The Eternal Highlander Quotes

“Ye are stirring up a lot of trouble, arenae ye?” “Me? I just came to explore this building. She is the one stirring up trouble. She wants Cathal, I think.” “She does, e’en though his Outsider blood sickens her. Edmee would like to be the lady of Cambrun. She has ne’er been able to convince Cathal of that, however. It doesnae help her cause that she makes her contempt of his mother so verra clear. Cathal has ne’er intended to wed with a MacNachton, either. He wants bairns.” Bridget frowned at him. “There is a wee bit more to me than a womb, ye ken.” “Och, aye, a wee bit.” He laughed when she softly hissed in annoyance, then grew serious. “O’er the last few days ’tis evident neither of ye will suffer in the making of a bairn.” He only briefly smiled at her blushes. “Tis a blessing, that. And where is the insult in a mon thinking a woman a good choice as mother to his bairns?” None, she supposed, but she was not about to admit it. “There should be more.” “Ah, poor lass, so unsure of yourself.” He nimbly danced out of her reach when she tried to hit him. “The only thing I will say is that, compared to the rest of us, Cathal is nearly a monk. He isnae one to be caught in embraces with a lass round every corner. And, aye, mayhap he thinks too much on a bairn, but ’tisnae just an heir he seeks, is it? Tis the salvation of his people. Tis no small thing that. So, do ye cease teasing the fool and say aye?” Bridget sighed. “Tisnae an easy thing to decide. Tisnae just my fate, but that of my children I must consider and ye ask me to do it in but a week.” “We are but a wee bit different.” “Och, aye, ye are that.” “But, that shouldnae trouble a Callan, I think.” He sighed when she did not respond to that remark. “We arenae what ye think we are, lass. Nay exactly. I dinnae believe the soulless dead breed bairns.” He smiled gently at the look of consternation that briefly crossed her face. “We are but different. Cursed in some ways, blessed in others, but ’tis Cathal who must tell ye the tale.”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Doonae think I’ve fergotten ye disobeyin’ me and puttin’ yersel’ at risk in a misguided attempt to save me.” She blinked in surprise at the sudden turn his anger had taken, then felt some anger of her own coming up to meet it. “Well, ‘doonae’ you think I’ve ‘fergotten’ you dared to give me such an order and expected me to watch you die like some hapless good-for-nothing twit.” Connall’s anger immediately gave way under amazement at her words. “Did you say doonae? Are ye makin fun o’ me speech, wife?” he asked with dismay. “Would I do that?” she drawled. His amazement slowly transformed, his tension easing and a small smile claiming his lips for the briefest of moments, then Connall sobered and drew her into his arms with a sigh. “Only you could make me smile at a time like this, Eva. Yer a cheeky lass.” “And yer a stubborn ass,” Eva said a tad irritably, not having quite given up her anger. “Ordering me to stand by helplessly and what? Watch ye die? Not in this lifetime, my lord. Or any other, I should hope. I am your wife, your partner, your mate. I shall guard your back, your front, and your top to bottom to the best of my sad abilities so long as there is air in my lungs and strength in my body. Do not ever expect me simply to—” Connall brought her rant to an end, simply by closing his mouth over hers. He kissed her with all the passion and hunger he felt for her, then eased the kiss slowly before gently easing away to kiss first the tip of her nose, her closed eyelids, then her forehead. “I love ye, Eva MacAdie.” Eva sighed against his chin, kissed him there, then added solemnly, “And I love you Connall MacAdie. And I will do till the day I die.” His”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“I should ha’e been the one to kill him,” Connall fretted. “Ye should ha’e let me do it.” Ewan shook his head. “I brought him into the world, I failed him somehow so he turned out that way, ’twas only right I took his life back.” He ran a hand wearily through his hair, and said, “I doonae ken where we went wrong. How he—” “Ye didnae go wrong, Ewan. Ye and Aileen were the best o’ parents,” Connall interrupted, then added helplessly, “Mayhap he was jest a bad seed.” “Aye. Mayhap.”