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Chapter I

The bells tolled, ending evening prayers and calling the Brothers to supper. It was a low, resonant sound that reverberated through Ronan’s bones and down into his soul as he watched the rest of the monks file out of the chapel. Father Ninian, the head of their order, was Ronan’s mentor and closest friend at the monastery. He paused before him, laying his hand gently on his shoulder.

Ninian was an older man with a ring of iron-gray hair and a grizzled beard of the same color. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was pudgy, affable, and one of the smartest men Ronan had ever met. He enjoyed their long intellectual and philosophical conversations, never failing to learn something, or gain some new perspective every time they talked.

“I’ll make sure yer food is kept warm,” Ninian said.

“Thank ye, Faither.”

“Are ye doing all right, Ronan?”

He nodded. “Aye. I’m doin’ just fine. Why dae ye ask?”

Ninian shrugged. “Ye’ve been quieter than usual lately.”

A wry smile curled his lips upward. “Ye’ve just given me a lot tae think about.”

The older man looked at Ronan closely for a moment but then nodded and gave him a smile. Ronan could tell that Ninian didn’t quite believe him but had the good sense not to push him. Though Father Ninian encouraged him to talk – to unburden himself, he never forced Ronan to reveal anything. He gave him the time and space he needed, and the best thing from Ronan’s perspective was that Ninian didn’t push religion on him.

He knew it was an odd thing to say, given that he was living at Airnred Monastery, an initiate of a religious order. But he hadn’t come to the monastery following the call of God. Not directly. He came to Airnred because he needed to change his life, and it seemed as if the monastery offered him the best chance of doing that. He was still trying to come around to living a life based on a faith he’d been ambivalent to his whole life.

“Whatever it is that’s botherin’ ye, if ye cannae tell me, tell God, lad,” Father Ninian added gently, “Even if ye think he’s nae listenin’, take me word for it… he is. He always listens.”

“I will, Faither. Thank ye,” Ronan said.

Ninian remained for a moment, then nodded as if to himself before turning to join the Brothers at their meal.

“Be sure tae eat somethin’ tonight, lad. We’re nae takin’ vows of starvation here,” Ninian called over his shoulder as he walked out of the chapel.

Ronan smirked as the older man walked out. As an initiate, he didn’t take his meals with the others and was left alone to clean things up. He would get to eat later － alone in the kitchens. Ronan knew his situation was different. He was not like the other initiates who had followed the call of God to Airnred. Sensitive to that, Ninian did what he could to protect Ronan as he took his journey, uncertain where it would lead him. Even after all this time.

Ninian felt that limiting his exposure to the other initiates was the best way to protect him － and them, of course. Ronan knew Father Ninian couldn’t have him blending with the regular initiates. Not until he’d decided on his true path. Ronan understood that, of course. He didn’t want his lack of belief to rub off on the other initiates, making them question themselves as he did. But he also thought it sometimes made for a very lonely existence. There were times he felt more like a wraith moving about the halls of Airnred than an actual person.

He wanted to give himself over to this life. To be a man of service and devotion. Ronan wanted to belong. He wanted to believe as they did. But in the couple of years with the Brothers, he’d yet been able to give himself over to the faith completely. He was holding himself back and didn’t know why. Faith and his reluctance to fully embrace it had been the subject of many long conversations with Father Ninian over his time here.

Stepping through the door, he stood on the porch, looking across fields of green and to the loch beyond. The sun was slipping toward the horizon, casting the sky in fiery shades of orange and red that reflected vibrantly off the glassy surface of the water.

He breathed in deeply, savoring the fresh, clean air around him. Airnred nestled in the foothills of the Highlands, surrounded by forests as far as the eye could see. It always smelled of wildflowers and the thick earthy musk and pine of the woods. The world around him was quiet. Peaceful. And it was in moments like that when he felt in harmony with the world, felt the closest to God. Certainly far more than in the chapel with the other Brothers of the order.

Suddenly, the front door of the chapel crashed open and gave Ronan a start. He turned and dashed inside, just in time to see a figure staggering through the doorway. The stranger, a man, knocked the benches askew as he crumpled to the floor with a loud grunt. Ronan ran to the man and rolled the stranger onto his back. Even through the mud and blood that covered the man’s face, Ronan recognized him instantly, a gasp passing his lips.

“Conall, what’s happened tae ye?” Ronan asked, “Cousin, what’s happened?”

Conall groaned incoherently, teetering on the edge of consciousness. Looking around the chapel, Ronan saw he was still alone. With the other Brothers at their meal, nobody had seen Conall enter. Knowing he had to help his kin, Ronan lifted the man in his arms and hurried him to the dormitory.

Ronan’s cell was in a little-used wing of the dormitory, well away from the other initiates. He laid Conall down on the straw-covered pallet in the cell next to his, then quickly started a fire in the small pit in the center of the room. The shadows and flames flickered and writhed upon the walls, locked in their eternal war, but the warmth from the fire quickly chased off the encroaching chill.

That done, he quickly ran down to the infirmary, fetching a basin and jug of water, a few clean bandages, towels, and jars of medicinal herbs, and returned back to the cell. Stripping Conall of his clothing, he washed away the grime and blood, searching for wounds.

