Prologue

England, Musgrave Castle
Six years earlier…

The mask on his face was itchy and uncomfortable, so he shifted it to the side. Owen Elliott passed through the window overlooking the hot and loud ball, watching the guests. He knew he shouldn’t have come, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. Far too many people at the ball could have recognized him with his distinct Elliott features. But because the night was long and most people were drunk, he had the advantage of disguise.

He crouched down as he peered through a window facing the great hall. The guests were laughing and having the time of their lives. Ducking quickly, Owen hid behind a shrub when one man glanced in his direction. His heart pounded in his chest from the fear of being caught.

Why in the blazes did I come here? He scolded himself for the hundredth time that night. He could have been in the village pub with one of the ladies warming his bed in the room he kept upstairs. But, instead, he was hiding in the shadows, hiding from people who wanted him dead. People that wanted his whole family buried.

When Owen came to glimpse the Musgraves, the rival family that almost murdered both his parents, he didn’t expect to stumble upon a gathering, let alone the engagement between Isabella Musgrave and Hamish MacBryde, whose kin betrayed all highland clans when they allied with the English.

Owen stepped into the air of the empty yard, the cool night breeze delicately caressing his hot skin. He pulled his mask just an inch. The garden was deserted and dark, with just a few torches lighting the way.

Perhaps coming here was a mistake. He thought to himself after such a close call. Nae, it was a mistake. The clans would surely be at war again if anyone recognized who he was. Shaking his head, he reached for the mask to cool himself down. His hand froze on the strap as a nearby scream pierced the air, drawing his attention to the left.

“No, don’t touch me!” the feminine voice was filled with panic and fear. “My father will hear about this.”

Fixing his mask, Owen quickly walked in the scream’s direction, hunkering beside a cart of hay just as he caught sight of the group. Four large men had cornered a girl at the back of the yard, so closely surrounding her that Owen almost couldn’t see her. She was petite, with long blonde hair that hung down her back. The men’s intentions were obvious to anyone who watched, and Owen felt his blood boil.

That’s nae right.

“You won’t dare tell your father, little mouse,” the tallest of the men laughed as he reached for the hem of her dress. His voice was deep, vicious and thick, making Owen’s stomach churn with disgust.

“Stop it!” the girl cried again. She tried her best to make herself as small as she could against the side of a tree while pushing them back, clutching at her dress. Fear painted her face as she sought an escape.

Looking around, Owen swore under his breath. The castle guests, along with the guards, were all too drunk to notice their surroundings. So, he weighed his options. I have tae dae something now, but what? He clenched his jaw. The English bastards outnumbered him four to one. He’d have to be cunning and think of a plan that wouldn’t end in a fight he had no chance of winning.

“It’s just a little fun; nobody will ever have to know, darling,” one of the other men laughed as he quickly grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with a single hand.

She began to cry and then he used his other hand to stifle her screams. Her struggle was no match for the older men. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen.

Quickly spotting a nearby torch, Owen crept over to the wall and lifted the wood from the sconce before creeping back to the edge of the cart. Just a minor diversion for the girl tae getaway, Owen thought as he used the torch to ignite a small piece of hay.

The corner of the stack smoked as red embers appeared. Growing impatient, Owen blew on the section to help the fire along. He took a step back and watched as flames jumped forth and crackled. Yet still, the men did not turn. They will hurt her. Swearing under his breath, he tossed the torch into the hay.

“Please! Don’t!” the girl sobbed even louder, fear and panic creeping into her voice. One man tore her dress down the side, and the sound of ripped silk made Owen’s skin prickle.

Sick bastards! I’ll kill them with me bare hands!

Flames shot up as the entire stack of hay caught fire, sending a cloud of billowing smoke into the air.

“Fire!” The tallest of the men, who watched from the side how the other three touched the lass’ milky skin, screamed. Two of them ran for the castle before Owen, while the other two stayed behind to see if they could find the cause of the fire.

Cowardice bastards. Ducking back as quickly as he could, Owen hid from the two men as they made their way past him. The flames scorched his sleeve as he hid, causing him to wince. He needed to get away as quickly as he could, but not until he made sure that the girl had escaped.

Everyone was moving in a hurry, giving him a chance to look at the other two were frantically searching for a way to put out the fire when his blood grew cold. Straightening his legs, he realized the extent of the mistake he’d just made.

The fire could not be tamed.

And now the girl was caught in the middle of a towering blaze—the wagon he’d set fire to had only been one of ten, all of them parked in a semi-circle around the yard, and igniting at an unstoppable pace.

He was about to charge into the flames when a voice halted his steps.

“Charlotte!” an older man screamed.

But it was too late. Owen’s eyes locked with the girl’s as she sought the voice.

Damn it, she saw me. Owen cursed under his breath. He needed to leave now because the risk of an even greater ordeal was too real. There is someone to save her now. Turning to run, his legs wouldn’t move. Not until she was safe from scorching chaos.

“Charlotte! Charlotte!” The man’s voice called again, more anxious this time. He was about to turn back when a sudden force stopped him in his tracks.

And then all was hazy.

His vision blurred as an imposing wall of flames met his body and a scuffle ensued as flesh collided with flesh. Everything around him was so foggy, like hot breath blowing on a window. Looking down, he saw blood on his hands and then he dropped to his knees on the ground. He could hear the monstrous roar of the flames resounding in his ears and all around him, when the world grew more still, all in a moment. Coughing, he squinted his eyes through the smoke and struggled to escape, stumbling to a nearby trough. Taking a deep breath, he splashed his face with the bloodied water, desperate to soothe the searing pain.

Then, he heard it. Amidst the violent waves of the frenzied fire, suddenly, all he could hear was the sobbing of the girl. Charlotte. The scent of ash and flesh aflame washed over him, plunging him into an even deeper daze, intoxicating him with the suffocating fumes and the adrenalin coursing through his body.

Fire.

Blood.

Pain.

Fists flying through the air.

A heavy thud of a body collapsing on the crimson ground.

A torturing nightmare with no end.

There was no turning back now. The deed was done. After what seemed like an eternity, Owen Elliot finally found his way out of the castle grounds, his mask torn and his once white shirt, now scarlet from the blood.

