Morna’s Magic & Mistletoe Read online

  Morna’s Magic & Mistletoe - A Novella

  Book 8.5 of Morna’s Legacy Series

  Bethany Claire

  Contents

  Copyright

  Book Description

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

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  Audiobook Version

  Sweet/Clean Versions of Morna’s Legacy Series

  Letter to Readers

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  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright 2017 by Bethany Claire

  All rights reserved.

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  License Notes

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Dj Hendrickson

  Cover Designed by Damonza

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  Available In eBook, Paperback, & Hardback

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  eBook ISBN: 978-1-947731-50-9

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-947731-51-6

  Hardback ISBN: 978-1-947731-52-3

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  http://www.bethanyclaire.com

  Book 8.5 of Morna’s Legacy Series

  by Bethany Claire

  © 2017

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  Christmas In The City

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  Kenna McMillan would do anything for her grandchildren. Even accompany one of them hundreds of years into the future for a week of Christmas celebrations with the old witch, Morna, if it would make him smile. But unexpected guests at the inn upend all of their holiday plans. As she begins to learn more about her new acquaintance, she begins to wonder if her week away could take a romantic turn…

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  When a trip to Conall Castle with his granddaughter results in Malcolm Warren bumping into old friends, their quick trip out of Edinburgh quickly turns into days away from the city. While there, Malcolm meets the first woman in years to stir something long neglected inside his heart. When the day comes that he must return to the city and his granddaughter wishes to remain behind with her new friends, he invites Kenna to come with him, promising her a tour of all of the best Christmas sights in the city.

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  Time together ignites their passion for one another, but the undeniable truth that they live worlds apart threatens their bond.

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  And Kenna holds a secret—can she trust Malcolm with the truth of Morna’s magic? And even if she does, will their new love for one another be enough to convince him to leave the life he’s always known.

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  At the end of the book, just scroll on over to the Free Book Page that has the link to my mailing list, click on the link, and fill out your email address so I know where to send your free book.

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  For Mom,

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  Because Christmas stories are your favorite.

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  Chapter 1

  McMillan Castle, Scotland—December of 1651

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  Mitsy is watching me again. She isn’t normally awake so early, but with Baodan away for a fortnight to assist our friends at Cagair Castle, she’s allowed young Rodric to sleep in her bed, and the child kicks in his sleep like an angry mule. For the past three nights she’s slipped out of her bed the moment her son fell asleep and retreated to his bed. Rodric believes he’s getting the special treat of snuggling with his mother while his father is away, but both of them end up getting a good night’s sleep. Unlike many of my other grandchildren, I’m not certain a flock of geese flying straight through Rodric’s bedchamber would wake him. Come morning, the wee babe is none the wiser to his mother’s trickery.

  The only complication comes in when I wake up at my usual time each morning. My bedchamber sits right next to Rodric’s and as is normal for all mothers of young children, the slightest unexpected noise wakes Mitsy. Try as I might to move silently out of my room, she hears me each and every morning. So now, at least until my son returns home, I have a companion joining me for my quiet morning hours of precious solitude.

  I allowed her in the sitting room under one very strict condition: that she say nothing to me during our time in the room together. She’s kept her word, but I may have to be the one to break our agreement. I’m not sure I can stand to sit across from her much longer. Not knowing what she’s thinking while she looks at me is driving me mad.

  She thinks I’m so enthralled by the snowfall outside that I’m unaware of the look in her eyes. She’s wrong. I’ve lived in Scotland my entire life. More specifically, I’ve lived in this part of Scotland—this very castle—since I was fourteen. It snows almost every day in this part of the country during winter, so I’ve seen my fair share of snow. While it is quite stunning with the way it falls around the pond and slowly turns the water to a frozen blanket of ice, beauty isn’t the reason I sit in my favorite chair, by my favorite fireplace at the same time every day to look through the frosted window. I sit here because if I situate myself early enough, just as the sun begins to come up, I get to listen to the castle come awake. To hear my many grandchildren begin to stir, to hear their tired mothers and spoiled fathers start their day fills my heart with gratitude.

  There was a time—a long time—after Niall died that I wasn’t sure I would ever be capable of feeling any positive emotion ever again.

  While I was now on the other side of such pain, it had been the battle of my life surviving it. The confusion and guilt I’d felt almost killed me, for how can a mother reconcile knowing that her son is a murderer? But the moment I watched another of my beloved sons leave to fight for his own life centuries ahead of me, I knew that giving in to my grief wasn’t an option. There was still purpose to my life, still people that needed me, still love to be found. While Eoghanan was away, I’d barricaded myself away and fought—fought through the emotions, fought through the anger, fought through the soul-crushing grief.