Most were superficial, merely cuts and bruises, though he thought the slice along the ribs was worrisome. To Ronan, it looked like Conall had been knocked around pretty well, and he quietly hoped his cousin had given as good as he’d gotten. He knew it wasn’t a very Godly thought to have, but Ronan couldn’t help it; he could run from his roots, but he couldn’t run from his nature.

“Ronan, what is this? Who is this man?”

Father Ninian’s voice startled him, and Ronan jumped to his feet, quickly turning around. The older man’s brow was furrowed, an expression of concern etched into his features. Ronan swallowed hard.

“This is me cousin, Conall,” he said softly.

“What happened tae him?”

Ronan shook his head. “I daenae ken, Faither. He just showed up like this. Collapsed in the chapel. I couldnae turn him away.”

“Nae. Of course nae. We cannae turn away a man in need. But what does this mean? Why is he here?”

“I daenae ken what it means, but I reckon ‘tis nae good.”

On the pallet, Conall stirred restlessly, murmuring unintelligibly. Ronan knelt beside the pallet and took his cousin’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Conall’s eyes fluttered and then opened, and for a brief moment, he looked fully in control of himself again.

“Conall. Cousin. What’s happened. Why are ye here?”

Conall’s eyes locked onto Ronan’s, his gaze burning with intensity.

“Tis yer faither, Ronan,” he said, his voice raspy and weak, “He’s killed me faither. Tried tae kill me. He’s taken control of the clan.”

As if the act of speaking took a physical toll, Conall slumped back against the pillows, his breathing labored, his face pale and drawn. As his eyes closed, Ronan was left with a growing sense of dread. If what Conall was saying was true, the worst had come to pass.

But he couldn’t worry about anything other than trying to help his cousin recover. If Conall had to flee Belwich, the seat of their clan’s power, Ronan knew that things were bad for his cousin. Especially in light of his injuries. Though none seemed overly serious, the three-day ride to Airnred wouldn’t have helped things.

“His wounds are nae mortal. But if he takes an infection, he could die. I’ve done all I can for him,” Ronan said, feeling woefully inadequate.

“Then he is in the hands of God now,” Father Ninian added softly.

“Aye. That he is.”

The older man laid a gentle hand on Ronan’s shoulder, full of sympathy and concern.

Chapter II

Father Ninian gave him leave from his normal duties, and for the next four days and nights, Ronan cared for his cousin, rarely leaving his side. Conall did not wake but flitted between bouts of fitful sleep and incoherent consciousness.

Ronan continued to care for Conall, cleaning his wounds, changing his bandages and poultices regularly, and prayed. He wasn’t sure that anybody was listening or that his words would be heeded, but he prayed nonetheless. Ronan figured that it couldn’t hurt, and at that moment, he needed all the help he could get. More than that, Conall needed it.

He and Conall were more than cousins. They’d grown up together and were more like brothers. Conall was heir to the clan’s Lairdship, and they’d grown up thinking Ronan would be his First Sword, the Laird’s personal protector. They believed they would usher in a golden age for the clan. Their plans had been bold and brash. They had been so young… so foolish.

“How is he doin’?”

Father Ninian stepped into the cell and set a tray of food on the table. Ronan had been so busy caring for Conall that he hadn’t been taking his meals, so Father Ninian brought them to him.

“His fever seems tae have broken,” Ronan replied, “I’m optimistic that he’ll recover. Cautiously optimistic.”

The older man looked over Conall for a moment, then took a seat across the table, and they sat in silence for a while. Ninian looked pointedly at the tray, then up at Ronan.

“Ye need tae eat, lad,” he said, “Ye won’t dae yer cousin a lot of good if ye pass out from hunger, eh?”

Ronan chuckled softly but conceded the point and tucked into his food, tearing off chunks of crusty bread and dipping it into the stew. Father Ninian let him eat in silence for a few moments; the only sound the crackle and pop of the fire in the pit.

“Why have ye let me stay here all this time, Faither? At the monastery? I’ve never taken me vows in all this time, and yet, ye’ve never forced me tae take them or move on. Why?”

A wry smile touched the older man’s lips. “Ye dae good work around here, lad. Ye work twice as hard as many of the other initiates. Tis hard tae find good help.”

“There’s got tae be more tae it than that, eh?”

Ninian looked at him for a long moment, and judging by the expression on the older man’s face, Ronan could see there was indeed more. So he settled back in his seat, took a sip of the watered wine, and waited. Ninian finally heaved a sigh and leaned forward on the table.

“Ye were a lad in trouble when ye arrived. Ye were runnin’ from somethin’, that was easy tae see. In most ways, ye still are runnin’ from somethin’. Yer past, I’d have tae guess,” Ninian said, “But I could see that ye were a man searchin’ for somethin’ too. Searchin’ for somethin’ bigger than ye. Ye seemed tae be searchin’ for meanin’ and purpose. I’ve hoped all along that ye’d find it here. In fact, I still believe that ye can. But only if ye actually cut ties with what ye’re runnin’ from.”

“Cut ties, Faither?”

“Aye. Ye’re a man straddlin’ two worlds right now. The world here at Airnred, and the world ye left behind when ye came here. There’s goin’ tae come a time when ye’ll need tae choose one or the other. Otherwise, ye’re goin’ tae be stuck in this in-between world ye’re existin’ in, never movin’ forward in yer life.”

