by Raina Wilde
Greum pressed himself against her and for a moment Catríona wondered how it was that he would fit inside of her. With aching slowness he entered her warmth. Cat closed her eyes in pleasure. It was the most singular feeling she had ever experienced. Suddenly he stopped.
“You’re a virgin?” he whispered. She knew that was extremely rare for a common girl, which he thought her to be. Cat hummed her acknowledgement. When she began to feel him pull away, her eyes snapped open and she grasped his hips to stop him. “I’m sorry, Cat. I won’t take…”
But before he could finish speaking, she thrust her hips upward and forced him past the thin barrier. She cried out as a sharp pain tore through her, but the sensation quickly retreated and was replaced once again by the glorious feeling of being connected to this man.
“Are you alright?” he sounded very concerned.
Catríona smiled back at him with a shy laugh. She wrapped her hands around the base of his neck and pulled his mouth down to meet hers. Only then, did he begin to move his hips against hers and Catríona allowed herself to be swept away into a sea of ecstasy.
Afterward, Greum retrieved his belongings from the forest and wrapped Catríona back in her thick cloak. Together, they walked back through the woods, toward the castle, touching and laughing as lovers will. Upon entering the clearing they witnessed a long line of horsemen riding through the village and entering the castle, the banners clearly displaying the soaring bird of Clan Sutharlainn. Greum pulled her across the field and together they sprinted through the empty streets of the village. The townsfolk would have gathered in the castle courtyard for protection in case the Sutharlainns came to wage war.
“Greum, there’s something I have to tell you.” She tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.
“Not now, love.” He kissed her forehead and began to shoo her toward the gate. “This needs to be handled. The Sutharlainns have been falsely accusing us for years and I won’t stand for them claiming we stole the lass.” He spun her away from him and pushed her through the doorway. “Go get dressed, and you might want to make yourself scarce in case it gets bloody.”
He sprinted away before Cat could reply. With a sigh she climbed the stairs into the castle. She would have to make herself presentable before seeing her uncle.
After Catríona had dressed she crept down the back stairway toward the great hall, from which a riot of shouting was to be heard.
“Silence!” Laird MacConaill shouted. “I’ve told you already Donnal, that we don’t have her.
“Of course you’d say that.” She heard her uncle growl, “You’ve been trying to get your claws into her since she was a bairn!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Came the angry reply. “The Sutharlainn approached us with the offer, not the other way around.”
“Yes, and then you went and murdered him.” Donnal spat.
“I’ve told you, we had no reason for doing so.” She heard the unmistakable sound of swords being drawn. “If you keep spreading that falsehood, I’ll have your head right here.”
Cat took a deep breath and stepped into the room full of aggressive men.
Not one took note of her arrival until she spoke.
“Uncle.” She walked quietly into the room, her hand signaling the men to put away their weapons. Her eyes shifted to Greum who, like all the men around him, was staring at her with open-faced awe. From somewhere in the crowd she heard Deirdre swear. “Clan MacConaill had no knowledge of my arrival. I travelled under false pretenses and name to discover their role in my father’s death.”
“Catríona.” Greum whispered. She now understood the awkward tension of watching another begin to put the puzzle together.
She continued as if she had not heard him. “They took no part in the deception. Of that, I am sure. I believe,” she spoke to all of the men of her clan that were gathered in the hall. “that we have done them a great injustice by breaking our promise of peace. I can only hope,” She turned to Greum’s father, “that we can repair that great misunderstanding.”
“Absolutely not!” her uncle shouted. There was a murmur through the crowd that Donnal would speak to the head of his own clan in such a way. Catríona was taken aback. Surely her uncle had acted as proxy Laird after the death of her father, but it was to Catríona that he was supposed to defer.
“Excuse me?” She replied calmly.
“I’ll not live to see the day you marry one of these beasts, whether your father promised it or not.” Donnal spat on the floor at the Laird’s feet. Deirdre was laughing quietly in the background, her mouth in the shape of an O as she stared back and forth between Catríona and Greum, who, despite Donnal’s efforts, had found each other on their own.
