Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides)

Praise for Lois Greiman

Well known for her deliciously "Un" series of romantic mystery/thrillers -- "Unzipped," "Unplugged,"

and "Unscrewed" -- award-winning author Lois Grieman also creates terrific medieval romance novels. Michelle Buonfiglio--Romance (B)uy the Book

Fast and fun with twists and turns that will keep you guessing. Enjoy the ride!” Suzanne Enoch, USA Today bestselling author of Flirting with Danger

Magical and sensual! A delicious love story from the gifted pen of Lois Greiman! Just the thing to keep you warm this winter! The Lady and the Knight is a delight! Lois Greiman is a charming storyteller!
The Literary Times

Ms. Greiman’s first book in her new trilogy is pure magic. Readers will be delighted with her sensual prose, non-stop action, impossible odds and delicious fantasies.
Romantic Times

An absolute delight.
Heartland Critiques

Excitement, colored with sensitivity and humor, makes this an unusual story that will have readers anxiously awaiting the next books in the series.
Rendezvous

Just what the doctor ordered.
Publishers Weekly

To Justin, who has given me nothing but happiness since the day he was born.

Highland Enchantment

By Lois Greiman

Copyright © 2012 Lois Greiman

Burn Creag Castle The Year of our Lord 1509

Lightning forked across the inky sky, slamming white light through the tower's arrow slits. Fire winked in the dragon's ruby heart.

"The dragon brooch!" Shona crooned. "You stole it from--"

Thunder crashed like a giant's wicked fist against the tower, shaking the stones around them and startling the three girls who crouched on the floor in the wavering candlelight. The noise rolled slowly away, leaving the air taut in its aftermath.

"You stole it from Liam?" Shona finished breathlessly. She was the youngest of the three, barely nine years old and trembling in her voluminous, white nightgown.

"Aye." Rachel's face was pale, her sassy lips sober this night. "I took it whilst he slept."

"Tis magic," Shona whispered, seeming transfixed by the silver dragon that looked docile but indomitable against her cousin's palm.

"It cannot be magic," Sara corrected, still holding Shona's small hand in her own.

"But Liam said twas," Shona argued.

"Tis the very reason I doubted," Rachel whispered. "But even Liam must tell the truth sometimes, I suppose. And twas the truth he said when he told me of our great grandmother."

"Our
great grandmother?" Sara asked. "But how does
he
know about our ancestry?"

"I cannot say how he knows," Rachel admitted. "But this is the story he spewed. Long ago there lived a lass in this very castle. Her name was Ula. Small she was, like me, with Shona's fiery hair and Sara's kindness. Her mother died when she was but a babe, and she was scared to be left alone at night. Sometimes she would cry out."

"And her father would come and tell her outlandish stories to make her laugh?" Shona suggested.

"Aye." Rachel smiled. "Aye, he would tell her stories. But still she was afraid. So he called on the best mason in the land to craft a magical stone dragon near her room to protect her."

"He must have loved her so," said Sara, her voice small and wistful.

"They built the dragon out on the roof to overlook the land about," Rachel said. "Now the lass felt safe in the comfort of her quarters. But her father worried that something might happen to him and Glen Creag would fall into the hands of the evil sorcerer. Then wee Ula would be left alone. He knew if such was the case she would be forced to leave her home, and he wished for her to be bold enough to make the journey. So he had a silver amulet crafted. A magical brooch, it was, graced with a blood red gem taken from the enchanted waters of Loch Ness."

"Where Nessie lives?"

"Aye. That amulet would protect Ula wherever she went."

"And this is that very amulet?"

"Aye."

"But Rachel," Sara said, "though I do not understand it, you never believe a thing Liam says.

Why do you trust him in this?"

Rachel closed her fingers over the dragon. "Come here," she whispered, and stepped toward the window. The three clustered together, tilting their heads close. Auburn hair sparked against flaxen and sable. "Look out there."

"Where?"

"Tis dark," Shona said, but suddenly a fork of lightning slashed across the sky, soaking the night in silvery light.

"There!"

"A dragon!" Sara gasped. "How did it get there?"

Rachel drew the amulet closer to her chest. "It must have been there for many long years, but you cannot see it from most points, only from here and from that room beside it."

"Ula's room," whispered Shona

"Tis truly magic, then," breathed Sara.

"Aye," said Rachel, "and tonight we will bend its magic to our will."

"We will?" asked Shona.

"Aye. Tomorrow Sara will return to her home. And shortly after, you will go back to Dun Ard.

Tis impossible to know when we shall be together again."

The tower room fell silent.

"I will miss you," Sara whispered.

"And I you," Rachel said, reaching out to take her cousin's hand in her own. "You are the sisters of my heart."

"We will see you soon," Shona said. "When the weather warms..."

"One of us will surely be betrothed soon. In fact, Laird MacMurt asked for my hand—" Rachel stopped abruptly, glancing quickly at the barrels stacked along the curved wall. "What was that noise?"

Every girl held her breath and listened.

Behind the barrels Liam did the same, careful to make no sound, though frustration screamed through his soul. Surely the girls could not be promised at such tender ages—bartered off like so many wooly sheep. Not his wee little lassies. Of course, they could take Rachel. He cared little if she married someone as old as a rock and half as handsome. After all, Rachel Forbes was vain and aloof and when she smiled it made his heart...