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“What if Eva is already with child?” “That would be a shame,” Donaidh said with what seemed true regret. “I like Eva. She’s a sweet lass; pretty and clever and funny and a soft bundle in a man’s arms.” Connall felt his teeth grind together at this comment and Donaidh assured him. “She hasnae been unfaithful to ye, Uncle. I held her in my arms on the ride down the hill and into the bailey when we brought her back. She was soft and smelled sweet. I might marry her mesel’. Twould probably please the people, but only if she isnae carryin’ yer bairn already.” “I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth, Donaidh MacAdie.” Donaidh”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Connall chuckled at her expression and immediately began to undress. Finding herself a tad shy about being nude here where anyone might see, Eva was slower to start, but once Connall went charging off to splash his way into the water, she quickly removed the rest of her clothes and hurried to follow, feeling better once she was immersed in water and therefore had regained some modesty. “Shy with me, wife?” Connall teased, moving closer to her in the water. Eva splashed at him and scoffed, “Nay, some of us just have a bit of common decency.” He”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Oh,” Eva breathed, then raised her eyebrows when on reaching the door to the room, her husband suddenly swung around and strode back. Reaching the edge of the bed, he caught her chin, tipped her face up and kissed her again, this kiss quickly passionate and just as quickly ended. “I’ll see ye soon,” he murmured, smiling at her dazed expression, then he straightened to stride away again. This time when he reached the door, he did not pause again but actually left.     “Where”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“When he eased, then finally broke that kiss, he then pressed his lips to the tip of her nose, each eye, and finally her forehead. To Eva, it felt almost like a blessing given by the pope and in a way it was, Connall was blessing her with his love. “Right!”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Drawing on some of the courage that had carried her through the attack that morning, she blurted, “I love you.” One moment she was sat in bed, facing him, and the next Eva was enveloped in his arms as he babbled the Gaelic at her between peppering her face with kisses. The assault stopped just as abruptly as it had started when Connall caught her face between his hands and stared at her intensely for several moments as if memorizing her features. Eva stared back, wondering what would come next. “Do ye really love me, Eva?” he asked at last. “Aye,” she said solemnly. “I love you, Connall MacAdie. With all my heart.” “And I love you, Eva MacAdie,” he said, his voice husky, and before Eva could quite react to that, he kissed her.”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“I would not have the marriage annulled. You are my husband.” Connall looked torn for a minute, then said, “Why will ye keep it so when ye ken what I am?” “I . . .” She peered at him helplessly, not quite having the courage to reveal her feelings. “If ’tis out of duty, I’ll no ha’e it. I’ll no ha’e ye stayin’ with me out o’ duty and silently hatin’ me fer what I am.” “I”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Dear Lord, you are a vampire,” Eva gasped, then covered her mouth to keep the wayward thing from spouting any other unwanted revelations. Connall stiffened, his eyes shooting to her face. He had the oddest expression on his face, she noted. He looked . . . scared? Nay, apprehensive was a better description, and Eva had to wonder why he was looking so apprehensive when he was the soulless— Nay, not soulless, she reminded herself, recalling their conversation from the night before. He was not dead, nor soulless, he had assured her and he did not kill those he bit. Connall had described himself as just different and while Eva thought that was something of an understatement, she reassured herself with that information, now. He was just different, still her husband, the kind, sweet, gentle man who had treated her as if she had value, and shown her such consideration, as well as taught her passion. Nothing else had changed, she reminded herself as her head began to spin. He was the clan chief of the MacAdie, and her husband. And really, as flaws went, vampirism was much more pleasant to deal with than his being a wife beater or some such thing. Wasn’t it? “Dear Lord,” Eva breathed, shaking her head at her own thoughts, then she glanced to Connall again. He was uncharacteristically silent, his attention focused on her with an intensity that made her nervous. Her husband hadn’t said a word since she’d blurted that he was a vampire and it was making her uncomfortable enough to start searching her mind for a way to make him leave. “If you have things to do, you need not trouble yourself to wait here for me to finish eating. I can manage well enough on my own,” she murmured at last, though the food was all gone. “Tis no trouble to be with ye,” he said with a frown and there was sudden anger on his face. “Yer no a burden to me, Eva, ye ne’er ha’e been and ne’er will be. Dear God, ye saved me life this morn, woman, no once, but twice. Ha’e ye no realized yer worth yet?” “I—” Eva shook her head