Her head began to spin. “What are you talking about?”
“My brother was going to marry you to one of these monsters, even invited them to the gathering to announce it. That was before they killed him, probably thinking they could take control of the clan through you straight away. But I saw them for what they were, filthy beasts.”
Greum’s arm shot out to hold back Aiden who had lunged forward.
“I’ll die before I see Clan Sutharlainn mix with the MacConaills. Even your mother should have stayed here.” The MacConaill men roared with anger. Catríona hoped they had the presence of mind to remain in their human forms. Her uncle had no idea the danger in which he stood.
A scene from the night of the gathering played across Catríona’s mind. Her father and her uncle arguing in the small chamber. Her uncle, shouting You’ll make that agreement over my dead body. Cat had not thought anything of it at the time, but she now looked at her uncle in an entirely new light.
“You seized control of the clan, after my father’s death.” She whispered. Her head was tilted to the side as she looked at him. “You told my father that he’d make the agreement over your dead body. I did not understand it until now, but what you really meant… was over his.” Pure hatred must have shown on Catríona’s face because as she accused her uncle of her father’s murder, ever sword of Clan Sutharlainn pointed directly at his heart. “You poisoned him, Uncle, didn’t you?”
Donnal grunted, but nothing more.
“If you wanted the clan, why not marry me off?” she wondered aloud. “Why not do away with me the first chance you had?”
“Because the Clan doesn’t follow Donnal, Lady Sutharlain.” Came a voice from the crowd. “We follow you.” A cheer rose from her kinsmen.
“And if I bore a child…” It all made sense now. So long as her uncle kept her as a figurehead, and prevented the birth of an heir, he could rule the Clan without opposition. If she died of old age without a child, the Lairdship would pass to Donnal’s own son, and his after that.
“Death to him!” Her clansmen shouted, but Catríona raised her hand for silence.
“Laird MacConaill.” She turned to address the proud man standing in front of her. “I apologize for my deception and must admit another falsehood.” She pulled the small vial from her pocket. “I brought this for you, and your sons, hoping to avenge the death of my father.” The room was painfully silent. “Upon learning the truth from your children, and your clansmen, I found no need for the poison.” Her eyes turned to Greum as he stared at the vial in her hand. She turned to the crowd at large, her voice strong and sure. “This death was meant for the man who killed my father. It has waited for the moment of justice.” She addressed the Laird and his sons, but her eyes focused solely on Greum. “I apologize, most heartily for believing that you took part in the murder. I ask now, that together we rid ourselves of this evil and begin anew.” She held the vial forward for the Laird to take, which he did.
He opened the vial and held out for a cup. A servant brought one immediately. The MacConaill emptied the vial into the cup and stepped down from the raised platform on which he stood. Without a word, he offered the cup to Donnal, who stood shaking with fear.
“Will no one speak for me?” he growled toward t
he men who used to defend him.
“A drink, to Clan MacConaill!” shouted a soldier from the midst of the Sutharlainn ranks.
“Cat,” her uncle turned to her with the cup shaking in his hands. “Cat, I raised you…”
“My father should have raised me.” She stared into the cold eyes of her kin. “Take him outside for his drink!” she shouted. “I have no wish to look upon him any longer.” And with that her uncle was dragged off through the crowd to his death.
When she turned back around Laird MacConaill was standing right beside her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You are a strong woman, Lady Catríona. I’m sure you’d like to return home now.” The old man leaned forward and placed a kiss on her brow. “You would have made a wonderful Daughter-in-law.”
“She still might.” Deirdre spoke from Cat’s other side. Catríona raise her eyes to Greum who had likewise approached.
“You were going to poison us?” he looked at her with laughing disbelief. It was clear that her audacity amused them. She was grateful that they were not angry.
“That was before I realized that I had entered the den of bears.” She smiled. Greum pulled her forward and kissed her there, in front of both clans. The entire room erupted with cheers.