With one last look behind, he ran home toward the border with Scotland, sure of one thing.

He would never be the same ever again.

Chapter One

Present Day, Spring 1601
Routledge Castle…

Charlotte Routledge sighed as she eased her fingers over the scar that ran the length of her thigh. There was no excruciating pain anymore, at least not physically. But her heart still ached at the sight of it.

Holding the hem of her dress, she examined herself in front of the floor-length mirror, recalling the day she’d gotten the mark. The wound was an ugly reminder of a time she’d rather forget. The night when she lost everything that mattered to her. She had lost her father. The life that she had always known had perished in that blaze.

The wind blew her long blonde hair about her face as her light green eyes filled with tears. Charlotte looked so much like her mother, with her delicate features and pale white skin. They had spent hours together taking care of her hair. My child, hair is a woman’s crowning glory; you should always look after it.

Looking to the side, she glanced at the open window where her mother used to sit. Her uncle had given her the room where her mother had died, forcing Charlotte to coexist with the heartbreaking memories. Catherine had fallen to her death, but nobody knew exactly what had happened. Fifteen years had passed since the day. But still, the pain remained. Nothing and no one could bring back her parents.

Charlotte sighed heavily as she walked to the window and leaned out, staring at the patch of grass where her mother’s body had been found. What happened, mama? Her heart whispered as a single tear fell on the top of her hand. Secretly, Charlotte had always wondered whether her death had been an act of foul play or if she wanted to die. Her mother’s past was covered in a veil, her own daughter filled with questions about it.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling the scent of the rain that lingered on the horizon, she pushed herself back up and walked to the mirror glass, where she examined the length of her scar again. I wish there were a way I could make you disappear…

Dropping her hem and taking a step back, Charlotte hurriedly fixed her dress as the door swung wide. “Don’t you know it’s rude to enter a Lady’s room without knocking, Uncle?” she quickly remarked as he stepped into the room.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” he sneered, slapping her to the floor with the back of his hand. “You nasty little witch.”

Charlotte hit the wood with a sickening thud, feeling her lip splitting in two, and the iron taste of blood filling her mouth.

Alexander Routledge sniffed in disgust as he fixed his hair, slicking the dark tendrils back over his head with the bony hand he hit her with, the edge of the ring that collided with her flesh glinting. “If you’d finished your sewing and instead of feeding your vanity before that mirror, I wouldn’t have to discipline you like that,” he snickered. “After all these years… you still haven’t learned respect.”

Using her arms to push herself from the floor, Charlotte stood and glared at him, her fists balled at her sides. He treated her like a prisoner but she’d be damned if she would let him see her pain. Her pride was more potent than her will to survive. “I don’t see why I have to do the sewing,” Charlotte fired back. “You have plenty of maids in the castle to do your bidding.”

Alexander’s laugh was cruel and cold as he stared at her. “Because I own you, little niece. You are nothing without me,” he patted his pocket that held the key to her room. “You are to do what I say, whenever I say it.”

Her uncle had kept her under lock and key at the castle ever since her father had perished. Charlotte was a precious pawn to him, nothing more than a bargaining piece for his financial gain. She despised him with every ounce of loathe her soul could muster. Not once in her life had she hated someone until him. “Until you are married and I have my price, you will do as I say,” he repeated his words to get his point across.

Charlotte knew well that he was right. She would bolt if she ever got the chance. “The sewing will be done before the end of the day,” she gritted her teeth and bent to his will, knowing there was no other way out.

“It had better be,” Alexander smirked as she passed him on the way to the desk atop which the mountains of clothes sat waiting for her. Her room was set up with a simple bed and a single table and chair for all the sewing and mending needed. The curtains were removed from the room, saying she didn’t deserve the luxury of a good night’s sleep. But she knew this was not the reason: her mother had jumped off that window and he wanted to torture her by ensuring she would never forget it.

She made the mistake of rolling her eyes at his threat. Damn it, Charlotte!

As quick as a flash, Alexander slapped her again, sending her reeling back onto her bed, narrowly missing the mirror.

This time, she cried out in pain as her side connected with the wooden frame of the bed, digging into her ribs with a red-hot shock.

He was on her before she could move, with his one hand clutching her hair, taking the stands between his fingers. “You still haven’t learned your lesson, little pup,” his sour breath growled in her ear as he grossly caressed her cheek.

“I’ll show you exactly what will happen when you talk to me like that.”

Charlotte opened her eyes to see the flash of a blade as her uncle held a sharp dirk to her face. He’d always prized the Scottish blade, bragging of the men who’d met their ends at its tip. It gleamed in the light. “Please,” she whispered, nudging away as he grasped her hair.

“Oh?” he said with a menacing laugh. “We have changed our tune, have we?” “You deserve this, you little wench,” he hissed in her ear as the blade drew near, his nasty breath making her sick to her stomach.

Charlotte took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut as her skin began to perspire.

In one swift move, Alexander lifted the blade and sliced her hair, releasing her from his grip as she crumpled onto the bed.

Panicking, Charlotte gripped the back of her head, crying out as she felt for her hair. There was nothing left but uneven tufts that hung down her neck. “What did you do that for?” she sobbed. “That was the last piece of my mother I had left.”

Pulling his face in disgust, he flung the hair beside her on the bed. “Don’t talk to me about your mother,” he spat in anger. “She was just as useless a wretch as you are today. Good for nothing and no one. Why that simple brother of mine ever chose to make her his wife, I’ll never know.”

Tears stained the mattress as Charlotte tried to clutch her hair, the golden strands slipping through her fingers like sand. She pulled herself up and crouched on the bed with her legs folded beneath her lap. Mama… she sobbed uncontrollably, gripping her hair in her fists and trying her best to hang onto the last remnants that she had.

“Besides,” Alexander mused after watching her for a while. “I had to do it; your future husband prefers girls with shorter hair.”

Her head shot up in shock as she stared at him. Did I hear him right? She knew her uncle wanted to marry her off, but she always hoped the day would not come.

“This way, you don’t want to look like that insipid woman my brother had the nerve to marry.”

