As she walked along the cliffs each night under a starry sky. Her heart hurting, her mind a blur. Why did she always fail. Had the gyspy been right when she said, she was cursed in the matters of the heart. That she would walk alone.

Looking out to sea, she closes her eyes as a silent tear rolls down her cheek. Wrapping her tartan tighter around her arms, a soft sigh escapes her lips. Looking up she looks into the still darkness of the night with its sparkling stars. Stars that should bring her joy, only cause her more pain. For it is under these stars that love has always failed her.

Taking the small square from her pocket. The only reminant of a love gone now from her. A betrayal of her heart and soul, one she caused herself. The torment of living everyday with the realization that always she failed.

Her clan gathered around the firelight. Always near but yet the loneliness deep with in a reminder to her.

A soft mist from the sea, bathes her face. The sound of the waves gently rolling onto the sand no boon for her injured soul. The sea, the one place she use to feel most at peace.

Hearing the laughter of her family, she turns to see what is amiss. Standing in thier midst a tall man. He is dressed differently than she has seen before. Then recognition dawns, he is a viking. His countenance of seriousness, leads her to walk back towards the stronghold.

Watching him closely she listens to his words. Wondering why he has chosen this place to come. As she listens closely, she stands in the treeline, the shadows hiding her just a little. When she ascertains he means them no ill will, she steps into the firelight. As she looks up her green eyes look into his icy blue. She looks back down. Taking her seat near the fire, listening to his tale.

As the night hues of the sky darken, signalling the end of the eve, she rises, walks quietly towards down the forest path to a small glen, where she likes to sit and ponder the events of the day. She looks his way, their eyes connect once again. He nods his head. She ignores his nod and continues her walk, deep in thought.

Each night she walks along the cliffs trying to put behind her feelings she knows she will not allow herself to feel again. She will live with her clan, care for them. Not allowing again the feelings of love and tenderness of heart to intrude.

As the fall turns towards winter, the Viking comes each eve. Sitting around the fire and speaking with clan members of his life and his journey. She listens to his words each night. Feeling his pain at the loss of his wife and child, but rarely does she speak with him. Holding her own counsel and staying to herself, except to carry out her duties.

One eve as she rises to walk along the cliffs. He speaks softly to her, Seraphine Fraser I should like to walk with you. She motions for him to follow, nodding her head.

As they walk along on the cool crisp night, the stars In the heavens bright. The soft waves rolling gently across the sand, the scent of pine in the air. He speaks softly of his home and her clan. She silently walks beside him, not saying much.

She watches him closely from the corner of her eye. Not wanting him to know she does so. Her tartan wrapped tightly around her arms. Her long reddish brown hair flowing down her back, the gentle breeze causing the small whisps that frame her face to blow gently against her skin. She reaches up to push them back, he touches her hand.

You're a beautiful woman Sera. "blushing slightly" she looks down as they walk. He stops her, taking her chin and tilting it upward. I would like to get to know you M'Lady. We could walk in the eve, as his blue eyes look into her green.

Looking away from his piercing glance, her voice a little throaty as she clears it to speak but decides to keep silent she shakes her head no. Then speaks softly tis nae possible M'Lord. I am destined to be alone. She turns walking back towards the stronghold. He takes her arm turning her to face him, his blues eyes, looking deeply into her green. No Sera, you are not destined to be alone. You know not of me M'Lord. I dishonored him who was my betrothed. I have always failed, then the gypsy told me, I would walk alone M'Lord, to heed her words. I do so now M'Lord, I wish no longer to face the pains of ones heart. I live now to serve my clan.

Walking back to the stronghold, she goes to her room, fighting the tears and emotions which are washing over her. Laying on her bed, she finally lets the emotions have their way, quietly sobbing long into the night. She has vowed to herself to forsake love.