“Why is it that the Laird is always the last to know everything?” she heard his father ask.
With a hearty laugh she threw her arms around the man she loved and allowed him to sweep her into the air. Catríona felt an overwhelming happiness that the dreams of her parents, to unite the clans, would finally be a reality. In that moment, she felt as if they were there, beside her.
THE END
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Bonus 8: Hunting For a Highland Husband
Skye Laramie is a willful young Highlander who was raised among a clan of bear shifters. Surrounded by men who wander and roam as they wish Skye wants nothing more than the freedom to do as she pleases.
When her father vows to have the young huntress married as a proper Lady of the Highlands, Skye is given the opportunity to choose a husband for herself. But when a visit to old friends brings her back into contact with a childhood acquaintance, Skye is forced to confront feelings that she did not know existed.
Aiden MacConaill is the easygoing son of the Laird, and close friend to Skye’s older brother. It doesn’t take long for Aiden to realize that Skye has grown into a fascinating young woman. Can Aiden accept Skye for who she truly is? What will it take for Skye to admit that Aiden is her perfect match? Or, will it be too late?
Hunt for a Highland Husband
PREFACE
The doors to the great hall opened, flanking the entrants in a blinding glare of sunlight. Aiden MacConaill squinted against the view. Two burly men strode into the center of the room, a large gilded chest suspended between them. The Laramie crest was emblazoned on the lid alongside the distinctive bear claw of the MacConaill clan. Aiden felt his mouth curve into a half grin. The bonnet Laird Laramie and his family had always been favorites as banner men for Clan MacConaill. Aiden rose to his feet and quickly descended the steps of the dais to grasp hands with the third man who walked through the door.
“It is good to see you, Teirnan.” He clapped the grinning man on the back. Aiden and Teirnan had spent many summers exploring the MacConaill lands as they practiced shifting into their bear forms in their youth. He recalled waiting an entire night in the woods with his friend as the boy tried fruitlessly to return to his human form. It had not been until Teirnan’s younger sister had tromped into the woods in the early hours of the morning to calm her brother with soothing words, that he had been able to complete his transformation.
“We come bearing gifts for the newlyweds.” Teirnan spoke in his deep rumbling voice. Sitting together at the head table were Aiden’s elder brother Greum and his wife Lady Catríona. They rose and approached the chest with smiles and words of thanks.
Catríona gasped with pleasure when her husband opened the chest to reveal two beautiful wolf pelts.
“They were taken by our best hunter.” Explained on of the chest-bearers.
“How have they no battle marks?” Greum asked. Aiden looked closer at the pelts. They were unmarred by the telltale scrapes of the bear claw. The pelt was taken in one perfect piece; a sign that the wolves were downed by a bowman rather than beast. Most of the clan’s hunters chose to shift when pursuing their prey. . .
“This hunter is no shifter.” Teirnan smiled. “Though who is the more successful predator between the two is debatable.”
A burst of female laughter rang from over Teirnan’s shoulder. Shuffling through the door came Greum’s twin, Deirdre, arm and arm with a woman that Aiden did not recognize. Deirdre’s smooth raven hair stood in stark contrast to the golden blonde curls that fell past the waist of her companion. Set against the pale blue of her gown, the woman looked ethereal to Aiden’s approving eyes. She must be from Clan Sutharlainn, he concluded. Catríona’s clansmen had been coming and going with regularity since the renewal of peace following the wedding. Aiden had never before seen so many new and exciting faces.
“Teirnan.” Deirdre spoke with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. It was well known that Deirdre and Teirnan harbored a deep dislike for each other, though no one was entirely sure as to why.
“Deirdre.” Teirnan dipped his head in acknowledgement. “As always, it’s a pleasure to meet you again.”
“What is a pleasure,” Deirdre replied, refusing to share his sentiment, “is that you’ve been so kind as to bring your sister to visit this time.”
