Heart of a Highland Warrior
Connor Clan - 3
Anita Clenney
This book is dedicated to The Honorable Susan E. Cox; Jeffrey V. Mehalic, Esquire; Adam M. Salzman, Esquire; and Peter B. Morin, Esquire. Thank you.
CHARACTER INDEX
19TH CENTURY CHARACTERS
Faelan Connor – Legendary warrior from 19th century who wakes up 150 years later in a time vault
Tavis Connor – 19th century warrior who follows his brother Faelan to the 21st century
McGowan (Aiden Connor) – Father of Faelan and Tavis
Ian Connor – Brother of Faelan and Tavis
Bessie – Ian’s wife
Alana Connor – Sister of Faelan and Tavis
Liam Connor – Brother of Faelan and Tavis who was killed young
Marna – girl who likes Tavis
Isabel and Frederick – Bree’s great-great grandparents who knew the Connors in the 19th century
Quinn Douglass – Warrior and Keeper of the Book
21ST CENTURY CHARACTERS
Anna MacKinley – Warrior
Bree Connor – Faelan’s wife and Shay’s half-sister
Shay Logan – Cody’s fiancée and Bree’s half-sister
Cody MacBain – Warrior and Shay’s fiancé
Marcas MacBain – Warrior and Cody’s brother
Lachlan MacBain – Warrior and Cody’s brother
Ewan MacBain – Retired warrior and father of Cody, Marcas, and Lachlan
Laura MacBain – Mother of Cody, Marcas, and Lachlan
Jamie – Warrior and Shay’s ex-fiancé
Samantha Skye – FBI agent who likes Jamie
Ronan Connor – Warrior and Declan’s twin
Declan Connor – Warrior and Ronan’s twin
Edward – Bree and Shay’s father
Layla – Bree’s mother who died at 25
Nina – Shay’s aunt who raised her
Matilda – Nina’s cousin
Angus – Deceased warrior and Anna’s friend
Niall – Warrior
Shane – Warrior
Duncan – Warrior who’s in love with Sorcha
Sorcha – Warrior who flirts with Duncan
Tomas – Warrior and clan medic
Brodie – Warrior
Sean Connor – Warrior and Keeper of the Book
Coira – Sean’s wife and clan nurse
Old Elmer – mysterious hermit
VILLAINS
Voltar – Ancient demon
Tristol – Ancient demon
Druan – Deceased ancient demon
Malek – Deceased ancient demon
Bart – Dungeon guard
Lance – Dungeon guard
The Dark One – Creator of demons and vampires
PROLOGUE
HIS ARSE WAS numb from the stone pew. He’d been sitting here most of the night, staring out the window at his brother’s grave, thinking about what had to be done. About who would make the sacrifice and who would be left to go home and tell their mother. He had won, but it hadn’t been easy.
A shadow fell across the floor as his younger brother joined him on the pew. They sat side by side in silence, looking at the graveyard. “There must be another way,” his brother said.
“There’s not, and you know it.”
“Think what you’re doing. You don’t know what you’ll wake to. By then, the world might be naught but ashes.”
His gaze dropped to his hands spread across his kilt, and he remembered the blood, the torn flesh. “I have to take that chance.”
“Then I’ll go.”
“No. I gave my word.” He nudged his brother with his elbow, trying for a smile though he felt dry as leather inside. “You need to stay. You might be barmy at times, but you’re a thinker, a puzzle solver, and this trouble won’t be easy to sort out. Besides, I know what you’re hiding under that pretty hair. A mate mark.”
The teasing fell flat, and a surprised look crossed his brother’s face. He touched his neck. “How did you know?”
“I’m not an idiot. You’ve been letting your hair loose. You’ve never liked it down.” And he’d peeked while his brother was sleeping to make sure he was right. “For Bessie, I’d guess.”
“I can’t do anything about it for three years.”
“But she’s your mate. That’s a rare thing to find before your duty is up. I don’t have a mate and don’t intend to find one. It has to be me. Do you have the book?”
His brother nodded and patted a satchel hanging over his shoulder.
“We should hurry, before they get back.” The husband and wife knew some of the secrets, but not all.
The brothers rose and approached the front of the chapel. The youngest held the oil lantern as the elder one opened the secret catch in the wall. The door hadn’t been used in some time. It groaned and grated as the opening was revealed. Musty air covered him like a shroud as he walked down the rough steps to the suffocating darkness of his tomb. The cellar was smaller than the chapel above it. Only a portion of the area here had been dug out and the floor laid with stones. The box waited for him in the corner. It looked beautiful in the dim light. But they were all beautiful, despite what they were made to contain. He’d never given them much thought until this moment. They simply served a purpose. He swallowed and walked toward it, heartbeat drumming in his ears.
His brother touched his shoulder. “Let’s find another way. There has to be another way.”
“There is no other.”
He took the satchel from his brother and put it inside the box. Hands gripping the edge, he pulled in a shallow breath. It was hard to breathe now.
“This isn’t right.”
He didn’t turn to look at his brother. He didn’t want him to see his fear. “It will work,” he whispered. “It must.” He steadied himself and climbed in as his brother held the lantern high. The wood was cold and hard under his head. He shifted and pulled a dirk from his boot. Just in case.
His brother was crying. Silent tears streamed down his face.
“Do it,” he said, fighting back his own tears.
“I can’t.” His brother’s voice broke on a sob.
He reached for his brother’s hand and gripped it hard, feeling the calluses and scars from their childhood. “Do it now. Do it for him.” He pulled his fingers away.
The lid started to lower, and he heard a ragged cry from outside as darkness swallowed him. His throat tightened until he couldn’t breathe, and finally, one tear slid—
CHAPTER ONE
BREE STARED AT the rotting coffin, wondering who was inside. On the other side of the open grave, the big white cat stared at Bree, its hypnotic green eyes so similar to Bree’s as Ronan frequently reminded her.
“It could be someone local,” she said to the cat. “But why dig up some old farmer’s grave? Maybe it’s a soldier from the Civil War.” Sometimes the bodies had to be buried wherever they lay. But this wasn’t the first grave near her house that had been disturbed. Her favorite grave, the unmarked one in the graveyard behind her house, had also been dug up. She’d thought Druan might have opened it in his search for the missing key to Faelan’s time vault. But Druan was dead now, and this hole was fresh.
Could have been a Civil War buff looking to add to his collection. Or her collection. Not all Civil War buffs were male. Bree was proof of that. The Civil War was her area of expertise. She’d spent untold hours taking part in reenactments and searching fields for buried treasure with her father. He wasn’t her real father, but an uncle who’d pretended to be her father. She still had a hard time with that. They’d been so close, like two peas in a pod, her mother said. The mother who wasn’t really her mother but her aunt.