“You sold me?” Charlotte hissed, feeling her blood boil.

“It was time, dear niece. I cannot take care of you forever.”

“Who is the man?” she tried her best to remain calm as her hands began to tremble.

Alexander smiled at her with one corner of his mouth raised. “I have it on good authority that you know the man.”

Charlotte frowned as her mind searched for a clue. There weren’t any potential suitors that she could think of. It wasn’t like her uncle ever let her leave the castle to meet anyone new.

“He made your acquaintance six years ago in the Musgrave Castle,” Alexander watched Charlotte’s face carefully as he spoke, wanting to inflict as much pain as he could with his words. “On that joyous night of the fire when my brother died.”

Her body ran cold as all the blood drained from her face. There were only a few men she had met that night. And three of them had died. It can’t possibly be…

“Yes. He said you would be shocked to learn that it was him. Apparently, you gave him the slip at the feast. He’d asked for a dance, but you refused like the little chit that you are. It’s only fitting that you should marry him now. You’ve always been a rude little wench.”

“What is his name?”

“William Dodd.”

The name echoed in her mind like an avalanche of dread. She knew the name all too well. He hadn’t asked her for a dance. In fact, he’d used an entirely different approach to try to have his way with her. She could still feel the fabric of her dress ripping under his fingers. Her insides trembled at the memory of what he’d tried to do to her, along with the other men.

“Prepare yourself, little wench. For, in a few days, your new husband will be here to collect you.” He turned to leave before pausing at the door. “Make sure you clean up this mess,” he nodded to the hair on the bed and left, shutting the door behind him with a final click of the key.

Charlotte stared at the strands as unbelief and fear took hold of her soul.

William Dodd had been the only one who had survived the fire. She wished he had perished on many a day, but none more than now that he was close to getting what he wanted. He nearly had his way with her that night when he and his friends had cornered her at the feast. And now? Will he finally have me, even after six years?

She turned her head and looked out the window, away from the pain that mingled with her hair on the bed. How was her life once again falling to pieces? Have I not already lost all that I had?

There was only one other man she had ever wished dead, as much as William Dodd. The man who had set the fire at the feast. She hadn’t any evidence of what he had done or why. She could only recall the torch at his feet as the flames licked at her dress. He’s stood there with his mask, staring at her. Why hadn’t he done anything to help either of us? Her father had died, saving her life. But that man had stood there watching before she’d blacked out.

Shaking her head, Charlotte shook off the thoughts and turned her focus to the problem at hand. She needed to escape.

Marrying William Dodd would be a fate worse than death. Looking back at the window, she made up her mind. She needed to run, soon. Come hell or high water, William Dodd would never have his way with her.

Pushing herself up from the bed, Charlotte walked over to the desk and retrieved the bin she used for the snippets of cotton, recalling a happier time when her parents were alive. They’d loved her with every fiber of their beings. No girl alive could ever have been loved more than she had been. And now?

Now she was left alone to pick up the shattered pieces of her life. The last strands of hope she’d held onto were now being thrown into a bin. Discarded and forgotten, like all her dreams.

Sinking to her knees beside the bed, Charlotte sobbed hopelessly into the mattress. What am I going to do now? I’m alone in the world. She sniffed a few times, drying her eyes and recalling the words her father had said to her as a little girl.

There may come a day when you have no one else to rely on but yourself. Your mother and I will always do our best to be there, but you need to make sure that you look out for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte hugged her knees to her chest. That’s exactly what she would do now. She would find a way out of this mess. She turned her head to look out the window. I’ll find a way out of this mess if it’s the last thing I do.

Chapter Two

Splashing the cool water over his face, Owen pulled the robes over his chest and straightened the sash. He hated the dark brown clothes that they’d given him to wear. But wear them, he did. His face was rugged and tired as he caught a glimpse of himself in the simple mirror adorning his dresser. Nightmares of flames and screams had kept him up all night. They seemed to worsen the more he tried to outrun his past. It was the nightmares that prompted him to act and seek resolution.

Placing the pouch of coins in his pocket, Owen patted them down and headed for the door. He only had a little time until his uncle returned to the monastery grounds, so he rushed to the door of the small chamber where he slept.
His scout was more than likely still waiting for him in the woods, hopefully, this time bearing answers. Being a monk was proving to be far more challenging than Owen had anticipated. He was hardly ever alone and always needed to work.

The monks at Lanercost Monastery worked harder than any laborers he knew. Even the workers at the castle back home didn’t have to contend with as many chores as he did. He grumbled under his breath and ensured everything was in order before leaving. The bed was tidy, and all his things had been packed into the single cupboard.

Hurrying, Owen quickly slipped into the corridor and made his way down the hall. Time was of the essence as he pressed on, his sandals slapping against the cold stone floor. He glimpsed at the dark sky, the sun lost between the stars.

Perfect, they all went tae bed, and there is nae on—

“Brother Owen,” an elderly monk called to his back. Damn it! “Where are you headed in such a rush?”

Thinking as fast as he could, Owen used his chance to slip behind a statue in the wall, pulling his hood over his head. His heart beat in his throat as he pressed himself against the stones. Maybe he will think it was another man.

“Brother Owen,” the monk repeated as he drew nearer at a steady and even pace. His hands were tucked into the sleeves of his robe, and a wooden cross hung from his neck.

“Please, nae now, please, nae now,” he whispered to himself and shut his eyes.

“Brother Owen,” the monk said in a firmer tone, stopping in front of the statue with one eyebrow raised.

Seeing that his fate had been sealed, he lowered his hood and slunk back into the light. “Apologies, brother Thomas. I didnae see ye there.”

“Is that so?” the man said with a knowing glance. “Because it looked to me as though you were very aware of my presence,” he gestured to the corridor with its paintings and statues of saints and monks. “One would even say you were trying to hide from me.”

“I would never hide from ye, brother Thomas,” Owen grinned sheepishly, feeling like a fool at his failed attempts to hide. Brother Thomas had the habit of sneaking up on a person at the best of times, even more so when you were trying to hide. It’s like the man kens whenever I’m out.

