Seducing a Scottish Bride Read online

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2009 by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Forever

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing.

  The Forever name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: March 2009

  ISBN: 978-0-446-54470-2

  Contents

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgments

  The Legacy of the Raven

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A Preview of "A Highlander’s Temptation"

  The Legacy of the Thunder Rod

  Chapter One

  DAZZLING REVIEWS FOR SUE-ELLEN WELFONDER AND HER NOVELS

  BRIDE FOR A KNIGHT

  “4 Stars! Welfonder’s love of Scotland shines through on every page of this medieval romance, where sexual tension is an integral part of a dramatic story. She skillfully draws you into a suspenseful mystery with wonderful atmosphere.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “Once again, Welfonder’s careful scholarship and attention to detail vividly re-create the lusty, brawling days of medieval Scotland with larger-than-life chivalrous heroes and the dainty but spirited maidens chosen by the old gods and blessed by the saints to partner them.”

  —Booklist

  “Wonderful historical romance. Lots of romance and intrigue with some danger and suspense as well. I would never have guessed as to whom the enemy was or why. Recommended!”

  — HuntressReviews.com

  “The paranormal and mystery elements blend nicely into the story line as those segues enhance a fine historical romance.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “This is not just a love story, but one of mystery as well. Sue-Ellen Welfonder has a beautiful way of spinning a story.”

  — FreshFiction.com

  “Again Sue-Ellen Welfonder uses surprises and special twists and turns as she tells a poignant love story.”

  — NovelTalk.com

  “I’ve read tons of Scottish historicals, but loved the added ghostly intrigue and superstitions present in Scotland—the ancient histories, legends, and fascinating lore that Sue-Ellen Welfonder intertwines with the sensual Highlander romance in Bride for a Knight.”

  — WritersAndReaders.com

  UNTIL THE KNIGHT COMES

  “To lovers of all things Scottish, [Welfonder] writes great tales of passion and adventure. There’s magic included along with the various ghosts and legends only Scotland could produce. It’s almost better than a trip there in person.”

  — RomanceReviewsMag.com

  “Welfonder’s storytelling skill and medieval scholarship shine in her latest Kintail-based Scottish romance with magical elements.”

  —Booklist

  “Will win your heart. It’s a romantic treasure. If you love Scottish tales, this one is for you.”

  — FreshFiction.com

  ONLY FOR A KNIGHT

  “Hooked me from the first page . . . larger-than-life characters and excellent descriptions bring this story . . . to vivid life.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Captivating . . . fast-moving . . . steamy, sensual, and utterly breathtaking . . . will win your heart.”

  — FreshFiction.com

  “4½ Stars! Enthralling . . . Welfonder brings the Highlands to life with her vibrant characters, impassioned stories, and vivid description.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “A book I highly recommend for those who enjoy sexy Scotsmen. A wonderful tale of love.”

  — TheRomanceReadersConnection.com

  “As usual, Welfonder gives her many fans another memorable historical read.”

  — ReadertoReader.com

  WEDDING FOR A KNIGHT

  “TOP PICK! You couldn’t ask for a more joyous, loving, smile-inducing read . . . Will win your heart!”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “With history and beautiful details of Scotland, this book provides romance, spunk, mystery, and courtship . . . a must-read!”

  —Rendezvous

  “A very romantic story . . . extremely sexy. I recommend this book to anyone who loves the era and Scotland.”

  — TheBestReviews.com

  MASTER OF THE HIGHLANDS

  “Welfonder does it again, bringing readers another powerful, emotional, highly romantic medieval that steals your heart and keeps you turning the pages.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  “Vastly entertaining and deeply sensual medieval romance . . . for those of us who like our heroes moodly, ultrahot, and sexy . . . this is the one for you!”

  — HistoricalRomanceWriters.com

  “Yet another bonny Scottish romance to snuggle up with and inspire pleasantly sinful dreams.”

  —Heartstrings

  BRIDE OF THE BEAST

  “Larger-than-life characters and a scenic setting . . . Welfonder pens some steamy scenes.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Thrilling . . . so sensual at times, it gives you goose bumps . . . Welfonder spins pure magic.”

  — ReaderToReader.com

  “4½ Stars! . . . A top pick . . . powerful emotions, strong and believable characters, snappy dialogue, and some humorous moments add depth to the plotline and make this a nonstop read.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  KNIGHT IN MY BED

  “Exciting, action-packed . . . a strong tale that thoroughly entertains.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Steamy . . . sensual.”

  —Booklist

  “Ripe with sexual tension . . . breathtaking!”

  — RoadtoRomance.dhs.org

  DEVIL IN A KILT

  “A lovely gem of a book. Wonderful characters and a true sense of place make this a keeper.”

