“Ye are stirring up a lot of trouble, arenae ye?” “Me? I just came to explore this building. She is the one stirring up trouble. She wants Cathal, I think.” “She does, e’en though his Outsider blood sickens her. Edmee would like to be the lady of Cambrun. She has ne’er been able to convince Cathal of that, however. It doesnae help her cause that she makes her contempt of his mother so verra clear. Cathal has ne’er intended to wed with a MacNachton, either. He wants bairns.” Bridget frowned at him. “There is a wee bit more to me than a womb, ye ken.” “Och, aye, a wee bit.” He laughed when she softly hissed in annoyance, then grew serious. “O’er the last few days ’tis evident neither of ye will suffer in the making of a bairn.” He only briefly smiled at her blushes. “Tis a blessing, that. And where is the insult in a mon thinking a woman a good choice as mother to his bairns?” None, she supposed, but she was not about to admit it. “There should be more.” “Ah, poor lass, so unsure of yourself.” He nimbly danced out of her reach when she tried to hit him. “The only thing I will say is that, compared to the rest of us, Cathal is nearly a monk. He isnae one to be caught in embraces with a lass round every corner. And, aye, mayhap he thinks too much on a bairn, but ’tisnae just an heir he seeks, is it? Tis the salvation of his people. Tis no small thing that. So, do ye cease teasing the fool and say aye?” Bridget sighed. “Tisnae an easy thing to decide. Tisnae just my fate, but that of my children I must consider and ye ask me to do it in but a week.” “We are but a wee bit different.” “Och, aye, ye are that.” “But, that shouldnae trouble a Callan, I think.” He sighed when she did not respond to that remark. “We arenae what ye think we are, lass. Nay exactly. I dinnae believe the soulless dead breed bairns.” He smiled gently at the look of consternation that briefly crossed her face. “We are but different. Cursed in some ways, blessed in others, but ’tis Cathal who must tell ye the tale.”
―
Hannah Howell,
The Eternal Highlander
“There was no doubt in her mind about what she had to do now. She had to leave, had to go and take all of her” ― Hannah Howell, Highland Honor
“Few men are true masters over their women. In truth, I would eye with suspicion any woman who acts as if that is the truth. Either she lies, or she is so dull-witted or weak-spirited that she will make you a tedious wife.” ― Hannah Howell, Beauty and the Beast
“wits strong and clear,” ― Hannah Howell, Highland Savage
“I suppose those mist-shrouded mountains could easily stir the imagination,” she murmured, but felt the rousing of a keen curiosity she had never been able to conquer. “Tis certain that many people fear such places, fear what might lurk in such a dark forest or in those clouded hills. But, this time, ’twas some foolish tale they heard in that village we stopped at for the night.” “Ye heard it, too?” “Nay. The men told it to me. Some tale about a creature from those hills, one who disguised himself as a mon. A mon who ne’er showed himself when the sun rose, only ventured out at night. A mon with eyes like a wolf and teeth like one, as weel. A mon so strong it took near a dozen villagers to subdue him, many of them suffering grievous injuries. A mon who could bewitch any lass into offering him her chastity.” The scorn in Nan’s voice made it very clear that she did not believe the tale at all. Bridget was pleased that that scorn did not stop the woman from repeating the tale, however. “Why did they feel the need to attack him, to subdue him? And, what did they do with him after they captured him?” “They caught him sinfully fornicating with another mon’s wife. They dragged him before the priest. Tis then that they realized what they had—a devil, a demon, one of Hell’s foul creatures. The priest had the mon tortured, but that mon didnae confess his sins or repent them. They said his wounds healed as if by magic. The priest then declared him a demon, or a witch. I am nay quite sure. They garroted him, burned him, and scattered his bones far and wide o’er the moors so that he couldnae come back to life.” “How cruel. He may have been innocent.” “I certainly doubt he was all they claim he was, but he wasnae innocent. If there was a mon executed, it was probably for the sins of fornication and adultery. He showed the villagers that their women lacked morals.” Bridget” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Bridget looked at the men below her, but they were still standing there watching her and talking low amongst themselves. Yet, she was certain something or someone was swiftly, silently moving ever closer. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, one of the surrounding shadows became a slender, beautiful young man. She forced herself not to look right at him. He grinned briefly and she nearly gasped, but, before she could decide whether or not she really had seen that wolfish smile, he was gone. A heartbeat later she felt a rush of movement. Dark shapes seemed to fly by her. The men below her looked horrified as the shadows closed around them. Their screams hurt her ears. Bridget felt overwhelmed by the scent and sight of blood for one long, desperate moment, then fell into blackness.