helplessly, confused by the tears suddenly pooling in her eyes. His vehemence was as surprising to her as the words themselves. She had saved his life that morning. She’d driven the intruder off with the log, then . . . well all right, the feeding bit wasn’t that impressive. Anyone would have done in that instance, but she had fended off the intruder. “Ye’ve courage and beauty and intelligence and are a worthy wife. E’en a king would ha’e pride in claimin’ ye to wife. I have felt nothing but pride in claimin’ ye meself.” “Despite my bein’ accident prone?” she teased with a wry twist of the lips. “Yer accidents are a result o’ tryin’ too hard to earn a place here,” he said quietly. “But ’tis only because you doonae realize ye already ha’e a place here. Yer the Lady MacAdie. My wife.” Eva swallowed, her gaze dropping from his at those words. They made her heart ache for some reason. “Why do ye look away? Do ye hate me now?” Eva glanced back up with surprise. “What?” “Now that ye know what I am?” he explained. “Will ye be wantin’ an annulment? Beggin’ to be set free? Wid ye rather a mortal man to husband? Should I take ye back to Caxton?” Eva stared at him in horror, fear clutching at her heart at the very idea of what he suggested.”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Connall had only stopped when she’d gone limp in his arms, and could still recall the pallor of her skin as he’d lifted his head to peer down at her. Eva had lain limp and pale in his arms, and so very still. Connall had felt a fear like he had never before known clutch at him. It was only then, as he’d cradled her in his arms and pressed her head to his chest that he’d realized how much he’d grown to care for the woman. She had been trying since arriving to make a place for herself at MacAdie, but somehow had crept into his heart and made a home for herself there as well. He loved Eva and that knowledge had kept him awake to watch over her until his physical state alone had forced him to sleep. Connall had awoken at sunset to find her curled up against him. She’d still looked awfully pale to him, but not nearly as much as she had the night before, and when he’d brushed a hand lightly over her cheek and she had murmured his name sleepily, relief had flooded him along with the knowledge that she was recovering. He’d decided to leave her to rest for a bit while he tended to his need to feed, and had dressed and left the night room. Aware”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“You look different.” He said nothing, knowing that his face would appear leaner to her, his eyes perhaps taking on more of a yellow tinge in the brown depths. “You are very pale, but . . .” She was obviously trying to puzzle it out, but didn’t understand and was growing frightened and confused. “Aye, nae doubt I am pale. I lost a fair amount o’ blood,” Connall said, wishing he could ease this for her. “Aye.” She nodded slowly and tried to smile, but was having difficulty with it and he knew she could see the hunger in him. “You need food and rest to rebuild it.” “I need blood.” Eva stared at him silently, then her eyes moved back to his wound as if drawn there by some unseen force. He could tell by her expression that it was continuing to heal, growing smaller by the moment. “You heal much more quickly than we do,” she said finally. Her voice was bleak and Connall winced at the knowledge in it. We. She had finally admitted to what was staring her in the face; the supposed reaction to the sun, the rumors, his wound healing so quickly . . . The fact that Aileen aged had probably confused her, but she was seeing it now. You heal more quickly than we. We. He was not one of her kind, at least not wholly. He was different. Connall always had been, and should be used to it by now, but somehow it hurt hearing Eva say it. Her face was expressionless when she turned it back to him to ask, “Are you soulless?” Connall knew that she was making a decision in her mind, one vital to their future. He had feared this moment, but felt hope in the fact that she hadn’t simply turned away in horror. “Nay. I’m no a dead, soulless creature as the rumors proclaim,” he answered solemnly. “I’m jest different.” “But”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Eva, I am orderin’ ye to go.” “Well, you can order all you bloody like, my lord husband, but I will not leave your side until I get the bleeding stopped,” she snapped and Connall gaped at her, unable to believe his sweet, witty, lovely little bride had spoken to him so. Were wives not supposed to obey their husbands? He was sure he recalled that in the wedding ceremony. “Come,”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Oh, God’s toes, you are a stubborn, stupid blasted . . .” Connall found himself smiling as Eva growled and slapped at the bit of wood she was trying to light, as if