Alasdair MacDonald’s deep voice rose to the smoke-blackened rafters of his great hall. Across that crowded space, his sister, Lady Catriona, stood frozen on the threshold. Alasdair’s harsh tone held her there, but she did lift a hand to the amber necklace at her throat. A clan heirloom believed to protect and aid MacDonalds, the precious stones warmed beneath her fingers. She fancied they also hummed, though it was difficult to tell with her brother’s roar shaking the walls. Other kinsmen were also shouting, but it was Alastair’s fury that echoed in her ears. His ranting hit her like a physical blow. Her brother was a man whose clear blue eyes always held a spark of humor. And his laughter, so rich and catching, could brighten the darkest winter night, warming the hearts and spirits of everyone around him. Just now he paced in the middle of his hall, his handsome face twisted in rage. His shoulder-length auburn hair—always his pride—was untidy, looking wildly mussed, as if he’d repeatedly thrust angry fingers through the finely burnished mane.
What do You think about Once Upon A Highland Christmas?
