“Ye should not flaunt such deeds,” said Magnus, chewing a bite of salmon. “Ye know it offends Violette. If she leaves, I don’t know what would become of us.”
“Ach, that lass needs a real man to—” Ciaran broke off, seemingly remembering that his sister was present. “Aye, well, it’s clear enough what she needs. But who would want to give it to her? She looks like she belongs in a convent.” He shuddered then, for good measure.
Fiona managed to stifle the mirth that bubbled up inside her. “You are both very fortunate to have Violette here, looking after you. And now, if you will excuse us, we are going outside to see Erik and then search out some breakfast from Old David.”
“Breakfast?” Magnus called after them in a shocked tone. “’Tis midday!”
Once they emerged into the courtyard, Fiona looked at Christophe and they burst into laughter. Oh, how wonderful it was to have this man by her side! After all they had been through, she felt completely safe in his company and so thankful for the sense of deep understanding that flowed between them.
“I don’t think you should attempt to take Violette away from here,” Christophe said when their laughter subsided. “I suspect that she wouldn’t really want to leave—and your brother wouldn’t want her to go.”
Fiona inclined her head, considering. “You may be right! Such hissing and smoke between those two…could it be there is also some fire?”
Together they climbed to the ramparts and greeted Robbie, the young falconer, who grinned at the sight of them. Fiona donned her gauntlet and held out her arm to Erik, who had flown out over the water but now turned back at the sight of her.
As the gyrfalcon came soaring down to land on her forearm, tears pricked Fiona’s eyes. “I am the most fortunate of women,” she said.
“I feel the same,” Christophe replied, smiling down at her and Erik. “There’s just one thing that would make my life complete.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What is that?”
“You’ve shown me so much of Highland magic, my bonnie bride. But I’ve still not had a peek at the blue men of the Minch. I’ll want to be showing them to our babes one day and telling them…”
“What?”
“About a lass from the Isle of Skye who bewitched a proud outlander…” Christophe drew Fiona close against him, pointing with his free hand out to the wild sea. “And helped him see the blue men of the Minch, where there were only simple waves before.”
~ The End ~
~ Thank You ~
Thank you so much for reading ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR! I am honored that you have chosen my story and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
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ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR is Book One in my new Brides of Skye series, but it also connects with other St. Briac Family novels:
YOU AND NO OTHER (Thomas & Aimée)
OF ONE HEART (Andrew & Micheline)
ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR (Christophe & Fiona)
RETURN OF THE LOST BRIDE (Ciaran & Violette)
coming in June 2019
The St. Briac Family in the 18th century
THE SECRET OF LOVE (Gabriel & Isabella)
HIS MAKE-BELIEVE BRIDE (Justin & Mouette)
You can see a complete list of all my series at the end of this book.
A new audiobook for ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR is coming in October, 2018, narrated by the incomparable Tim Campbell, who brings my books to life more fully than I thought possible. Tim has also narrated fantastic audiobooks for the other St. Briac Family novels and you can listen to samples and download your copies HERE. Readers tell me that the audiobooks are “the next best thing to a movie version” of my novels!
Following the author’s note, you’ll find an excerpt of YOU AND NO OTHER, the timeless romance of Christophe’s brother, Thomas, and the irrepressible Aimée de Fleurance. If you enjoyed ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR, I think you’ll love YOU AND NO OTHER!
I will close this note with two special gifts for you. If you haven’t yet read SILVER STORM, the bestselling book that starts my Rakes & Rebels series, you can read the FREE book now. Another classic of mine, CAROLINE, is also free. Enjoy!
Once again, my heartfelt thanks for your support, interest, and encouragement for my books. I welcome your comments and suggestions, and I hope that you’ll write to me at [email protected]. I promise to reply!
Warmest wishes,
~ Cynthia
~ Author’s Note ~
Every book of mine begins with a spark of inspiration, often ignited during a research trip or during the reading of a wonderful history book.
ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR was born when my daughter and I were planning our family trip to Scotland in 2017. I had always wanted to delve into the world of Scottish history, and possibly write a novel set there, but I hardly knew where to begin. My friend, author Lauren Royal, confided that Falkland was her favorite village in Scotland—and when I did some research, I discovered that Falkland Palace had been extensively rebuilt by French masons in 1538. I had already written two books set in Renaissance France, so this seemed heaven-sent, as if history was speaking to me. I had always imagined that Thomas de St. Briac’s brother, Christophe (who was just 15 in You and No Other) had grown up to be an architect…so who better to lead the project at Falkland Palace? (Yes, I realize that most readers who love Scottish historical romance expect to have a hunky Highland warrior for the hero, but I have never been a rule follower. Ha!)
