Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
They had made their wishes.
And now, there was no turning back.
CHAPTER 1
Declan held still at the top of the rise, the wind teasing the edges of his dark plaid and his horse shifting beneath him as if sensing the uncertainty in its rider. Below, the village of Clan MacCrone stretched out in muted tones of browns and grays, cradled between forest and field, as if trying to tuck itself away from the world. Smoke curled from a few chimneys, thin and wavering, like the breath of a place just barely hanging on. Beyond them a stone keep rose like a stubborn fist, gray against the pale sky.
His new home. Or was it a prison?
He exhaled a slow, bitter breath. What a fool he’d been.
Over a year had passed since that cursed night when three weary warriors, half-drunk and full of battle fatigue, had made reckless wishes to the night sky, never suspecting anyone, let alone someone with magical powers, was listening. He laughed then. Laughed and raised his tankard and wished that he never again had to chase after a bonnie woman, that women would seek him and fall at his feet instead.
And they had and when they got too close to him…
Some fell flat on their faces as if an unseen force had knocked them down.
Others fell with startled cries as their legs gave way.
A few cried out in shock as they toppled over.
Most fell with arms flailing and eyes wide as the ground rushed up to meet them.
He’d watched them fall, maidens, matrons, lasses, and servants alike. If they so much as came too near, down they went, as if struck by an invisible hand. The first few times seemed like cruel chance. But then the pattern emerged. He had been cursed with exactly what he had foolishly wished for… word for word.
His family finally had had enough. His mother wept constantly, not able to step close to him. His two sisters feared to be around him. So, his da had sent him off with a terse farewell, no longer able to tolerate the chaos.
So, here he stood—alone, unwanted, and angry—with naught but a few belongings and a reputation that preceded him. The MacCrone clan needed a chieftain, someone strong enough to keep them from splintering apart. That was the excuse his da used when he sent him here.
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of peat and heather. The air had grown colder, harvest time ending and winter a little over a moon cycle away, though feeling as if it had already arrived. He already felt the isolation here. No one here knew him. He had neither friend nor foe here. No one would look at him with pity… or worse, fear. That should have comforted him, but it didn’t. It only made him realize the truth of his situation.
His family had banished him.
Could he blame them?
He tightened his grip on the reins. His horse huffed and stomped once, impatient, but Declan didn’t scold him. He understood the unease. For once he passed that line between hill and hearth, there would be no turning back.
Why am I hesitating?
He knew why.
It was the weight of all he’d left behind—the land he’d grown up on, the laughter of his sisters, the rough bark of his father’s commands, even the old hound who followed him about the place. But it was more than that.
It was the shame.
At first, the wish had seemed like nothing more than foolish banter between three bloodied, battle-worn warriors. One tankard too many. One jest too far. He hadn’t truly meant it. Not the way it had come true.
He’d always been cavalier about his fine features and the ease in finding a woman to appease his passion. But he had grown tired of the chase. He wanted beautiful women to come to him and drop in worthiness at his feet. His words were meant mostly in jest, though it did occur to him that it would make things much easier if women pursued him rather than he doing the pursuing.
He certainly got what he wished for… women literally fell at his feet.
It was madness. A cruel trick. And when he finally accepted it as real, he tried to control it by warning women away and keeping his distance. It didn’t matter. Besides, what future did he have if women forever fell at his feet?
Word spread. They called him cursed. Dangerous. Bewitched. His kin, though they loved him, were left with no choice. So, here he was at Clan MacCrone, with its feuding factions and struggling lands, in need of a strong hand. And far enough away from his family, so they would no longer have to deal with his situation.
Declan dropped his gaze to the village once more. He saw no welcoming arms. No warmth. Only unknown faces and unfamiliar burdens.