“Then why hiding behind the statue of Saint Francis of Assisi with your hood over your face? Looking for peace, perhaps? He was one of the world’s greatest peacemakers.” The older man dipped his hands back into the sleeves of his robe, waiting for an answer.

“Um… nae,” Owen searched his mind for a suitable response. “I-I was just chasing a spider. I ken how much ye hate the little beasts. And brother Angus, too. The creature was larger than me hand.” He held up his hand with his fingers stretched wide to illustrate his point. “The hood was because…”

“Yes?”

“I had tae sneeze an’ I didnae want the spider tae flee,” he thought through his lie with regret. “On account of the noise, ye see. I was hoping the fabric of the hood would divert some of the noise.”

“Very thoughtful of you. Though, I was under the impression that spiders werenae particularly sensitive to sound,” Brother Thomas asked with a heavy note of sarcasm in his voice. Owen had become known around the monastery for his strange behavior. This fact made the older monk keep an even closer eye on him.

“Och, aye,” Owen rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of his foolish lies. “Now, if ye would excuse me, brother Thomas. I-I need to take care of me needs, I drunk too much ale as of this morn,” he bowed and turned to leave as quickly as he could.

“Just a moment…” Brother Thomas’ voice called to him again, making him stop in his tracks.

So close. He inwardly cringed. He just knew that he would be paying for his antics later. Whether through penance or prayer, the older monk would surely have something to say.

“We havenae been seeing you at evening prayers of late. Is everything well with your soul? Is there something we should be concerned about? Ye ken, this is a communal monastery; we are here to offer support to one another.”

“Nae, I have just been busy. I am on garden duty, so this takes a lot of me time,” he told the same lie he’d been telling since he’d come to Lanercost as a monk.

“You seem to always have far too many chores whenever there are prayers,” Thomas said in the way of an accusation rather than a question. “We can always relieve your of your duties should you wish to pray.”

“I like tae dae me praying alone in me chambers, gives me time tae focus me mind on what matters.”

“Very well then,” Brother Thomas nodded. “Be on your way, then. But we’d love to see you there soon. Solace can often be found in prayer with a friend and nae just on yer own.”

“I’ll keep that in mind but, right now, I have all the solace that I need,” Owen turned to leave with a burst of speed, almost running away from the man.

“Ye will be in my prayers, young man,” the monk called to him as he left.

Owen waved over his shoulder as he left. “Thank ye, Brother Thomas!”

Brother Thomas had an uncanny habit of prying into people’s affairs if given the opportunity to speak. When the opportunity arose, it was best to keep him at bay.

Owen hadn’t spoken to any of the monks since he arrived for a very good reason. He wasn’t a monk. And lying to them hurt his heart. How could he pray when his heart was filled with devilish sins? That would be wrong and disrespectful to all those pure-hearted men. His uncle had taken pity on him and given him a second chance, bringing him into the monastery as a traveling monk. Duncan McGinn had once suggested that Owen make a change for good, but he could never truly be a monk.

They’d send him packing for the hills if anyone else found out what he’d done. Owen felt he was far too bad of a man to live a holy life; the sins of the past would never let him be.

He looked down at his hands, his mind instantly filling with screams and towering flames. His blood spilling into the trough from his hands. The focus abruptly shifting to an image of a man punching and punching until tiny hands tried to pull him away, screaming for help. As he recalled the event, his vision swam in and out of focus.

There is nae point in any of that now, Owen reminded himself as he picked up the pace, the coins jingling in his pocket and spurring him on. There was nothing he could do about anything that was done in the past. The fact that his father had drawn his last breath before finding out what he had done was his only relief. Fraser Elliott would have been crushed if he had known what Owen had done. Not only had he ended the lives of prominent lords, but… No, he couldn’t think about it.

His only hope of staying here was to track down the wretched man, the sole survivor of the fire. He’d later learned that his name was William Dodd—a fearless bastard of a man that wreaked havoc wherever he went. Many a Lady had been left in ruins once they’d seen his face.

Owen’s blood boiled in his veins as he thought of the night he’d happened upon the group at the castle. They were trying to have their way with the lass and probably would have succeeded if he hadn’t come along.

He spent all the money he had left and later earned as a monk on hiring a scout to keep tabs on the man. He’d have his revenge one day. The only other soul that had seen him that night was the beautiful girl with long golden blonde hair, but she was a matter all on her own. She knew too much. Her light green eyes still haunted his dreams.

Reaching for the gates, he checked to see if the coast was clear before leaving the grounds. Hopefully, his scout would have good news for him. He needed a plan now to stave off the sleepless nights.

“I’ll see ye get the end ye deserve,” he cursed under his breath as he set off at a run. “Mark me words, ‘afore I draw me final breath, ye will be dead, William Dodd.”

He jogged the rest of the way to the edge of the forest before looking back at the monastery gates. The high peak of the tall steeple loomed on in the distance as though the building itself were keeping an eye on him. No matter how far or fast he ran, Owen couldn’t escape the past.

The blood-curdling screams from that fateful night chased him down like a hunter following a deer. His only hope of absolution would come when he laid William Dodd to rest. He’d outrun the girl to the ends of the earth if he had to.

 

Prologue

Scotland, 1633

“Ye will nae win tonight, lad,” James MacDougall said to his son Blair and ruffled his already messy hair.

Every evening, in the dim light of two little candles and burning ashes in the fireplace, they played cards on a weathered wooden table in the center of their modest cabin. At the table, there were just two chairs, and other than a couple of beds in the other corner and a few kitchen utensils close to the hearth, there was not much else. It was all they had in the world.

“Ye dae ken that I am now old enough tae win at cards, Da? I am nae longer a child.” Blair grinned, playing his next move and winning the trick to his father’s surprise.

“Aye, I suppose so, fourteen winters now and all. Ye’ll be a man soon.” James straightened up, looking down at the cards lying in a pile in the center.

He spread a weather-beaten hand next to them on the table, and the motion drew Blair’s eye. His father’s hand had seen much work back in the day, including casting iron, melting metal, and completing a steady stream of orders. But, the small village’s blacksmith shop was now in decline.

“Am I nae a man now?” Blair asked, waiting for his father to play a card.