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“A soft noise from the woman on the bed pulled him free of his thoughts. Even as he straightened up to look at her face, her eyes opened. Cathal drew his breath in so sharply he nearly choked. Her eyes were the most beautiful eyes he had ever gazed into. They were an enticing mixture of blue and green, the color growing more dramatic as the haze of unconciousness fled. As” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“He perched on the end of the bed like some elegant dark bird. A very beautiful bird, she decided. His looks were similar to the laird’s, their kinship plain to see, but his beauty was far more refined. The color of his eyes was more golden than brown, a little too similar to those of some beast of the forest. He suddenly smiled at her and she tensed. “I saw ye,” she said. “Ye came from out of the hills, from behind me.” “Aye, just as those bastards readied themselves to attack,” replied Jankyn. Images crowded her mind so quickly they made her head ache. “Those men who were chasing me?” “And willnae chase ye again. Their thieving, murdering days are at an end.” She” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“The laird was tall, quite possibly a foot or more taller than she was. He was lean yet she was certain there was an impressive strength beneath his slim elegant appearance. She had seen a hint of it in the way he moved as he had fetched the wine. His hair was a deep black and hung in soft waves several inches past his broad shoulders. His skin was a lot paler than she would have expected in a man with such dark hair. Not a wan, sickly pale, either, but a rich, lovely creamy tone that many a woman would envy. The lines of his face were cleanly cut, elegant perfection from his long, straight nose and high cheekbones to the firm jaw. There was a slight fullness to his lips that she found far too attractive. His eyes were strangely beautiful. Set beneath faintly arched brows, rimmed with enviable long lashes, they were a pale golden brown. He was, without doubt, one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. Feeling” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Isnae this your bedchamber, m’laird?” “It is,” replied Cathal as he moved to stand by the side of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back. “Then I should be shown to the guest chambers, aye?” “Nay, ye will stay here. Tis best if ye become accustomed to these chambers.” Bridget sat up straighter and glared at him. “And just what do ye mean by that?” She saw a grinning Jankyn move to stand beside Cathal and was briefly distracted by the sight of his teeth. “Do ye file your teeth to get those fangs? I had an uncle who did that. Filed all his front teeth so that they were sharp and pointed. Thought it made him look fierce.” Jankyn scowled at her. “I have no need of such foolish vanities.” Cathal watched her frown and, before she could think too long on Jankyn’s words, he said, “Ye will stay in this bedchamber.” That command pulled Bridget free from her interest in Jankyn’s teeth and she glared at Cathal again. Did he think that, since she owed him her life, she would be willing to warm his bed? The fact that she felt a definite stirring within her blood at the thought made her all the more determined to stand firm against him. “I am the sister of the laird of Dunsmuir,” she began. “Ah, good. Good.” Cathal started toward the door, a chuckling Jankyn close at his heels. That reply made no sense at all, she thought. “Why is that good?” “Tis best if the bride and groom are of an equal standing.” “Bride and groom? What bride and groom? Who is to be married?” “Why, ye are to be married, m’lady. To me.” Bridget was so stunned by his words, the two men were several minutes gone before she could utter a word. She spent several minutes more trying to decide if she had heard him correctly.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“I was told the men who found me searched for my companion, Nan,” Bridget said, the hint of a question in her voice. “Aye, they did.” Mora began to braid Bridget’s hair. “If they couldnae find her, lass, she wasnae there.” “So strange, isnae it? Where would she go? As I see it, she had but two choices when the thieves attacked. She either died with the others or fled.” “If she had fled, Jankyn would have been able to see that and followed her trail.” “It was dark. He may have missed whate’er trail she left.” “Nay. Jankyn could track a wee mousie in the dark. But, it wasnae so verra dark, was it? Moon was full.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Bride and groom?” she grumbled, her voice muffled by the dark blue gown Mora was tugging over her head. “What is the big fool talking about?” “Seemed most clear to me,” said Mora as she began to lace up Bridget’s gown. “He means to make ye his wife.” “How can ye be sure of that? Ye werenae here when he said those things.” “I heard him and Jankyn speaking of it as they left the bedchamber. I was just outside the door.” “Is he mad?” “Nay. Why would ye think that?” Mora pushed Bridget down into a seat before the fire and began to brush out her hair. “I dinnae ken,” drawled Bridget. “Mayhap ’tis the way he but looks at me once and declares us betrothed.” “A lot of people wed with the wife and husband barely kenning a thing about each other. Ye are the laird’s equal in birth, he doesnae need a dowry, and ye are a bonnie, young lass, ripe for marrying. Tis most reasonable. A perfect solution.” Bridget rolled her eyes. “Perfect for him. Mayhap nay so perfect for me.” “Why? He is a braw lad, handsome, has a fine keep and good lands, and is a good laird.” “Weel, mayhap, but why doesnae he go to court himself or visit some other laird’s holdings? At least look about a wee bit for a wife?” “He doesnae like to leave Cambrun. The MacNachtons prefer to stay close to home.” There” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“I believe I made my plans verra clear months ago,” replied Cathal. “Ye dinnae e’en ken who this woman is,” snapped Edmee. “She could be some thief.” “She is Lady Bridget Callan of Dunsmuir, sister of the laird, cousin to Lady Barbara Matheson, and my betrothed.” Cathal was pleased Bridget made no protest, that