“Any of these cottages in town open to travelers?” Joshua asked the woman. If not, he would have to find shelter for Fuil and then come back and buy tankards of mead until the old man fell asleep so he could spend the night on a cold stone bench.

“There might be a place for you to stay,” the woman answered. “I will…ask.”

“I am obliged.” Joshua let his mouth bend up in a half smile that usually softened the lasses back home. He let the appreciation for her form show in his gaze. Not too much, or he’d been known to look predatory, which frightened off the majority of lasses. Nay, just mild interest showed instead of the thrumming rush he felt inside.

Her lips parted slightly as if she needed to draw in more breath, and she pushed away from the bar. Stopping next to him, her hand rose with awkward hesitation to touch his arm. “I will return once I know.” It curled into a fist but then flattened out to slide down the length of his bicep. “You will wait?”

Her touch momentarily robbed him of thought. She had asked a question. “Will I wait?” he repeated slowly. “For ye?” Recovering, he let charm grow in his smile. “An army of horses could not drag me from here.” Behind him, he heard the barkeeper snort.

She strode away, taking the heat in her touch with her. The door slammed shut as she pushed out into the cold, and Joshua turned to the frowning man, still standing behind the bar. “What is her name?”

The man pursed his lips tightly and shook his head. “I call her dróttning.”

Joshua’s gaze slid to the door and back to the man. Three months on the isle, and he still had not picked up much of the local language. It was as if they guarded it against those speaking English or Gaelic. “What does it mean?”

“’Tis from old Norse,” he said. “And it means you best treat her well.”

“I have every intention of treating her very well,” Joshua said and snatched up the turnip, tossing it into the air to catch easily as it fell back to earth. He pushed out through the door into the twilight. And stopped. “Bloody hell,” he yelled, the turnip dropping from his hand to roll away. Fuil was gone!

…

Click HERE to keep reading Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum.

A Bit of History

A Bit of History

The Sinclair clan was established in Scotland in 1057 when Sir William St. Clair of Rosin near Edinburgh married Isabella, daughter and heiress of Malise, Earl of Caithness. The castle of Girnigoe, situated on the east coast of northern Scotland, was built around 1480 by William Sinclair, the Second Earl of Caithness as a tower house defensive structure. An addition to the castle was built in 1606 and connected to the original tower by a drawbridge over a ravine.