James looked up at him after he laid down a three of spades and tilted his head to the side. Blair was nearly his father’s exact image, only younger, and many in the village mentioned it whenever they saw them together. He had nothing of his young, beautiful mother in him who’d had red hair and green eyes. He missed her more than anything else in the world.

“Soon, lad. Ye will ken it once ye become a man. A power will come over ye, and ye will dae somethin’ ye never thought possible before then. Ye will ken when it comes.”

Blair frowned. What does he mean by this? What would come over him? How could he possibly do something he never thought possible? Yet, he smiled and played his card pointedly, knowing his victory was just around the corner. However, his father seemed so distracted that evening, as he had many evenings in the past few months, that he didn’t notice his son’s move.

Every so often, he caught his father looking to the doorway, albeit the late hour.

“Are ye waitin’ for someone, Da?” Blair finally asked once they finished the game, and James hardly seemed to notice that he’d lost.

He stood to his feet with a slight groan. “Nay, nay. Just tired, lad.”

His father was not old, yet he’d seemed to age in the past few months. New lines had formed at the corner of his brown eyes, and a little gray had sprouted in his blond hair.

“I am for bed. I should nae have kept ye up so late, son, for ye’ll be helpin’ me in the morn.”

“Right, Da,” Blair put the cards away as James stoked the fire.

Just then, the night’s heavy silence was broken by a loud bang on the door. Blair, his gut twisting with fear, turned to face his father, who had grown pale and stared blankly at the wood.

“Hide, son, go,” he whispered, pointing to the broken wardrobe where they kept their clothing. “In there. I will deal with this. Just dinnae come out, whatever happens!”

Blair was stunned; he’d never seen his father like this, so… afraid. He obeyed without hesitation, but after being locked within the wardrobe, he also became angry. Finley, the Highlands’ most ruthless creditor, the man without a face, had sent his men after his father. He was certain it was them. Blair had sensed his father desperation, but why take money from such a brute?

He trembled as he heard the group burst into the house once his father opened the door, and he leaned forward to look through the small crack in the wardrobe.

“MacDougall,” a man said, smiling at his father with his blackened teeth. “It seems that ye are a man who cannae pay his debts. It’s a pity, aye?”

Blair trembled in terror at the sound of this voice sounding like a snake slithering. The black-toothed man, undoubtedly the leader, stepped forward as his father started to move backward. Four more people crammed into the cabin with them, making it appear even smaller than before. They were all bearded, had chilly eyes, and greasy hair.

“The business is bad of late, lads. Surely yer boss understands such a thing,” Blair’s father said, his voice trembling. “I can give ye almost all, but I need more time for the last few coins.”

“Well, speakin’ of which,” the leader said, pulling out a dirk and running a finger along its edge, “we will double the debt because it is a few days late.”

“Nay! Dinnae dae that!” James cried, only to have all five gazes snap to him, and the black-toothed man reared back and hit his fist into Blair’s father’s jaw, sending him to the ground.
The man spat in his face and said, “We can dae whatever we like. I am nae the one who asked for a loan of money. We are given orders, and we are given the freedom tae handle them as we please. Are we nae, lads?”

“Aye,” they said in unison, chuckling a little as Blair’s father tried to stand up again.

“I just need a little more time if ye want the debt tae be doubled. But I swear tae ye, ye will get all that ye need.”

The man nodded, showing his black teeth once more and still caressing his knife. “I dinnae believe in the promises of men such as yerself, MacDougall. A man who has nae paid his debts in some time is nae a man tae be trusted.”

Blair watched as the man walked around his father, stroking the knife along James’ arm while the others watched, their hands crossed and wicked grins on their faces.

They enjoy this.

Blair could hear himself breathing so loud that he put a hand over his mouth to quiet it, clutching the dirk at his side with his other arm.

“Aye, but it will be different now. There are plans—” his father began, but the men just laughed.

“Is it nae the same with all the men, lads? They are always beggin’ for mercy when it was Finley who gave them mercy in the first place and money when they most needed it.” The man stood behind James, gripping his shoulders as he spoke. “Ye have a son, dae ye nae, MacDougall? Children are useful, especially sons. They could pay off debts, work hard, and be of use while their fathers die as useless pigs.” He kicked the back of his father’s legs until his knees bent, and he knelt on the ground.

Blair sucked in a breath. His heart resounded like titanic footsteps in his ears, but he could not tear his eyes away. Frozen to the spot, he felt as though time slowed, marching on only bit by bit, like the beating of a slow drum towards doom. Doom. The air stunk with it.

“Nay, please. Me son has nothin’ tae dae with me debts. I will handle them meself.”

“I think the time for that has passed,” the black-toothed man said from above him. “What dae ye think, lads?”

“Aye, true enough, Sean. Ye handle him.” Another man nodded, and Sean, the leader, chuckled.

“Ye heard them, MacDougall,” Sean said.

Blair saw the glint of the knife in the candlelight and its slow movement towards his father. He also saw his father turn to the wardrobe. He knew very well that it did not close properly, and the crack was enough to see through. He caught Blair’s eye, and he shook his head. It was then that Sean struck, pulling the knife along his father’s neck, cutting his throat.

A scream built up inside Blair, but it did not come out as he watched his father get thrown to the ground, forever silenced. Blair’s every muscle tensed, his heart ached, and the press of tears pushed behind his eyes. Sean wiped his blade before he sheathed it as if it was the easiest thing he’d just done in the world.

“Search the house then, lads. See if there is anythin’ of value he merely did nae wish tae share with us.” The men began to move, and Blair, unable to think of anything else, burst out of the wardrobe in a flash, thrusting his dagger into the first man he found.

They would pay for this death, for the end of his family. The man screamed, and then collapsed to the ground. Blair’s strength pulsed through his body as he thrashed and struck, stabbed, and cut. The men’s cries filled the cabin, but he didn’t hear them. Only his father’s silence could be heard, and it was louder than anything else.

Finally, he found himself panting, his knife at his side, staring at what he’d done. The men were all bleeding and still on the ground. He blinked once, twice, wondering if it was all a dream. It was not.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t stay for long. He hunched over his father’s body, sobbing uncontrollably until the ringing in his ears subsided. When he stood up again, he knew he had to leave. Blair had only made things worse.