  —Patricia Potter, author of The Heart Queen

  “As captivating as a spider’s web, and the reader can’t get free until the last word . . . tense, fast-moving.”

  —Rendezvous

  “4½ Stars! This dynamic debut has plenty of steaming sensuality . . . You’ll be glued to the pages by the fresh, vibrant voice and strong emotional intensity.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

  BOOKS BY SUE-ELLEN WELFONDER

  Devil in a Kilt

  Knight in My Bed

  Bride of the Beast

  Master of the Highlands

  Wedding for a Knight

  Only for a Knight

 
; Until the Knight Comes

  Bride for a Knight

  Seducing a Scottish Bride

  This one is for Judy DeWitt.

  A special soul in my life, she’s a long-time friend and champion, a bookseller extraordinaire, and a staunch supporter of the romance genre.

  She’s been there for me since before I wrote the first line of Devil in a Kilt. And she’s there still, always ready with an encouraging word or a go-get-’em squeeze.

  To me, she’s a Knightess.

  A thousand blessings on you, my friend. The world would be a better place if there were more like you!

  Acknowledgments

  Inspiration can come from a thousand places, but for me there’s only one such place: Scotland, land of my ancestors and home of my heart. I visit as often as I can, each time returning with my soul replenished. Being there refills my creative well, and the only difficulty is deciding which special place or tantalizing bit of lore to weave into the next book.

  Several such places found their way into this book, and although I’m always ready to strike off on my own in search of Scotland’s truly wild and remote corners, I’d miss the real gems without the insider knowledge of my very special Highland friends.

  Too many to name, most of them live in my favorite Highland town of Nairn. Glen Dare, almost a character in this book, is a combination of a few truly magical places they’ve either sent me to or taken me to visit. Dark and mysterious Glenelg, the wild moors of Drynachen, and the sweetest of Highland lochs, Loch Muick. The Tomnavernie stone circle, a fraction of the size of Stonehenge, but so much more special for its nontouristy remoteness. To visit Tomnavernie on a cold, misty day, touching the stones and absorbing the quiet, is to live and breathe the wonder of Scotland’s past.

  That wonder stays with me as I write my books. It’s as real as my last walk in soft Highland rain or the echo of wind racing across the moors. It’s definitely in the earthy sweet scent of peat, especially on a chill and damp autumn afternoon. To me it’s all Highland magic, and when I can’t be there in person, I love returning in the guise of my characters.

  Three very special women make that possible: Roberta M. Brown, my agent and dearest of friends. She knows what she means to me. Karen Kosztolnyik, my much-appreciated editor. She always has just the right sprinkling of fairy dust to bring my books to life. And Celia Johnson, an absolute gem, whose unflagging support I’ll always appreciate.

  As ever, much appreciation and love to my very handsome husband, Manfred, who thought he was marrying a stewardess and ended up with a Scotophile bookworm whose greatest goal in life is to board the next plane to Glasgow. He’s a wonderfully good sport about that particular quirk of mine, and he’s also great at keeping marauders away from my turret. I am more than grateful. And my little dog, Em, my four-legged soulmate who makes the journey so worthwhile. There aren’t words for how much I love him.

  The Legacy of the Raven

  Since the earliest memories of time, the chieftains of the great house of MacKenzie have called Kintail their own. A vast territory of extraordinary beauty, its splendors have been known to bring a shine to the eye of even the most battle- hardened Highlander. Blessed with sparkling lochs and deep inlets, wild heather hills, and endless whispering moors, Kintail’s grandeur is legend.

  No stretch of land in all the Western Highlands can equal its glory.

  And no Highland chieftain is more respected — or feared — than Clan MacKenzie’s puissant leader, Duncan MacKenzie, the formidable Black Stag of Kintail.

  A man of iron will and incomparable strength, his name alone can inflame the hearts of those who follow him. And those who don’t know to stay away, for it is said he fears nothing and has no mercy.

  Only a fool would dare allow that there might be corners of Kintail untouched by the Black Stag’s sway.

  But there was one deeply shadowed corner of that land, haunted by the doomed aspirations of a man best forgotten. Maldred the Dire was his name, and although he has long since disappeared from history, his clan, the MacRuaris, still bear the shame of his nefarious deeds.

  The shame, and the sorrow.

  Keeping to themselves, the blighted clan dwell unseen in the fair land of Kintail, their quiet presence unnoted by man, until one amongst them grows weary of the shadows, unwilling to accept a fate written long before he or his heir, the Raven, ever thought to tread these hills.

  Aging chief of the MacRuaris, his days might be numbered, his life’s journey nearing its end. But the Raven is young and vital, a man of valor and passion who does not deserve to be alone.

  But before the Raven can find happiness, old debts must be repaid.

