A Highlander Christmas
Read A Highlander Christmas Online
Authors: Sophie Renwick Cindy Miles Dawn Halliday
Chapter One - DECEMBER 1715 SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS
Yuletide Enchantment - SOPHIE RENWICK
Chapter One - DECEMBER 20, 1869 THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND
A Christmas Spirit - CINDY MILES
Chapter One - DECEMBER, PRESENT DAY NORTH WEST HIGHLANDS SOMEWHERE NEAR INVERNESS
“Dawn Halliday is the
hottest
new voice in Scottish romance.”
“Sophie Renwick cooks up a spicy romance hearty enough to satisfy any appetite.”
“When it comes to delivering charming, funny, and tender romances, Miles is at the head of the class.”
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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, November 2009
“Yuletide Enchantment” copyright © Jennifer Featherstone, 2009
“A Christmas Spirit” copyright © Cindy Homberger, 2009
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Library of Congress Cataloging-i n Publication Data:
Halliday, Dawn.
A highlander Christmas/Dawn Halliday, Cindy Miles, Sophie Renwick.
p. cm.
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Atiny bud of hope bloomed within Maggie MacDonald as she peered out the frosty pane of her window. A storm approached—the air was thick, heavy with the promise of snow. Meager light from inside the cottage dappled the gray graveled path leading toward the village road. Fog wisped lazily above the ground, and the clouds hovered low enough to caress the thatched eaves.
Perhaps Innes Munroe would leave her alone until the storm passed. Perhaps Innes would spend the next ten days sotted, the drink would wipe his wish to claim her from his memory, and the New Year would dawn with new hope for Maggie’s independence.
A pretty dream. It’d take a cudgel to the skull to make Innes forget his intentions when it came to her.
A puff of cold air brushed Maggie’s face, and she closed the curtain against the chill that swept through her. Pulling a plaid tight across her chest, she knelt to tug on a second pair of stockings.
Beyond the partition dividing the cottage into two rooms, one of the servants moaned softly in her sleep. It was late, and tomorrow would be a long day, for they’d planned to make the three-m ile journey to her cousin Torean’s castle for her annual fortnight-l ong visit. Every December, the MacDonald laird summoned family members to his castle, where they observed Christmas prior to the raucous revelry leading up to Hogmanay and the New Year.
This year Maggie thought the festivities might be muted, for the recent uprising against the Hanoverian King hadn’t proved to be the great success they’d all anticipated. Yet the MacDonalds of Beauly had lost none of their men in the Battle of Preston, and that in itself was a cause for celebration.
Maggie snuffed out the two oil lamps and returned to her bed. Leaving her plaid wrapped around her body and pinned at her shoulder for additional warmth, she slipped beneath the heavy wool blankets, shivering.
Crack!
The sound of splintering wood jolted through the cottage, jerking Maggie awake. She bolted upright, but before she could decipher what had happened, a big masculine hand clamped over her face.
Every muscle in Maggie’s body went stiff. The taste of mud washed over her tongue. She bared her teeth and bit down hard on the thick flesh padding the man’s palm. Snarling a curse, he released her mouth, and Maggie let out a pealing scream.
The intruder bent over her, a looming black shadow with yellow-h ued teeth gleaming in the dimness, and hefted her from the bed.
“You don’t wish to make this easy for me, do you? ” he spat into her ear.
Maggie recognized the voice instantly, for it belonged to Innes Munroe. His familiar oniony smell overlaid with the essence of whisky washed over her, and the greasy ends of his pale hair brushed over her cheeks.
“Damn y—”
He dropped her lower body, and again his hand clapped over her lips, filling her mouth and nose with the coppery taste and scent of blood.
“I’ve waited too long, Maggie MacDonald. My patience is at an end. You’re coming with me.”
Something sharp prodded her between her collarbones. Maggie glanced down at the glinting blade of a dagger, its point probing her flesh.
“Dare to bite me again, and I’ll sink it deep, I promise you,” Innes growled.
She realized he’d already pulled her halfway to the gaping doorway. He’d splintered her door and pulled it from its hinges, and its remnants lay on the snow just beyond the henchman who loomed at the threshold, leering at her. He gripped his sword hilt, ready to impale anyone who attempted to hinder his master.
“Ah, what have we here?”