“A power will come over ye, and ye will dae somethin’ ye never thought possible before then. Ye will ken when it comes.”

Blair knew.

Chapter One

Laggan, Scotland, 1649, Fourteen years later
Clan MacPherson Lands

“Ada, ye will drive me tae distraction, lass! Where have ye been? Ye were meant tae eat with me an hour ago,” Graeme MacPherson said from the head of the table from his laird’s position.

Angrily, Ada sat down next to him, and she picked up her glass of wine. It was already filled, and the place had been set, waiting for her. She took a long sip and stared back at her father. At nineteen years old, she was ready to be free of her father’s control. Making him wait for her at dinnertime was the least of what she wanted to do.

“I was readin’ in the library,” she said innocently and began to eat.

“Nay, ye bloody well were nae. The men could nae find ye again. Ye will drive Blair mad, so ye will.” Graeme drank his wine angrily as well, and she let out a breath as she chewed her food.

Making Blair angry was something, at least.

It might ruffle a feather in that perfect composure of his.

Blair MacDougall had been frustrating her ever since he started working as her guard. He was always infuriatingly calm, no matter what she did to try and rile him up.

“Fine then. I was readin’ near the library in one of the secret passages. What does it matter? It is nae as if I went outside of the castle, yer worst fear.” She rolled her eyes. “I was safe, Father, and that is all that matters tae ye. Nae only that, but I thought ye would feel safer now that the old Laird Grant is dead. There is nae one left who wishes tae harm us.”

Laird Grant, whose castle resided a few hours away, was an old rival of her father’s. He had fallen in love with Ada’s aunt many years ago and proposed marriage, but her aunt had refused him. In his anger and jealousy, he took it out on her and killed her. Then, in another act of revenge, he’d attempted to kidnap Ada and Ella, but failed. Since then, her father had kept them hidden and protected them beyond what was necessary, all to avoid that happening again. But only a few months before, her old guard and now brother-in-law, Cameron Hay, had killed Grant in a fight when he’d tried to take Ella away again. Yet her father still did not believe that the danger was gone.

She and her father had had this conversation a thousand times, and each time, Ada seemed to get nowhere. She thought things would be better once her sister Ella had gotten married to Cameron, who turned out to be Laird Grant’s heir. But no. He was still as protective as ever, even if he was a bit gentler and more loving these days.

“There is always one who wishes tae harm a beautiful young lass like yerself, Ada. If only ye would listen tae me, allow me tae teach ye of the ways of the world since ye dinnae ken of them yerself.”

She gripped her fork so tightly her knuckles turned white. “And why dae ye think I dinnae ken of the world, Father? I could learn a few things if ye would allow me the normal freedom that comes with being a laird’s daughter. I ken that Ella and Cameron dinnae plan tae keep their child indoors for the rest of her days, if she turns out tae be a girl.”

“Ha!” her father laughed, tearing into his piece of bread as he spoke. “Cameron will see the light once he becomes a father himself. There is nae greater fear than losin’ yer child.”

“Father, if only ye could see that I am ready for the world. I am ready tae experience things and make friends, to feel as though I have me own life and nae one contained inside of these stone walls.”

She took in the dim gray stone of her family’s castle. A fire was crackling in the hearth, and the food in front of her was plentiful and tasty. Her father did not harm her, and she was free to learn whatever she wanted, reading whatever she could find in the library that piqued her interest. Home was supposed to be a safe haven where one could feel loved, protected, and cared for. And, while all of that was true, her home, her safe haven, felt more like a prison. She desired more than anything to see more of the world beyond those walls.

Now that Ella is married, he will perhaps allow me tae visit her on me own.

“Perhaps it is time that ye too get married,” her father grumbled between bites, and Ada sighed.

He did not listen to her heart, and she wondered why he was hardened against her now after so recently losing Ella to marriage.

Ada said nothing, and they finished their meal in silence until Graeme dismissed her. “Ye will go straight tae yer room, lass,” he said. “That is yer punishment for disappearin’ today. Angus will take ye.”

She nodded in defeat, leaving her father behind without so much as a good night, and she met the older guard outside the main hall door. She reserved a smile for him, however. Ever since she and Ella were little, he had always been kind to her, along with Darren, who often watched them as well. But now that it was just her in the castle, she no longer needed to be two guards.

She was alone.

“Off tae bed now, lass?”

“Aye, Angus,” she said, walking alongside him.

As they went up the steps, Ada was lost in thought. She twisted a finger around her ginger hair, hanging loose as usual. It was one of the small, perhaps ridiculous, ways she tried to experience a little freedom for herself. But she was at a loss.

Outside her door, she bid Angus goodnight and went inside to sit by her crackling fire. Picking up the stolen whiskey she usually absconded with from her father’s study, Ada poured herself a glass. The nights were lonely now without her sister by her side. She was happy for Ella and her newfound happiness with her husband. But still, something was missing in her own life. Without her sister, she had no confidante, no true friend. Her father’s forced isolation meant she was on her own.

I will make me escape one day, just as I told Ella before.

But she’d hesitated after her sister’s marriage, hopeful that her father had changed. However, now she knew that it would still be the same until she began to fight back. Taking a sip, Ada started to make her plans.

***

Why did I agree tae this job?

Blair had asked himself that nearly every day, multiple times a day, since Ella and Cameron had married and he’d been asked to return to MacPherson Castle to serve as Ada’s guard until she married. He had been Cameron’s man-at-arms, but he and Ella thought this would be best. He’d returned a few months before, and it’d been one crazy day after another. Ada MacPherson couldn’t sit still and follow orders. She made his job a hell of an ordeal.

And that particular instance was no exception. He was standing beneath the tree in the castle courtyard, watching Ada strain to reach a kitten. He hadn’t arrived in time before she made the decision to climb the tree and stop her. Whenever the guard changed, the lass always found a way to do something risky. Damn it!

“What in God’s name are ye doin’, Lady Ada?” he called and turned when he saw a group of young children hurry into the courtyard.