During our sojourn in Scotland, we spent a week in both Falkland and the Isle of Skye. Over that fortnight, I completely fell in love – and learned about Scottish history and culture in the bargain. I discovered King James V and his French queen, Marie de Guise (who would become the parents of Mary, Queen of Scots), and on Skye I met the legendary Clan MacLeod chief, Alasdair Crotach. I spent hours talking to docents at Falkland Palace and Dunvegan Castle. The more I learned, the more fascinated I became.
I came home to California and began reading. I ordered wonderful and obscure research books, and I read, read, read. One thing I soon discovered is that history can take different forms in the Highland clans. There are often diverse accounts of exactly what happened, and when, and even to whom. (I touched on this in the Fairy Tower, when Ciaran tells the story of the fairy flag, unconcerned about the unlikely sequence of events.) The Battle of Glendale, during which Alasdair “Crotach” was wounded and earned his name that means humpback, may have occurred in 1490—or after 1513. For the purposes of my story, I chose the latter time, but you might read elsewhere that the MacLeod chief received his wounds in 1490. Time can be slippery in Scottish history.
As I wrote ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR, I received a lot of invaluable help. I’m fortunate to have many author friends who have been writing well-researched Scotland-set books for years, and
I turned to them when I had questions. Thanks and hugs to Kathryn Lynn Davis, Ciji Ware, and Margaret Mallory for your generous help. Finally, a special shout-out to children's author, Danna Smith, who wrote THE HAWK AND THE CASTLE and set me at ease about some of the situations I devised for Erik.
I hope you have not only enjoyed Christophe and Fiona’s romance, but also have come away feeling that you visited a special world. I am SO excited to write Ciaran and Violette’s story, RETURN OF THE LOST BRIDE, which promises to be a lot of fun. There are surprises in store for all the characters you’ve come to know in ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR!
Page ahead to enjoy an excerpt of YOU AND NO OTHER, where you’ll enter the enchanting world of 16th century France and fall in love with a hero you’ll never forget.
Thank you again for reading my books and spreading the word to your friends. I appreciate you more than you can imagine.
Your grateful author,
Cynthia Wright
Cynthia Wright says: Come away to the magical world of Renaissance France (and rejoin favorite characters from ABDUCTED AT THE ALTAR) in the delightful reader favorite, YOU AND NO OTHER. I hope you will enjoy this excerpt:
Excerpt from
You and No Other
Renaissance Rogues, Book 1
by Cynthia Wright
Prologue
“The king is handsome, dark-complexioned…and as much at his ease as any gentleman of the world…
He dresses magnificently, A man of inexhaustible endurance, he is ever chasing now stags, now women.”
– The Venetian envoy to the Catherine of King Francis I. 1520
Dawn, March 17, 1526
Rippling water reflected a fiery coral sunrise as the boat carrying two young hostage-princes, their governesses, and the escorting officer moved toward a floating platform in the middle of the Biadossa River that divided France from Spain. Another craft approached from the Spanish side. It held Lannoy, Viceroy of Naples, and a tense King François I.
Nearly a thousand noblemen, archers, and Swiss Guards waited on the edge of French soil to greet their king after his year-long imprisonment.
Thomas Mardouet, seigneur de St. Briac, stood in front, a wry smile flickering at the corners of his handsome mouth. Perhaps François would be surprised to see him there. The court had always teemed with men jockeying for the powerful positions that were granted at the king’s discretion, but St. Briac had never courted François’s favor. Since their youth, he had given only friendship and asked the same in return. He’d made the arduous journey to be here today as a friend and because he yearned to view the bold countenance of his dashing king.
Across the river, François spoke quietly to Lannoy, whom he had learned to trust.
“I am filled with melancholy at the prospect of my sons being imprisoned as I have been. They are only children,” he told the viceroy.
“The princes will become stronger men as a result of this experience. As soon as you fulfill the terms of our emperor’s treaty, your sons will be returned to you.”
The king nodded, repressing a sigh, and stared across the water. The terms of the treaty, he thought. Impossible! Turning over Burgundy to Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Spain, was out of the question.
For years François and Charles had coveted each other’s lands. It had been a delicate game, with the balance shifting back and forth often according to the cards played by a third monarch, Henry VIII of England, who supported François one year and Charles the next. Over the past decade, there had been battles and finally all-out war after the treason of Charles of Bourbon, the constable of France. In 1524, Bourbon had led an army into France but was driven back into Italy. It was there, during the ill-fated battle of Pavia that King François I had been captured by the emperor’s army.
