True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse

by Claire Delacroix

  “We would be honored,” the Hawk said and Aileen nodded. “It would be best to travel there from here and arrive home before the snow. In the spring we have too many concerns with the breeding.”

  Garrett was clearly both pleased and surprised. He bowed deeply to the Hawk, who urged Garrett to straighten so he could shake his hand. “I thank you, sir, for such uncommon generosity.”

  “We are family now,” the Hawk said with a smile. “And we must guard each other’s backs.” The two men’s gazes met and held for a moment, then they nodded in unison. Annelise did not doubt that they would readily understand each other and perhaps become good friends as well as family.

  Father Malachy came bustling toward them then, climbing the path from the village and huffing as he did so. “Lady Annelise!” he exclaimed with undisguised pleasure. His eyes danced. “Your brother instructed me that there would be a wedding upon your arrival, and all is prepared.”

  “Today?” Annelise asked in surprise.

  Alexander smiled. “Garrett wrote and asked if I would put your hand in his as soon as possible,” he said, casting an admiring glance at the man in question. “And so I will. Your choice is made and love will reign. I see no cause for delay.”

  Annelise might have protested that she had need of a bath and a new kirtle, but her sisters whisked her into the hall and up the stairs. They laughed at her surprise that the bath was already poured, for the preparations had been finalized while they all talked in the bailey. In the merest of moments, Annelise was bathed and changed into a kirtle newly made for her by her sisters, with fresh flowers in her hair. She descended to the hall to find Alexander waiting for her and tears rose in her eyes. She was nigh overwhelmed by the power of love in her family. She and Alexander walked together to the chapel and she was certain all would hear her heart singing.

  Garrett was waiting on the steps of Kinfairlie’s chapel with Father Malachy, his hands folded before himself and his smile making her heart thunder. He, too, had been rushed to a prepared bath and his hair was still damp on his collar. Annelise stood before him and smiled up at him as Alexander put her hand in his. Father Malachy spoke as the sun shone down upon them and Annelise knew a happiness beyond anything she had ever expected.

  All because she chose to be bold and make her future be her own.

  She smiled up at Garrett and repeated her vows, glad beyond belief that their adventure together had only just begun.

  Cast of Characters

  A large family in a large household in a long, linked series means many characters passing through each book. This character list should help you place everyone as you read. Names in bold type are characters with their own listings.

  The character list has been updated for this current book, so if you have not read The Rogues of Ravensmuir, The Jewels of Kinfairlie and The Renegade’s Heart, there may be spoilers. Babies born and marriages made will be added with each new book in the series.

  Alexander Lammergeier—oldest son of Catherine and Roland; Laird of Kinfairlie after 1420; married to Eleanor Havilland; father of Roland (the younger) and Tynan (the younger). His story is told in THE SNOW WHITE BRIDE.

  Annelise Lammergeier—third daughter of Catherine and Roland and their sixth child; sister of Alexander, wife of Garrett MacLachlan. Her story is told in THE HIGHLANDER’S CURSE.

  Anthony—castellan of Kinfairlie, serving Alexander and Roland before him.

  Darg—a spriggan, and one very fond of ale. This small fairy can be seen and heard by Elizabeth but disappeared in THE RENEGADE’S HEART.

  Eleanor Havilland—wife of Alexander and Lady of Kinfairlie; mother of Roland (the younger) and Tynan (the younger). Her story is told in THE SNOW WHITE BRIDE.

  Elizabeth Lammergeier—youngest sibling in the family at Kinfairlie; fifth daughter of Catherine and Roland. She has the ability to see the Fae.

  The Elphine Queen—a Fae queen of Scotland. Like Finvarra, she has a taste for mortal partners.

  Erik Sinclair—Laird of Blackleith; husband of Vivienne; father of Mairi and Astrid by his first wife, Beatrice; father of Catherine (the younger) and William by Vivienne. His story is told in THE ROSE RED BRIDE.

  Evangeline Armstrong—daughter of the house of Inverfyre, widow of Fergus of Balquhidder and wife of Gawain Lammergeier. Mother of Michael (the Hawk) and adoptive mother of Rosamunde. Her story is told in THE SCOUNDREL.

  Father Malachy—Kinfairlie’s priest.