punishing it for being difficult and he thought with amusement that perhaps being married wouldn’t be so bad. The woman had a tendency to make him smile, something he wasn’t used to, but found he rather liked. He had found himself smiling often while playing chess with her at night, Eva was witty and amusing and . . . well . . . really rather adorable at the moment, disheveled from her work as she was. Pushing the door closed, he crossed the room and dropped to his haunches beside her. “Givin’ ye trouble is it, me lady wife?” “Oh!” she exclaimed, dropping back onto her heels with surprise at what to her must seem a sudden appearance. “You are back.” “Aye,” he agreed, smiling at her. She”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“It’s yer wife, Connall! She’ll be the death o’ me, I’m sure. Between the scares with her accidents and—sweet Jesus! Me heart stopped when she tripped up on the stairs in the keep, then again when she tumbled down the chapel steps, and then there’s her shenanigans tonight. I’m sure I’ve aged ten years since she arrived and I’m an old man to begin with.” “All”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Mavis got it wrong, lass.” Eva narrowed her eyes. “She did?” “Aye. Drink yer wine.” Eva automatically took a sip, then asked, “What did she get wrong?” “Well, there is much she left out, or perhaps was simply unable to see in a dark great hall at night with who knows how much distance between her and the people in question.” “What did she leave out?” Eva asked. “Well, for one thing, she left out the kissing.” “Kissing?” Eva’s interest was definitely engaged now. She still recalled that brief brush of lips after the ceremony and the way her mouth had tingled. “Yes. Like our wedding kiss, only more.” “More?” she echoed with interest. “More what?” “Drink yer wine,” he instructed instead of answering. Eva took an impatient gulp, then repeated, “More what?” “Tis difficult to describe,” he said, then raised one eyebrow again. “Perhaps I should show you?”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“But really, my lord, ’tis a nerve-wracking situation and I would . . . well . . . If we could get it over?” Connall stared at her blankly, clearly taken completely by surprise at this outburst, then he frowned and echoed, “Get it over?” “Aye . . . well . . .” She forced a smile and began wringing her hands together as she explained, “Tis rather like knowing that someday soon, though you are not sure when exactly, you will have to approach the blacksmith about knocking a rotten tooth out.” “Knockin’ a rotten tooth . . .” Connall was staring at her with disbelief, though she didn’t understand why. Nor did she understand why, when he finally spoke, he sounded somewhat upset. “Me lady wife, I realize ye havenae—What on earth makes ye think—‘Knockin ’ out a rotten tooth’?” Eva bit her lip, unsure what she should say to improve the situation. He seemed rather offended by the comparison. “Well, I have never—I mean, from what I have been told, it does not sound like something to look forward to, my lord.” “What ha’e ye been told?” He sounded as if he were forcing patience. Eva considered whether she had the courage to repeat Mavis’s description and was quite sure she didn’t. It was one thing to be told that by another woman, it was quite another to repeat it to the man with the boiled sausage he intended to use on you. She shook her head helplessly, but Connall apparently wasn’t in the mood to humor her. “What’d that useless brother o’ yers tell ye?” “Oh, it was not Jonathan,” she assured him quickly. “It was my maid, Mavis . . . Well, she was not truly my maid. She worked in the kitchens, but did occasionally act as lady’s maid to me . . . Well, once or twice. She traveled to court with us because Jonathan said I needed a lady’s maid there,” Eva explained lamely, then fell silent, aware she’d been babbling. “I see, and what did this Mavis tell ye aboot what goes on between a husband and wife?” Connall was sounding a little less angry now, she noted with relief. Still, it was difficult to imagine telling him so she said instead, “Well she was describing what went on between the servants, not necessarily between husband and wife, if you see what I mean?” “Stop stalling,” he said quietly. “A wife shouldnae fear telling her husband ought.” Eva sighed at these words, it was becoming obvious that he wasn’t going to let this pass and she was going to have to repeat what Mavis had said. She was beginning to wish that she had never opened her mouth, but had simply awaited his pleasure in silent suspense. Unfortunately, she hadn’t done so. Deciding that there was nothing for it, she gathered her courage and blurted, “She said it appeared that the man and woman wrestled a bit and then he stuck his boiled sausage up between her legs.” Connall made an odd sound, somewhere