Ronan fell silent as he absorbed Ninian’s words. He couldn’t help but hear the ring of truth in them. He had felt trapped in a world between worlds and could never find a way out of it. Now, as he listened to Ninian, he knew why – knew the past would catch up with him here at some point. Knew there would be a day Conall would come for him. A day that his own father would go too far. And that day had come.

“How did he ken ye were here, Ronan?”

Ronan sat back in his chair, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic, a frown pulling at his mouth. He thought back to the day he’d left Belwich behind and had to bite back the anger that was a staple of his life as all of the unpleasant memories filled his mind. Ronan tried to beat them back and push away the anger, forcing himself to be calm.

“When I left me home and clan behind, I told Conall where I was goin’. He’s the only one who kent. And I told him if there was trouble, or if he needed me help, he could come tae me,” Ronan said.

“So he’s in trouble then?”

Ronan shrugged. “Aye. I think so. But I ken what ye’re worried about, and nay, that trouble willnae be followin’ him here. Like I said, nobody else kens he’d come here. Nobody else kens where I am. And he would’ve died before he told anybody. If trouble were comin’, it would already be here.”

Ninian nodded but still looked concerned. Monasteries being raided and pillaged were not unheard of, so Ronan understood his worry. But Airnred was off the beaten path and far away from Belwich, which was why Ronan chose the monastery in the first place. He could live anonymously here – hoped he could escape his past and learn to be a better man.

“He said yer faither had slain his brother. Tried tae slay him,” Ninian said, sending a dagger of pain through Ronan’s heart.

“Aye. He did.”

He fell silent for a long moment, trying to stuff his anger down deep inside. Ronan knew his father rising up against his uncle and Conall and usurping the Lairdship had always been a possibility. His father, Kenneth, had always lusted for power. For control. His father had served as the First Sword to Bram, his own brother, but Ronan knew Kenneth coveted the Lairdship for his own.

His father had been making moves behind the scenes to seize power, but Ronan had hoped that his small rebellion had destroyed those plans. It was why he’d sacrificed everything and fled his ancestral home. Why he’d turned his back on the clan and the life he’d been building there. He’d hoped his actions would have spurred Bram to take matters seriously and cast his father out.

It angered and saddened Ronan to know that his actions had been in vain. It enraged him that his father had murdered his uncle, nearly murdered his cousin, and had seized control of the clan despite everything. But Ronan stifled his emotions, not wanting to jump to conclusions. Conall had been in bad shape when he arrived, and before Ronan gave himself over to his rage, he wanted to hear the full story when Conall was coherent and clearheaded. Perhaps he was wrong?

“I’d caution ye tae take a breath, lad. I can see the anger in yer eyes. Ye need tae clear yer mind because the sort of anger I see in yer eyes right now never leads tae anythin’ good.”

“Aye. I will, Faither.”

In the bed, Conall stirred, a low groan passing his lips. But then his eyes opened, and his gaze fell upon Ronan and Ninian.

“How long have I been out?” he asked, his voice dry and raspy.

“Four days,” Ronan answered.

His cousin muttered to himself as Ronan poured a cup of watered wine and handed it to his cousin. Conall took it gratefully and swallowed down half the cup. He wiped his mouth and looked at them both uncertainly as Ninian got to his feet and laid a hand on Ronan’s shoulder.

“Remember what I said, lad.”

“I will, Faither.”

“Then I’ll leave ye lads tae it,” Ninian said, and walked out of the cell.

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Chapter I

Shana stepped back into the forest, her leather bag full of food and her hands braced to raise her bow and arrow again at the sight of anything suspicious. Or anything else suspicious. As if the sight of a handsome young man with a mysterious past appearing suddenly in the woods had not been suspicious enough. No one had noticed her at the village, grabbing as much food as she could find to bring to him, yet she could feel her heart beating in her throat as her boots crunched over the grass.

It was a strange thing to be bringing food to an unfamiliar young man who was not of her clan or her people. And yet, it had thrilled her with adventure. She would be the one to rescue this man from harm. Shana could hear doubts fluttering through her mind, pushing her to question her choices. She set her chin in defiance and narrowed her eyes as if planning to shoot the doubts down with her arrows.

Helping him had nothing to do with the fact that he was incredibly handsome, but more to do with the fact that he could be the way out of the forest, out of this life, and the way to help her find a new path in the world. She heard a stick crack, and she spun around, her arrow at the ready.

“Lass,” Logan whispered, moving out from behind the trees, and she lowered her weapon as she crept toward him, placing the bag in his hand. He took it with a smile and sat down as he burrowed into it. “Ye are an angel. A rescuer.”

Shana smirked. That was her title now; rescuer. She let the pride of it wash over her. In her time at the village, she had done nothing much except learn to farm, fight, and shoot her bow and arrow. But never had she ever been allowed to use any of her skills, except for the farming, of course. She frowned. How dull had her life really become?

“Sit, will ye nae?” Logan looked up at her, and for the first time, she could see that his eyes were green, the deep healthy green of a field of ready crops.

She suddenly felt a loss for words she had never felt before in her life. Boys had never done anything of that sort to her, but now with Logan’s green eyes on her, she suddenly felt her mind go blank. Instead of saying anything, she sat next to him, and her dark skirts flooded around her.