she had the wit to know that now was not a good time to argue his plans for her. “I have found nothing to e’ en hint that she may not be exactly who she claims she is. Thus, she is a perfect choice.” “Ye should choose one of your own. Ye put us all at risk, try to destroy all that we are,” said Scymynd. Cathal shifted the grip of his hand upon Bridget’s just enough so that he could stroke the inside of her wrist. “Do I? I believe my intentions will save us. Do ye have a son, Scymynd? Does Edmee have a child? Considering how often she amuses herself, she ought to have a dozen clinging to her skirts. Where are they?” “Unlike the Outsiders, we dinnae need to breed like rabbits.” “I wasnae suggesting we do so, but e’en we need the occasional renewal.” “Tis madness. Ye have forgotten who ye are and would try to have us all do the same. Be warned, Cathal,” Scymynd said as he started to walk away, “if ye push too hard, those ye try to corner will push back. Hard.” Edmee” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Cathal almost smiled at the way Bridget was attempting to act as if nothing had happened. “Ye have naught to say, m’lady?” “I have heard it said that ’tis best to nay indulge the deluded,” she murmured. “And ye think I am deluded?” “What else could one call it when ye tell all who will listen that ye intend to marry a woman ye have just met? One who hasnae said aye, either.” “And why do ye hesitate to say aye? I dinnae think I am hard to look upon. I am wealthy enough to keep ye weel clothed and fed. I am a laird, have good lands, and those lands are weel protected. Ye couldnae find much better at court, although it sounds vain of me to say so.” It might sound vain, but it was the truth, Bridget mused as she took a long drink of cider to wash down the last of her meal. She had no intention of agreeing with that view, however. Neither did she intend to be dragged into a marriage with a man she had just met, one who was knee deep in plots that were stirring up rebellion within his clan. She slowly stood up and looked at Sir Cathal. “I was going to court to see a world outside of the walls of Dunsmuir, to be entertained by the elegant clothes and intriguing gossip, and to dance until my feet hurt. If some fine gentlemon decided to woo me, I might have taken a husband. Please note the use of the word might. Now, if ye will excuse me, I believe I will go and compose a letter to my cousin to explain my delay and let her ken that I will arrive for my visit with her as soon as possible.” “Aye, ye do that, m’lady.” Cathal enjoyed the gentle sway of her slim hips as she walked away. “I am certain we can arrange to visit your kinswoman at some time after we are married.” He grinned when she clenched her hands into tight fists, hesitated briefly, then continued out of the great hall. Mora flashed him a wide grin and hurried after Bridget. “She” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“She has a temper,” murmured Jankyn. “She set Edmee back on her heels for a moment.” “Aye,” agreed Cathal. “If Lady Bridget was frightened, she hid it weel. Tis good. She will need courage and strength to be my wife.” “I think she will try to escape.” Cathal nodded. “We will watch for it.” “What if she continues to refuse you? Ye cannae want an unwilling bride.” “She willnae be unwilling.” “Ye sound verra sure of that.” “I am. There is an attraction. I feel it and, when I held her hand, I kenned that she felt it, too. Twill take but a wee while for her to understand and accept it.” “Then I hope ye listened carefully to what she said as she left. There were two words ye must needs remember.” “Aye, woo and dance.” “Exactly. Woo and dance. Do ye ken how to dance?” Cathal grimaced. “Nay, but if my wooing isnae enough, I suspect I can learn. Lady Bridget can hiss and scratch all she likes, but, in the end, she will be my wife.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“She was just about to run out through the gates, surprised but pleased to see them open, when a man dropped to the ground right in front of her. A soft screech escaped her as she stumbled back a step, even as she frantically looked around in a vain attempt to see where he had come from. “Greetings, lass,” the man said in a deep, rough voice. “Ye probably dinnae remember me. I am Raibeart. I drove your wee bonnie cart back here after we saved ye from those thieving swine.” “Ah, weel, I thank ye. Now, if ye will just excuse me,” she tried to dart around him, but the man swiftly put himself in her path. “Now, ye dinnae really want to go out there. Tis dark, aye? Too dangerous for such a wee lass.” “Ye arenae going to let me leave, are ye?” She cursed when he shook his head. “The laird wants ye to stay here.” “I dinnae care what he wants. He isnae my laird. He isnae my kinsmon, either.” Bridget could feel panic clawing at her insides and struggled to push it aside. “I wish to go to my cousin’s and none of ye have the right to stop me.” She felt a light touch upon her shoulder. Blindly, she turned and struck out, raking her nails across the face of the man who stood behind her. As her fingernails scored soft flesh the feeling pulled her free of the tight grasp fear had upon her. She looked in horror at the bloody furrows she had left upon Jankyn’s cheek. He touched a hand to the cuts as he stared at her, his gaze holding more intense consideration than shock. Mumbling a heartfelt apology, Bridget pulled a square of daintily embroidered linen from a pocket in the lining of her cloak. However, by the time she reached toward Jankyn, intending to clean the blood from his wounds, there was no need for such care. “Your wounds appear to be closing,” she whispered. “Aye. They were only shallow cuts,” he said. “Ye have verra