between a cough and snort, then turned his head abruptly away so that she could not see his expression. Eva was not certain at first if he were angry or shocked, but then she noted the way his shoulders were shaking and suspected the man was actually laughing at her. Indignation quickly rose up in her, but before she could say anything, there was a knock at the door. Eva glared at her husband as he glanced around, then stood and headed for the door. “Yer flouncin’!” Connall crowed with amusement. “Damn me, I’d ha’e sworn ye were no a flouncer, but yer flouncin’!” Realizing”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Despite the fact that her parents had both died when she was barely nine, and she’d had no mother to educate her in these matters, Eva was not ignorant on the subject of men and women. Mavis had seen to that. The girl spent most of her time working in the kitchens when not pressed into service as her lady’s maid, so it was in the kitchen with the rest of the servants that she slept, though she occasionally had slept in the great hall if Cook was in a mood. Sleeping there with all the rest of the servants, Mavis had seen—and eagerly recounted to Eva—much of what went on between a man and woman—at least among the servant class. The maid had described it as a sort of wrestling match that ended when the man took his pillock, “rather like a large boiled sausage,” she had described it, and stuck it up between the woman’s legs. Eva had never fancied the idea of having a boiled sausage shoved up between her legs and found her feet shifting together to press her thighs more tightly closed as she stood before the mumbling priest. Then her gaze dropped to the side of its own accord, to peer at the point where her husband’s boiled sausage would be. Although he normally wore his plaid, or had since she’d arrived, today Connall had chosen to wear the outfit she had seen him in at court for their wedding; a fine dark blue doublet and white hose. Eva was flattered that he had troubled himself to dress up for the occasion, but it meant that his figure was now rather on view and her eyes widened in alarm at the size of the bulge visible beneath the hose. Mavis had said that the bigger the bulge, the bigger the boiled sausage, and her husband appeared quite huge to her. Not that she had ever before seen a man’s sausage or troubled to notice the size of their bulge, but Connall’s bulge looked rather large to her anxious eyes. Eva squeezed her thighs a little tighter closed as she tried to imagine him wrestling her to the bed and assaulting her with his sausage. “Eva?”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“The maid had described it as a sort of wrestling match that ended when the man took his pillock, “rather like a large boiled sausage,” she had described it, and stuck it up between the woman’s legs. Eva had never fancied the idea of having a boiled sausage shoved up between her legs and found her feet shifting together to press her thighs more tightly closed as she stood before the mumbling priest. Then her gaze dropped to the side of its own accord, to peer at the point where her husband’s boiled sausage would be. Although he normally wore his plaid, or had since she’d arrived, today Connall had chosen to wear the outfit she had seen him in at court for their wedding; a fine dark blue doublet and white hose. Eva was flattered that he had troubled himself to dress up for the occasion, but it meant that his figure was now rather on view and her eyes widened in alarm at the size of the bulge visible beneath the hose. Mavis had said that the bigger the bulge, the bigger the boiled sausage, and her husband appeared quite huge to her. Not that she had ever before seen a man’s sausage or troubled to notice the size of their bulge, but Connall’s bulge looked rather large to her anxious eyes. Eva squeezed her thighs a little tighter closed as she tried to imagine him wrestling her to the bed and assaulting her with his sausage. “Eva?”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“She looks beautiful.” Connall grunted at that comment from Ewan, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the lass. His bride. Magaidh and Aileen had turned her into a fairy princess. The gown she wore was long and flowing and the color of the forest by daylight, something he had so rarely seen that it was as precious to him as gold was to misers. Rather than cover her long golden hair with a hat or veil, they had merely left it down, weaving flowers and ribbons into it so that it lay in long glossy waves that trailed over her shoulders and shone in the torchlight with fiery glints. She looked both young and beautiful. Connall felt his chest expand with pride. He had chosen well.     