arm.
“This one has orange hair, too,” Ian said as he looked at his second lovely daughter. He grinned at his wife. “There’re going to be trouble, aren’t they?”
“More than likely,” she said, sounding quite complacent about it. “You’re going to be a wonderful da.”
Sileas always had such faith in him.
“What shall we name them?” he asked.
“I’d like to name one Beitris, after your mother,” Sileas said. “What about Alexandra for the other, after Alex?”
“Fine,” he said, smiling down at his wee girls. “Duncan and Connor are not good names for a lass.”
“We should have sons after this,” she said. “We’ll need at least four.”
“Four sons? Why do we need any sons at all?” Overjoyed as he was with their two babes, he wasn’t anxious to risk his wife’s life again.
“So we can name them after Connor, Duncan, Payton, and Niall, of course.” She touched his arm. “After being an only child, I want a houseful of children.”
He nodded, hoping it would be easier next time, but expecting it wouldn’t. “If we do two at a time, it won’t take long.”
He heard a tinkle of laugher and looked up to see what looked very much like a woman in a pale green gown floating above the bed.
“It’s the Green Lady—she’s come back,” Sileas said, sounding pleased at finding a ghost in their bedchamber. “I’ve never seen her smile before.”
Ian decided he could live with a smiling ghost if it made his wife happy.
As he leaned down with his babes in his arms to give his beloved Sileas a kiss, he could have sworn that the Green Lady winked at him.
HISTORICAL NOTE
Last summer, I was lucky enough to take a trip to Scotland. One memorable afternoon, I drove across the Sleat Peninsula of Skye, from the ruins of Knock Castle to the ruins of Dunscaith Castle, on a one-lane road that had more sheep than cars. Seeing the castles I was writing about was an amazing experience, and the island is breathtakingly beautiful. The landscape hasn’t changed much over the centuries, so I found it easy to imagine my heroes traipsing over the hills or sailing the shores.
Researching clan histories of five hundred years ago proved far more challenging. Not much was recorded in a written record at the time. While there is a rich tradition of oral histories, clans often have different versions of the same long-ago events. And clan alliances, including marriages between chieftains’ families, were made and broken with a frequency that is hard to follow.
The MacDonalds of Sleat are a prime example of the complex family relationships. Hugh (Uisdean), the first MacDonald of Sleat and the grandfather of my fictional character Connor, had six sons by six different women, all from prominent families. If I have this right, Hugh, one of his sons, and one of his grandsons all married daughters of Torquil MacLeod of Lewis—and another of Hugh’s sons married Torquil’s former wife.
As is often the case, Hugh’s proliferate ways did not lead to family harmony. Hugh’s first son hated his half brothers so much that upon his death he turned the clan’s lands over to the Crown to keep the others from inheriting them. The lack of legal title to their lands caused later chieftains problems for years. Two of Hugh’s other sons were murdered by their brothers, and another was murdered by Hugh’s grandsons.
In this series, I’ve kept the family animosity, but changed the details and timing of these events. I’ve also changed the name of one of Hugh’s sons from Archibald to Hugh. A number of other secondary characters in
For ease of reading, I used anglicized versions of Gaelic names for some of my fictional characters. For the same reason, I did not follow the practice of calling a person by different names when he was with his mother’s clan, his father’s clan, or somewhere else.
Finally, I confess that I shortened travel times to suit the needs of my story and that Knock Castle was still known as Castle Camus, or Caisteal Chamuis, in 1513. I did not, however, make up the legend of the Green Lady of Knock Castle.
Look for the second book of this sizzling series featuring the fearless Highlanders!
Please turn this page for a preview of
Available in November 2011.
CHAPTER 1
BARRA ISLAND,
SPRING 1515
“Can ye hurry with your stitching?” Glynis asked, as she peered out her window. “Their boat is nearly at the sea gate.”
“Your father is going to murder ye for this.” Old Molly’s face was grim, but her needle flew along the seam. “Now stand straight.”
“Better dead than wed again,” Glynis muttered under her breath.
“This trick will work but once, if it works at all.” Old Molly paused to tie a knot and rethread the needle. “ ’Tis a losing game you’re playing, lass.”
Glynis crossed her arms. “I won’t let him marry me off again.”
“Your da is just as stubborn as you, and he’s the chieftain.” Old Molly looked up from her sewing to fix her filmy eyes on Glynis. “Not all men are as blackhearted as your first husband.”
“Perhaps not,” Glynis said, though she was far from convinced. “But the MacDonalds of Sleat are known philanderers. I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I’ll no take one of them.”
“Beware of what ye swear, lass,” Old Molly said. “I knew your grandmother well, and I’d hate for ye to cause that good woman to turn in her grave.”