sharp nails, lass.” Keeping his gaze fixed upon her face, he slowly licked the blood from his fingers. “Oh, it needed only that.” Bridget closed her eyes, took a deep breath to calm herself, then scowled at Jankyn. “That was a strange thing to do, lass,” murmured Raibeart as he moved to stand beside her. It was, but Bridget would never admit it. “Nay, it wasnae. I felt a touch and thought I was in danger. Jankyn also crept up behind me when I was feeling agitated.” She abruptly made a dash for the gate, not surprised when both men quickly appeared to block her way. “That could become verra annoying.” “E’en” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Ah, so ye will escort me to my cousin’s then, will ye?” she said in a voice so sweet she was surprised it did not make her teeth ache. “Nay, they willnae,” drawled an all too familiar voice from behind her. Inwardly cursing, Bridget turned to face Cathal. “I have decided ’tis time for me to continue on my journey.” “And ye decided ye had to do it now? Right now? Without most of your belongings?” “Aye. I got to thinking—” “A dangerous thing for a lass to do. Ow!” Jankyn rubbed his stomach where Bridget had just hit him with her sack of belongings, and grinned at her. “Why are ye nay out with the others, howling at the moon?” “At least I am nay dancing beneath it.” He laughed when she blushed. “Ye were watching me?” “I heard ye singing.” “That was so rude.” If he had been drawn by her singing then he could not have seen her naked, Bridget mused, and relaxed. “I had left the camp to seek a few moments of privacy.” Cathal grasped Bridget by the arm, turning her attention back to him. “Why were ye leaving?” Bridget could feel the blunt truth on the tip of her tongue, but could not bring herself to speak it. It was as if she feared that, in speaking the words, the truth could no longer be ignored. That was absurd. She knew the truth. By the way the three men looked at her, they knew she had guessed all their secrets. It made no difference. She simply could not utter the dark, terrifying name aloud. In some odd, twisted way, she was actually concerned about offending them. “I decided I wasnae going to play your game any longer,” she replied. “I was going to my cousin’s.” “Alone? At night?” “Tis the best time for an escape.” But not here, she realized, and inwardly cursed her own stupidity. At Cambrun high noon on a sunny day would have been a better choice. “I have prepared for a visit with Barbara for months. I want to go to court, to see all the fine clothes, and to watch all the courtiers and their ladies. I want to sit down to a feast and listen to all the whispers about who is sinning with whom. I want to hear the minstrels sing and I want to dance with some fine, courtly gentlemon who will tell me all manner of sweet lies about how bonnie I am. I want—” A squeak of surpise and outrage escaped her when Cathal suddenly picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. The soft laughter of Jankyn and Raibeart only added to her anger over being so roughly handled. Bridget dropped her belongings and proceeded to pound her fists against his broad back. Cathal did not even flinch as he continued to take her back to her bedchamber and that, too, increased her fury. Under her breath she cursed him and his stubborness. “Tis nay just me who is blindly stubborn,” muttered Cathal as he entered the bedchamber and kicked the door shut behind him. “Tis ye who refuses to give up this plan to go to court. And for what? To hear empty flatteries and malicious tales?” He paused by the bed. “Undo your cloak.” Even as she blindly obeyed that terse command, Bridget wondered why she did so. Such quick obedience was not in her nature. She growled softly when her cloak was pulled from her and tossed to the floor. Before she could say anything, she was tossed down onto the bed. Her body was still bouncing slightly when Cathal sprawled on top of her, gently but firmly pinning her down. Bridget scowled at him, more angry than afraid, and tried not to let the beauty of his face distract her. She had a right to be angry and she would hold fast to that feeling no matter how warm and itchy he made her feel. “Ye are staying here,” Cathal said. “I am going to woo ye and then we will be married.” “Oh! What arrogance! Ye may woo me, but that doesnae necessarily mean ye will win me.” Bridget” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“To her ears, the sound of his voice was like a caress. Unfortunately, he was also a dangerous creature, one whose name she still felt almost afraid to say aloud. Then again, she mused, he did not feel as if he was a dead man. He felt warm, strong, and alive. There was a glow of health to his lovely skin. He certainly did not smell of the grave. Yet, if one could believe all warnings given and tales told, the devil was prone to trick the unwary with beauty and lust. Cathal was beautiful and Bridget suspected that warm, itchy feeling he stirred within her was lust. Cathal” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Cathal watched the expressions darting across her lovely face. She had made no accusations, but he was sure she had guessed the truth, or part of it. He took hope in the fact that she was not terrified. There was the occasional glint of fear in her eyes, but no more, and he felt he could deal with that. “I will ne’er hurt ye, Bridget,” he said softly and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “I swear it.” “And why should I accept your vow?” She shivered when he touched a kiss to her right cheek, feeling the warmth of his lips flow through her veins. “Ah, I think ye do already.” Cathal felt the subtle changes in her breathing and knew she was stirred by his kisses. “I think ye ken