Historical

His Judas Bride By Shehanne Moore

Tuesday, December 03, 2013

You are hereby ordered...

..............to fall upon the rebells, the McDonalds of Glenco, and put all to the sword under seventy. you are to have a speciall care that the old Fox and his sones doe upon no account escape your hands, you are to secure all the avenues that no man escape.’

Early in the morning of 13 February 1692 thirty-eight MacDonalds from the Clan MacDonald of Glencoe were killed by their guests. Another forty women and children died of exposure after their homes were burned.

The whole male population under 70 years of age, amounting to 200, would probably have fallen the to fire and sword letters. But a party of 400 soldiers dispatched to carry out the orders, were prevented by the severity of the weather--always dicey there from reaching Glencoe until eleven o'clock that night, six hours after the first shots were fired. By then the Macdonald men, warned of both the danger they were in and learning of the fate of their chief, had fled to the hills.

Letters of "fire and sword" against the Highlanders were as common as Campbells. What made this one so infamous was the fact the soldiers had accepted hospitality, had stayed with their hosts for approximately a fortnight. It was a very convenient way of getting into the fairly impregnable glen itself and while there, of putting the inhabitants at ease. Of course there were soldiers who warned their hosts, their were soldiers who broke their swords rather than use them.

Many books have been written featuring the massacre. Sir Walter Scott's "The Highland Widow" is one. The Ghosts of Glencoe by Mollie Hunter is another. More recently Glencoe was the subject of Eric Linklater's 1957 story "The Masks of Purpose", and David Clement-Davies's "Fire Bringer", in which the region is called the "Valley Of Weeping". The massacre is also the subject of Susan Fletcher's novel Corrag.

Although my very first stab at writing a novel was about the Glencoe massacre—I was all of thirteen at the time -- I didn’t use the massacre itself in my latest release, His Judas Bride, but I did like the idea of an impregnable glen and a small but stubborn clan who have shut their doors on the world. So, how would you take them down? It would have to be with the same trickery they employ to defend themselves.

I also love Glencoe. So all these elements found their way into the story, which is very much a who is an angel, who is a devil scenario, two warring clans, a man who has sold his soul to the devil, a woman whose done the same. Oh, and of course, while I may have called Glencoe, Lochalpin, the book has all my favorite Glencoe places in it, from the Devil’s Staircase to the Lost Valley.

I’m thrilled to be blogging here today and I have an ecopy of His Judas Bride to giveaway to a randomly drawn commentator, so please leave yours. And good luck.

To love, honor, and betray…

To get back her son, she will stop at nothing…

For five years Kara McGurkie has preferred to forget she’s a woman. So it’s no problem for her to swear to love and honor, to help destroy a clan, when it means getting back the son she lost. But when dire circumstances force her to seduce her fiancé’s brother on the eve of the wedding, will the dark secrets she holds and her greatest desire be enough to save her from his powerful allure?

To save his people, neither will he…

Callm McDunnagh, the Black Wolf of Lochalpin, ruthlessly guards heart and glen from dangerous intruders. But from the moment he first sees Kara he knows he must possess her, even though surrendering to his passion may prove the most dangerous risk of all.

She has nothing left to fear except love itself…

Now only Kara can decide what passion can save or destroy, and who will finally learn the truth of the words… Till death do us part.

Extract. He’d noticed, of course. He’d have had to be blind not to. The hordes of McGurkies had swept in from the sea. On their way from Ireland, they said. Had they also said to set up house on the McDunnaghs’ doorstep—no damned intention of getting off it either—maybe his father would have done something then. Although even then the McDunnaghs didn’t have the numbers to fight back. And despite Ewen’s antics, they still didn’t.

It had been hard when raiding parties started ravaging the Dunalpin meadows. Until that afternoon, he’d still thought the life of a chief’s older son would be his one day though, despite the fact Lochalpin, where deer roamed and linnets soared, was a jewel worth plundering. All it had taken was one afternoon.