He grinned at her as he bit into his food, first choosing some dried meat and then bread and then fruit. She watched him eat with satisfaction, unable to take her eyes away from the sight. Now that she was closer to him, he really was quite beautiful, and she had gathered from books that handsome men were often dangerous to women. Even her mother and aunt would say that but would only laugh and never explain.

She wondered now if they hadn’t been right as she watched the smooth, tanned skin of his muscled throat as he swallowed and the way his arms bulged under his shirt where the sleeves had been rolled up.

For a second, she was curious if beautiful men were the cause of some sort of illness, for, with each passing moment, she was growing warmer and warmer. “Are ye dangerous, Logan?” she asked quickly and then immediately regretted her question.

Dangerous men would never admit they were dangerous. Just as murderers would never admit they were murderers. He still could be one.

Logan paused in his eating and swallowed. “I dinnae ken what ye mean, lass, but if ye mean to ye, then aye. If ye mean did I commit the crime I am runnin’ away from, then also aye. I am just a man who was wrongly accused.”

Shana pursed her lips in thought and narrowed her eyes at him. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hoping the strange dizzy feeling would go away. “Tell me then. Tell me what has happened to ye.”

Logan put down his food and glanced at her. He was quiet for a moment as if he was deciding whether or not she could handle the news. Shana kept his gaze. It was time for people to start taking her seriously. She was twenty years old, after all. Her father wished her to stay a little girl, but it was time he knew that she no longer wanted to.

She breathed out with relief that he thought her worthy as he began. “The laird of me clan had a second-in-command named Allan. He died at a feast we were havin’ at the McIntosh castle. It was a good celebration, and everyone went tae bed quite merry, but I decided tae stay awake longer. I had things tae think over.”

Shana could see the sudden change in his expression. He looked suddenly tired and weighed down, and guessing that he was still quite young in years, the expression seemed oddly placed.

He took a breath and stared off further into the woods. “I left tae get to the highest part of the castle for a wee moment, just to get some air. Ye see, me wife died a week afore we were tae get married. Smallpox. It was over a year ago now, but it still feels raw tae me.” He looked at Shana, who felt her heart patter with sympathy at the sight of his earnest eyes.

Poor man.

He looked away again. “On me way back tae me own room, I heard somethin’ strange. Like fallin’. So I went tae see what it was, and I found Allan in one of the hallways, bleedin’ on the ground, attemptin’ tae make sounds.”

Shana exhaled with a rush. “What did ye do?”

“I had tae help him. Allan was a good man.” Logan’s face tightened, and his muscular jaw clenched. “He had always been kind to me family. I didnae want tae lose him. But there was nothin’ I could do. I tried. I really did. But…”

His voice trailed off, and Shana had the urge to reach out and touch his shoulder, to run her fingers along his sleeve to comfort him. She had never seen a man so weighed down by life and the world. He took another breath and started again. “So, I spoke tae him for a wee while, about home. About the way the hills would look in the evenin’ sun and about his family. I had pulled him into me arms, and so the blood was everywhere. Seein’ the way he suffered, I couldnae take it anymore. I took out me dirk, and I…I finished what someone else had started. It was the best I could do to save him.”

Shana was silent. So he had killed the man, but he claims it as a mercy killing? Can this be true?

She watched him closely. He was certainly honest-looking – how he spoke and how his face revealed all of his emotions. But her mother had always taught her never to be beholden to a man. Never let them trick her into doing something or believing something until the facts and the evidence are there.

Shana remembered asking her mother, Rose, about her father, Sean, and how she would deal with him. Still, her mother had merely laughed and smiled and got that dreamy look in her eye she always had when her mother talked about her rather infamous father. Her aunt, Isabelle, was no help either, still entirely besotted with Uncle Eamon, even though she could hear each couple arguing loudly every so often. She and her cousin, Orla, would merely roll their eyes and think that it was just their parents who acted this way.

“I see,” she said, still trying to summon suspicion. “What happened after that?”

Logan was looking at her again. She wished he would stop that for his eyes were disconcerting. They made her feel strange in her head and in her stomach, and she felt like she needed a clear, strong mind to ferret out the truth. She did want to explore the world on her own soon, and she could not fall prey to the wiles of one handsome man just at the start of her journey. Then she knew what her parents said about her not being ready for the world would be true.

“Well, a servant came and saw us together. Once he saw me covered in blood, he didnae wait for an explanation, and he ran around the castle yellin’ that Allan was dead and blamin’ me as he did so. People came tae look upon the scene, but nae one would believe me. Nae even me own men would come tae me aid. I had tae escape. I escaped out the window afore me men captured me and surely tae take me tae trial.”

Shana nodded along. She waited until he breathed out, finishing his speech. “So what is yer plan, lad? Where will ye go? And, why are English soldiers after ye if it is a Scottish man ye are presumed tae have killed?”

Logan pushed aside a blade of grass, turning and twisting it with his fingertips. “Ye ken that after Culloden, the English are continually involved in Highland matters. Me Laird has ties tae the Crown as well as his second-in-command. The English general that controls the nearest fort often uses the second-in-command for messages and the like. He kens much information, and from what I can gather. I believe they think he may have been tortured by me tae get that information, and then I will run away with it. Perhaps even sell it tae the highest bidder? And so ye find me here. I am off tae meet with me cousin, Caitria MacNair, at MacNair Keep. I think she will have some solutions for me and she can give me shelter for as long as I need.”

