My Christmas Highlander: A Highland Christmas

By Fiona Grant

There's something very special about Christmas in the Highlands—especially when three firm friends seek true love for Christmas!

 

These three novellas by Fiona Grant tell the stories of Bridget, Myra and Eimhir.

 

BRIDGET is a dreamer who hopes against hope that the man she imagines riding to her across the moors really will appear

MYRA is shy and more interested in reading scrolls and forming letters than finding a suitor — until a family tragedy brings someone unexpected into her life.

EIMHIR dreams of being wild and free, and rails against fate that made her a female who is fated to a marriage arranged by her father. Then, on her last afternoon of freedom, she meets a man who wants her just as she is… but is it all too late?

 

A Highland Christmas Dream (Bridget's Story)

Bridget Rose is used to being teased by her friends Myra and Eimhir about being a dreamer, "waiting for her brave knight" - but Bridget knows that the right man is out there somewhere!

What she isn't expecting is to see him in the courtyard of Chieftain Urqhart's castle when they all congregate there for Christmastide in the Highlands. Why is it that she feels she knows him?

Her friends are shocked by her uncharacteristic behaviour, but Bridget is determined to get to know the handsome, smiling Alec Stewart. She throws herself into the fun of the season, but her heart is in her mouth: is this real?

Will Alec feel the same way about her as she does about him?

 

A Highland Christmas Gift (Myra's Story)

Myra Munro is devastated beyond words when her twin, Jaime, is killed in the service of the King.

Her parents, strong in their grief, urge her to do honour to her brother's memory and nurse his best friend Ewan back to health.

Ewan has not only lost his best friend but needs time and space while recovering from his injuries. Suffering himself, he understands that Myra is numbed with grief, but in the long road back to health, Jaime's twin Myra is the one bright light in his world. He cannot deny his feelings for her.

But Ewan has a secret: a sacred trust. While dying on the battlefield, Jaime gave Ewan a Christmas gift he has been carrying with him to give to his beloved twin sister. But before Ewan can find the right time to speak with her about it, they find themselves in mortal danger…

 

A Highland Christmas Wish (Eimhir's Story)

Eimhir Mackenzie has never been a biddable lass.

Her mother thinks of her as a wild thing, and is pleased that she will be finally off her hands and wed to a future Chieftain, Angus Gordon - but Eimhir has a secret.

When she slips away from the castle for a few hours of freedom before agreeing to accept Angus Gordon as her husband, she meets a man who promises her the kind of life she has dreamed of: adventure, excitement, and freedom.

Liall Gunn is a free spirit, a seaman who has decided that his future lies with the same tumultuous seas that have always beckoned to Eimhir. He makes her a promise: that he will be back by Christmastide to claim her as his. But life moves on, and her father has promised her to Angus Gordon.

If Liall cannot make it back by Christmastide, Eimhir's dreams of freedom and love will come to naught...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Gem Publishing
• Release date: Dec 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781922772206

Book preview

My Christmas Highlander

My Christmas Highlander

FIONA GRANT

BLUE GEM PUBLISHING

Contents

A Highland Christmas Dream

About This Book

1. Anticipation

2. The Festivities Begin

3. A Heart-tugging Moment

4. A Crown of Holly Leaves

5. A Magical Evening

6. A Brilliant Surprise

7. Plans Go Amiss

8. It Must Be Love

9. A Proposal and a Challenge

A Highland Christmas Gift

About This Book

1. Dreadful News

2. To the Healer

3. The Fisherman

4. Friends Conspire

5. Bridget Confesses

6. A Precious Gift

7. An Invitation

8. The Runaway

9. Fighting for Life

10. Revelations

11. Taking Credit

A Highland Christmas Wish

About This Book

1. A Woman On Her Own

2. Two Daggers

3. A Sailor’s Stories

4. Something To Be Dealt With

5. Fate and Duty

6. Keeping Secrets

7. Man Overboard

8. Someone Is Waiting

9. A Choice To Be Made

Preview: The Highlander’s Braw Lass

A Word from Fiona

About the Author

Also by Fiona Grant

A Highland Christmas Dream

Bridget’s Story

About This Book

Bridget Rose is used to being teased by her friends Myra and Eimhir about being a dreamer, waiting for her brave knight—but Bridget knows that the right man is out there somewhere!

