- Author: Heather McCollum
Book online «Highland Warrior Heather McCollum (always you kirsty moseley TXT) 📖». Author Heather McCollum
Table of Contents
Book of Revelations
About the Author
More from Heather McCollum
The Spinster and the Rake, by Eva Devon
The Rakehell of Roth, by Amalie Howard
Hitched to the Gunslinger, by Michelle McLean
Her Wicked Marquess, by Stacy Reid
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by Heather McCollum. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
10940 S Parker Road
Parker, CO 80134
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Alethea Spiridon
Cover design by
LJ Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations
Cover art by Photographer: VJ Dunraven/Period Images and martinm303/Depositphotos
Interior design by Toni Kerr
MMP ISBN 978-1-68281-570-0
ebook ISBN 978-1-68281-592-2
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition May 2021
Also by Heather McCollum
Sons of Sinclair series
The Campbells series
The Scottish Rogue
The Savage Highlander
The Wicked Viscount
The Highland Outlaw
Highland Isles series
The Beast of Aros Castle
The Rogue of Islay Isle
The Wolf of Kisimul Castle
The Devil of Dunakin Castle
Highland Hearts series
To those who work to grow peace in our world… Thank you
Scots Gaelic and Old English Words Used in Highland Warrior
bacraut—asshole (Old Norse)
blide-maet—joy-food (Old Norse-Norn), served to those visiting a newly born baby
broch—halo around the moon (Old Norse—name of Kára’s horse)
dróttning—chief, queen (Old Norse)
fuil—blood (name of Joshua’s horse)
konungr—king (Old Norse)
sgian dubh—black-handled dagger
targe—shield, usually made of wood and lined with steel
Whitna whalp—What a devil (Old Norse)
Book of Revelations
1 I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Then I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder, “Come!”
2 I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.
3 When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come!”
4 Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make people kill one another. To him was given a large sword.
5 When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand.
6 Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living creatures, saying, “Two pounds of wheat for a day’s wages, and six pounds of barley for a day’s wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine!”
7 When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!”
8 I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death…
Orkney Isle off the northern coast of Scotland
20 October in The Year of Our Lord 1589
“A wise warrior avoids the battle.”
Sun Tzu – The Art of War
“Retreating, Sinclair?” John Dishington, the sheriff for Lord Robert Stuart, smirked from his place by the table in the receiving hall of the Earl’s Palace. Cocky, scarred, and always looking for a fight, Dishington was one warrior Joshua Sinclair certainly would not miss when he left Orkney Isle.
“I will retreat only if God calls his Horsemen back to Heaven,” Joshua said, using the legend around him being the Horseman of War. It was a familiar role and usually shut the mouths of fools. “I am journeying back home to the mainland of Scotland for Samhain, not retreating.”
Dishington laughed, pushing away from the table. “A pardon for the confusion. You retreated from the field at South Ronaldsay.” Dishington, who called himself The Brute of Orkney, had more thirst for fighting than wish to stay alive.
Joshua inhaled deeply, his nostrils opening to feed his blood with warrior energy as he turned, the promise of death cutting into the lines of his face. “Lies will see your tongue cut from your screaming mouth,” he said, his tone low. The two warriors assigned to watch the arrow slits in the interior wall backed up near the hearth as if wishing to stay out of an inevitable battle.
Dishington picked up his tankard, using it to salute Joshua. “Och now, Sinclair. I know you count the battle as a win for your side, but when that lad fell, you carried him from the field. It looked like a retreat to me.”
Adam. The boy’s face, still and pale as the blood from his wound soaked his tunic. The vision haunted Joshua like a specter stalking him everywhere. His hands fisted as if he could change the outcome of that horrible day. “The battle was over,” he said. “And despite both sides taking too many casualties, we were the victors.”
Dishington saluted him again with his tankard and took a drink. “As you say,” he said, wiping his mouth, which twisted into a wry grin.
“I should have lopped your head off at South Ronaldsay,” Joshua said, turning away to nod at the two men he had trained for the last three months. “Stay strong, Tuck, Alec.” They nodded back, and he strode out to the broad double doors of the castle that Lord Robert Stuart, the