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Medieval Monday | Would You Dare to Make the Journey?

If you’ve read my guest author interviews, one of the questions I ask is, “You’ve been given a golden ticket to time travel into the past. Whom would you meet and why?”

Sounds exciting, right? In truth, the thought of hurling through time and space is exhilarating and frightening. And what if I didn’t land in the place I wished for? Yet what happens if all goes well and I’ve arrived at Urquhart Castle, Scotland in the 13th century? And it’s raining? No. Let’s say it’s snowing and there’s no one to greet me.

Yikes! The mighty fortress has been abandoned!

No telephone. No vehicle. No running water (unless you count the flowing frigid water from Loch Ness), No food. And certainly no way to dash inside the stone and wooden structure to turn on the heater.

Would I survive? Of course! A mighty Highlander would appear out of the snowy landscape and rescue me.

Ahh…the life of a writer. I can make anything happen with my mighty pen.

But let’s pretend for a moment that I did tumble back in time. I’d sure want some survival skills to take with me, along with the knowledge of the terrain, language, proper clothing, a satchel of food and my sgian dubh—small blade (Love my blades).

In my time-travel stories, I’ve had my heroines make the journey back in time to meet their future husbands. It’s terrifying for them. Fortunately, love and the beauty of medieval Scotland will weave its magic into the hearts and souls of these women. It’s a journey not planned, but in the end, embraced.

The time portal awaits, my friends. What destination in the past are you eager to visit? Do share!

Excerpt from Fiona O’Quinlan’s first few hours in medieval Ireland from


Fiona thought her first captor was a giant. She was wrong.

The man striding forward in the middle of the mob was taller than everyone else. His fur-lined cloak whipped around him as he stormed down the hill. His long dark hair hung in waves past his shoulders, and she noticed he had braids on each side of his face.

The closer he came, the more Fiona began to tremble. His face bore a deep crescent scar from his left eyebrow down below his cheek. This giant was a demon, and some actually crossed themselves as he passed them.

When he reached the platform, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the two men by her side. They instantly stepped away.

As with everyone else, he was no different. He looked her up and down, though when he gazed into her eyes for a moment, Fiona saw confusion.

The demon spoke. “How much do ye want, Robert?”

“Ye cannot have her.” He spit onto the ground in front of the man.

The monster’s voice remained deadly calm. “And why would that be?”

“Ye have nothing to offer.”

Fiona saw the shift of color in the demon’s green eyes. It was enough for the man called Robert to back away.

“I dinnae want any trouble.”

The giant leaned his head down. “Would ye take these?” He pulled out a small pouch and opened it. Pulling out several stones, he held them up to the light. “Amber from the Northmen’s homeland.”

Robert’s eyes went wide, but then he crossed his arms over his chest. “I will take the lot and a barrel of your whisky.”

The man arched a brow. “How do ye ken I have whisky?”

“Do ye take me for a fool, MacKay?”


Until next week on Medieval Monday, may your dreams be filled with Highland mists and Irish charm!