Highland Magic
Authors: K. E. Saxon
Tags: #Mistaken Identity, #General Fiction, #alpha male, #medieval romance, #Scottish Highlands, #virgin, #highland warrior, #medieval erotic romance, #medieval adventure, #joust
by
K.E. Saxon
Trilogy
A trial by combat…A fight to the death…A test
of the heart…
The third in the Highlands Trilogy, HIGHLAND
MAGIC begins where HIGHLAND GRACE ended, giving you Branwenn and
Callum’s story.
Set in the turn of the 13th century Scottish
Highlands. After fleeing her wedding to her Norman betrothed and
being swept into the Irish Sea during a storm, Branwenn Maclean
finds herself once more in the land of the Highland Scots. Little
does she know, however, that the maimed man who drops through the
ceiling of her hiding place is none other than Callum MacGregor,
the man who both vexes and beguiles her.
Callum awakens in a darkened sea cave
believing he’s being nursed by a sea nymph. Little does
he
know, however, that the fey creature is in actuality none other
than his massive warrior Maclean cousins’ foster sister, Branwenn,
the lass that has taunted and haunted him since his first encounter
with her one year past.
Copyright © 2009 by K.E. Saxon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or
mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any
information storage retrieval system without the written permission
of the author K.E. Saxon, the copyright owner and publisher of this
book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the publisher.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners
of various products referenced in its work of fiction, which have
been used without permission. The publication/use of these
trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the
trademark owners.
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Cover Photo obtained from
Romance Novel
Covers
* * * *
eISBN: 978-1-4760398-3-1
The twelfth and thirteenth century Scottish
Highlands is a fascinating time in history. Although much is known,
there is still much that remains in shadow and supposition. The old
laws of succession, and the old Celtic systems were mixing with the
new feudal systems brought in by the Norman-influenced kings of
Scots (the first key figure in this being David I, who became king
of Scots in 1124).
Although, by the time of William the Lion
(William I), who ruled Scotland from 1165 to 1214, the feudal
systems were more firmly established in the southern region of
Scotland, the king had managed to exert his influence and sway in
the wilder northern and western regions as well. Mostly through
alliances with foreigners to whom he chartered land, or to natives
who sought a royal charter for their land in order to secure it for
their own offspring.
My vision, therefore, was of a kind of
“melting pot.” The old ways, not completely abandoned, yet the new
coming to be embraced.
Although I did many, many (many) months of
research into this time in the Scottish Highlands history, I still
found it necessary to take some creative license on certain aspects
in order to fulfill my vision for the romance, and allow for less
confusion to the romance reader. I won’t list the licenses I took,
but hope that the history purists will close an eye to these
instances and simply enjoy the tale.
K.E. Saxon
anail
iasg
: Fish Breath, or as close a
translation as I could find (thank you so much
fiairefeadha
from the
www.irishgaelictranslator.com
forum, who gave me the Irish Gaelic so I could look up the
Scottish Gaelic spelling.)
Bealltainn
: The Celtic May Day
Festival (May 1 or 2)
Boabhan Sith
or
Baoban Sith
\baa'-van shee\ Scottish Highland fairies that
look like beautiful women but are really vampires thirsty for the
blood of young men. They appear first as ravens, then as girls in
white or green dresses with hoofed feet. Iron is said to repel
them.
Canonical
Hours
: Lauds, dawn; Prime, 6 a.m.; Terce,
9 a.m.; Sext, 12 p.m.; Nones, 3 p.m.; Vespers, sunset; Compline,
after sunset, usu. after the evening meal.
daoine
sìth
: fairy-folk
Hogmanay
: December 31
ingeniator
: latin word meaning ‘to
devise in the sense of construct, or craftsmanship’. Root of
engineer
.
Northvegia
: Medieval
latin name for Norway
seed
wool
: cotton wool not yet cleansed of its
seeds.
uisge
beatha
: Lit: ‘Water of Life’, a.k.a.
whiskey
Samhainn
: the first day of November, marking the beginning of winter
and a new year for ancient Celts; a.k.a. ‘All Souls’
Day’.
Sìdh
Chailleann
: Schiehallion is a prominent
mountain in Perth and Kinross. The name Schiehallion is an
anglicised form of the Gaelic name
Sìdh
Chailleann
, which is usually translated as
‘Fairy Hill of the Caledonians’
.