that ye are safe with me. I think ye also ken that ye are safe with Jankyn, Raibeart, and Mora. Aye, and many others.” He lightly rubbed his lips over hers and reveled in the faint trembling of her lithe body. “And there are others I am nay safe with, ones who wish me gone.” “I willnae allow them to harm ye.” “Ye may try. It doesnae matter. Ye have no right to hold me here.” “Why are ye so anxious to leave, lass? Can ye no spare a week or two for the ones who saved your wee life?” “How devious ye are to play upon my sense of gratitude.” “Stay. Give me one week. If ye cannae abide marrying me, can see naught to gain, then we can discuss your continuing on to your cousin’s.” “A week?” “Aye, one week.” “I should send word to my cousin. She must be fretting o’er the fact that I havenae arrived yet.” “I will see that she is told that ye are safe and hale.” Bridget was about to tell him that one week would not change her mind about leaving, when he kissed her.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“There was no doubt in her mind about what she had to do now. She had to leave, had to go and take all of her” ― Hannah Howell, Highland Honor
“Few men are true masters over their women. In truth, I would eye with suspicion any woman who acts as if that is the truth. Either she lies, or she is so dull-witted or weak-spirited that she will make you a tedious wife.” ― Hannah Howell, Beauty and the Beast
“wits strong and clear,” ― Hannah Howell, Highland Savage
“I suppose those mist-shrouded mountains could easily stir the imagination,” she murmured, but felt the rousing of a keen curiosity she had never been able to conquer. “Tis certain that many people fear such places, fear what might lurk in such a dark forest or in those clouded hills. But, this time, ’twas some foolish tale they heard in that village we stopped at for the night.” “Ye heard it, too?” “Nay. The men told it to me. Some tale about a creature from those hills, one who disguised himself as a mon. A mon who ne’er showed himself when the sun rose, only ventured out at night. A mon with eyes like a wolf and teeth like one, as weel. A mon so strong it took near a dozen villagers to subdue him, many of them suffering grievous injuries. A mon who could bewitch any lass into offering him her chastity.” The scorn in Nan’s voice made it very clear that she did not believe the tale at all. Bridget was pleased that that scorn did not stop the woman from repeating the tale, however. “Why did they feel the need to attack him, to subdue him? And, what did they do with him after they captured him?” “They caught him sinfully fornicating with another mon’s wife. They dragged him before the priest. Tis then that they realized what they had—a devil, a demon, one of Hell’s foul creatures. The priest had the mon tortured, but that mon didnae confess his sins or repent them. They said his wounds healed as if by magic. The priest then declared him a demon, or a witch. I am nay quite sure. They garroted him, burned him, and scattered his bones far and wide o’er the moors so that he couldnae come back to life.” “How cruel. He may have been innocent.” “I certainly doubt he was all they claim he was, but he wasnae innocent. If there was a mon executed, it was probably for the sins of fornication and adultery. He showed the villagers that their women lacked morals.” Bridget” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Bridget looked at the men below her, but they were still standing there watching her and talking low amongst themselves. Yet, she was certain something or someone was swiftly, silently moving ever closer. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, one of the surrounding shadows became a slender, beautiful young man. She forced herself not to look right at him. He grinned briefly and she nearly gasped, but, before she could decide whether or not she really had seen that wolfish smile, he was gone. A heartbeat later she felt a rush of movement. Dark shapes seemed to fly by her. The men below her looked horrified as the shadows closed around them. Their screams hurt her ears. Bridget felt overwhelmed by the scent and sight of blood for one long, desperate moment, then fell into blackness.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“A soft noise from the woman on the bed pulled him free of his thoughts. Even as he straightened up to look at her face, her eyes opened. Cathal drew his breath in so sharply he nearly choked. Her eyes were the most beautiful eyes he had ever gazed into. They were an enticing mixture of blue and green, the color growing more dramatic as the haze of unconciousness fled. As” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“He perched on the end of the bed like some elegant dark bird. A very beautiful bird, she decided. His looks were similar to the laird’s, their kinship plain to see, but his beauty was far more refined. The color of his eyes was more golden than brown, a little too similar to those of some beast of the forest. He suddenly smiled at her and she tensed. “I saw ye,” she said. “Ye came from out of the hills, from behind me.” “Aye, just as those bastards readied themselves to attack,” replied Jankyn. Images crowded her mind so quickly they made her head ache. “Those men who were chasing me?” “And willnae chase ye again. Their thieving, murdering days are at an end.” She” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“The laird was tall, quite possibly a foot or more taller than she was. He was lean yet she was certain there was an impressive strength beneath his slim elegant appearance. She had seen a hint of it in the way he moved as he had fetched the wine. His hair was a deep black and hung in soft waves several inches past his broad shoulders. His