He walks along the cliffs, thinking about the Irish lass. His own heart still sore from the loss of his wife and child. Never before daring or allowing himself to once again feel the stirrings of his battered heart. Looking into her eyes that first eve, seeing the beauty of her. Fighting the urge to take her in his arms, fighting the need to once again dare to love.

The next eve, watching her while the firelight dances across her face, he thinks about this lass, wondering what has hurt her so deeply that she would hide herself from any who would seek to know her. As she rises to walk, he too rises, walking over to her. Sera, I would walk with you this eve.

Exasperated a little by his attention, she looks at him, tis a free world. Then she walks briskly off, wrapping her tartan around her arms. He smiles to himself, seeing the flash in those eyes, the tale tale signs of the smouldering fire within.

Walking at a brisk pace, she mumbles to herself. What does he think he is doing. I already told him, I have no interest. Does he need his ears cleaned or is he dense. Feeling totally perturbed at this turn of events, she stands letting the sea air caress her face, feeling the soft mists spray from the sea.

He walks just a few pace behind her. Hearing her mumbles, he laughs. Turning she glares at him. He watches her closely. Tis been many years since he thought to conquer something so formidable as a woman's heart.

M'Lord, I believe you must have not heard me the other eve, I am cursed. I do not need your attentions. I do not want them. Turning she briskly walks down the path to the sea.

He follows catching up to her. Seraphine Fraser, you are not cursed. Twould take more than a simple curse if you were, to keep this Viking away.

Shaking her head, so your special because you're a Viking, I dinna think so. To me your just another man, looking for some warm body to care for him. I dinna think I am interested.

He walks up to her, looking into her eyes. I would never treat you this way M'Lady. His eyes taking on an icy blue look. Fury close to the surface, at being accused of being such a cur.

All men think this way M'Lord, have you not heard. I am a woman who does not honor her pledges. Have you not heard it whispered that I broke my vow to the MacGregor.

What makes you think I wish your attentions M'Lord. Deep inside she fights back all the emotions that are near the surface. Denying to herself, that he is exactly what she wants.

Taking her gently but firmly he pulls her close to his chest, looks down into her smouldering green eyes. He whispers softly, I care not for this curse Seraphine. I have seen the fire within. I do not listen to the whispers of others.

His soft breath caresses her face as she looks up starring into his blue eyes. Her heart pounds in her chest, as he holds her close to his chest. Listening to his words, his voice strong but gentle.

Let me go, she pulls back from his embrace. Looks at him, then turns and hurries back towards the stronghold. Barely able to keep her footing. Her heart in her throat. Her mind a blur of emotions. Why now, why did he have to come now. He does not understand, I cannot she wants to scream to the wind, as she walks faster towards the stronghold and the safety of her chambers.

He watches her retreat, the corner of his mouth quivering as the smile begins to play across his face. He whispers to himself, she is a bonny lass for sure.

The next afternoon, as they are gathered around the fire, the day having been one of rest. For they have labored hard to get all in readiness for the winter ahead. Finishing her duties in the cooking area. She wipes her hands, then goes and changes, wearing a soft green woolen skirt, boots and a clean white blouse, her tartan pulled across her shoulders. Her hair hanging down her back, she walks out of the stronghold, smiling to all present. Sitting down near the fire to warm herself and listen to all the talk.

The men are teasing each other about their shooting abilities with a bow. She listens to them, smiling to herself. For they are all proficient in the ways of war and using weapons. Her the least, but she feels she is a fair shot.

Doom, seeing her smile, watches the light as it touches her hair. Thinking to himself, what a beauty she is.

She watches him, thinking to herself, he is too good looking for his own good. Those eyes, one minute like ice the next a melting pool of blue to draw you into their embrace.

Letting her mind wander to other things, she hears her name being called. Seraphine, are you up to the challenge. A cheeky grin to his face. Shaking her head for a moment, what are you talking about.

Looking at her, are you willing to shoot against me. Just a simple little contest. A rather mischievous look to his face, or would you rather sit here by the fire and warm your hands. A sort of teasing arrogant look crosses his face.

