The Laird of Stonehaven

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“Blair, look at me.”

When she refused, he grasped her chin and turned her toward him. “Dinna be shy, lass. If this is to be our only time, I want to make it pleasurable for you.” He stretched out beside her. “Relax.”

Before she realized what she was saying, the words she had spoken in her dream escaped her lips. “I canna love you.”

“I dinna ask for love.”

Blair knew that. He loved another. “I am sorry for you, Graeme MacArthur. You were trapped into marriage by my father and had little choice in the matter.”

“Nevertheless, we will make the best of this marriage once we get the bedding out of the way. You do understand why this is necessary, do you not?”

She nodded jerkily, understanding but still unwilling. Her thoughts skidded to a halt when Graeme, moving with slow deliberation, began to remove her shift.

“What are you doing?”

His hands stilled. “I want to see all of you.”

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DORCHESTER PUBLISHING

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016

Copyright © 2003 by Connie Mason

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Trade ISBN: 978-1-4285-1705-9
E-book ISBN: 978-1-4285-1706-6

First Dorchester Publishing, Co., Inc. edition: September 2003

The “DP” logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Author’s Note

According to legend, a Faery Woman with extraordinary powers will be born from time to time into the MacArthur clan. She will be a healer with the knowledge and ability to help others, but her strength and endurance must be tested by obstacles. If she survives ordeals by fire, water, and stone, she will forever be blessed by God.

The Faery Woman must be wary of falling in love, for if her love is not returned, she could lose her powers. But the Faery Woman fortunate enough to find her true love and be loved in return shall survive the ordeals and live happily ever after.

So sayeth the legend.

Gairloch, Scottish Highlands, 1432

He was naked. Magnificently, blatantly naked. His body was sheer perfection, with wide shoulders, a deep chest and corded ribs. She couldn’t look away. Her gaze wandered over his muscular arms, slim hips, flat belly and taut buttocks, finally moving down to his groin. He was fully erect, his sex jutting boldly upward amidst a swirl of dense raven curls.

Her gaze shot up to his face. The shadows parted, and for the first time his features were revealed to her. His was a handsome visage, hardened now by lust. His obvious desire terrified her, but she refused to show fear.

Despite her wariness, she found his masculine beauty thrilling. Naught about him was ordinary. Neither his piercing blue eyes, generous lips nor dark hair tinged with fiery highlights.

He approached the bed; she cringed away from him. She knew what he wanted.

“Nay, you mustna.”

“Aye, I must.” Though he had come to her many times in the past, he had never spoken before, and the deep thunder of his voice startled her.

Who was he?

“I canna love you,” she whispered.

“I dinna ask for love.”

He lowered himself to the bed, melding their bodies. Immediately a burning sensation consumed her. She cried out; the intense heat was unbearable. He spread her legs with his knees and flexed his hips. She flinched away, but he was relentless in his pursuit of her.

Splaying her hands against his massive chest, she attempted to shove him away. But her fingers touched . . . naught. He was gone. Naught remained but his masculine scent and the memory of him imprinted upon her body and in her mind . . . and smoke.

A scream rose from her throat as flames shot up around her, singeing her flesh and setting her hair on fire. Disembodied faces danced just beyond the ring of fire. Leering faces, threatening faces, frightened faces. Men, women, children, all chanting:

“Burn, witch, burn.
Burn, witch, burn.”

“Blair, wake up! Ye’re dreaming again.”

Blair MacArthur was more than happy to awaken from the recurring nightmare. Though the same frightening dream had invaded her sleep many times since she had become aware of her powers, this time was different.

She had seen his face and heard his voice.

“I am awake, Alyce.”

“Was it the same dream?”

“Aye, but this time I saw his face.”

“Did ye recognize him?”

“ ’Twas no one I knew.” She grasped Alyce’s gnarled hands. “Something is about to happen. I can sense it. Quickly, get the candles and the bag of herbs.”

“Oh, nay, Blair, yer father has forbidden ye to summon the spirits.”

“My spells hurt no one,” Blair argued. “My powers are God given. I am as faithful to the church’s teachings as you are. To deny the powers I have been given is a sin. Please, Alyce, I must know the role the man in my dreams will play in my life.”

Worry darkened Alyce’s brow as she fetched four candles from the cupboard. When she returned, Blair had rolled up a rug near the hearth, revealing a chalk circle drawn upon the flagstone floor. Taking a deep breath, Blair stepped into the circle.

Alyce handed Blair the sack of fragrant herbs. Then she placed the candles at intervals along the perimeter of the circle and lit them with a faggot from the fire. Immediately one candle flame turned red, another blue, the third burned with a silver hue, and the fourth blazed a vivid purple. Blair aligned herself with the full moon, visible through the open window, sprinkled the herbs at her feet and chanted:

“Spirits, come to me.
Open my eyes and let me see
What the future holds for me.”

Then Blair invited the spirits into her heart and mind, bidding them to reveal the unknown, to interpret her dreams and make known her enemies.

Closing her eyes, Blair inhaled deeply until she became one with the forces of nature and the universe. She cried out and stiffened as a surge of energy entered her body. The curtains at the open window blew inward and the skirt of her fine linen shift fluttered about her slim legs, and then everything went still as a vision formed behind her eyes.