Excerpt

THIRTY NIGHTS WITH A HIGHLAND HUSBAND
Pocket Books, 7/07

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

Sithean Fardach
The Highlands of Scotland
1272

The clatter of metal on stone rang through the air even as the goblet spun slowly to a stop on the floor where
it had landed.

"Tantrums will no be helping you, laddie." The old warrior shook his head, warily eyeing his companion sitting at
the far end of the great table. "You only waste good ale."

Connor MacKiernan glared at him. It was a look that had weakened the knees of many a strong man. "Nothing
will help me now. I am as the weak, helpless fool, all my options closed save one." He dropped his head into
the crook of his arm on the table. "I am a King's knight, yet my sword might as well be a woman's pretty
feather for all that I can do." He spat the words as if they soured and burned his mouth. "I dinna want to
involve Rosalyn. This is no my Aunt's trouble, Duncan, but mine. I am to protect my family, no to place them in
greater danger."

Duncan pushed back from the table laughing. "The Lady Rosalyn would, I wager, see things verra differently,
Connor. Dinna she tell you her plan would make everything work out just as you need?"

"Aye." Connor lifted his head only enough to peer up over his arm. "And that's what worries me. There is no
regular way out of this mess. You ken that as well as I do.: He raised an eyebrow and leaned toward the older
man. "She takes a terrible risk."

Duncan took a long drink from the tankard in his hand and shrugged. "So she'll use her gift." It was a
statement of fact, not a question, and required no answer from Connor, who simply continued to glare at the
older man. "It is what she does, laddie, as did her mother and her mother before her. She disna deny who she
is." Duncan took another long drink and smiled. "Tis no good reason to waste such fine ale." Duncan strode to
the far end of the table, placing his hand on Connor's shoulder as he sat down next to him. "It's no she disna
ken the risk to her if she does this, Connor. It's that well she kens the risk to all of you if she does nothing.
You must remain here with yer sister, laddie."

"Aye, it's my duty to see her protected and happy." Duncan lowered his head, speaking quietly. "You ken there
are men who would follow you. Men who would fight for you if you choose to oppose yer uncle. To take back
what's rightfully yers. You do have a choice."

"And how many would die then, Duncan? How many innocents would be caught in the middle of that great
battle? We've been over this many a time. I'm no willing to sacrifice the lives of so many of my people." Connor
groaned, dropping his head back down to his arm. "It disna matter, Duncan. I've failed my family yet again.
Rosalyn was right. In order to save Mairi without bringing death to my people, I hae no choice but to risk my
Aunt's use of the magic." He shook his head, sighing with resignation, and sat up straight. "Rosalyn bids us
leave this night. She'll be down soon."

"She's down."

Both men jumped to their feet at the authoritative sound of the female voice coming from the entryway. A tall
blond woman, with a bearing equally as authoritative as her voice, strode toward them.

"Quit yer sulking, Connor. We've been all through this. You ken it's the only wa out. I promise you, this will be
the answer to all yer problems. Do you hae the trinket I requested?" Rosalyn MacKiernan smiled at her nephew,
ignoring his glare, much as Duncan had. Fully expecting his compliance with her earlier instructions, she held
out her hand.

"Aye." Connor reached into his sporran and handed over a small velvet pouch.

Rosalyn opened the little bag, and dumped the contents into her hand. "Oh, verra good, Connor. It's exactly
the piece I had hoped you would choose." She glowed with happiness as she lifted the emerald pendant, light
from the candles reflecting in the facets of thejewel. "I remember when Dougal gave this to yer mother. It was
at the dinner when they announced they were to be married." Her soft blue eyes glazed over with memory for
a moment as she began to turn away, but she quickly turned back. "Oh. I almost forgot." She smiled at her
nephew then, in a way that always worried him. "I need a small something of yers." Again she held out her
hand expectantly. Seeing his momentary confusion, she explained, "Something of yers, Connor. Something
personal. The magic willna work without it." She paused and looked around the great hall. "I know... yer plaid.
A piece of yer plaid will do nicely." At his frown, she sighed. "Just a small bit, Connor. Honestly, nephew, must
you make everything a battle?"

Connor shook his head, knowing it would do him no good to argue. He tore a strip of material from the end of
his plaid and handed it over to Rosalyn. "I trust that's the last thing you'll be needing of me, Aunt."

"Indeed it is."

Rosalyn paused and Connor could feel the forces of fate gathering around him.

"Weel, except for yer presence at the Glen." She looked remarkably innocent for someone so devious.

Duncan choked and spit out the ale he had just taken into his mouth. "The Faerie Glen?" he managed to croak.
"Och, I should hae guessed that was where you'd be wanting to go." He looked at Connor. "You may hae had
the right of this, laddie. I'll go see to the horses." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "And just where do I tell
the others we'll be headed? Yer Uncle will ask them when we've gone, you ken?"

Connor considered this for only a moment. "Tell them we head to the port in Cromarty. We'll be back within a
fortnight."

Duncan MacAlister, although easily twenty-five years Connor's senior, was closer to him than any man alive.
The grizzled warrior had served Connor's father from his youth. Only Duncan could be trusted with the truth of
their destination.

Duncan nodded. "Lady Rosalyn," he bowed slightly in her direction, "I'll be in the courtyard, awaiting yer
readiness."

"I suppose it's the Clootie Well you'll be wanting?" Connor's ice blue eyes reflected his irritation. He shook his
head in disgust. "I will regret this, I am sure," he muttered.

Rosalyn beamed at her nephew. "My things are at the foot of the stairs. You can take them out and see that
Duncan has our horses ready. I'll join you shortly."

Watching Connor stomp out of the great hall, Rosalyn smiled. How like his father he was. Both of them
handsome and strong, just as her own father had been. Both of them clung rigidly to ideals of right, wrong,
honor and responsibility to the family. Both held themselves to standards higher than those against which they
measured anyone around them.

Those lofty ideals had brought her older brother an early death on a lonely battlefield. She would do anything
in her power to prevent that same fate for Connor. Knowing the sacrifices her nephew had already made for
his family, and the burdens he carried, she loved him all the more. This one time, however, she wanted Connor
to get what he needed.

She carefully tucked the strip of cloth from his plaid into the velvet pouch and tied the strings, smiling broadly.
She had very special plans for that little piece of cloth. And for her nephew.

When they reached the Faerie Glen she would tap into the source of the power and say the words that would
allow the magic to travel within the pendant, guiding it wherever it needed to go to find the very special one it
would seek.