“Skye traveled along?” Aiden found himself voicing the question aloud as he looked about the room for the small child amongst the crowd gathering in the great hall. He remembered the precocious lass who had wandered barefoot through the forests outside of the Laramie estate, preferring her brother’s riding suits to the elegant gowns that befitted her station. She would be about fifteen now, he guessed. His eyes landed on a boyish girl standing along the wall who looked like she could do with a strong bar of soap. He didn’t remember Skye having muddy brown hair, but perhaps she had gone mangy as she had grown.
Deirdre laughed. “Aiden, you’re daft.” She placed both hands on the stunning blonde beside her. “Well then, meet Skye, brother. Though you’ve met her often enough in our childhood that you ought to be ashamed at your abysmal memory.”
Aiden felt his brows contract in confusion.
“Skye is a lass of what… fifteen now?” He made a small gesture at the woman in front of him, clearly representing that he believed her to be older than the individual they were discussing. Teirnan’s laugh was a deep rumble beside him.
The blonde dipped into a smooth curtsy, a move that the awkward Skye would never have perfected. Her curls spilled forward over her shoulders before she stood once again.
“I’m twenty.” She spoke softly. “If you’ll force a lass to own to it.” There was an edge to her voice as if she found the situation amusing.
Aiden felt his mouth fall open. He could see Teirnan watching his reaction with amusement and shut it with a quick snap. The moment seemed to drag for an age but Aiden could think of nothing to say. His mind was in a complete state of shock. Thankfully he was saved from a response only seconds later when his brother attempted to diffuse the awkward situation.
“I’d like to meet this skilled hunter,” Greum proclaimed. “to thank him for this beautiful gift.”
Aiden watched Skye run her fingers along the soft fur of the wolf pelts. She watched her brother out of the corner of her eye as Teirnan collected himself from yet another burst of laughter.
“I see that it has been too long since our families have shared a roof. May I present,” Teirnan threw his arms out and gestured at Skye, “your huntress!”
***
If Skye had thought that the Laird and his children could not have been more shocked at her arrival, she would have been wrong. The silence that rang through the hall after her brother’s announ
cement was palpable. She had always thought it strange that for a clan that had easily come to terms with the fact that it was brimming with shapeshifters, it never ceased to spark amazement at the idea that a female might also willingly venture into the wild reaches of the MacConaill lands.
Catríona was the first to react.
“How brilliant!” she exclaimed, rounding the trunk to embrace Skye and thank her for the gift. When she pulled away Catríona’s hands remained on Skye’s shoulders. Her eyes were both smiling and serious as she continued, “Sometimes a woman must take matters into her own hands, yes?”
From the crowd came a series of mild chuckles. It was well known that Lady Catríona had independently taken on the task of avenging her father’s death. The dangerous journey had not only led her to the truth of her father’s murder, but also into the loving arms of her new husband.
Skye felt herself smile. Between Lady Catríona and the bold Deirdre, Skye would find no lack of strong-willed women here at Castle MacConaill.
She resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in her gown. She could see, in her peripheral vision, Aiden watching her with a shocked fascination. Skye suppressed the urge to smooth her hands over the front of her gown, tuck her free-flowing hair behind an ear, or in some other way fix whatever mishap of her attire would cause him to stare with such complete focus. She longed for the smooth leather of her hunting trousers, the thick protection that allowed her to walk through bush and bramble without fear of snag or scrape. Skye was not suited for gowns, despite her father’s many attempts to train the wild spirit out of her. She had studied with the best tutors, learned the most elegant manners and fashions, all to fulfill her father’s dreams of marrying her off to some boring and steady landowner.
I’ll not have you living in a shack in the woods, Skye Laramie. Your brother will be a bonnet Laird to The MacConaill and you will make a match befitting your station. Skye remembered his words exactly, as if they had somehow been branded on her soul. Give up on this foolhardy wildness. Settle into the lady that you were raised to be. Model yourself after your mother, God rest her soul. Take her things and wear them as your own, let them remind you of your duties. The impassioned speech of her beloved father, whose love for her wanted only to ensure her security with a prominent husband, were the very words that were meant to break her spirit.