were afraid you hadn’t given either him or Mum the kind of life that they deserved, but if you look on that tree, you’ll see a hundred smiles that prove you wrong. But whatever you think you missed, Brice and I are going to have the chance to get it right. Don’t you think you’d better stay around and help us?”
Donald had dropped down onto the sofa as if his legs had given out beneath him. His gaze had been locked on the photograph in the salt dough frame, but now he turned to Brice and asked, “You saw Cait’s son in the loch?”
“Aye,” Brice answered. “Our son.”
Donald was quiet for a long moment, and when he looked up his eyes were moist. “Well, we can’t have him thinking he’s all MacLaren. Maybe I’d better make certain I’m here to teach him a few things he’ll need to know.”
Spring
“From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
J.R.R. Tolkien
The Fellowship of the Ring
The wail of bagpipes and the beat of drums never failed to give Cait goosebumps when the notes carried across a starlit sky. On Tom-nan-aigeal, the knoll behind the present church and the ruins of the older kirk, the bonfire rippled like liquid gold, sending crimson plumes of smoke into the darkness. Shadowed shapes bundled in coats and blankets crossed in front of the light as people greeted each other, speaking in hushed, excited voices. In front of Cait, her father and Brice both labored up the path, her father with his cane and Brice with his single crutch. Both of them were too stubborn to have her drive them.
Reaching the crest of the knoll, they paused, still wary of each other but united in their determination. Brando and Angus were the first to spot them and wave them over, and soon everyone was turning and calling a welcome: Flora Macara and Duncan in his Clan MacGregor kilt, who were passing mulled wine and hot cider around; Brando’s Emma at the table with Davy Grigg’s wife Lissa, serving steak pies, fairy cakes, and bannocks while Shame, the Macara’s golden retriever, begged underfoot and did his best to steal any scrap of food that came within his reach. There were kilted pipers and drummers playing in both MacLaren and MacGregor plaids, and near them Mairi MacFarlane, who had worked at the Library and Tea Room, waved at Cait with a hopeful smile. Kirsty Greer sat in a chair with her legs stretched out and her hands resting lightly on her enormous belly, chatting with Iain Camm MacGregor’s wife, and Elspeth Murray stood with Jenny Lawrence, Mrs. Ewing, and the older women who quietly ran the Village Hall—and the rest of the glen, for that matter. All of them waved or smiled or called a greeting, but off to the side, Rhona Grewer and her twin daughters, Sorcha and Fenella, stood whispering unpleasantly with Brice’s second cousin Erica as they saw Cait arrive.
They didn’t matter, Cait decided.
People trickled over, careful of Donald but eager to tell Brice how sorry they were about his accident. Many of them had taken the time to stop by the hospital, and others had brought food or cakes to the house—along with still more photographs of heroic women in their families—these past few days. Cait slipped her arm through Brice’s and let him lean on her instead of on his crutch, the way they had leaned on each other in turns through most of their lives.
They’d both had missteps. Wavered. But that was the point of first love—trial and error, and learning to navigate the hardest and best and most important relationships of your life. Most of the time, first love was outgrown and left in the past, or broken beyond repair. She and Brice had managed to come through it, and she had no doubt at all that they could come through anything life threw at them. Glancing up, she took in Brice’s profile, the slight bump of the nose he had broken long ago, the hard, stubborn jaw, the faint tilt of lips that had been made for laughter and kisses and arguments that led to still more kisses and still more laughter. She intended to see he’d have plenty of all of those. He deserved every good thing she could give him.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he turned and looked down at her, then bent and kissed the top of her head. “All right?” he asked.
“Brilliant,” she said, “and I still love you.”
“Still?” He grinned at her.
“Always. Forever.”
He kissed her again. “Good. And that still won’t be long enough.”
The pipers stopped, and the drums beat slowly, calling everyone back to the fire. Duncan looked to Connal MacGregor, who tried to shake his head. Duncan wasn’t having any of that. “It used to be your grandparents who said the words of the Forgiving every year at Hogmanay, and the rest of us think it’s high time you stopped shirking your responsibilities.”
Connal looked around, his tousled blond hair turned the color of flame and ashes in the firelight. He drew Anna and his daughter Moira closer beside him and cast his eye across the gathered crowd. “The old year’s been long and hard, but it has brought us many gifts,” he said, which if they weren’t exactly the words his grandparents had used, were close enough. “We look ahead with hope to what the new year will bring, and we use this opportunity to let go of the things that do not serve us well, to grudges that set us against our neighbors, to habits and hurts that make our footsteps heavier. Each one of us has baggage to burn, so let’s begin.”