Shana started to feel her heart beating again with excitement. “Where is MacNair Keep?” she asked, and he frowned in her direction.

“Why?”

“I wondered how long yer journey was. Ye will most likely need provisions?” In her heart, she was thinking more of how jealous she was that he would get to leave and go off on a wild adventure while she was stuck with the Scots in their hideaway village, seeing the same people and doing the same things every day. Would it never end?

Logan smiled, and Shana felt that annoying tingle again. His sadness had left him, and his smile was bright. “I willnae tell ye where the keep is, for I dinnae wish anyone tae follow me trail here and find someone who could give away any information. ‘Tis safer that ye dinnae ken. But ye are right. I will need provisions. If ye can provide me them.”

Shana nodded, and his smile widened even further. “Thank ye, lass. As I said, ye are an angel.” He leaned forward, and Shana thought for a moment that he was attempting to stand up. She tried to do the same but was blocked by his body, and instead, she fell backward, grasping at him for balance. He fell on top of her, and she found herself lying flat on her back on the soft forest floor. Both her hands grasped the back of his arms as she stared into his stark, green eyes.

“Och,” she said softly. There was that feeling again. That loss for words. That swirling, fuzzy brain sort of feeling that was so strange to her. Perhaps he really was evil. Logan just watched her for a moment and didn’t move. Shana’s mind was filled with too many sensations at once; it was sending her into a flurry of feeling. Her lips opened slightly to catch more breath, for him looking at her like that made her breath come fast and quick.

Under her fingertips, she could feel the long lines of muscle on his arms, and between her legs, could feel his heat pressed against her. Logan smiled. “Sorry, lass,” he said, pulling away. Shana blinked at him as she sat up with her elbows in the grass.

She felt a new loss that she couldn’t quite describe. Perhaps she could explain it to Orla later. “Och, ‘tis nae trouble.” She brushed off her skirts and avoided eye contact with him, fearful he might trap her with his eyes again, and she could feel the heat on her cheeks.

Bloody Hell. She was meant to be a warrior, not like Orla, who giggled and batted her eyelids at any handsome young man that came her way. That was not her at all.

“I had meant tae do this.” He reached forward and grabbed her hand lightly in his strong, rough one. He brought it to his lips, and Shana nearly let a gasp free as he placed a kiss upon it, keeping his eyes on her. “Thank ye for yer help.”

Shana could feel herself brushing a bright red, and she was willing him to let go of her hand as soon as possible. She didn’t feel strong enough to pull away.

When he did, he leaned back as if nothing strange had happened and asked, “So, tell me of ye, lass. Why are ye so good with a bow and arrow?”

He was grinning again. She could feel it in the air, even if she wasn’t looking up at him. She suddenly snapped, hopeful that she could remove his grin and thus regain some sort of equilibrium. “Is it so surprisin’, lad? That I should be quick with a weapon?”

She raised one eyebrow and looked in his direction. She suddenly felt guilty at the return of his earnest look again. Clearing her throat to avoid thinking about the guilt, she said, “Me Ma is a warrior, and so is me Da. We have all been taught tae fight. As I said, this is a sort of secret village. Everyone must prepare for any situation.”

He nodded. “I ken. ‘Tis a good idea.”

A silence fell between them. Even though Shana wanted to ask more about his future adventures and what he might do, she stood up, continuing to busy herself with brushing off her skirts. “I will go and prepare the provisions.”

Logan nodded and then stood up himself, handing her back her leather pouch. “I thank ye for the food. And the conversation. It does get a wee bit lonely out here, ye ken.”

“Aye, I ken it very well.” She smiled back at him and began to walk away. He called out after her.

“Lass, ye didnae tell me yer name. Am I nae tae ken the name of me angel? Me rescuer?”

Shana closed her eyes, hating how good it felt to be called thus and for a second time. To finally be of some use. And it didn’t hurt that it was a beautiful young man who had been close enough to kiss her who had called her that. She turned back. “ ‘Tis Shana.”

“Shana,” he said with a smile. The way he said it made tingles travel all over her skin. “Lovely.”

She nodded and then said, “I will be back tomorrow mornin’.”

“Until then.” After his last words, Shana left the woods, and she did not look back, fearful of what she might say or do if she did so.

Back in the village, as she strode through the main lane to her and Orla’s houses, she bumped into Orla carrying a bucket of water. Shana grinned. “Och, I see it has taken ye long enough at the well, Orla. Has Robert been there again, attemptin’ tae woo ye with his poor attempts at poetry?

Orla blushed and put the bucket down, using her apron to wipe her hair from her face. Her very dark hair was damp from sweat. “Nae at all, cousin. I would never do somethin’ like that. He may have been present, but I was only listenin’ with half an ear.”

Shana laughed. Orla was always trying to pretend that she did not love the attention and that she had a sort of affection for Robert herself. “Ye dinnae fool me, cousin.” She walked forward and grabbed the other end of the bucket. “Even though ye attempt tae lie tae me, I shall still help ye carry the water.”

“How kind of ye, Shana.” Orla rolled her eyes, and it made Shana giggle. They waddled together, holding the heavy bucket between them until they reached the outside of Orla’s hut. Her Aunt Isabelle was there, tall and beautiful, her long dark hair in a braid that fell down her shoulder.