  Finvarra—King of the Daoine Sidhe. Although usually resident in Ireland, he visits the court of the Elphine Queen annually. His wife is Una, but he is not faithful to her. He is also an excellent chess player and likes to engage mortals in games with high stakes.

  Garrett MacLachlan—husband of Annelise Lammergeier, half-Fae son of Florine and Laird of Killairig. His story is told in THE HIGHLANDER’S CURSE.

  Gawain Lammergeier—younger brother of Merlyn; husband of Evangeline; Laird of Inverfyre; father of Michael (the Hawk) and adoptive father of Rosamunde. His story is told in THE SCOUNDREL.

  Isabella Lammergeier—fourth daughter of Catherine and Roland and their seventh child; sister of Alexander, wife of Murdoch. Her story is told in THE RENEGADE’S HEART.

  Madeline FitzHenry—oldest daughter of Catherine and Roland and their second child; sister of Alexander; wife of Rhys FitzHenry; mother of Dafydd and Rhiannon. Her story is told in THE BEAUTY BRIDE.

  Malcolm Lammergeier—second son of Catherine and Roland and their fourth child; Laird of Ravensmuir in absentia. Malcolm has been fighting as a mercenary on the continent, but will return to Ravensmuir and Kinfairlie for his book, THE FROST MAIDEN’S KISS.

  Matthew—the son of Kinfairlie’s miller. His courtship of his wife, Ceara, occurred in THE SNOW WHITE BRIDE.

  Michael (the Hawk) Lammergeier—Laird of Inverfyre; son of Evangeline and Gawain; milk cousin to Roland; husband of Aileen, father of Nigel, Evangeline (the younger), Mhairi, Gawain (the younger) and Avery. His story is told in THE WARRIOR.

  Moira Goodall—Eleanor’s maid. She has served Eleanor since the lady’s infancy.

  Murdoch Seton—brother of Duncan; husband of Isabella, Laird of Seton Manor. His story is told in THE RENEGADE’S HEART.

  Merlyn Lammergeier—Laird of Ravensmuir and later Laird of Kinfairlie; married to Ysabella; father of Tynan and Roland. His story is told in THE ROGUE.

  Owen—Kinfairlie’s ostler.

  Roland Lammergeier—Laird of Kinfairlie by his father, Merlyn; husband of Catherine; father of eight children: Alexander, Madeline, Vivienne, Malcolm, Ross, Annelise, Isabella, Elizabeth; died in a shipwreck in 1420 along with Catherine. He makes a brief appearance with his family at the end of THE WARRIOR.

  Rosamunde Lammergeier—a foundling adopted and raised by Gawain and Evangeline as their own in THE SCOUNDREL; lover of Tynan; wife of Padraig Dean. Her story is told in “The Ballad of Rosamunde.”

  Ross Lammergeier—third and youngest son of Catherine and Roland and their fifth child. He is training as a knight at Inverfyre.

  Rhys FitzHenry—Lord of Caerwyn; husband of Madeline; father of Dafydd and Rhiannon. His story is told in THE BEAUTY BRIDE.

  Stewart—a man-at-arms in the employ of Murdoch Seton.

  Tynan Lammergeier—Laird of Ravensmuir after his father, Merlyn; lover of Rosamunde. Tynan died in the collapse of Ravensmuir in THE ROSE RED BRIDE, choosing his holding and responsibilities over his love.

  Vera—chamber maid at Kinfairlie, who has long attended the daughters of the house.

  Vivienne Sinclair—second daughter of Catherine and Roland and their third child; wife of Erik Sinclair; step-mother to Mairi and Astrid; mother of Catherine (the younger) and William. Her story is told in THE ROSE RED BRIDE.

  Ready for more of the family from Kinfairlie?

  Read on for an excerpt from

  The Frost Maiden’s Kiss

  by Claire Delacroix

  This is Malcolm’s story and third in the True Love Brides Series.
r />   Copyright 2013 by Deborah A. Cooke

  Scotland

  Christmas 1425

  “Tell me that it does not get colder,” Rafael said, his tone grim. Malcolm and his companion had just entered the forests outside of Kinfairlie, and the trees hung thickly with ice. Snow was falling with purpose, but at least the forest gave shelter from the biting wind. Malcolm had never seen such a storm, but he doubted his companion would believe any such claim.