A cheer went up, and he dug in his pocket as the pipers behind him launched into the first notes of “MacGregor’s Salute.” He took out a rolled-up slip of paper from his pocket and walked to the edge of the fire to cast it deep into the flames. A burst of glowing ash rose skyward on the hot rising air, then drifted slowly down again.
“Was that a grudge or a promise?” Brando called.
“A bit of both,” Connal shouted back, laughing. “And I’ll thank you not to ask.”
Anna and Moira went next, and then others around the fire, the process accompanied by questions and good-natured teasing. That was the point of the Forgiving, when peace was restored and the small resentments of village life could be set aside.
Then it was Cait’s father’s turn.
Donald Fletcher hobbled closer to the flames, but what he pulled from the pocket of his old blue parka wasn’t a single roll of paper. He tossed the first into the fire and pulled out a second, and then a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and a seventh.
The crowd started laughing. “You about done, now?” Duncan Macara asked him. “The flames’ll go out at the rate you’re going!”
Donald let his eyes sweep over the faces around him. “I’ve a lot to ask forgiveness for, and a lot to leave behind.”
The silence was brief, and since the pipes had long since stopped, the crackle of the flames and the rustle of coats and the call of a distant night bird suddenly seemed too loud until Elspeth looked hard at him from where she still stood with Jenny Lawrence. “And what are you hoping the new year will bring you, Donald Fletcher?”
Cait’s father took a breath and his eyes met hers. “Long life,” he said, looking at his daughter, “long life and the courage to face it. My Cait’s getting married, in case you haven’t heard, and she’s writing a history of the glen, and re-opening the Library and Tea room, and while she does a
ll of that, all I’ll have to do is haud my wheest and learn to walk again. Doesn’t seem too hard in comparison, does it?”
A hoot of laughter went up, and Cait threw her own old grudges into the fire. She took the hand her father held out to her and grinned up at him, thinking how the flameshadows and a bit of feeding had made him suddenly loom large again, thinking how coming through a hard winter together made every new day so much the brighter.
“The day you keep your opinions to yourself,” she said to her father, “is the day my own tongue will be made of sugar, old man. But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
A Heartfelt Thank You
Thank you so much for reading this story! I truly hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, I hope you will take the time to write a brief review. Even a single sentence shared with other readers can make an enormous difference in the success of a book and in my ability to keep writing new books.
Author’s Note
Although I hope very much this book feels real to you, it is a work of fiction, and the setting is a fictional place based on a real one that I enjoyed visiting. The Balquhidder Glen in the Scottish Highlands captured my imagination from the moment I stumbled across the inconspicuous little road sign for Rob Roy MacGregor’s grave while driving down the A84. The time that I spent in the glen was magical, and it was truly one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. Because I didn’t wish to do it a disservice, and because I needed to rearrange a few things to suit the story I was writing, I gave it a fictional counterpart in Lake of Destiny. Balquhidder is pronounced Balwhither, and so that’s what I named the place in which Lake of Destiny and Magic of Winter take place.
Officially, this is the third installment of the Celtic Legends collection. The stories are standalone, each complete in itself, but some of the characters are recurring and their lives continue. You’ll find references to them as you read. For this reason, I do recommend starting with the first book, or going back to it to see where everything began. But you won’t lose anything by reading out of order.
And now, for a brief note about the Christmas and Hogmanay, which is the last day of the year in Scotland. I mention in the book that Christmas was not officially celebrated there until 1958. You might well wonder at that, but it is true. Once Catholic, Scotland became Protestant after the death of James V in 1542 and the “rough wooing” of Mary Queen of Scots, who was eventually executed in 1567. That time saw what is called the Scottish Reformation, in which the country broke with away from the influence of the Roman Catholic church and developed a strong national and strongly Presbyterian “kirk,” or church. Holidays like Christmas that were seen as predominantly Roman Catholic in influence were banned in 1560, as were older practices such as bonfires and particular types of song and dancing. Some of these reformations were taking place in other parts of Britain as well under the influence of Oliver Cromwell, but while the celebration of Christmas returned in England, it was not brought back as a public holiday in Scotland until the mid 20th century. In contrast, Hogmanay, whose roots may go back as far as the celebration of the winter solstice, took on greater significance and became a major celebration with a host of its own traditions.
Balwhither Glen, of course, loves nothing more than a celebration, and its traditions are its own. In keeping with the winter solstice idea behind Hogmanay, I’ve revived the practice of burning old grudges in Magic of Winter. And while the book takes place in December around Christmas and Hogmanay, its themes of family, loss, hope, redemption, and renewal are a perfect reminder that good things may be just around the corner at any time of year.
