Highlander's Return: The Sinclair Brothers Trilogy, Bonus Novella (Book 2.5) by Emma Prince Page B
Authors: Emma Prince
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the
English army was stirring in the Borderlands. His news could affect the entire
country. It could mean either the start or the end of the Scottish wars for
independence from England.
That thought brought him back to the gravity of the
situation he was in. Sutherlands be damned. Burke couldn’t waste two days
skirting their lands because of an ancient blood feud. The fate of Scotland
hung in the balance. He would just have to cross their holdings.
He would have to ride carefully, even more so than
the last week and half as he, Garrick, and Jossalyn had traveled north through
Scotland. He was alone now, with no one to watch his back. And if he didn’t
reach Robert and deliver his news as fast as possible, he would have
failed—failed his mission, his Laird, and his country.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“Come on, Hero ,” he said, patting Laoch’s
neck. He guided the bay stallion to the northeast and spurred him on, straight
toward Sutherland lands.
Chapter 2
Chisolm Sutherland was dead.
Meredith had to remind herself of this every few
hours, for although it had been several weeks since her husband had passed away
in their bedchamber, she still slinked through Brora Tower as if it weren’t her
home.
In fact, Brora was more hers than it had ever been
Chisolm’s, and yet her husband had made her feel like a guest—nay, an
intruder—in her childhood home.
But Chisolm Sutherland was dead now, she reminded
herself yet again. She straightened her spine as she climbed from the top floor
of rooms to the roof of the tower house. She no longer had to be afraid of his
harshness, his cold dismissal, or his groping, demanding hands.
The warm, late-summer sun touched first her head and
then her shoulders and back as she climbed up the ladder and onto the flat parapet
that ringed the tower’s roof. The air was still and heavy with the warm scent
of the surrounding green hills. She could even catch a faint whiff of salt in
the air coming from the North Sea off to the east. She inhaled deeply, letting
the fresh air and sunshine seep into her and lift the shroud of despondency
that seemed to be ever-present of late.
Nay, not just of late. If she told herself the
truth, which she could now that she was a widow, the darkness had closed in on
her the day she was married, nearly ten years ago, to Chisolm.
It had been her eighteenth birthday. She had wept
bitterly throughout the whole day for the loss of Burke Sinclair, her first
love and the man she longed to marry. They had promised themselves to each
other, had sworn to find a way to keep their love alive, but her father, Murray
Sutherland, had forbidden them from ever seeing each other. He even threatened
all-out war with the Sinclairs if Burke ever came near her again.
Her father had arranged for what he considered a
more suitable match for Meredith—Chisolm Sutherland, a distant cousin on her
mother’s side and a fellow clansman. Her father didn’t seem to mind that
Chisolm was older than her by nearly two score. It was best for the clan, he
had said to her sternly on her wedding day.
After all, Meredith and her brother Ansel were the
immediate cousins to the only legitimate male heir in line for the Sutherland
Lairdship. That meant that if anything happened to Kenneth Sutherland, the only
son of the current Laird, Ansel would be next in line to take over. Meredith
had to do her duty by shoring up clan ties and strengthening the connections
between their family and the rest of the clan, her father had explained.
After her father had thoroughly chastised her for
her selfishness and girlish sorrow, Meredith was quickly cinched into a fine
gown, her tears scrubbed away by a hurried hand. Then she was pushed down the
stairs of Brora Tower to be presented to her groom.
Chisolm had been annoyed with Meredith even before
he saw her for the first time. He stood in the main hall of the tower house,
pacing in front of the great hearth, his mostly gray hair combed
English army was stirring in the Borderlands. His news could affect the entire
country. It could mean either the start or the end of the Scottish wars for
independence from England.
That thought brought him back to the gravity of the
situation he was in. Sutherlands be damned. Burke couldn’t waste two days
skirting their lands because of an ancient blood feud. The fate of Scotland
hung in the balance. He would just have to cross their holdings.
He would have to ride carefully, even more so than
the last week and half as he, Garrick, and Jossalyn had traveled north through
Scotland. He was alone now, with no one to watch his back. And if he didn’t
reach Robert and deliver his news as fast as possible, he would have
failed—failed his mission, his Laird, and his country.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“Come on, Hero ,” he said, patting Laoch’s
neck. He guided the bay stallion to the northeast and spurred him on, straight
toward Sutherland lands.
Chapter 2
Chisolm Sutherland was dead.
Meredith had to remind herself of this every few
hours, for although it had been several weeks since her husband had passed away
in their bedchamber, she still slinked through Brora Tower as if it weren’t her
home.
In fact, Brora was more hers than it had ever been
Chisolm’s, and yet her husband had made her feel like a guest—nay, an
intruder—in her childhood home.
But Chisolm Sutherland was dead now, she reminded
herself yet again. She straightened her spine as she climbed from the top floor
of rooms to the roof of the tower house. She no longer had to be afraid of his
harshness, his cold dismissal, or his groping, demanding hands.
The warm, late-summer sun touched first her head and
then her shoulders and back as she climbed up the ladder and onto the flat parapet
that ringed the tower’s roof. The air was still and heavy with the warm scent
of the surrounding green hills. She could even catch a faint whiff of salt in
the air coming from the North Sea off to the east. She inhaled deeply, letting
the fresh air and sunshine seep into her and lift the shroud of despondency
that seemed to be ever-present of late.
Nay, not just of late. If she told herself the
truth, which she could now that she was a widow, the darkness had closed in on
her the day she was married, nearly ten years ago, to Chisolm.
It had been her eighteenth birthday. She had wept
bitterly throughout the whole day for the loss of Burke Sinclair, her first
love and the man she longed to marry. They had promised themselves to each
other, had sworn to find a way to keep their love alive, but her father, Murray
Sutherland, had forbidden them from ever seeing each other. He even threatened
all-out war with the Sinclairs if Burke ever came near her again.
Her father had arranged for what he considered a
more suitable match for Meredith—Chisolm Sutherland, a distant cousin on her
mother’s side and a fellow clansman. Her father didn’t seem to mind that
Chisolm was older than her by nearly two score. It was best for the clan, he
had said to her sternly on her wedding day.
After all, Meredith and her brother Ansel were the
immediate cousins to the only legitimate male heir in line for the Sutherland
Lairdship. That meant that if anything happened to Kenneth Sutherland, the only
son of the current Laird, Ansel would be next in line to take over. Meredith
had to do her duty by shoring up clan ties and strengthening the connections
between their family and the rest of the clan, her father had explained.
After her father had thoroughly chastised her for
her selfishness and girlish sorrow, Meredith was quickly cinched into a fine
gown, her tears scrubbed away by a hurried hand. Then she was pushed down the
stairs of Brora Tower to be presented to her groom.
Chisolm had been annoyed with Meredith even before
he saw her for the first time. He stood in the main hall of the tower house,
pacing in front of the great hearth, his mostly gray hair combed
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