Inverness Scotland Macbeth Novels & Stories

Ivar fell on the other side of the mattress, extending his arms to both sides and looking completely unfazed at the prospect of sleeping in the same bed, somehow it made Elena feel like a little child compared to him. Well, he was older, that was true. She took off her shoes and lay on her side, sighing soundly as her body finally found some rest. “You did pretty well today.” Ivar’s comment came out of nowhere. She had seen more of high society in recent days than in her eighteen years of life, learning all those names and the conflicts each noble family had with the House of Alba was a bit overwhelming. For example, Earl Montenegro, who already had a bad impression of her, also seemed to ho

“But I don’t know which herbs go in it” “Ah !” Siri gets up, looking all secretive and walks to the bookcase. She comes back, putting an old faded book on the table. “Macbeth ?” I grind my teeth. “And in the original old English, couldn’t it be a modern version ?” Siri chuckles. “Well it has to be the original version if we want the real ingredients”. “I don’t get it”. “Is it time for the story ?” Gudrun sounds extremely excited and comes to sit down too. “Can I tell it, please can I Siri ?”

The scene gradually changed, the images of the three fading away and replaced by what seemed like a dungeon. A whimper of pain sounded and I didn't need someone to identify that voice for me. " Linda... " I called, my throat clogging and chest tightening. I could tell she was in pain. My beast howled in my head wanting to go to our mate. " Don't worry, we'll get her out of there. " Macbeth assured, trying to ease the tension that had filled the room. I only nodded, not trusting my voice at that point. She then Said something and the outside of the place my mate was kept came into view.

“My best friend. We’ve been keepin’ each other sane fer 8 years.” “Well, ye’re both welcome here,” my father said. “There’s rooms ready, and dinner’s near on the table. But first...” he gave me a sly grin.... “there’s a charity gala in Inverness tonight. You should come. Let the town see the MacLeod lass is home.” “Tonight?” I arched a brow in surprise. Of course they would immediately parade me about in front of Scottish wealth and royalty. “Aye, tonight,” my mother confirmed, her eyes glinting. “I’ve already sent fer the dressmaker. Ye’ll look every inch the queen ye are.”

And today is Halloween, so my mind is even more than usually occupied. It might also be because of Halloween that I picked up my copy of Macbeth to read earlier. I turned straight to the scene where Macbeth and Banquo meet the witches. And maybe it was reading Macbeth that made me think of femme fatales and cold, cruel women. This is a play that is enough to put you off women for life, but then I have been off women for quite a while anyway. I prefer the ones I invent in my mind. I put down the book. Twenty minutes to midnight and lying naked on my bed, I'm ready for my nightly ritual. It will be the same as any other night.

Mary Redferne A day before my wedding, Mr. McKinnon decided to host the most lavish engagement party for his son. I knew he did this intentionally, just a day before my own wedding, to ensure that their engagement overshadowed my own impending marriage. The McKinnons' ego was inflated by the perception of their wealth, and they sought to command respect and demonstrate their social standing. As the evening unfolded at Joshua and Clara's extravagant engagement party, I found myself standing alone at the bar, nursing a glass of sparkling water. The grandeur of the occasion was unmistakable, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at my insides.

“Ye shouldn’t have to change for anyone, least of all me. Ye deserve someone who sees ye for who ye are and loves ye for it.” Her jaw tightened, but she nodded, her resolve unbroken. “Very well. But I’ll no’ give up so easily.” Far to the north, deep within the Sgàil Woods, Lachlan MacEacharn’s castle loomed like a shadow made flesh. The dense forest shrouded the land in perpetual twilight, the canopy of ancient trees blotting out the sun. A winding path of blackened stone led to the castle gates, flanked by twisted oaks that seemed to reach for unwelcome visitors.