  Those closest to me allowed me the space I needed to rant and rage and live like a vagabond near my son’s grave. I spent weeks wading through the hurt. There were days I was sure it would never end, that I would drown in a pool of my own tears, that my heart would quite literally break in two. Some days I even begged for it to, for then the pain would truly be over. But it didn’t. And with time, I found peace.


  There was nothing I could’ve done in the raising of my son or in my loving of him that could’ve prevented his actions. While I raised two sons that are better men than I could’ve ever dreamed they would be, there was never anything to be done for Niall. His actions weren’t my fault. I couldn’t have saved Baodan’s first wife. I couldn’t have saved my sister. I bore no responsibility for Niall’s acts of murder.

  Of course, it took me a long time to see the evil inside him. It took me even longer to acknowledge it. Mothers love their children beyond all reason—we will fight for them, die for them, and we almost always believe the best of them.

  It was the darkest time of my life, but now I was truly afraid of nothing. The worst had already happened to me, and I survived. If there was a blessing to be found in anything that happened, that was it.

  Mitsy coughed quietly to my left and I turned to see her still staring in my direction. I truly couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Mitsy, I said ye couldna speak to me if ye sat in here, but yer eyes have been screaming at me for days. What is it?”

  She blinked for what seemed like the first time in hours as her cheeks flushed a red that nearly matched the shade of her hair.

  “I don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t staring at you—just through you. I think I was half-asleep.”

  Crossing my legs and pulling the blanket that lay across my lap up a little higher, I shook my head in denial.

  “What is that foul phrase that ye and Jane are so fond of— bullshit? Aye, that is it. Ye are full of it, Mitsy. Ye are wide awake. What is it ye’ve been wishing to say to me for days?”

  “You need more, Kenna.”

  “More?” While I always found much of what Mitsy said to be perplexing—her twenty-first century phrasing and language often conflicted with my seventeenth century language—I hadn’t the slightest idea what she meant this time. “More? Lass, look around. I live in one of the finest castles in Scotland. I’ve not known a day of poverty in my life. I doona know what it feels like to go hungry. I know few who are as fortunate.”

  Mitsy said nothing as she stood and lifted her chair. Carrying it until it sat right beside my own, she returned to her seat, faced me, and reached forward to gather my hands in hers.

  “You’re right. Most people would be perfectly content to have the life that you do, but you’re not most people. You know as well as I do that you can both be grateful for what you have and still want more. If you didn’t believe that, you wouldn’t constantly be encouraging everyone around you to go after the things they want. You’re bored here, Kenna. You need some adventure.”

  “Adventure?” I laughed as imaginings of me crawling aboard a ship and sailing to new land crossed my mind. I’d be so seasick in a day that I’d want to throw myself overboard. I was too old for adventure. “Mitsy, lassies as old as me doona wish for adventure. All we want are quiet mornings, early dinners, and a good night’s sleep.”

  Mitsy withdrew her hands and crossed her arms defiantly.

  “Bullshit. Bullshit on all counts.”

  “There ye go with that language again. Is it truly necessary?”

  “Ha. That’s rich, Kenna. You’ve a filthier mouth than the old man who owns the tavern in the village. You just curse in Gaelic rather than English so it sounds more pleasant.”

  Guiltily, I glanced down. She was right. “Ach, mayhap so. It doesna matter. Get on with it.”

  Mitsy smiled and held up one finger. “First of all, you aren’t old. You’re barely past fifty.” She lifted one more finger. “Second, I feel quite sure a huge portion of people in their fifties would be quite offended by your little statement of what ‘people your age’ want. I know you, Kenna. You would love for your days to be a little less predictable, you would love to get to experience firsthand just a little bit of the magic so many of your family members now take for granted.”

  I’d never said any such thing out loud, but I couldn’t deny that she was right. Magic surrounded my family. Magic had been the single force that had helped both of my sons find the women they loved—magic, and the meddling witch, Morna. I was grateful to her for all she’d done for my family but so far I’d experienced little such magic myself. I was more than a little curious to see what it would be like to spend some time in another century.

  When I said nothing, Mitsy continued.

  “I think you should get out of town for a little bit—go with Cooper when he leaves at the end of the weekend. He’d love to have you along, and I’m sure Morna wouldn’t mind the extra house guest.”