“See? I told ye the lady was up there tryin’ tae get our kitten!” one of them cried.
Blair rolled his eyes and rubbed a frustrated hand over his face.

“I am tryin’ tae help a poor creature in need of assistance,” Ada called back, turning to look at him through the branches. Her long ginger hair was hanging over her shoulders, and even though she pinned him with an angry glare, he was struck with just how lovely she was.

Ada is always lovely. There is never a time when she is nae, even when she is acting so foolish.

He sighed, trying to talk some sense into himself. Thinking about Ada as a woman did him little good. She was his duty, and he needed to be able to fulfill said duty without such unsettling thoughts about how bonny she was.

“Ye ken that ye could come and help me with this, Blair,” she accused, “instead of just watchin’ me, since ye think me so frail and unable tae handle me own affairs.”

“Ye are nae able, Lady Ada,” he began, but he paused when he saw the interested looks on the children’s faces. “Ye may fall, and then where will we be?”

“I have climbed trees before!” she yelled as she strained for the kitten, but it meowed and crawled back further onto another branch.

“Ye can dae it, me lady!” one little girl with hair of gold cried, and the rest of them clapped their hands in encouragement. “It is me kitten, sir, and she told me she’d help.” The lass stood beside him, looking up at Ada with awe.

He understood the look entirely, even though Ada’s reckless actions would soon be the death of him. Despite his anger at what she was doing, he couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

She was a conundrum. She liked to act spiky, constantly snapping back or teasing, trying to get away with things. But at the same time, she had a heart of gold. She’d do anything for her sister, and now, she was risking her life to help a silly kitten down from a tree to make one of the little girls happy.

“Almost there!” Ada had moved to another branch, and Blair’s heart flipped as he saw it was too weak to hold her.

He stepped forward as she reached out for the small white cat. “Be careful!” he cried, his sudden outburst surprising her.

Her scream pierced through him as the branch broke, and then so many things happened at once. Blair raced forward, pushing the children out of the way so that they wouldn’t get hit as Ada fell from the tree. He made it just in time, his arms outstretched to catch her before she reached the ground.

“Shite!” he cursed as they both fell to the grass, and the cat hissed, scratching Blair’s face before scampering off.

The children dashed after it, not before thanking her, and then it was just them in the courtyard, breathing heavily. His arms remained tight around her, holding her firmly as his heartbeat slowed. Her hair tickled his face, and he swallowed, trying to ignore the sensation of relishing her proximity.

“Lady Ada, are ye all right?” he asked.

“I am well,” she groaned, trying to wriggle free of his grasp. “I wish ye would call me Ada, though. Lady Ada is far too formal. I call ye Blair, after all.”

He sat up and aided her in standing, brushing dirt from his clothes as he did so. Blair’s eyes moved anxiously over her body, assessing her as she straightened her skirts and removed the leaves from her hair and dress.

“Are ye sure ye’re all right?”

“Aye,” she said, but he could see her hands shaking.

He yearned to reach out for her, to pull her close and comfort her, to smell her scent, which always drove him mad. It reminded me of meadow flowers, something wild, earthy, and pure. It encompassed everything she was. To avoid the temptation, he took a step back and wrapped his hands around his back. It would not end well for either of them.

“Good,” he said, then replacing his calm tone with one of slightly veiled rage, he asked, “Then why in the bloody hell dae ye keep tryin’ tae kill me, woman?”

Chapter Two

It wasn’t just the fall that had Ada’s heart racing a mile a minute and her lungs filling up with hard, fast breaths. It was Blair and how close they’d just been. He hadn’t let go after they’d first fallen, and she’d savored the feel of his hard chest against her for a few seconds. It had been bliss to hear his rapid heartbeat and the sound of his breath. Until he spoke and ruined the moment, that is.

Now, he was looking at her with jaw-clenching fury, and she stood a little taller, annoyed that even when he was frustrating her, he aroused a desire within her that was never quenched.

“Kill ye?” She scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “If I meant tae kill ye, I would have done it a long time ago. Ye can believe that,” she said, stepping a bit closer.

It was the first time in a long time that she saw him show some emotion. He was like a brick wall, in more ways than one. Blair MacDougall was essentially a tall wall of muscle. From his jawline to his calf, he was muscled all over. She did not have to see underneath his clothes to know what she would find there. His uniform stretched tightly over his body, and whenever he’d held her close during one of the many times he’d saved her, she could feel just how hard and unyielding his body was.

With his close-cut blond hair and brown eyes, Blair was handsome too, and even though he was often serious, there was a softness to his gaze at times. He was kind, even though he might not wish anyone to know it.

Blair rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, Ada, I ken now why yer father continues tae keep ye locked up inside this bloody place even though Laird Grant is now dead at Cameron’s hand. Ye are irresponsible and reckless and for nae reason.”

Anger flooded her along with the other heat that filled her whenever he was near. “I was helpin’ that little girl and savin’ the poor creature!” She pointed at the door to the courtyard. “Dae ye think that is irresponsible or reckless?”

“When it is goin’ tae endanger yer life, then aye,” he said back to her in a low tone, his eyes sparkling with fire. “Ye dinnae seem tae consider others. There is yer father who worries about ye constantly, and then there is me, set tae watch ye, and ye continue tae dae these dangerous things that could hurt us both. This is now the third time in our acquaintance that I have had tae catch ye, lass. How many more times must there be before ye realize that what ye are doin’ is dangerous?”

They were standing close, and she wanted to be angry, to feel completely enraged. She wanted her fury to take control of everything, but her body still reacted to him. Why couldn’t Blair see she was a prisoner there? She wanted nothing more than to be free, and her reckless actions were her way of gaining some freedom while also trying to avoid the boredom that came with her confinement. There was also the fact that she was a little clumsy, but that was unimportant.

“I dinnae see why I need tae have a guard any longer, now that Laird Grant is dead. There is nae danger now, and yet I am forced tae be constantly watched like a child with a nanny.” Blair bristled at that. “And if ye had nae scared me, I would nae have fallen this time. Ye had tae go and yell at me, and then I fell. I nearly had the kitten in me hands!”