Oidhche
Shamhna
: the eve of
Samhainn
; a.k.a. ‘All Hallow’s Eve’
or ‘Halloween’.
Kipper
: To claim the armor and weapons the knight employed a vassal
or squire as his 'Kipper'. A Kipper was expected to collect the
'Spoils of Combat' as the tournament proceeded. The word 'Kipper'
originated from the Scandinavian word 'Kippa' which means to snatch
or to seize. The weapons and armor of a knight were very expensive
and a fallen knight would not give them up easily. The Kipper was
therefore armed with blunt, but heavy clubs, with which they could
knock the unfortunate Knight into an unconscious state and collect
the spoils of combat. See:
http://www.middle-ages.org.uk/knights-tournaments.htm
Tryamour
: Lit. ‘Test of Love’. A fairy that fell in love with a Welsh
knight. She promises to give him everything he desires, but in
exchange, he must never reveal her to anyone. *This is from a
12
th
century French lai by Marie de France titled, ‘Lanfal’, which
was later adapted to Middle English as ‘Landavall’, but the fairy
lady does not get named until the 14
th
century english
version titled ‘Sir Launfal’ by Thomas Chestre.
*****
Historical source for joust:
Jager, Eric.
The Last Duel: The True Story of Crime, Scandal
and Trial by Combat in Medieval France
.
London: Random, 2006.
Cilgerran Castle, Southern March Region, Cambria
The Betrothal Feast, July 1205
Gaiallard de Montfort settled back in his
chair and studied the chaos all around him. This betrothal would
bring him the demesne he’d been craving, but at a price for which
he was growing more resentful as each day passed. He was expected
to wed an awkward rustic, a mere girl! He, whom the ladies of the
court had given the title ‘golden wolf’, both in and out of the
bedchamber. Oh, she was pleasing to look upon. Her dark hair framed
her face in a becoming enough manner and accented her most
attractive asset: her large eyes bore the color of kings in their
amethyst depths. But even his young sister had more curves than
this boyish girl. And she was as green as his page—and just as
unschooled in the ways of the court, mayhap even more so. How many
times now had he been humiliated in front of his comrades by her
graceless overtures and simple dress? If he had not given her, as a
betrothal gift, the lovely purple velvet dress she now wore with
the gold embroidery edging the square neck and sleeves, or the gold
silk chemise beneath it, he had no doubt she’d now be wearing that
godawful saffron woolen thing she’d worn to at least five of the
seven previous evening meals this past sennight. Had she no
understanding of the place she would be taking, had already been
expected to take by his side? She was no good representative of his
position in the hierarchy. In fact, she had made him a
laughing-stock at court. And last eve, when she’d stumbled upon him
with his sister—well, she would simply have to grow accustomed to
such encounters as they were a well-established part of life
amongst those of noble birth. He clenched his jaw to keep from
groaning aloud in frustration. Why, oh, why had fate not been
kinder to him? If all had gone as he’d planned, he’d even now be
presiding over the demesne of
Castell Crychydd
with his
chosen mate, Caroline de Montrochet. Now, there was a beauty, a
perfect example of nobility, virtue, and womanliness. Gaiallard’s
eyes were drawn once more to the trestle table below where the lady
in question now sat nibbling a portion of sea fowl.
* * *
Branwenn watched her betrothed from the
corner of her eye. He’d made it plain these past days that he was
not as pleased with this match, with her, as he’d first pretended.
And last eve—
last eve
! She’d stumbled upon him in his
sister’s chamber. The poor lass had been in a distressing state,
her gown torn and hanging from her shoulder, exposing red marks on
her tender arm and chest where the drunken knave had abused and
beaten her. Would he have gone further still—done the thing
Branwenn feared had been his true purpose, if she had not
interrupted his savage attack? And ‘twas clearly not the first time
the lass had been the outlet for his violent lust either, for there
had been older bruises in plain view as well. She turned her sight
on the lass, Alyson, who even now sat much too quietly with her
silver-blond head bowed and her hands demurely folded in her lap.
The poor dear had barely touched the food on her trencher, nor the
wine in her goblet. She was far too young to have been exposed to
such lechery, for she surely was not more than twelve summers. Aye,
‘twas truth that according to tradition, she was a woman
full-grown, capable of becoming a wife, should her father contract
such an arrangement, but in Branwenn’s view, ‘twas much too young
an age to be expected to perform such duties.