The Laird who Craved her (Lairds of Ruin #3)

Prologue

The women gathered beside the loch beneath a sky of silver stars, candlelight dancing across the still water. Older women wove heather and ribbons into delicate wreaths as ancient Gaelic blessings drifted through the evening air.

Claire stood between Beatrice and Violet, smiling despite herself.

"I still think this is nothing more than a Highland superstition."

Violet laughed. "Ye mock it every time, and yet ye never miss it."

"Because watching Beatrice become a Highland wife is far too entertaining."

Beatrice rolled her eyes before accepting the old silver ring from one of the elder women.

"As Eloise did before ye," the woman said softly. "And as did many brides before her."

With a quiet smile, Beatrice cast the ring into the loch.

The women waited.

Claire wandered toward the water's edge, still shaking her head at the old tradition.

Then something caught the moonlight.

Half-hidden beneath the rippling surface lay the silver ring.

She bent and lifted it into her palm.

When she turned, every woman was watching her.

Their knowing smiles sent an unexpected chill down her spine.

For the first time that evening, Claire wasn't laughing.