She noticed then a red line across his cheek, and she blushed, realizing that the kitten had done it. But she would never apologize for that. Never in a thousand years would she apologize to this ridiculous man.

The cat appeared in the courtyard again, and pushing away from Blair, Ada went to it, brushing by him as she did. She tingled with the realization that his hand had touched her skirts. As she cooed and knelt to pick up the kitten, she thought about how much she’d wanted Blair to touch her ever since they’d first known each other. She thought she’d encouraged him with her light flirtations, but Blair was having none of it.

Every night the man guards me inside me bedroom, and nothin’! It is as if I repulse him, or he thinks of me only as a child.

“All ye can think about is that kitten at a time like this? Dae ye nae even wish tae apologize?” he asked from behind her.

Angrily, Ada spun around with the kitten in her hands. “What should I apologize for? Ye did nae have tae come and find me. Ye are nae required tae dae anythin’!”

“It is me job, Lady Ada, tae protect ye!”

She noticed how he used her title again, even though he had forgotten it before. The little girl returned to the courtyard, and smiling, Ada dropped the kitten into her arms.

“Keep him safe now, lass,” she chirped while Blair stood angrily at her back.

When the little girl darted off, Ada straightened and turned to give him a piece of her mind but her father’s angry voice boomed outside the courtyard.

“Ada! Come here, now! Me study.”

She could hear his angry footsteps as he walked away, and she followed him without looking at Blair, who was looking smug, no doubt.

What day is complete without another scolding from Father?

Inside the study, her father was pacing, but when she opened the door, he paused and stared at her with his sharp blue eyes.

“Why must I hear about yer reckless acts from the servants? Ye fell again from a tree, and Blair had tae catch ye once more? This is the third time ye’ve fallen, lass, and only because ye refuse tae listen tae reason!”

“I did nae realize that climbin’ things was against the rules in the castle,” she said stiffly, shutting the door behind her.

“Nay, I suppose nae, but clearly, ye are nae skilled at it, and Blair has been there every time tae make sure that ye dinnae hurt yerself.”

She swallowed, clutching her hands behind her back.

Dae nae think kindly of the man. He was only doin’ his job. It is nae as if cares whether or nae I really hurt meself.

A tiny voice inside her told her that wasn’t true, but it was far better to think of Blair in a bad light than to think of him in the way she really wanted to.

“Then, ye have nothin’ tae worry about, Father. Yer praised soldier has done his duty yet again. He has saved me, and now we can move on with our lives.”

“Nay, we cannae, Ada,” her father said, rubbing a hand through his red hair before he sat down and picking up a piece of paper. “Sit here,” he said, pointing to the chair across from the desk.

Ada’s belly filled with nerves as she noted his serious tone. Slowly, she took her seat and wondered why he’d always treated Ella with more kindness. Even when her sister had done something he disliked, he hardly ever screamed at her.

It is because he hates me for what I did tae Mother.

Ada’s thoughts wandered to the past as her father spoke about responsibility and not acting like a child. She remembered overhearing a conversation between him and his sister, Isla. She would never forget it.

“Maura would never have gotten ill if she hadn’t had Ada, Isla. Ye ken that’s true.”

“How can ye say such a thing about yer own child?” Isla had said in return. “Is she nae precious?”

Ada remembered sinking back against the wall when her father stood.

“She is, of course she is, yet Maura was precious tae me—me only wife, the love of me heart. And now she’s gone. The lasses now have nay mother. We should nae have had another child. It was too much for her.”

Ada had put a hand over her mouth to keep her sobs quiet, and then she’d left, unable to listen to any of it anymore. She’d only been eight at the time, and ever since then, she’d noticed her father’s behavior towards her. He was always angry, no matter what she did. She knew that he was punishing her forever, and now that her sister, his favorite, was gone, it would only get worse.

“Are ye even listenin’ tae me, lass?” her father boomed, his forehead crinkled as he paused to stare at her angrily.

“Aye, Father, I am listenin’,” she lied, standing a little taller.

She could never let him see the way the past had hurt her. For she was the one who’d killed her mother, his wife, and nothing could fix that. And in his mind, she would always be the baby who did that.

“I dinnae see how ye can expect tae live on yer own or run a household on yer own when ye act so irresponsibly! Climbin’ a tree when ye could have nearly broken yer neck! And ye hurt Blair besides.”

Och, precious Blair. Me father cares more for him than he does for me. Blair has never disappointed him.

“When are ye goin’ tae grow up, Ada?” he cried, pounding a fist into the desk.

Ada’s eyes fluttered to the papers he’d been holding, where his fist had hit. What were they for?

“I am grown up, Father. This is what grown women wish tae dae: be free. Men dinnae understand because they wish tae trap us forever and keep us compliant for their benefit.” She crossed her arms and turned her face to the side. Shockingly, her father sighed instead of coming back with another angry outburst.

“It is enough now, Ada. I have done me best with ye both. I have tried tae keep ye safe and tae love ye as I could, but it is time now that I let ye go. I can dae this nae longer.”

She turned to face him, her heart in her throat. But she didn’t see what she hoped to see on his face. His expression did not hold favorable promise.

“What dae ye mean?” she asked, a cold prickle of fear tingling on the back of her neck.

“Ye will marry.” He stood, not meeting her eyes. “I made this decision weeks ago. Yer betrothed will be here in a few hours. It was goin’ tae be a surprise, but I think it best that ye ken about it in case ye’re plannin’ tae dae anything stupid.” He shot her with his glare. “Marriage is the best thing for ye, Ada, for I can nae longer look after ye.”

Ada gasped, and as she rose, she felt every muscle in her body tense. She was ready to fight. And yet the shock had robbed her of the vehemence she wanted to instill into her tone.

“It was just the same with Ella,” she said, trying her best to hold the tears back. “Ye could nae let us be as we wished, and so ye forced her tae marry, actin’ as if we are just problems that ye need tae rid yerself of.”
Before she allowed him to respond, she turned to rush out the door, slamming it behind her. Tears were running down her cheeks before she made it back to her room, and she barely heard the usual footsteps racing after her.

I am getting married.