Eva”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Eva stared at him blankly. Connall had reached adulthood over thirty years ago? That would make him . . . fifty-five or sixty, depending on what the father considered adulthood and what “over thirty years ago” meant. Nay, that was impossible. There was no way that her Connall was fifty-five or sixty years old, Eva told herself, as an image of his handsome young face came to mind. Dark hair, deep brown eyes, healthy young skin. Nay, Connall had not reached adulthood thirty years ago . . . Perhaps his father had, but Connall would barely have been born.”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Is there anythin’ else I should ken?” “The priest has arrived,” Ewan announced cheerfully and Connall felt some of the stiffness leave his shoulders. This was good news at least, he thought, turning to move toward the stairs now. “Good, I might yet get the woman wedded and bedded and hopefully with child ere she gets hersel’ killed,” Connall muttered as he began to jog lightly down the stairs. “She does appear to be prone to accidents.” There was a touch of amusement in Ewan’s voice as he followed on his heels. Connall snorted at what to him seemed something of an understatement. “Tis obvious the lass cannae be left to her own devices. I want ye men to keep an eye on her when I’m no about.” “I suspected ye might,” Ewan said dryly as they reached the great hall and started toward where Connall could see his wife seated at the trestle table.”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Are you the MacAdie’s sister?” she hazarded the guess as they had ascended the stairs and started along the hall. “Mither,” the woman corrected with a smile, her eyebrows rising when Eva abruptly stopped walking and gaped at her in horror. “Dear God, I’ve been married off to a boy,” Eva breathed and the woman laughed. “Nay.” “But I must be! You are not old enough to have a child more than ten.” “Connall is well past ten, lass.” “But—” Eva paused as realization claimed her. Of course, this woman was MacAdie’s stepmother, that was the obvious explanation.”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“M’lady?” Eva glanced at the man on her left distractedly. Keddy, the redhead with an unfortunate blanket of freckles on his face, had urged his mount closer again to address her. “Aye?” “Why are you talking to your horse about our laird?” “Was I?” Eva asked, taken aback at the realization that she must have been muttering her displeasure with her new husband aloud. “Aye,” Keddy assured her, then glanced to the man riding on her other side. “Was she no’, Donaidh?” “Aye.” The large, dark-haired man urged his own mount closer again so that Eva was sandwiched between the two of them on Millie’s back. “And ye werenae soundin’ too pleased with him. Are ye no pleased to be the MacAdie’s bride?” Eva considered lying to avoid offending these men, but lying wasn’t in her nature. “I would be more pleased had he bothered to collect me himself, rather than having you collect me like a new cow for the fields,” she admitted bluntly. “Ah.” Ewan and Domhall had moved up again so that the four of them were crowding her once more. It was Ewan who decided to address this matter now, “Yer English, so ye wouldnae be understandin’, but Connall wouldnae send the six of us to collect a cow. He’d send one man, and it wouldnae be any o’ us.” “Aye,” the other men nodded their agreement. “So I should be flattered that he could not be bothered to come fetch me himself, but sent the six of you?” Eva asked dryly. “Aye.” Ewan nodded. “O’course,” Keddy agreed. “After all, he couldnae collect ye himsel’, so sent us in his stead. Six of us in his stead. It shows how important ye are. He even sent Ewan.” The way he said it made it sound like it was a huge honor, an opinion that was verified for Eva when Domhall added, “Aye, and Ewan is his first.” The way he said that suggested it was an important position to hold. Eva was less interested in that, however, than why the man couldn’t collect her himself, so asked, “Why could he not collect me himself?” “Well . . . That’d be difficult to explain, lass,” Ewan began slowly even as Keddy said, “It’s his condition.” “Condition?” she asked with a combination of concern and interest. “Aye, his condition,” Ewan muttered, but he was glaring at Keddy for interfering. “What condition, pray tell?” Ewan’s scowl became even more fierce on Keddy at this question, then he finally glanced at her and said, “Tis best to ask him that.” Eva”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“It was her considered opinion that by sending his men to collect her like a cow he wished purchased, her husband was showing her very little in the way of care and concern. Eva supposed this meant she could expect to be considered of little more value at MacAdie than she had been at Caxton. Had it been so much to hope that she might have gained a husband who valued her at least a little? It seemed Connall MacAdie wasn’t likely to. “M’lady?”