“Shana,” she said with a smile, wiping her hands on her apron. “Where were you this morning? Off working on your archery, I hope?”

Shana nodded. “Aye. Ye ken that is what takes up most of me time.”

“That or the library.”

Smiling, Shana helped Orla pour the water into a clay jug on a low stone wall. “When will I get tae use me skills, Aunt? I think I have struck about every tree trunk, small animal, and apple in the whole of Scots’ Village. When will me Da think that I am old enough tae leave this place and find me own life?”

Her voice sounded a little whinier than she’d wanted it to. She also did not want to turn around and look at Orla, her cousin, and best friend. More like a sister. Shana didn’t want to leave Orla, but if she was to make her own way in the world, and Orla did not wish to go, then that would have to be the way of it.

Isabelle sighed and shielded her eyes from the bright sun as she looked into Shana’s face. “I think the time will be soon, my dear. Do not rush him, but it will be soon. You are a woman now, after all.” She grinned back at Orla.

Orla whined, “Then why do our da’s never think that we are? They still treat us like children.”

Isabelle laughed, loud and clear. “It is the way of fathers and daughters. Just the same with mothers and sons, I can assure you.” She squeezed Shana’s arm. “Now, your ma is looking for you. Go home and think about what I said.”

Shana nodded but felt morose. Waving to her aunt and cousin, she left for her own hut, a decision building in her mind.

Chapter II

Logan moved his knife over the stick in his hand, shucking off the bark with each quick movement and watching it fall in a curled shape into the grass. His back was positioned against a tree trunk, and he felt like he had never been more bored in his life.

While at the clan with his men and his family, he had been a warrior. He had been able to fight for his people, provide safety, complete missions and duties for his laird, and now he was here. Waiting for a young lass to bring him food so that he could continue on his journey while going nearly mad with boredom in the middle of a strange forest.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bark. He tried to put aside the rush of feelings that had come over him when he first spotted Shana. Her bow lifted up in the air, her eyes narrowed with focus, and her thumb touching her mouth.

That mouth. It was practically hypnotizing with its full, pink lips.  He predicted that she wasn’t much older than him, he being only twenty-three years of age. When she’d faced him, bow in hand and threatening his life, he’d almost laughed despite his desperate situation. Fiery was the way to describe her. Strong. Independent. But also innocent. It was a strange combination. He could see her youth and innocence in her eyes when he spoke of his past, and the way she had so heartily agreed to help him.

Strangely, she reminded him of Darla, who he had loved and lost before they’d had a chance to begin their lives together. She’d had dark hair, but her eyes had been light while Shana’s were impossibly dark. The pain of Darla’s loss was still real, but it was healing. That afternoon in the woods when Shana stepped into his view was the first time he’d looked at a woman with any other feeling besides friendship or indifference.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it and frowned as he continued to scrape and carve the wood, his little pile of curled wood shavings growing with each motion. He stopped for a moment and thought about his next moves. Would Caitria be able to help him as much as he hoped? Well, there was no one else.

She is me only family left.

Everyone had been taken from him over the years, and now the future looked bleak and lonely. It hadn’t looked so bad until he was found next to Allan, his very own dirk in Allan’s chest. Now, he had absolutely no one. Well, not no one. He had a fiery, brown-eyed lass who would surely shoot him as soon as look at him.

Did that count as someone?

***

The moon was bright that night, and Shana watched it through her window. She couldn’t sleep. The excitement of the day had been too much, and she couldn’t relax her mind enough to let it rest. She was thinking of Logan and what she wanted to ask him tomorrow once she brought him his supplies.

Taking a breath, she breathed out the words, “I want tae go with him.” There. She’d said it finally. The resolution had been knocking in her heart all day, and now it was out there, it felt good. It felt like she was finally free. She knew that her aunt and uncle nor her parents would ever agree to it, and so she had to take matters into her own hands.

Shana turned to the sound of footsteps, and she looked up to see Orla in her nightgown creeping towards her. Orla slid next to her on the bed and laid back with a smile. Since the houses were so close, the two girls often spent the night in each other’s homes, for they were continually surrounded by men, it seemed. The conversation about their hearts was their one solace.

“So, will ye tell me where ye were today?” Orla asked, putting her arms behind her head, bathed in moonlight.

Shana did the same, pulling away from the window. Orla always knew everything. “What makes ye think that I was somewhere? I told Aunt Isabelle that I was practicin’ me archery.”

Orla sighed. “I ken that ye were doin’ that. That is nae the part that I didnae believe. But I do think ye were leavin’ somethin’ out. When I saw ye earlier, ye were flushed, and yer eyes were bright as if ye’d just come back from somethin’ excitin’. Now, I say ye tell me what it is, or I shall have to tell yer ma and da that ye have a secret. Ye ken that yer da will nae let it rest.”

Shana groaned, and Orla giggled, shushing her. “Do ye want yer parents tae wake and hear yer secret? Tell me now!”

Shana sighed. “I met someone. In the woods.”

“Someone? Who?”

“I cannae say. I dinnae quite ken,” she lied. “But ‘tis a man.”

“A man?” Orla gasped and clutched onto Shana’s hand. “By God, if ye dinnae tell me everythin’ right now, then ye shall have Hell tae pay!”

Shana replied, “I was walkin’ on our path, and I found him there. He is hidin’. From somethin’. Ye must promise nae tae tell anyone about it!”