skin was a lot paler than she would have expected in a man with such dark hair. Not a wan, sickly pale, either, but a rich, lovely creamy tone that many a woman would envy. The lines of his face were cleanly cut, elegant perfection from his long, straight nose and high cheekbones to the firm jaw. There was a slight fullness to his lips that she found far too attractive. His eyes were strangely beautiful. Set beneath faintly arched brows, rimmed with enviable long lashes, they were a pale golden brown. He was, without doubt, one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. Feeling” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Isnae this your bedchamber, m’laird?” “It is,” replied Cathal as he moved to stand by the side of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back. “Then I should be shown to the guest chambers, aye?” “Nay, ye will stay here. Tis best if ye become accustomed to these chambers.” Bridget sat up straighter and glared at him. “And just what do ye mean by that?” She saw a grinning Jankyn move to stand beside Cathal and was briefly distracted by the sight of his teeth. “Do ye file your teeth to get those fangs? I had an uncle who did that. Filed all his front teeth so that they were sharp and pointed. Thought it made him look fierce.” Jankyn scowled at her. “I have no need of such foolish vanities.” Cathal watched her frown and, before she could think too long on Jankyn’s words, he said, “Ye will stay in this bedchamber.” That command pulled Bridget free from her interest in Jankyn’s teeth and she glared at Cathal again. Did he think that, since she owed him her life, she would be willing to warm his bed? The fact that she felt a definite stirring within her blood at the thought made her all the more determined to stand firm against him. “I am the sister of the laird of Dunsmuir,” she began. “Ah, good. Good.” Cathal started toward the door, a chuckling Jankyn close at his heels. That reply made no sense at all, she thought. “Why is that good?” “Tis best if the bride and groom are of an equal standing.” “Bride and groom? What bride and groom? Who is to be married?” “Why, ye are to be married, m’lady. To me.” Bridget was so stunned by his words, the two men were several minutes gone before she could utter a word. She spent several minutes more trying to decide if she had heard him correctly.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“I was told the men who found me searched for my companion, Nan,” Bridget said, the hint of a question in her voice. “Aye, they did.” Mora began to braid Bridget’s hair. “If they couldnae find her, lass, she wasnae there.” “So strange, isnae it? Where would she go? As I see it, she had but two choices when the thieves attacked. She either died with the others or fled.” “If she had fled, Jankyn would have been able to see that and followed her trail.” “It was dark. He may have missed whate’er trail she left.” “Nay. Jankyn could track a wee mousie in the dark. But, it wasnae so verra dark, was it? Moon was full.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Bride and groom?” she grumbled, her voice muffled by the dark blue gown Mora was tugging over her head. “What is the big fool talking about?” “Seemed most clear to me,” said Mora as she began to lace up Bridget’s gown. “He means to make ye his wife.” “How can ye be sure of that? Ye werenae here when he said those things.” “I heard him and Jankyn speaking of it as they left the bedchamber. I was just outside the door.” “Is he mad?” “Nay. Why would ye think that?” Mora pushed Bridget down into a seat before the fire and began to brush out her hair. “I dinnae ken,” drawled Bridget. “Mayhap ’tis the way he but looks at me once and declares us betrothed.” “A lot of people wed with the wife and husband barely kenning a thing about each other. Ye are the laird’s equal in birth, he doesnae need a dowry, and ye are a bonnie, young lass, ripe for marrying. Tis most reasonable. A perfect solution.” Bridget rolled her eyes. “Perfect for him. Mayhap nay so perfect for me.” “Why? He is a braw lad, handsome, has a fine keep and good lands, and is a good laird.” “Weel, mayhap, but why doesnae he go to court himself or visit some other laird’s holdings? At least look about a wee bit for a wife?” “He doesnae like to leave Cambrun. The MacNachtons prefer to stay close to home.” There” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“I believe I made my plans verra clear months ago,” replied Cathal. “Ye dinnae e’en ken who this woman is,” snapped Edmee. “She could be some thief.” “She is Lady Bridget Callan of Dunsmuir, sister of the laird, cousin to Lady Barbara Matheson, and my betrothed.” Cathal was pleased Bridget made no protest, that she had the wit to know that now was not a good time to argue his plans for her. “I have found nothing to e’ en hint that she may not be exactly who she claims she is. Thus, she is a perfect choice.” “Ye should choose one of your own. Ye put us all at risk, try to destroy all that we are,” said Scymynd. Cathal shifted the grip of his hand upon Bridget’s just enough so that he could stroke the inside of her wrist. “Do I? I believe my intentions will save us. Do ye have a son, Scymynd? Does Edmee have a child? Considering how often she amuses herself, she ought to have a dozen clinging to her skirts. Where are they?” “Unlike the Outsiders, we dinnae need to breed like rabbits.” “I wasnae suggesting we do so, but e’en we need the occasional renewal.” “Tis madness. Ye have forgotten who ye are and would try to have us all do the same. Be warned, Cathal,” Scymynd said as he started to walk away, “if ye push too hard, those ye try to corner will push back. Hard.” Edmee” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Cathal