Clan Gunn: Gerek

Scottish Heritage Series, Vol. 1

By Dorice Nelson

To become chief of his clan, Gerek Gunn must wed before his 30th birthday, an arranged marriage, but that was how things were done—or so Gerek thought until he met his bride. Catronia has no desire to wed any man and certainly not one known as the "Beast of Battle." In disguise, Catronia flees, only to find herself sharing a crofter's hut with the very man she ran from.

ISBN 978-1-59431-190-0 Historical Romance /Suspense /Action Adventure

Cover Art by Maggie Dix



Prologue

Gunn Country

The Highlands—1632

Two days after his twelfth birthday, his mother died of a sudden stomach ailment and took with her the last thin thread of his identity. Now, the day of her funeral, he sat stiffly on a stout oak chair in the library at Killearnan. His companion since cradle days, Dubh, a huge, dark gray Scottish deerhound, lay stretched at Gerek Gunn’s feet, large head upon paws, and gazed at his master’s face. Gerek patted the dog for comfort.

The candlelight surrounding the wooden casket shimmered and swayed. The light reflected off the room’s stone walls but did not soften the angles and planes of his mother’s bold Scottish face. He looked at the shrouded woman, pale and motionless against the white cotton lining. She no longer resembled the spirited woman he knew. Alone, he grieved but did not weep over his mother’s passing.

What was he to do? Where could he go? Back to the desolate hut at the edge of the keep? Fearful of the future, he ground his teeth and cried out to his inert mother. “How could you leave? You never told me about my father as you promised. I’m not ready to be in this world without you.”

He drew in a powerful breath. It burst from him in a torrent of words. “Who was he? This father who was never father to me?” A single tear slipped to nestle at the edge of his mouth. He flicked the wetness with the tip of his tongue. He tried to halt the emotions raging through him, but her death had abandoned him. Her silence about his father had betrayed him. How could she leave him without a father, or even the name of one? He forced himself to breathe slowly. Somehow he’d get through this day, and the next. But never would he allow another woman to deceive him. His lanky body shook with despair. Trust a woman? Never!

Taps by a booted foot against the door scattered his thoughts. Dubh uttered a low growl. Gerek wiped his nose on the sleeve of his only clean shirt. “Enter.”

A serving girl whom he didn’t know slunk into the room without looking at him. With fitful movements, she put a cloth-covered tray on the table near the door and bobbed a curtsy.

“There’s nourishment for ye. To break yer fast.”