What she isn’t expecting is to see him in the courtyard of Chieftain Urqhart’s castle when they all congregate there for Christmastide in the Highlands. Why is it that she feels she knows him?

Her friends are shocked by her uncharacteristic behaviour, but Bridget is determined to get to know the handsome, smiling Alec Stewart. She throws herself into the fun of the season, but her heart is in her mouth: is this real?

Will Alec feel the same way about her as she does about him?

Chapter 1

Anticipation

Bridget loved the Christmas season. She always felt a thrill at the sight of bright garlands of leaves and holly that festooned the castles of the Scottish Highlands, and adored the dancing and festivities that went along with the week-long celebration. And what lass would not jump at the opportunity to don a bright gown and dance until she was breathless? 

Especially this Christmas, when she and her two best friends were, with their families, on their way to Chieftain Urquhart’s annual Christmastide celebration. Bridget’s eyes moved to the other two girls, and she felt a surge of anticipation mixed with affection. Myra, her pleasantly rounded body wrapped in a red woollen cloak, was clinging to her saddle with the anxious grip of someone who was not comfortable on a horse. She was well cocooned against the chill, with only a few blonde curls escaping from beneath the cloak’s ample hood. Despite her discomfort, she could still laugh at Eimhir’s jokes. 

Eimhir, in contrast, looked as at home on her steed as if she had been born there. Straight-backed and proud, with a mane of thick, red hair which she left uncovered, she was throwing her head back in laughter at her own joke. Her hair caught the thin morning sunlight and shone like fire as it tumbled over her midnight blue cape and down her back.

Sometimes, Bridget felt like an insignificant brown bird next to her two friends. She was smaller than either, and didn’t have either Myra’s curves or Eimhir’s confidence. Her light brown hair was twisted in a simple braid, with one white flower fixed into the end of it with a length of twine in an attempt to look festive. She was a dreamer, she knew: her mother was forever clucking her tongue and telling her to get her head out of the clouds and make more of herself. 

Bridget knew that ‘make more of herself’ was her mother’s way of saying that she should look favourably upon one of the suitors now coming to visit. She sighed at the thought. 

Bridget! Did ye no’ ken the joke? came Eimhir’s voice. 

Guiltily, Bridget started, realising that yet again she had let her mind drift, lost in thoughts of the festival and the clan pressure on her to wed. 

Aye, I did! she responded with a laugh. Sorry, I was… trying to think of a joke to tell you. Give me a moment. 

It’s a sennight we’ll need to give ye, not a moment, Eimhir said with a roll of her eyes. But listen now, I have another!

Bridget had to laugh. All right, keep on, then. 

The three families scrambled down the moor path together, raucous laughter and excited chatter swirling through the air. It was several hours now since they had left the comfort of the roadside inn in which they had spent the evening. They had left in the dark and watched the stars wink out one by one in the early morning sky as the light crept over the hills and dyed the thick moor grasses a golden green. 

As they rode on, Bridget watched the steam rising from the peat bogs as they warmed in the sun. The thick blanket of mist that lay across the moors, so reminiscent of a lady’s fine night rail, was dispersed by the chill wind that crossed the hills. The bite of snow was in the air, but most of the group seemed not to feel it as they moved through and around one another, up and down the hills. 

The celebrations at the Urqhart clan was to be three days and nights of feasts and dancing and general revelry. More importantly, ’twas the first such occasion that the three girls had been able to properly attend, as they had all come of age in the last twelvemonth.

Bridget, in particular, often found herself drifting in daydreams of dances with handsome young lads who would sweep her off her feet before declaring their undying love. She had had few suitors since spring. Not too many men dared to make the long journey out to Aberdeen. And those who did had been woefully inadequate. 