Orla tapped her heart. “I promise.”

“He needed food. I helped him. He will leave tomorrow once I bring him a bit more.”

“He is a man. A young man?”

Shana squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting to think about that pair of bright green eyes and long, reddish-brown hair. “Aye.”

“Just how young?” Orla’s voice held a joking tone, and Shana wanted to roll her eyes and be done with it.

“He is a little older than us, I would say. But nae by much.”

Orla grinned. Shana could sense it. “So, is he handsome?”

As quietly as she could, Shana groaned again. “Orla, ye ken that I dinnae like tae talk about idiot lads as much as ye do! They dinnae fill me mind so.”

“Och, but this one does. I can tell.” Orla poked Shana in the cheeks. “Even under the moonlight, ye are blushin’.”

Shana clutched Orla’s hand painfully until her cousin squealed and pulled away, scowling. “Fine,” Shana said. “He is handsome. Very handsome. But there is somethin’ else. Somethin’ I have decided.” Even though she was lying down, she still drew herself up a bit, hoping for some confidence. She wasn’t sure how Orla would react, knowing that her dear cousin and almost sister would be leaving her for who knew how long.

“What is it?” Orla turned to face her.

Shana took a long breath. “Orla. I have been wantin’ tae leave here for as long as I can remember. I cannae bear it anymore. The solitude. The nothin’ness. I want more.”

Orla nodded. “I ken it well. Ye were talkin’ tae me ma today about it. That also told me that somethin’ was wrong. Ye have nae talked about leavin’ for a little while. I thought that somethin’ else happened. I ken the feelin’, Shana. ‘Tis too isolated here.”

Shana nodded, and she was glad that Orla understood her feelings, but tears were still in her eyes. “Orla. I have tae go. And I have decided. When I bring the man his provisions tomorrow, I will ask him tae allow me tae go with him.”

“What? Are ye mad, Shana?” Orla’s eyes were wide, and the whites sparkled in the moonlight. “Ye dinnae even ken this man well at all. What if he is dangerous?”

He is dangerous. But in an entirely different way. I think.

“Orla, I ken. I have thought all about this since I spoke tae him earlier. This could be me only chance tae leave. Ye ken that me da will nae let me go until I am accompanied, most likely by a husband. I dinnae want that. I want tae go and see the world on me own.”

“Does the man even ken yet that ye want tae go with him? What if he doesnae let ye?”

Shana shook her head. “I will tell him tomorrow. And ye ken how persuasive I can be.” Shana tried to smile and push her cousin lovingly on the shoulder.

Orla frowned. “What about me? Ye will leave me here? What if I dinnae want this life?”

Orla’s voice was tremulous, and Shana’s heart nearly broke at the way she was hurting her cousin. “Ye could come too if ye like. We could explore the world taegether.”

Orla hesitated for a moment but then shook her head. “Nae, ye are stronger than me. Ye would do better than me out there in the world.”

Shana tried to smile again but found it even harder. “I will be back, ye ken. I would never choose tae leave ye forever. Ye must ken that.”

Orla nodded but looked unconvinced. “I think ye are right. Ye should go. Ye will never have peace or happiness until ye go. I will wait for ye here. Send word if ye can.”

Shana hugged Orla tightly. “Thank ye. In the mornin’, I will write a note, and I want ye tae wait tae give it tae the family until ye are certain that I have left and that there would be nae time enough for them tae come after me.”

Orla nodded again. “Ye promise, right? That ye will be back?

“I promise.” Sighing, Shana felt better and more at ease. She and Orla fell asleep, and Shana had a wonderful feeling that her life was just beginning.

***

The next morning, Logan woke up and rubbed the back of his neck. He was ready to sleep in a bed again. Normally when he traveled, he had all his provisions with him. But this time, he had nothing. And he wondered what Shana would bring him. His mood instantly lightened at the thought of seeing her once again.

It was a pity that they had to say goodbye, but that was life, was it not? A never-ending string of goodbyes? Groaning, he stood up and stretched, realizing that he needed a bath and a fresh set of clothes, but that would have to wait. His next stop would have to be at a secluded river where he could dunk himself into its cold depths and try to forget everything except getting to the keep.

He turned at the sound of crunching leaves and saw a smiling Shana walking towards him, her bow with her but this time not drawn. He smiled back at her like an idiot, but it had only been a natural reaction to seeing how bright and cheery she looked. As she stepped closer, he noticed a dimple in her right cheek. He shook his head.

Why am I noticin’ that?

“A good mornin’ tae ye, Logan.” She seemed a lot cheerier than the day before, and he found he was unable to react as quickly as he wanted. He was so surprised.

“And a good one tae ye, lass. Ye are lookin’ well.” He coughed and then said, “I mean well and happy.”

“So I am,” she said as she handed him the bag again as well as kept another bag for herself.

Shana’s eyes sparkle when she smiles. Damn. Why am I noticin’ things again? I am on the run! I have other things tae occupy me mind!

He took the bag from her and looked inside. “Lass,” he said as he looked up. “Ye have brought so much. How could ye afford tae do this? What generosity!” He grinned, and she looked almost a little bit proud as she stood in front of him her hands on her thin hips.