almost smiled at the way Bridget was attempting to act as if nothing had happened. “Ye have naught to say, m’lady?” “I have heard it said that ’tis best to nay indulge the deluded,” she murmured. “And ye think I am deluded?” “What else could one call it when ye tell all who will listen that ye intend to marry a woman ye have just met? One who hasnae said aye, either.” “And why do ye hesitate to say aye? I dinnae think I am hard to look upon. I am wealthy enough to keep ye weel clothed and fed. I am a laird, have good lands, and those lands are weel protected. Ye couldnae find much better at court, although it sounds vain of me to say so.” It might sound vain, but it was the truth, Bridget mused as she took a long drink of cider to wash down the last of her meal. She had no intention of agreeing with that view, however. Neither did she intend to be dragged into a marriage with a man she had just met, one who was knee deep in plots that were stirring up rebellion within his clan. She slowly stood up and looked at Sir Cathal. “I was going to court to see a world outside of the walls of Dunsmuir, to be entertained by the elegant clothes and intriguing gossip, and to dance until my feet hurt. If some fine gentlemon decided to woo me, I might have taken a husband. Please note the use of the word might. Now, if ye will excuse me, I believe I will go and compose a letter to my cousin to explain my delay and let her ken that I will arrive for my visit with her as soon as possible.” “Aye, ye do that, m’lady.” Cathal enjoyed the gentle sway of her slim hips as she walked away. “I am certain we can arrange to visit your kinswoman at some time after we are married.” He grinned when she clenched her hands into tight fists, hesitated briefly, then continued out of the great hall. Mora flashed him a wide grin and hurried after Bridget. “She” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“She has a temper,” murmured Jankyn. “She set Edmee back on her heels for a moment.” “Aye,” agreed Cathal. “If Lady Bridget was frightened, she hid it weel. Tis good. She will need courage and strength to be my wife.” “I think she will try to escape.” Cathal nodded. “We will watch for it.” “What if she continues to refuse you? Ye cannae want an unwilling bride.” “She willnae be unwilling.” “Ye sound verra sure of that.” “I am. There is an attraction. I feel it and, when I held her hand, I kenned that she felt it, too. Twill take but a wee while for her to understand and accept it.” “Then I hope ye listened carefully to what she said as she left. There were two words ye must needs remember.” “Aye, woo and dance.” “Exactly. Woo and dance. Do ye ken how to dance?” Cathal grimaced. “Nay, but if my wooing isnae enough, I suspect I can learn. Lady Bridget can hiss and scratch all she likes, but, in the end, she will be my wife.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“She was just about to run out through the gates, surprised but pleased to see them open, when a man dropped to the ground right in front of her. A soft screech escaped her as she stumbled back a step, even as she frantically looked around in a vain attempt to see where he had come from. “Greetings, lass,” the man said in a deep, rough voice. “Ye probably dinnae remember me. I am Raibeart. I drove your wee bonnie cart back here after we saved ye from those thieving swine.” “Ah, weel, I thank ye. Now, if ye will just excuse me,” she tried to dart around him, but the man swiftly put himself in her path. “Now, ye dinnae really want to go out there. Tis dark, aye? Too dangerous for such a wee lass.” “Ye arenae going to let me leave, are ye?” She cursed when he shook his head. “The laird wants ye to stay here.” “I dinnae care what he wants. He isnae my laird. He isnae my kinsmon, either.” Bridget could feel panic clawing at her insides and struggled to push it aside. “I wish to go to my cousin’s and none of ye have the right to stop me.” She felt a light touch upon her shoulder. Blindly, she turned and struck out, raking her nails across the face of the man who stood behind her. As her fingernails scored soft flesh the feeling pulled her free of the tight grasp fear had upon her. She looked in horror at the bloody furrows she had left upon Jankyn’s cheek. He touched a hand to the cuts as he stared at her, his gaze holding more intense consideration than shock. Mumbling a heartfelt apology, Bridget pulled a square of daintily embroidered linen from a pocket in the lining of her cloak. However, by the time she reached toward Jankyn, intending to clean the blood from his wounds, there was no need for such care. “Your wounds appear to be closing,” she whispered. “Aye. They were only shallow cuts,” he said. “Ye have verra sharp nails, lass.” Keeping his gaze fixed upon her face, he slowly licked the blood from his fingers. “Oh, it needed only that.” Bridget closed her eyes, took a deep breath to calm herself, then scowled at Jankyn. “That was a strange thing to do, lass,” murmured Raibeart as he moved to stand beside her. It was, but Bridget would never admit it. “Nay, it wasnae. I felt a touch and thought I was in danger. Jankyn also crept up behind me when I was feeling agitated.” She abruptly made a dash for the gate, not surprised when both men quickly appeared to block her way. “That could become verra annoying.” “E’en” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Ah, so ye will escort me to my cousin’s then, will ye?” she said in a voice so sweet she was surprised it did not make her teeth ache. “Nay, they willnae,” drawled an all too familiar voice from behind her. Inwardly cursing, Bridget turned to face Cathal. “I have decided ’tis time for me to continue on my journey.” “And ye decided ye had to do it now? Right now? Without