Highlander's Passion (The Matheson Brothers Book 2) by Joanne Wadsworth Page A
Authors: Joanne Wadsworth
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into the look of hungry need in his eyes, she continued on down the passageway.
They traversed the stairwell then entered the great hall. The massive vaulted room held a sweeping crown of wooden beamed rafters that rose to an impressive height, as well as an impressive number of warriors. A hundred or more were seated at trestle tables stacked with platters of cooked meat, boiled eggs, and bread, all of the men eating their fill as serving maids bustled about offering bowls of hot oats and tankards of warm cider.
At the back table nearest the wide arched stone fireplace where sparks flared and firelight shimmered across the hefty clan shield hanging over it, a good forty MacDonald warriors, a score more than the day before, broke their fast. Since the MacKenzie too desired to take the Chief of MacDonald’s land on the Isle of Skye, the MacDonalds had banded together with them in order to fight their enemy as one. Certainly the more warriors they had to defend this keep and the village, the better.
Ahead at the dais, two men sat, both identical to Finlay in every way, from their shoulder-length locks of midnight-black to their wide chests and towering height. Or almost identical. A mark in the shape of a bear’s claw graced the neck of the warrior attired in black leather pants and a fur vest over a white tunic. The same mark given to Ivan, Gilleoin’s second-born son. The singular claw mark gave proof Ivan’s future line would be shifter alone. While, Kenneth, Gilleoin’s firstborn son, held the claw-and-star mark symbolizing his dual shifter-fae blood. ’Twas wondrous to see Gilleoin’s shifter lines had survived more than eight-hundred years, although now they were on the cusp of extinction and such a loyal line of shifters should never be allowed to fall.
“That’s Iain, my eldest brother, with the mark of the claw,” Finlay breathed in her ear. “His mate, Isla, sits beside him.”
Isla, clothed in a richly colored gown of gold with white silk edging the bodice and cuffs leaned toward Iain, her long brown locks swaying forward. She whispered something then nipped his lobe. He growled, sent her a wickedly hot look that spoke of intended promises then kissed her cheek.
“How long have they been mated?”
“Not long, although it took Iain five years to track her down. She was concerned about joining with him, that she’d lose her own clan, so she ran each night the full moon rose. You would have heard the prophecy your grandmother first spoke of at Kenneth and Ivan’s birth, right?”
“Aye, all our clan are aware of it, would never set it aside. ’Twill be told to all future generations, word for word.” She slid her hand into his and recited the prophecy. “ Gilleoin’s sons will separate when they come of age and rule their own clans, yet there will come a time far in the future when a mated bond forms between the two clans. Only then must Gilleoin’s descendants once again merge, and the ‘power of three’ be unveiled. ” She squeezed his fingers. “You and your brothers are the ‘power of three.’”
“And you and Isla and now a part of that. The ‘power of three’ aren’t complete without their chosen ones at their sides.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
Nessa had often spoken of why the ‘power of three’ was needed. That if not for them, then in the future, Gilleoin’s descendants would be like the leaves that fell from the trees. They would scatter too far and wide then turn to dust, and in doing so, Gilleoin’s shifter race would be no more. Only she’d never once imagined she would become a part of it all. As Finlay’s mate, there was none other than her to give him bairns, to ensure his line continued to grow from strength to strength. Only how was she to do that when joining with him would ultimately lead to his death? She shuddered with fear.
“What are you thinking?” He stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb, a sweetly gentle caress that sent tingles
They traversed the stairwell then entered the great hall. The massive vaulted room held a sweeping crown of wooden beamed rafters that rose to an impressive height, as well as an impressive number of warriors. A hundred or more were seated at trestle tables stacked with platters of cooked meat, boiled eggs, and bread, all of the men eating their fill as serving maids bustled about offering bowls of hot oats and tankards of warm cider.
At the back table nearest the wide arched stone fireplace where sparks flared and firelight shimmered across the hefty clan shield hanging over it, a good forty MacDonald warriors, a score more than the day before, broke their fast. Since the MacKenzie too desired to take the Chief of MacDonald’s land on the Isle of Skye, the MacDonalds had banded together with them in order to fight their enemy as one. Certainly the more warriors they had to defend this keep and the village, the better.
Ahead at the dais, two men sat, both identical to Finlay in every way, from their shoulder-length locks of midnight-black to their wide chests and towering height. Or almost identical. A mark in the shape of a bear’s claw graced the neck of the warrior attired in black leather pants and a fur vest over a white tunic. The same mark given to Ivan, Gilleoin’s second-born son. The singular claw mark gave proof Ivan’s future line would be shifter alone. While, Kenneth, Gilleoin’s firstborn son, held the claw-and-star mark symbolizing his dual shifter-fae blood. ’Twas wondrous to see Gilleoin’s shifter lines had survived more than eight-hundred years, although now they were on the cusp of extinction and such a loyal line of shifters should never be allowed to fall.
“That’s Iain, my eldest brother, with the mark of the claw,” Finlay breathed in her ear. “His mate, Isla, sits beside him.”
Isla, clothed in a richly colored gown of gold with white silk edging the bodice and cuffs leaned toward Iain, her long brown locks swaying forward. She whispered something then nipped his lobe. He growled, sent her a wickedly hot look that spoke of intended promises then kissed her cheek.
“How long have they been mated?”
“Not long, although it took Iain five years to track her down. She was concerned about joining with him, that she’d lose her own clan, so she ran each night the full moon rose. You would have heard the prophecy your grandmother first spoke of at Kenneth and Ivan’s birth, right?”
“Aye, all our clan are aware of it, would never set it aside. ’Twill be told to all future generations, word for word.” She slid her hand into his and recited the prophecy. “ Gilleoin’s sons will separate when they come of age and rule their own clans, yet there will come a time far in the future when a mated bond forms between the two clans. Only then must Gilleoin’s descendants once again merge, and the ‘power of three’ be unveiled. ” She squeezed his fingers. “You and your brothers are the ‘power of three.’”
“And you and Isla and now a part of that. The ‘power of three’ aren’t complete without their chosen ones at their sides.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
Nessa had often spoken of why the ‘power of three’ was needed. That if not for them, then in the future, Gilleoin’s descendants would be like the leaves that fell from the trees. They would scatter too far and wide then turn to dust, and in doing so, Gilleoin’s shifter race would be no more. Only she’d never once imagined she would become a part of it all. As Finlay’s mate, there was none other than her to give him bairns, to ensure his line continued to grow from strength to strength. Only how was she to do that when joining with him would ultimately lead to his death? She shuddered with fear.
“What are you thinking?” He stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb, a sweetly gentle caress that sent tingles
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