She was nothing but a silly girl, he reminded himself. She'd believed his ridiculous stories about magic. She'd actually thought him asleep when she'd snatched his amulet! God's balls, she was a terrible thief! Still, he shouldn't have duped the other two bonny lasses.

"It must have been a mouse," Sara said, then turned her gaze back to Rachel. "Promise you'll not move far from us."

"I'm not going to move away," said Shona fiercely. "I will marry Liam and live forever at Dun Ard."

"Liam!" Rachel said. "Not that wild rogue. You will marry a great laird as will we all."

Liam tightened his fists with a quiet snarl.

"The mice are certainly restless," Shona murmured, glancing nervously toward the wall.

"Please do not leave us," Sara whispered again.

"That's why I asked you to come to the tower," Rachel said. "If the dragon is truly magical it can grant us our fondest desires and bind us together. We will each touch the amulet and make a vow to take care of the others."

"But if we're far apart, how will we know when we're needed?" Sara asked.

"The dragon will know," Rachel murmured, her voice a whisper of drama in the stillness.. Liam rolled his eyes.

"The dragon will make certain we are safe or he will send help," she continued.

Sara nodded. Her expression was somber, but even from Liam's vantage point he could see that she shivered as they formed a circle. "We shall all touch it together."

They did so now. Piling their small hands atop the thing with careful timidity, they closed their eyes in unison.

"My fondest desire is to be a great healer like my mother," Rachel began.

Thunder boomed again. Shona jumped.

"I wish to be bold!" she chirped. "Like Father and the Flame."

"I but wish for my own family to care for," Sara said softly. "My own babes, by my own hearth.

Nothing more."

Silence fell upon the room.

"Now we must make a solemn vow," Rachel said.

Shona giggled then fell silent.

"Forever and always we shall be friends. Neither time nor distance shall separate us. When one of us is in need another shall come and assist her, for we that are gathered in this room are bound together for eternity."

The world seemed suddenly utterly still.

"Now we must swear to it," whispered Sara.

"I swear," they vowed.

Thunder crashed. The candle was snuffed out, pitching the tower into blackness. Wild energy crackled through the room.

The girls shrieked in unison.

The portal slammed open. Bare feet pattered down the stairs. The room fell silent. Behind the barrels, Liam lay sprawled against the wall, limp as a doll of rags.

Mother of God, what had just happened? It must have been the storm, of course. Just an errant stroke of lightning let loose in the tower, and those silly girls had surely dropped his amulet in their fright.

He should go find it—shift through the rushes and retrieve it—but his limbs felt weak and his mind strangely boggled.

He'd best leave this place. Now! he decided, and launching himself from the floor, fled down the stairs after the girls.

Silence ruled the world. A crescent moon crept from behind a tattered cloud to smile on the earth below. And deep in the rushes, the dragon waited.

The Year of our Lord 1520

Liam grabbed his balls and let the knife fall. It sliced through the air, skimmed past his chest, and sank, reverberating, into the pungent earth between his feet. The crowd stared in dumbstruck silence for an astonished moment, then lifted their collective gaze from the quivering handle and burst into applause.

"My thanks," Liam said. Bowing, he tossed his wooden juggling balls over his back. He knew without looking that they landed easily, one atop the other in a bag that hung on an oaken branch behind him. "You are too kind. But now I would ask a favor."

He paused as he snatched the long knife from the earth. Twas one of his favorites, a well-crafted steel he'd taken from a too loud Welshman some years back. The Welshman had had a daughter, the daughter had had a roving eye. Enough said. He wasn't the type to kiss and tell. Kiss and lie, yes. Kiss and run. Definitely.

"I would ask for some assistance," he called, striding along the edge of the crowd. His stage was nothing more than a grassy knoll, but the slope of the hill gave him a slight height advantage over the mob below him. Long ago, he had learned to take his advantages where he could.

"After all," he continued, "a man can only amuse himself with his balls for so long." A few snickers sounded from the crowd. He tossed the knife straight up into the air. It spun wildly end over end, only to land safely in his grip moments later.

He liked the feel of a knife in his hand. It was far preferable to a knife in someone else's hand, for that scenario often boded ill for his continued survival. Perhaps other men were jealous of him, he mused.

True, he was not a particularly brawny fellow, and merry old England had seen more elegant men, but he had certain traits women seemed to find appealing.

Even now a bonny lass smiled at him from the center of the crowd. He smiled back. Evening was fast approaching on market day in the village of Rainich. A fair-sized crowd had gathered to watch him perform, but it was the smiling woman that drew his attention. She was a plump maid, showing dimples and enough cleavage to make a man start cataloging his own attributes in the hopes of gaining some attention. If he wasn't mistaken, she'd been flirting with him for the better part of his act. And if there was one thing he was never wrong about, it was the fine art of flirting.

Liam flipped the knife over his shoulder and caught it casually behind his back. "A man cannot do everything with his own two hands. Eventually he needs a partner," he said, allowing a shadow of a grin and making certain his gaze didn't dwell too long where it shouldn't. Just because the maid was a flirt, did not mean she was attending his performance without an escort. He'd learned that lesson the painful way. "Is there anyone present willing to assist me?"