  “No.” I dismissed her suggestion immediately. December was the busiest time of year at McMillan Castle. There were celebrations to prepare for, villagers to assist during the cold weather, and grandchildren that expected me to uphold our annual Christmas traditions.

  “No?” The enthusiasm waned from Mitsy’s voice. She’d not expected such a firm refusal. “You don’t want to at least discuss the idea a little bit?”

  Smiling, I softened my expression and leaned forward to pat her knee.

  “I know ye mean well, Mitsy, but there’s no need to discuss this. It wouldna be a good idea.”

  “And why exactly is that? I guarantee you that for every reason you give me as to why you shouldn’t do this, I can give you ten reasons why you should. Come on then, give me your first excuse.”

  Aggravated, I stood and stepped closer to the fire as I reached up and placed one hand on the mantle.

  “I doona need many excuses. My first is good enough. While young Cooper may be able to survive a quick dip in the freezing pond at this time of year, I would surely fall ill and die.”

  I could never make any sense of Morna’s method of time travel here at McMillan Castle. Everyone who traveled forward or backward through time ended up splashing around in the castle pond upon arrival in their new time. It was an unnecessarily rough entry after a very long trip.

  Mitsy laughed and moved to stand next to me by the fireplace.

  “Nice try. You know as well as I do that she’s changed that.”

  I was entirely unaware of the change. “I can assure ye, I’ve heard of no such thing.”

  “What? You experienced it yourself. The way we all went forward for Kamden and Harper’s wedding—via the West tower of the castle—it’s as simple as that now. No more rock throwing, no more swimming in the lake. Cooper’s getting a little older now, and she wanted to make it easier for him to make the trip on his own.”

  The wedding of my twenty-first century descendent was the only time I’d traveled into the future. I’d seen many wondrous things, but much to my dismay, I’d had no time to explore them—I’d not even had the time to travel beyond the castle grounds.

  “Oh. I assumed the witch only made an exception the one time since there were so many of us going forward at once.”

  Mitsy shook her head and smiled. “Nope. What’s your next excuse?”

  “I…” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure, but I knew there must be some other reason I couldn’t go—even as much as I might secretly want to. “I’ll not deny that I’m tempted by yer suggestion, Mitsy, but I would make an awful fool of myself in yer time. I’ve nothing to wear, I doona know how things work, and Cooper shouldna spend his time with Morna explaining every little thing to me.”

  Little footsteps approached the doorway and Mitsy and I both turned to see early-riser Cooper burst through the door.

  “Did you ask her yet? What’d she say?”

  Winking at me, Mitsy faced Cooper.

  “She’s undecided. I think she needs you to convince her.”

  He ran toward me as quickly as his little feet would carry him, and I opened my arms to catch him as he jumped up and into my arms. He was growing quickly. I wouldn’t be able to pick him up much longer. Until that sad day came, I would hold him anytime he wished me too.

  “Come on, Nana. Anything that you’re worried about, we’ve got a plan for. I promise. I know you’re nervous, but it would
be so much fun. I’d love for you to come with me.”

  Excitement like I’d not felt in years blossomed within me as I gave myself permission to do something unexpected.

  “Are ye sure, Cooper? I know ye enjoy yer time with Morna. I wouldna wish to intrude.”

  “Are you kidding? Morna would love it. And so would I. Please, Nana. Come with me.”

  Mitsy reached her hand up to tussle the top of Cooper’s wavy curls. She’d known all along that the moment Cooper was in on the plan, I wouldn’t be able to say no.

  “Kenna, if I can promise you that we’ll get you everything you need, that we will prepare you in every way, will you do it?”

  “If ye will make certain I willna make a fool of myself, then aye, I’ll go.”

  Cooper squirmed out of my arms and grabbed onto Mitsy’s hand to pull her out of the room. Turning to look back at me over his shoulder, he smiled at me as they left.

  “Don’t you worry, Nana. We’ve got everything under control.”

  That was exactly what I was worried about.

  Chapter 2

  Chicago – Present Day

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  Malcolm Warren looked forward to the last day of school before Christmas break every year. It meant two full weeks with his daughter and granddaughter as they enjoyed their annual trip to Scotland to visit his brother and sister-in-law. This year would be especially festive, for at fifty-eight years young, he was an uncle for the very first time.

  Rosalind was excited, too. With his window rolled down so he could wave to her from in front of the school, she started talking to him before she even got in the car.

  “Will the baby be walking yet? Do you think Emilia will let me hold him?”

  “Hello to you too, kiddo. Get in the car before you freeze to death. I think it’s colder here in Chicago than it will be in Scotland.”