most of your belongings?” “Aye. I got to thinking—” “A dangerous thing for a lass to do. Ow!” Jankyn rubbed his stomach where Bridget had just hit him with her sack of belongings, and grinned at her. “Why are ye nay out with the others, howling at the moon?” “At least I am nay dancing beneath it.” He laughed when she blushed. “Ye were watching me?” “I heard ye singing.” “That was so rude.” If he had been drawn by her singing then he could not have seen her naked, Bridget mused, and relaxed. “I had left the camp to seek a few moments of privacy.” Cathal grasped Bridget by the arm, turning her attention back to him. “Why were ye leaving?” Bridget could feel the blunt truth on the tip of her tongue, but could not bring herself to speak it. It was as if she feared that, in speaking the words, the truth could no longer be ignored. That was absurd. She knew the truth. By the way the three men looked at her, they knew she had guessed all their secrets. It made no difference. She simply could not utter the dark, terrifying name aloud. In some odd, twisted way, she was actually concerned about offending them. “I decided I wasnae going to play your game any longer,” she replied. “I was going to my cousin’s.” “Alone? At night?” “Tis the best time for an escape.” But not here, she realized, and inwardly cursed her own stupidity. At Cambrun high noon on a sunny day would have been a better choice. “I have prepared for a visit with Barbara for months. I want to go to court, to see all the fine clothes, and to watch all the courtiers and their ladies. I want to sit down to a feast and listen to all the whispers about who is sinning with whom. I want to hear the minstrels sing and I want to dance with some fine, courtly gentlemon who will tell me all manner of sweet lies about how bonnie I am. I want—” A squeak of surpise and outrage escaped her when Cathal suddenly picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. The soft laughter of Jankyn and Raibeart only added to her anger over being so roughly handled. Bridget dropped her belongings and proceeded to pound her fists against his broad back. Cathal did not even flinch as he continued to take her back to her bedchamber and that, too, increased her fury. Under her breath she cursed him and his stubborness. “Tis nay just me who is blindly stubborn,” muttered Cathal as he entered the bedchamber and kicked the door shut behind him. “Tis ye who refuses to give up this plan to go to court. And for what? To hear empty flatteries and malicious tales?” He paused by the bed. “Undo your cloak.” Even as she blindly obeyed that terse command, Bridget wondered why she did so. Such quick obedience was not in her nature. She growled softly when her cloak was pulled from her and tossed to the floor. Before she could say anything, she was tossed down onto the bed. Her body was still bouncing slightly when Cathal sprawled on top of her, gently but firmly pinning her down. Bridget scowled at him, more angry than afraid, and tried not to let the beauty of his face distract her. She had a right to be angry and she would hold fast to that feeling no matter how warm and itchy he made her feel. “Ye are staying here,” Cathal said. “I am going to woo ye and then we will be married.” “Oh! What arrogance! Ye may woo me, but that doesnae necessarily mean ye will win me.” Bridget” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“To her ears, the sound of his voice was like a caress. Unfortunately, he was also a dangerous creature, one whose name she still felt almost afraid to say aloud. Then again, she mused, he did not feel as if he was a dead man. He felt warm, strong, and alive. There was a glow of health to his lovely skin. He certainly did not smell of the grave. Yet, if one could believe all warnings given and tales told, the devil was prone to trick the unwary with beauty and lust. Cathal was beautiful and Bridget suspected that warm, itchy feeling he stirred within her was lust. Cathal” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
“Cathal watched the expressions darting across her lovely face. She had made no accusations, but he was sure she had guessed the truth, or part of it. He took hope in the fact that she was not terrified. There was the occasional glint of fear in her eyes, but no more, and he felt he could deal with that. “I will ne’er hurt ye, Bridget,” he said softly and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “I swear it.” “And why should I accept your vow?” She shivered when he touched a kiss to her right cheek, feeling the warmth of his lips flow through her veins. “Ah, I think ye do already.” Cathal felt the subtle changes in her breathing and knew she was stirred by his kisses. “I think ye ken that ye are safe with me. I think ye also ken that ye are safe with Jankyn, Raibeart, and Mora. Aye, and many others.” He lightly rubbed his lips over hers and reveled in the faint trembling of her lithe body. “And there are others I am nay safe with, ones who wish me gone.” “I willnae allow them to harm ye.” “Ye may try. It doesnae matter. Ye have no right to hold me here.” “Why are ye so anxious to leave, lass? Can ye no spare a week or two for the ones who saved your wee life?” “How devious ye are to play upon my sense of gratitude.” “Stay. Give me one week. If ye cannae abide marrying me, can see naught to gain, then we can discuss your continuing on to your cousin’s.” “A week?” “Aye, one week.” “I should send word to my cousin. She must be fretting o’er the fact that I havenae arrived yet.” “I will see that she is told that ye are safe and hale.” Bridget was about to tell him that one week would not change her mind about leaving, when he kissed her.” ― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander
