Highlander's Return: The Sinclair Brothers Trilogy, Bonus Novella (Book 2.5) Read Free Page A

exhausted, but deep sleep evaded him. Though the night was warm and
the forest floor soft, he couldn’t get comfortable. Bloody hell, but Sutherland
land was no place for a lone Sinclair, he thought for the hundredth time.
    The following morning a few hours into his ride, he halted
Laoch near a large loch. He let the animal drink, then hobbled him and knelt
next to the water’s edge, cupping his hands in the cool, clear water. When he
had taken his fill, he stood, scanning the area.
    Sutherland land looked similar to Sinclair land,
though the Sinclair coastline, on the very farthest northeast tip of Scotland,
was a bit more rugged. Burke was surrounded by patches of forest, which were
broken up by rolling green hills and taller mountains to the west. He couldn’t
quite see the coast to the east, but he knew that if he were atop one of the
nearby hills, he would be able to spot the North Sea. The loch at which he
stood was longer than it was wide, and he could look up the length of it as it
continued northwesterly.
    Suddenly a sense of familiarity slammed into him. It
was unlikely that he had been here before, though. Since tensions remained high
between the Sutherlands and the Sinclairs, he and his clansmen normally took
the long way around Sutherland land. The only time he could remember traveling
directly across Sutherland terrain, as he did now, was…
    That night in November, nearly ten years ago. It
felt like a lifetime ago. The summer scene transformed before his eyes into the
wintery landscape of that cold, stormy night…
     
    November, 1297
    Burke tried to suppress the shiver that threatened
to make him look like a green lad in front of his uncle, three cousins, and the
handful of other clansmen who were traveling south. Despite his thick woolen
hose, winter boots, and extra Sinclair plaid around his shoulders, there was no
denying that he was freezing.
    He glanced at his uncle, Laird Henry Sinclair, and
noticed that his nose was tipped blue and his teeth were firmly clenched. So,
even the mighty Laird was feeling the cold. Burke’s cousins, Robert, Garrick,
and Daniel, looked to be struggling with the unusually frigid conditions, too. Nevertheless,
all the men sat stoutly atop their horses as they rode south toward the
Scottish Lowlands.
    They had good reason to march proudly south, this
freakish winter storm be damned. They were going to witness William Wallace’s knighting
ceremony and pledge their clan’s loyalty to the struggle for Scottish
independence. Every able-bodied clansman longed to be on this trip, and Burke
was honored and humbled to be part of the small retinue that was making the
journey.
    Burke was the cousin to the heirs of the Sinclair
Lairdship, but because he was a rare only child, and a son at that, he had been
sent to live and train with the Laird’s three sons. He couldn’t have counted
himself luckier. Not only was it an honor to get to live so closely with the
Laird and his family, but it made for a damned fun boyhood. He was of an age
with the Sinclair brothers, and they had grown up hunting, fishing, fighting,
and eventually chasing the lasses around Roslin.
    Now, though, he and his Sinclair cousins were men .
He was nineteen, which put him right between Daniel and Garrick in age. All
four of them were tall, strapping, and getting bigger and stronger by the day. It
seemed like none of them could get enough when it came to training with the
sword, the bow, hand-to-hand combat, or learning the responsibilities of
leadership.
    Robert was the most serious, of course, since he
would assuredly be Laird some day. Garrick excelled with the bow, and what
Daniel had lacked initially in age and strength (being the youngest) he now
made up for in stubborn determination and decisiveness. All agreed that Burke
was the smoothest and best at talking with the lasses, but if they teased him
too much about it, he was sure to give them a few scrapes and bruises on the
practice field to remind them