Thinking to herself, he is smug. Mayhaps it is time to teach him a lesson or two.

Aye Doom I will shoot against you and use your bow. A look of pure confidence on her face. Thinking to herself, you ninny you can barely string a bow this size, let alone shoot it.

He rises, holding out his hand for her to go first. They walk to the practice field. He thinks to himself, I must find a way to hand her the bow ready, so as not to humiliate her, knowing she could not string his bow. Wondering how she is gonna shoot it. Wishing now he had not challenged her.

As her brother places a small target on a tree, she stands ready. Looks to her opponent. As he is good nautredly jesting with her brothers and sisters. With a flourish, he hands her the bow and arrow.

Taking the bow, she closes her eyes saying a silent prayer she does not humiliate herself. Shamus had taught her how to use this bow, but it had been many years since she had done so. Her own crossbow being much lighter and easier for her to handle.

Taking her stance, with her legs slightly apart for balance, She eyes the target. Takes up the bow, notching the arrow and pulls back with all her strength, willing her arms not to loose strength as she pulls back the arrow, while eyeing the target. Just as she is about to loose the arrow, she hears the soft whisper in her ear. Letting lose the arrow, she watches as it flies true to the mark. Turning she glares at him, that M'Lord was unpardonable.

He laughs, ah but Sera, you have to be ready in battle for any distraction. A cocky expression on his face. Wondering to himself, if he has gone to far, but loving the fire in those green eyes.

Thrusting his bow into his hands, she crosses her arms, her foot tapping under her skirt. Tis your shot now M'Lord.

Smiling down at her, he takes his stance, easily he notches the arrow and pulls the bow into postion. She watchs his every muscle. Admiring him for his strength. Then a mischievous look plays across her face, as she tip toes to whisper in his ear and blow softly just as he lets loose his arrow. His arrow flies true, to the mark, splitting hers in half. Her brothers and sisters cheer as he turns to smile at her.

You were saying M'Lady. She just stands and stares at him. A soft blush to her cheeks. I did nae say a word M'Lord. Thinking to herself this is a good time to retreat to the safety of the fire. Turning she starts to walk away. Hold one Sera, it would seem you have lost, so therefore I win and you owe me a boon M'Lady.

Feeling disgruntled already at having lost and his sure fire attitude. Aye M'Lord, I believe you are right. Thinking to herself, surely there is some herb I may give him to cause him just a tad of discomfort.

Then I shall have a walk with you M'Lady, tis a beautiful day. A soft sigh escapes her lips. M'Lord I have duties to attend to.

M'Lady, those duties can be seen to by others, you work far harder than I have seen others do around here. He takes her elbow, leading her towards the small glen near the clearing.

As they walk along, he talks softly about his homeland.

She listens attentively. Her mind a turmoil, as he seems to be paying close attention to her every move.

As the sunlight fades behind the trees, the soft night light appears. The stars just beginning to twinkle in the sky. The air crisp, the scent of pine permeates the air. The small glen bathed in the soft moonlight.

She looks up to him with a soft smile, as they walk and talk of their lives. Taking her elbow he pulls her close, looks deeply into her eyes, then ever so gently he brushes her lips with his.

Her lip quivers as she feels his brush hers. As he deepens the kiss she lays her hand on his chest, pushing him gently. Looking at him, her eyes fill with tears. Softly she whispers Doom, this cannot be. She turns running from the glen toward the stronghold.

As he watches her, a soft sigh escapes his lips. He has decided already she will be his. This Irish beauty with the fire in her eyes.

Trembling she rushes to the stronghold, hoping her sisters do not see her. Knowing with one of them he holds no favor. Blinking back her tears, she sits down near the fire. Her heart pounding in her chest. He is the first to touch her this way, to make her whole body long for him, her soul and heart. Looking into those eyes so blue, loosing herself within them would be so easy.