  It was not ideal weather for a homecoming, although Malcolm felt the weather echoed his own mood. He felt cold himself, chilled by what he had done to fill his bags with gold and silver. The wind and snow swirled around them obscuring the landscape from view, and he acknowledged that he felt lost.

  Kinfairlie. He was within moments of home. As much as he wanted to see his older brother Alexander, he did not want to face his older brother’s censure. There would be disapproval, even more of it than before. Alexander had been displeased when Malcolm had chosen the life of a mercenary over his inheritance of Ravensmuir: his brother would be disgusted to learn how much blood was on Malcolm’s blade now.

  “I am chilled to my very marrow,” Rafael complained. “I cannot even feel my toes. Have you not heard of the marvel known as fire in this remote place?” The mercenary cast a glance around himself and his disgust would have been comical if Malcolm’s mood had been lighter. “It would not surprise me, as evidently the inhabitants here are unfamiliar with the sun.”

  It was falling dark early, far earlier than had been their experience on the continent. Rafael was from the south of Spain, his skin a rich golden hue from the sun’s caress, his eyes and hair of darkest brown. His teeth flashed when he smiled, which was usually after the death of an enemy. Rafael was better as friend than foe, the perfect warrior to have at one’s back, and his bitterness made Malcolm feel a little less cold himself. Rafael had seen much, experienced more, and expected less than any man Malcolm had ever known.

  “I can understand readily enough why you left this miserable place,” Rafael continued. “The mystery, my friend, is why you would ever return.”

  “You will have your feet before a hearty fire soon enough,” Malcolm said, hoping it would be so.

  His companion made a sound of skepticism. “That fire will be thawing a corpse at this rate,” Rafael muttered. “How much farther?”

  Malcolm halted his horse at a familiar crossroads in the midst of the forest. The right road would take them to Kinfairlie. His family would be gathered for the Yule, and the hall where he had grown up would be filled with music and candlelight. There would be children and merriment, a board groaning with food and greenery decking the hall. Rafael would have his fire and more.

  Such joys were not for Malcolm, not yet. He did not know what he would say to Alexander, much less how he would explain Rafael’s presence by his side. There was no disguising what Rafael was, much less what Malcolm had become.

  They were mercenaries and warriors for hire. Killers.

  “Straight on. It will not be long now,” he said, gesturing to the road that led to Ravensmuir.

  It quickly became clear that this was a neglected road. It had never been that busy, but since the destruction of Ravensmuir, he supposed it had no real destination. If not for the parting of the trees in the forest, he would never have guessed it even was a road.

  “This is a road to no good end,” Rafael complained. The horses were laboring heavily, up to their knees in snow. Rafael looked at Malcolm with suspicion. “Where are we destined that is worth the sacrifice of five good horses?”

  “Ravensmuir,” Malcolm admitted, breathing the name of the holding he loved more than anything.

  “For the love of God, why?”

  “Because it is mine.”

  Rafael laughed. “You are a lord with a holding to your name?”

  “I am,” Malcolm said so quietly that his companion sobered.

  Rafael’s eyes lit with curiosity and something Malcolm chose not to name. “For how long has this been so?”

  “Years now.” Malcolm spared the other man a glance. “For as long as I have known you and more.”

  “And yet you never said a word of it. All this time, I fought beside a nobleman who pretended to have naught to his name.” Rafael slanted a glance at Malcolm. “One has to wonder why.”

  Malcolm tried to swallow the lump in his throat and failed. “My uncle died in the keep of Ravensmuir.”

  “Of old age? Poison? An assassin’s blade?”

  “There are caverns beneath the keep, secret passages that wind down from the hall to the sea. My forebears used them for…trade.”

  Rafael laughed again. “Trade in items that had to be hidden. I understand. Your forebears were pirates.”

  “Not all of them. Some also had a thriving business in the sale of religious relics.”

  “I knew there was more to you than met the eye.”

  “My uncle Tynan did not approve. Like his father, he was an honest merchant, trading in cloth and other luxuries.”

  “He would use the same contacts in the east for both,” Rafael noted. “And if a treasure slipped between the cloth, who would know?”