For more than a year, he had endured captivity and even a life-threatening illness. Finally, for the sake of France and his own freedom, a desperate François had forfeited his knightly code of honor by promising to sign a treaty that would give the duchy of Burgundy to Charles V. François had no intention of keeping his word, and his sons might have to pay the price.
The oarsmen were drawing alongside the pontoon. Moments later the king was embracing young François, the dauphin, who was eight, and his seven-year-old brother, Henri, duc d’Orleans.
“We are going to Spain to help you, Papa,” declared a stoic little François.
“To help France, dear son.” Tears filled the king’s hazel eyes.
Henri clung to his tall, broad-shouldered father. “I have missed you so very much, Papa.”
“As princes of France, you two young men must show your strength and bravery to Spain—and the world,” he managed to say. “Look after yourselves. Eat well. I… I promise to bring you home very soon.”
One son wiped tears away from the king’s strong cheeks while the other held fast to his arm. Gently, François disengaged himself. “We must say adieu.” Sadly, he made the sign of the cross over each small head and then turned toward the boat that would take him to France.
Before long, the crowd on the far shore became visible, and the king felt excitement begin to replace his melancholy. France! It seemed that he had been locked for an eternity in Charles V’s tower rooms, but now he was free once more. King again! For the moment even the dark hours of the battle of Pavia, which had led to his own capture and the grisly deaths of so many of his brave knights, receded in his memory.
François recognized one figure on land before any other—St. Briac! Taller and more powerfully built than any man around him, St. Briac was a joy to behold. Even his sea-blue eyes, gleaming with fond amusement, seemed visible across the water.
François had grown up at the château of Amboise, which perched above the wide, lazy Loire River. Not far to the west, the village of St. Briac huddled against the dark forest of Chinon. Thomas, a year older than François, had been sent to Amboise as one of the companions to the future king. His parents were independent thinkers; they told Thomas that he need not stay unless the experience was enjoyable and fruitful. The two practiced archery and hunting, played Italian games, wrestled and fought mock battles. Louise de Savoy, François’s strong-willed mother, saw to it that her son received an extensive education and his friends benefited as well.
Thomas had never felt subservient to François. When he was homesick or bored, he’d return to St. Briac and his own family. Now his parents were dead, and he was the lord of the village. His life was his own, and his friendship with the king was only one aspect of it. François loved and respected St. Briac for his independence and integrity. Their camaraderie transcended boundaries of class and court etiquette.
As the boat drew near the soil of France, the king thought that what he loved best about St. Briac was the fact that he never hovered about like so many leeches at the court, yet always turned up when needed. His clear mind and wit had helped François through many trials, including the death of his dear Leonardo da Vinci at Amboise in 1519, the meeting with Henry VIII on the Field of the Cloth-of-Gold in 1520, and especially the awful battle of Pavia, when St. Briac had risked his own life to save his friend from death though unfortunately not from capture.
The crowd on the beach was cheering. Tears welled again in the king’s eyes as he stepped from the boat and touched French soil. Joyous faces filled his vision. Finally, after acknowledging a seemingly endless stream of greetings, he found St. Briac, who was waiting with a patient smile.
“Mon ami!” François hugged his comrade with unashamed affection. “How good it is to see you!”
“I share your sentiments, sire. Welcome home.” St. Briac couldn’t help wondering whether life in France could ever be the same again for the king. His greatest knight, Bayard, the great “knight without fear and beyond reproach”, had been killed at Pavia. Then, soon after the king’s imprisonment, Queen Claude had died at age twenty-five after giving birth to seven children in eight years. Now the king’s two oldest sons were bound for i
mprisonment in Spain. It seemed that life could not go on as before, and yet St. Briac knew that Louise de Savoy was waiting to greet her son only a few miles north in Bayonne, along with his sister, the adoring Marguerite, and undoubtedly the latest royal mistress, Anne d’Heilly.
“It was good of you to journey so far to welcome me,” the king said.
“I’ve missed you.” St. Briac’s eyes held a warm sparkle. “I suppose that I speak for all of France.”
“Since you’ve come this far, won’t you consent to spend a few weeks with the court? I yearn to ride and hunt and eat and drink and—”
“Cavort?” St. Briac supplied merrily.
“An apt word.” The king laughed. “One that embraces all manner of pastimes.”
“All of which you certainly deserve to indulge in, sire.”
François was in the process of mounting a splendid Turkish horse. “I agree!” Glancing back over one shoulder, he added, “Are you coming?”
Abducted at the Altar: A St. Briac Family Novel (Brides of Skye, Book 1) Page 29