There had been ancient Cameron, who had simpered and kissed her hands and then abruptly fallen ill with a disease her father attributed to bad humours in his liver. Next had come sweet Boyd. He was younger and not unattractive if Bridget squinted her eyes just the right way. He even went so far as to write her a few pretty lines of poetry. But Bridget soon discovered that while poetry was romantic in a minstrel’s songs, it was a swift killer of affection when penned by an oafish young lad, no matter how well-meaning he may be. She turned him away, as well as the next two men who galloped up to her keep to ask her father for her hand. 

As though sensing her thoughts, Myra edged her pony closer, waving to get Bridget’s attention, then sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut as her mount picked his way across a patch of bog. Once safe on solid ground, she said, Ye promised to tell us, what was wrong with Robert?

Bridget sighed. Above them all, a flock of Arctic Terns wheeled through the wind currents. They were getting close to the water and Laird Urquhart’s keep. "Twas not so much that something was wrong with him, as that he just wasnae right."

Eimhir, listening with interest, threw back her head once more in deep laughter, a move that sent her red hair flying out behind her. "Myra, we have been friends with Bridget since we were all wee lassies in swaddling clothes, and still you do not know this about her? She is waiting for her brave knight, one who shall sweep her off her feet as they do in all the tales!"

Is there anything wrong with that, Eimhir? Bridget shot back at the tall redhead, her cheeks aflame. 

Eimhir paused for a moment, her fingers curling in and out of her pony’s reins, one after the other. No, she replied. Tis nothing wrong with being so, Bridget. I hope ye find your prince. Then with a sparkle shining in her green eyes, she looked to Myra. Ye shall find your prince, just as Myra shall surely find a man of letters as boring as she is! 

"Och! Boring?" Myra cried out, glaring at her friend, who could no longer control her giggles. 

Eimhir leaned over and patted Myra’s knee. You could stand to have a few more adventures, sweet Myra, she cooed. 

She is not wrong. Bridget nodded, relieved to have someone else the target of Eimhir’s barbs. She exchanged smiles with Eimhir and again felt the wave of pure pleasure at being here with her friends. Though the three lived relatively close to one another, they saw each other only a few times a year. She was beyond happy to be with them now, on the way to such an event. 

You are both cruel, Myra said, feigning shock, though she could not prevent a smile that quickly turned into a wide grin. 

Bridget looked from one set of mirthful eyes to another, and abruptly all three of them collapsed into a fit of giggles so strong it almost knocked Eimhir off her pony. 

I suppose, Myra cried, taking a deep breath to calm herself, you are both right. Occasionally, I could use a bit more adventure in my life.

And this week shall be the perfect time for you to try! Bridget said, clapping her hands together. God bless Chieftain Urquhart!

Chapter 2

The Festivities Begin

They rounded a bend and caught their first sight of the Urquhart keep. Its walls, constructed of thick grey stone, stood firm and stark against the grey waters of Moray Firth. Early morning sunlight filtered down through roiling grey clouds, throwing the keep into a waving pattern of shadow and light. Thick green lines, sea moss and lichen, Bridget presumed, covered the walls of the keep.

Sea swallows swooped through misty sunbeams, cawing and cackling as they searched for fish among the shoals. The musty smell of sea salt filled the air around the ladies, and a brisk wind whipped their ponies’ manes.

I shall be glad once I am out of this blasted chill and sitting with a bowl of porridge in front of me, Myra muttered.

Myra, I sometimes swear all you think about is food. Are you really more excited about eating goose or venison than you are about dancing? Bridget looked over at her friend.

Myra stuck her tongue out before drawing herself up to give what Bridget knew her friend hoped would seem a dignified answer. Nay, Bridget. Tis merely that some of us understand the small pleasures that a well-made dish can bring to our lives. I should have thought someone such as yourself, who gobbles up those fairy stories of maidens and knights should understand that—

Speaking of knights— Eimhir interrupted Myra’s rambling.

Myra glared at her.

Eimhir took no notice and continued: Speaking of knights, do you suppose we will meet many soldiers here? I should dearly love to dance with a brave warrior and hear his stories of fighting the English!

Eimhir, some days I think the Good Lord made a mistake when he put you in the body of a lass. He should have done better to make you a lad and give you a ship to travel the world. Bridget laughed, tossing her head back. They were almost at the keep now, and she