  “Nay,” Malcolm said hotly. “My uncle was honest through and through. He ran a fair trade and refused to trade in relics. That was what killed him.”

  “A curse?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I had an aunt, or a woman we called an aunt. Rosamunde was a pirate and proud of it. She also was in love with Tynan. They had thought their feelings for each other wrong, for they believed that they were blood cousins. In truth. Rosamunde was a foundling who shared no blood with us and who had been adopted by my grandfather’s brother. When they learned the truth, I believe they became lovers.”

  “The pirate and the man of honor. It is an unlikely partnership.”

  “I believe it was quite stormy, but passionate. They argued about the relics and parted, but he pursued her into the caverns.”

  “Then she killed him, to gain the hoard.” Rafael nodded. “I should have liked to have met this woman.”

  “Nay, nay. She tried to save him.” Malcolm paused in his tale, for the next part sounded implausible, even in his own thoughts, even though he knew it to be true. “There is an old tale that Ravensmuir opens into the hidden realm of the Fae. We never believed it, until my youngest sister, Elizabeth said she could see the Fae in our abode of Kinfairlie.”

  “Kinfairlie?”

  “A sister estate, governed by my father and now by my oldest brother, Alexander.”

  “Children claim to see many things.”

  “Indeed. But in the caverns below Ravensmuir strange events occurred. Rosamunde and Tynan were confronted by a Fae, a spriggan, convinced the relics were its own treasure. In the ensuing challenge, the caverns collapsed.”

  “And there your uncle died,” Rafael guessed.

  “And there he died, but not Rosamunde. She escaped into the realm of the Fae, through that very portal, one that was truth not rumor.”

  “And you know this because she returned to share the tale.”

  Malcolm nodded. To his thinking, there had always been an unreal quality about Ravensmuir. It had always perched on the lip of the North Sea, a brooding dark keep where there should not be one, a tower filled with secret passages and undermined by hidden tunnels, a castle said to be administered by lairds with strange powers. Ravens lived in the tops of its towers, dark and watchful birds that were said to communicate with the laird himself. There was a hedge of thorns before the gates, as if visitors were not welcome. Malcolm had played at Ravensmuir as a child, and its hall had been merry much of the time. Still he had always had a sense that there was more afoot than most people guessed.

  More even than the secret traffic in religious relics that had funded Ravensmuir’s construction.

  Rafael scoffed. “So you were to believe a pirate.” He shook his head. “I am skeptical, my friend. It seems to me this pirate Rosamunde stole the hoard,
destroyed the caverns to escape your uncle when he opposed her, and returned—after the sale of the goods—with a pretty story to pacify you all. Perhaps she intended only to confirm that there was no more for the taking.”

  “Believe what you must,” Malcolm said. The forest ended just ahead and all he could see was swirling white. He nodded toward it. “We ride directly toward the sea and the fields are open there. It cannot be a league to the keep, but it will be cold.”

  Rafael rolled his eyes, then pulled down his hood, winding his cape across his face. “The blood in my veins turns to ice,” he complained, then caught his breath as they left the comparative shelter of the forest.

  The wind was bitter and strong, the snow falling fast and thick. The sky was as dark as pewter over the sea and the snow drove at him in small hard pellets. Malcolm had a sense that Ravensmuir would keep them away, but the holding was his legacy and he had been away long enough.

  After half an eternity, he saw the broken tumble of stone ahead of him that had once been the proud keep. He eyed its silhouette with a lump in his throat. Ravensmuir had always haunted his dreams.

  He urged his horse onward, but the steed halted at the hedge of thorns.

  “What manner of foul gate is this?” Rafael cried. The way had grown over, for so few had come this way. Malcolm dismounted and used his sword to widen the opening, hacking at the doughty growth. He wondered if it would dull the blade, but did not care.

  He knew in that moment that his days of fighting were over, forever.

  The wind was howling in his ears and echoing in the ruins of the keep when he had made a way broad enough to let the horses pass. His own steed balked and Malcolm had to lead him, then mount again once they were through the barrier. He checked that Rafael was close behind, along with the palfreys loaded with their spoils of war. He rode through the gate and to the stables, glad that they had not been destroyed. The stables were constructed of wood and not stone and were extensive, given his family’s history in breeding horses at Ravensmuir.