Whisper of Roses

Chapter One SCOTLAND, THE HIGHLANDS 1730 "The MacDonnells are a-comin'! The MacDonnells are a-comin'!" The cry shot like cannonfire through the sleepy village of Cameron Glen. The villagers raced madly through the cobbled streets, not knowing whether to hide their livestock or their children. One cynical crofter tipped back his chair, took a long, slow draw off his pipe, and announced dourly that sheep or daughter would do just as well to a MacDonnell in an amorous bent of mind. The few who could afford the luxury of curtains jerked them shut. Hammers tapped in frantic rhythm as boards flew up over window and doors. The Camerons and the MacDonnells had been feuding for so long that no one could remember the cause. To the villagers their laird's foes were still more myth than men. For decades they had done their thieving and ravishing in stealth. If a village lass returned from a mountain walk rumpled and dazed, knowing whispers would greet the subsequent swelling of her belly and the birth of her tawny-haired babe. Kneeling in the road, a withered old man gathered a group of awestruck children around him. "I was but a wee lad meself, but I'll ne'er forget the last time the MacDonnells marched through Cameron Glen. Giants they were, o'er eight feet tall wi' thighs as wide 'round as tree trunks." A freckled little girl hid her trembling face against his leg. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And 'round each o' their waists hung their terrible trophiesthe severed heads o' the Camerons." The children squealed in delicious horror. Caught up in his own lurid tale, the old man cast the manor house on the hill an ominous look. The stone tower of ancient Cameron Keep sprouted from its timberframed wings like an embattled mushroom. He knew the MacDonnells had been invited to Cameron not to battle, but to banquet. But why would Dougal Cameron invite his enemies to his home when he knew they were more inclined to eat the family than the feast? His palsied hand absently smoothed a boy's cowlick. "Daft," he muttered. "Our own laird's gone as daft as a rabid hare." At that precise moment, the occupants of Cameron Manor might have agreed with him. The drawing room had been thrown into chaos by an army of servants and helpful Camerons. Caught up in the pervasive atmosphere of terror and glee, Sabrina rushed back from the old buttery, where she had hidden her mother's silver tea service. She tripped over the small, grizzled dog curled up in front of the hearth. He bared his one remaining tooth and snapped at her. "Sorry, Pugsley," she murmured, pausing to straighten his jeweled collar. "I won't have those ham-footed Highlanders stomping my rugs to death," Elizabeth Cameron announced. Heedless of her silk skirts, she dropped to her knees on the bare stones and began to roll up a plush Persian carpet. "No worry, Mama." Brian lounged on an overturned Louis XIV gilded armchair, ignoring Alex's obvious grunts for help beneath the weight of an ornately carved Elizabethan chest. "The MacDonnells will never make it this far. We've been at peace for almost a month. Without our throats to cut, they'll be cutting their own by now. I predict extinction in"he drew a gold pendant watch from a ruffled pocket"three hours and seventeen minutes." "I'm surprised they haven't extincted themselves already with all that inbreeding," Alex gasped, letting the chest drop dangerously near the polished toes of Brian's shoes. "I've heard they share women like other men share" "Alex!" Elizabeth cleared her throat, jerking her head toward Sabrina's avid face. Her elder son lapsed into silence. He might tower over his mother by half a foot, but he knew when toMedeiros, Teresa is the author of 'Whisper of Roses ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780553590302 and ISBN 0553590308.