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Now, just how fortuitous is that? Today is my wedding anniversary.


Talking brides, it gives me the perfect excuse to show you


Don’t laugh. I still don’t have a  cover. So come on. It means I get to talk about Kara, ‘His Judas Bride’ BUT also some of the Scottish brides who inspired her, you fortunate lot. Just be thankful it’s only one day a year.

The lovely Aimee…DuFFy (here spelt correctly) Harper Impulse and Beachwalk Press author, is doing the honors right now, introducing Kara for me over on her blog. http://www.aimeeduffy.co.uk/2013/08/that-girls-got-her-work-cut-out-for-her.html

So I’m not going to say too much.  Just show you as Aimee thought, how much timider than Fury  she is.  kara1

As you can see Callm adores her…. kara 2

Okay so…before we go thinking Kara is unusual in  terms of Scottish Brides, let’s look at a few other…Scottish brides. Here’s a very happy one… kara6

Lucia de Lammermoor. Okay. Italian yeah I get it. An opera from the book, The Bride of Lammermoor by Walter Scott no less. Aka the Bride of Baldoon. No matter the version you accept of the story, the facts leading to the wedding day and its aftermath are always the same. She was a nobleman’s daughter in love with someone else, after the wedding feast Mr was found with a dagger in his heart.

Okay,  so you don’t like her? How’s about the Cumming bride, whose lovely father agreed to her marrying into the Mackintoshes so his clan could enjoy a little banquet carve up over the hors d’oevres. When it came to exchanging rings this was somewhat difficult, since the bride’s hands had been hacked off as she clung to the castle battlements. The hand-fasting ribbons would have made wonderful bandages as you can see… had she not fallen to her death. black pap

Moving swiftly on as she did, how about the bride story that rocked Cromarty concerning a woman who appeared from nowhere, married the laird and disappeared…well she didn’t just quite disappear, she went off with a man in black. Not Johnny Cash ok? Or the proverbial said to be lucky chimney sweep. (Lucky? Not to get that mess on yir dress maybe)


Man as in the devil after he turned up at the feast looking for her. Neither he nor she were ever seen again and it was very clear she did not want to go with him either.

A lot of these stories are  about the warring men. I wanted to explore the idea of the kind of woman driven to consider…any of these things.  Of course, while being ‘despicable’  she can’t be all bad……even if desiring her could be murder. Otherwise, Scottish brides….no-one would ever marry us at all..


 ‘So much of her life had revolved around fear and shock, little paths of darkness she had managed to find her way along, to places where she’d managed to survive.

It had not broken her. Because the thing she had to care about was always there for her to see. No matter how dark the night.

To tell herself it was all gone, lost at Maisie’s croft door, that would be an act of unparalleled folly. She wasn’t going to, was she?

Not when the reason stood here, cool as the air about her face and his. Not a care in the world sitting on his shoulders, for all a second ago she’d felt his flaming hardness, the smolder of his body, all along the lines of her own. And not just a second ago, but for the whole journey here.

She had her pride, if nothing else. She would sweep in there. Yet it was hard to think how she would when she also saw clearly as the silver moon above her head that she hadn’t lost Arland at the croft door. She had lost him a long time ago.

Until this moment she just hadn’t wanted to see she had.’

Copywrite Shehanne Moore Etopia press.