Dared & KissedThe Scotsman's Yuletide Bride
Bree Wolf
Contents
Free gift
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Do you want to get a book for free
and stay up to date with new releases, giveaways and discounts?
Subscribe to my newsletter and receive the exclusive prequel as a welcome gift
(no spamming, I promise!)
Click here!
Prologue
Seann Dachaigh Tower, Scottish Highlands, December 1801Seven Years Earlier
Drawing her cloak tighter around her to ward off the chill of the crisp winter morning, sixteen-year-old Emma Stewart of Clan MacDrummond stood on the edge of the clearing, half-hidden behind a large boulder, her deep brown eyes drawn to the young men as they crossed their swords in training.
Their faces shone rosy in the cool winter’s air as they moved back and forth, the metal of their blades gleaming in the faint morning sun. Emma could feel the clash of their swords resonate in her bones as it echoed through the stillness of the small glen. A cold shiver ran down her spine, and she breathed a sigh of relief that war had come and gone long ago.
These were times of peace, and the young men of her clan were merely training to keep a sharp mind and humble heart as their laird demanded of them. He was a good and kind man and had seen their clan through many trials. Still, his health was failing, and soon his son, Cormag, would follow in his footsteps and become Laird.
Shifting her gaze to the tall dark-haired man, Emma marvelled at the stillness with which he moved. There was no exertion on his face, and here and there, it seemed as though his feet barely touched the ground. He was a strange man, the laird’s son, taciturn and reticent in many ways, and yet, watchful and observant, his grey eyes sharp like those of a hawk.
Emma wondered what he saw when he looked at her, and another shiver went down her back. Quickly, she turned her gaze to the other young men, fair-haired Ian and dark-haired Garrett. However, it was the sight of Finnegan MacDrummond that made her heart leap into her throat.
At least six years her senior, Finn stood tall, his shoulders squared as he watched Ian’s approach, his sparkling green eyes narrowed as he prepared for his opponent’s attack. Their swords clashed, and Emma held her breath.
Laughter echoed to her ears as Finn drew back, running his hand through his dark auburn curls. “Ye fight like a wee bairn, Ian! Is this all ye’ve got?”
Determination and a good deal of humour rested on Ian’s face as he charged toward his friend, their swords colliding once again, sending sparks flying through the soft fog still lingering this early in the morning.
Transfixed, Emma watched as the men continued their training, her eyes locked on the young man who had stolen her heart so long ago. She could not recall a time when the mere sight of him had not stolen her breath and addled her mind. He was sweet and kind, and his green eyes always sparkled with exuberance and a hint of mischief. He stood by his friends and always lent a helping hand to those who needed it. He loved this land, their home, fiercely, and yet, every now and then she could see a yearning for adventure in his eyes, to see the world and know more than the small circle of life into which he had been born.
Oh, Emma knew him well, and yet, they had never truly spoken to one another. Nothing beyond a few meaningless courtesies here and there. Emma wondered if he even knew her name.
A faint giggle drifted to her ears from the tree line in her back, jarring Emma back to the here and now. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Aileen and Sorcha standing half-hidden behind a large oak, their eyes glowing as they whispered to one another.
Sighing, Emma squared her shoulders, reminding herself why she was here, why she had risen so early and trudged through the woods, her hem now soaked with morning dew.
“Go,” Aileen hissed from behind the tree, keeping her voice low, her eyes darting to the young men, a touch of apprehension in them as she feared that they might have taken notice.
The young men, however, were so engrossed in their training that not one of them looked up and spotted the girls standing not too far off, watching them with rapt attention.
Emma nodded, then turned back, her eyes once more drifting to Finn, her target. Instantly, her heart sped up, and panic flooded her being. Was she mad to have come here? To have agreed to their game?
Her fingers curled into her palms, and her muscles tensed as though urging her back. No, she would not turn and run. Lifting her head, Emma squared her shoulders. This was her chance−her only chance−and she would take it. After all, it was only a dare, and if Finn rejected her then at least she could laugh it off and pretend that none of it affected her in any way. All she had to do was keep a straight face and not let him see how much she cared for him.
Inhaling a deep breath, Emma stepped out from behind the boulder, momentarily grateful for the shrubbery that still hid her from their sight. Nevertheless, soon she would have to reveal herself and it was still a good distance from the edge of the clearing to where they stood with their swords crossed. Would they address her? Would they ask what she was doing here? If so, what would she say?
“Ye’re a fool,” Emma whispered to herself as she took another step forward. “They’ll laugh at ye, and yer cheeks will turn bright red.”
The moment Emma stepped around the last of the shrubbery, she froze as she found Cormag looking straight at her, his sharp, hawk-like eyes colliding with hers. The hint