Upcoming Books!
If you’ve enjoyed Magic of Winter, Bell of Eternity, or Lake of Destiny, the next new destination in the Celtic Legends collection, Echo of Glory, will take us to Ireland, and Heart of Legend will take us to Wales. Look for them beginning in Spring of 2018 in hardcover, trade paperback, and ebook. Pre-orders will be available with exclusive introductory pricing!
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Visit http://martinaboone.com/index.php/free/ to reserve your copy.
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Praise for Lake of Destiny
“Delightful, charming, and heartwarming!”
—New York Times bestselling author Wendy Higgins
“I adored every page . . . Beautifully written, perfectly paced with traces of magical realism.”
—Award-winning author Erin Cashman
“Well-written, well-crafted, well-paced and full of heart. . . . So much charm it's magical!”
—BookGeek
“Martina Boone’s gorgeous storytelling enthralled me from start to finish. The plot is captivating, whimsical, and full of surprises that kept me turning the pages.”
—Sincerely KarenJo Reviews
“I loved this!!! It reminds me of a Nora Roberts series, The Gallaghers of Ardmore . . . but a Scottish version with men in kilts!”
—Two Chicks on Books
“Outlander-Lite Meets Gilmore Girls in Scotland. This is a story that sucked me in from the start and didn’t let go until I’d laughed, shed a few tears and worked up an appetite. Fast. Fun. Romantic. Read it!”
—Jenuine Cupcakes
“This book had it all, romance, fantasy, folklore, drama, and emotional family issues. It’s a great story and I enjoyed every minute.”
—Linda R.
“It was funny, sad and uplifting and just brings you in for a warm embrace. I look forward to more from this amazing writer.”
—Jan Janus
“Full of myths, legends, and life. The plot is good, the characters are great, and I couldn’t put it down. When is the next book?”
—Cheryl Bond
“This was so good I’ll be reading it again. A wonderful story . . . with a touch of the fantasy of Brigadoon. I had to read it in one sitting.”
—Debra Chase
Praise for Compulsion
“Skillfully blends rich magic and folklore with adventure, sweeping romance, and hidden treasure . . . Impressive.”
—Publisher’s Weekly
“Eight Beaufort is so swoon-worthy that it’s ridiculous. Move over Four, Eight is here to stay!”
—RT Book Reviews, RT Editors Best Books of 2014
“Boone’s Southern Gothic certainly delivers a compelling mystery about feuding families and buried secrets, not to mention a steamy romance.”
—Booklist
“Even the villains and not-likable characters were just so engrossing. I have to say I’ve already put the sequel on my TBR shelf.”
—USA Today HEA
“Darkly romantic and steeped in Southern Gothic charm, you’ll be compelled to get lost in the Heirs of Watson Island series.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling
author Jennifer L. Armentrout
“The perfect Southern family saga: charming and steamy on the surface, with cold-blooded secrets buried down deep.”
—Kendare Blake, NYT bestselling author
“A fresh twist on the Southern Gothic—haunting, atmospheric, and absorbing.”
—Claudia Gray, NYT bestselling author
“Beautifully written, with vivid characters, a generations-old feud, and romance that leaps off the page, this Southern ghost story left me lingering over every word, and yet wanting to race to the compelling finish. Martina Boone’s Compulsion is not to be missed.”
�
�Megan Shepherd, NYT bestselling author
Acknowledgments
Once again, without my wonderful and supportive family, this book would never have happened. Deepest gratitude as always to Susan Sipal and Erin Cashman for their brilliant editorial insight and generosity, and friendship.
Thank you as well to my lovely readers and friends, and to the booksellers and librarians who have been so supportive, and especially to my Advance Reader Team—to all those who have championed this series and my books. I’m so grateful to each and every one of you!
Finally, many thanks to Jennifer Harris and Amanda VanDeWege for their editorial wizardry, Kalen O’Donnell for yet another gorgeous cover, Rachel and Joel Greene for their beautiful interior design, and everyone involved at Mayfair who made all this possible.
About Martina Boone
Martina Boone is the award-winning author of the romantic southern gothic Heirs of Watson Island series for young adults, including Compulsion, Persuasion, and Illusion from Simon & Schuster, Simon Pulse, and heartwarming magical romances for adult readers beginning with Lake of Destiny. She’s also the founder of AdventuresInYAPublishing.com, a Writer’s Digest 101 Best Websites for Writers site, and she is on the board of the Literary Council of Northern Virginia.
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