  The hidden past unrolled and brought to the fore.

  A past that inextricably binds the fates of the Black Stag and the man called the Raven. An unwanted turn of events that even the mighty Duncan MacKenzie cannot escape, for the truth of it cuts to the marrow, trapping him by means of his one great weakness.

  His honor.

  Chapter One

  EILEAN CREAG CASTLE, THE WESTERN HIGHLANDS, AUTUMN 1348

  Let us speak plainly, my sister. What you would have us do is pure folly.”

  Lady Gelis MacKenzie dismissed her elder sister’s opinion with an impatient flip of one hand. Scarce able to contain her own excitement, she ignored the other’s lack of enthusiasm and stepped closer to the arch-topped windows of their tower bedchamber.

  A bedchamber she hoped she wouldn’t be sharing with Lady Arabella much longer.

  Not that she didn’t love her sister.

  She did.

  Just as she adored their lovely room, appointed as it was with every comfort and luxury their father, the Black Stag of Kintail, chose to lavish on them. Elegant trappings met the eye no matter where one gazed, and those trusted enough to gain entry saw immediately that the room’s sumptuous finery rivaled even that of the Black Stag’s own privy quarters. But Gelis cared little for the splendor of the hooded fireplace and matching pair of carved oaken armchairs, or the jewel-toned tapestries and extravagant bed hangings of richest brocade, each costly thread glowing in the light of fine wax candles.

  Flicking a speck of lint off her sleeve, she cast a glance at her sister. Even if some stubborn souls refused to admit it, she knew that life held greater treasures.

  Wax candles and hanging oil lamps might banish shadows and a well-doing log fire surely took the worst bite out of a chill Highland morn, but such things did little to warm a woman’s heart.

  Enflame her passion and make her breath catch with wonder.

  Wonder, and love.

  Such were Gelis’s dreams.

  And all her sister’s purse-lipped protestations weren’t going to stop her from chasing them.

  Apparently bent on doing just that, Arabella joined her in the window embrasure. “Such nonsense will bring you little joy,” she contended. “Only a dim —”

  “I am not light-minded.” Gelis whipped around to face her. “Even Father wouldn’t deny Devorgilla of Doon’s wisdom.”

  Arabella sniffed. “There’s a difference between spelling charms and herb-craft and expecting moon-infused water to reveal the face of one’s future mate.”

  “Future love,” Gelis corrected, unable to prevent a delicious shiver of anticipation. “Love as in a girl’s one true heart-mate.”

  Looking unconvinced, Arabella moved closer to the window arch and peered down into the bailey. “Och, to be sure,” she quipped, “we shall hasten below, stare into the bowl you hid in the lee of the curtain wall last night, and then we shall see our true loves’ faces there in the water.”

  “So Devorgilla said.”

  Arabella lifted a brow with predictable skepticism. “And you believe everything you are told?”

  Gelis puffed a curl off her forehead. “I believe everything Devorgilla says. She has ne’er been known to err. Or can you prove otherwise?”

  “I —” Arabella began, only to close her mouth as quickly. Turning as
ide, she trailed her fingers along the edge of a small table. “ ’Tis only that you’ve so much fancy,” she said at last, a slight furrow creasing her brow. “I would not see you disappointed.”

  “Bah!” Gelis tried not to convulse with laughter. “My only disappointment is when Father refuses a bonny suitor! I do not mind him naesaying the toads, but some have been more than appealing.”

  “Then why bother to peer into a scrying bowl if you already know Father isn’t about to let you wed?” Arabella dropped onto the cushioned seat in the window embrasure, a frown still marring her lovely face.

  “Isn’t about to let either of us wed,” Gelis amended, grabbing her sister’s arm and pulling her to her feet. “He shall claim we are both too young even when we are withered and gray! Which is why we must use Devorgilla’s magic. If the scrying bowl shows us the faces of our future husbands, we shall have the surety that there will be husbands for us. I will go mad without that certainty.”

  You already are mad, Gelis thought she heard her sister grumble. But when she shot a glance at her, Arabella wore her usual look of eternal composure.

  An expression that could needle Gelis beyond patience.

  Choosing to ignore it, she tightened her grip on Arabella’s arm and dragged her toward the door. “Come,” she urged, triumph already surging through her, “there is no one in the bailey just now. If we hurry, we can test our fortune before anyone notices.”

  “We will see naught but the bottom of the bowl,” Arabella decided as they made their way belowstairs and out into the empty courtyard and an emptiness so stifling its heavy quiet threatened to dampen Gelis’s confidence. Brilliant autumn sunshine slanted across the cobbles, and nothing stirred. The whole of the vast enclosure loomed silent, the thick curtain walls seeming to watch them, looking on in stern disapproval of their frivolous pursuit.