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“She squeaked in surprise when he picked her up, carried her over to the bed and tossed her down on top of it. “They will soon be squealing for their food,” she said as he tossed aside his plaid and sprawled on top of her. “Then they can wait a wee while. Their father needs to make love to their mother.” “He does, does he?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Aye, he needs to thank her for giving him the gift of children. He needs to thank her again for giving those children the gift of sunlight.” “Cats love the sun,” she whispered. He kissed her again. “And he needs to thank her yet again for giving him the gift of sunlight, too.” He brushed a kiss over her lips when she frowned slightly. “Ye are my sunlight, Bridget. Ye and your love have pulled me out of the shadows. And, to ken that my sons will ne’er have to hide in them is the greatest gift of all.” “The shadows arenae so verra bad, Cathal. I found ye there, didnae I?” “Aye, ye did, and, now, to show ye how grateful I am for that, too, I am going to make ye purr.” “Oh, how lovely,” she murmured against his lips just before he kissed her. Cathal”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Is it time for them to be fed?” Bridget called out in a sleepy, husky voice. “Nay,” Cathal replied. “They are just purring.” He continued to stare at his sons as he heard the rustle of the bedclothes and, a moment later, Bridget appeared at his side wrapped in one of the bed furs. “My sons are purring, Bridget.” Bridget looked down at her lovely, perfect little babies. They were both on their backs, letting the sun warm their plump little bellies. They were also, most definitely, purring. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing. “Ah, so they are.” “Men dinnae purr.” “They arenae men. They are wee bairns.” Cathal”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Ah, my wee wife, I wish I was a poet or a minstrel. I would like to drown ye in pretty words. There is so much inside of me that I feel, but I dinnae have the words.” She touched her fingers to his lips. “I love ye.” “I love ye, too.” “Ye dinnae need any other words than those, Cathal. Not ever.” “Not ever. I will be living for a verra long time yet.” “We Callans are verra long lived as weel.” “Oh, I do hope so, love. I do hope so. For I need ye. Ye are my sun, my joy.” Bridget brushed her lips over his, deeply moved. “Ye are getting much better with your words, Cathal,” she whispered. “My wife, my mate, forever.” “Do ye ken, I think those are the finest of all. My husband, my mate, forever.”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“It was several long moments before she gained the strength to open her eyes. The way he was looking at her as he gently brushed the hair from her face made her heart race. Bridget smiled faintly, a little disappointed that he was not whispering sweet words of love. “Ye love me, lass,” he said, and grinned at her wide eyed look. “Aye, ye do. Ye were screeching it there at the end. Twice.” So that was what she had said, she mused. “Aye, I do. I have for a long time. Why do ye think I said aye?” “Ye wed me because ye loved me?” he asked in surprise. “Aye, but ye dinnae have to fear that I will pester ye for the same. I understand ’tis different for men.” “Lass, I will confess that I was nay so quick as ye to see the truth, but I do love ye. I have for a while. I have been trying to think of ways to make ye love me.” He laughed softly when she threw herself into his arms. “In truth, since ye told me ye loved me just as I was about to bite ye, I cannae be sure which has me feeling most bound to ye. I may have e’en been mistaking a need for those words for the need for the mating.” “Weel, it doesnae matter. The need is gone, aye.” “Completely. Ah, love, ye have given me so much. Passion, laughter,” he slid his hand down to her stomach, “the future.” “And”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander

“Children have been missed, havenae they?” “Och, aye,” agreed Cathal as he led her out of the great hall. “E’en at our worst, in the days when we rode through the night and caused far too many deaths, a child was always treasured, protected. I was spoiled. So was David. It has been so long since a child was born to the Purebloods that I think many of them had convinced themselves it didnae matter. And, they could barely remember what it was like to have one about.” “Tis sad. Tis as if that bloodline can nay longer renew itself.” “Aye, that is sad, but it can continue in others. One just has to accept that it must be mixed with others. I believe that acceptance is already there in some of the Purebloods and coming in others.” Once”
― Hannah Howell, The Eternal Highlander