“Ye dinnae care to ask me why I am so happy?” Logan could feel his heart flutter at the freshness of the young beauty. Now that he was close and her face lifted in the sun, he could see freckles sprinkled lightly on the top of her cheeks.

Why had he not noticed it before when he had fallen over her, and her hands were touching his arms, their faces inches apart?

Och, that is right. Ye were more focused on her mouth and her eyes.

Logan groaned, and Shana jumped. “What is it?” she asked, her former bright expression switched to concern.

By God, I did that out loud.

Logan put out a hand. “Och, forgive me, lass. I was merely thinkin’ of somethin’. Go on then, tell me why ye are so happy.”

Shana’s eyes brightened, and despite their seemingly endless darkness, they sparkled. “I am happy because I had the most excellent idea.”

“And what is that?” He set the bag down and stood up again, crossing his arms.

“I had hoped that ye would let me go with ye.” She stood before him, grinning hopefully, and Logan frowned. There was no way he could risk his life, and the life of someone else’s by including Shana in his escape.

“Och, nae, I dinnae think that is a good idea, lass.”

Shana’s eyebrows knit together, and there was a slight crinkle in her forehead. “What do ye mean? Why nae?”

“Because I have tae run. I have dangerous people after me, ready tae take me tae the hangman’s noose. Why on earth should ye wish tae go with me?”

Shana stepped forward and gripped his arm. “Because I am stuck in this place, and I have nae other way of gettin’ out. I need tae leave. I have had me share of hidin’.”

Logan scoffed. “And ye think that comin’ with me will be the answer tae all yer problems? But where will ye go? What will ye do?”

Shana chewed on her lip, and he could see indecision mixed with desperation on her face. “I dinnae ken. But ye will give me a start. Once I see the outside world, I can choose next what is best for me. And I can fight. I have told ye already of me quickness with a bow. I will show ye if ye like.”

Before he could protest, Shana had her bow out and at the ready. She turned to the left and aimed at a hanging apple on a tree. The bow twanged, and the arrow shot straight through the apple, sending bits raining down onto the forest floor. It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye.

Logan lifted an eyebrow and turned back to her. “That is impressive, lass, but ye dinnae seem tae understand the kind of danger that I am in. We are bein’ pursued by Her Majesty’s army. They will stop at nothin’ tae find me. What if ye become mixed up in their danger?”

Shana shook her head. “I will leave then. I just need ye tae help me a little. Teach me a few things about the world.”

Logan looked confused.

“I ken that it sounds strange, but I tell ye that I have never left this village in me twenty years.”

Twenty. So only a couple years younger than I.

His mind was wandering again, and he should focus. He could not possibly risk-taking Shana with him, but in some ways, he could feel something niggling in the back of his mind. Shana might be a very nice addition. He felt a kinship with her he hadn’t felt in a long time. And she was right. She could fight if necessary.

Logan watched her for a moment. Her eyes were wide, and she was waiting, hopeful. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a very long while. “Fine. I am in agreement.” Even though he could see Shana’s worried face break out into a becoming smile, he wasn’t sure if he had just sealed his fate. And in more ways than one.

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Chapter I

“Please… please don’t kill me,” the Frenchman said.

She rolled her eyes, a leonine grin touching her lips. She took off her red and black tricorn cap and mopped her brow with her sleeve. The man was on his knees, his wrists and ankles shackled. He looked terrified as she stood over him.

“Why do you think I’d kill you?” she purred in his native tongue.

“Y – you are La Renarde de la Mer,” he stammered. “You do not take prisoners. This is known.”

She laughed as she shook her head and put her tricorn back on. The stories that went around about her and her crew were amusing. Her legend grew despite the fact that they had not actually done most of what they were known for. Oh, they’d had to commit many acts of violence before – that was part of the life. But they’d not done most of what they were accused of. It worked in her favor, so she was willing to let the stories spread and take on lives of their own. Ships she took were less likely to fight back when they believed they were facing a crew of bloodthirsty monsters wanting to do murder.

“If this is known, then why would you ask me not to kill you?” she asked.

Her crew laughed, one of them cuffing the French captain on the back of his head. A flash of anger touched his features but was quickly washed away by the tide of fear that gripped him. She held her sword up, the sun glinting off the thin, curved blade. The Frenchman’s eyes were wide, glued to the steel in her hand. With a small laugh, she slipped her blade back into its sheath on her hip.

Aileas, also known as the notorious Sea Fox – or La Renarde de la Mer, in French – turned her head and looked at the burning hulk of the French ship floating on the starboard side of her own ship, a fifty-foot tri-masted carrack called The Red Selkie. A thick column of black smoke rose to the heavens, and on the horizon, three small dots suddenly appeared. Ships. French navy. No doubt coming to aid the ship that floated along, engulfed in flames.

She turned to the captain and flashed him a vicious smile. “Just because I do not take prisoners does not mean I kill them either,” she said. “I’m a pirate. A businesswoman. Not a monster.”

The man’s eyes widened, blossoming with hope as her crew chuckled. She gave a nod to Dougal, her first mate, and a man from her native Scotland. He grinned wide.

“Over the side with this one, lads,” he bellowed.

As they unbounded the man, Aileas stepped to the rail of her ship and watched the sails on the horizon. They were definitely coming this way. She heard the Frenchman screaming behind her, followed by the splash of his body hitting the water. Her crew howled with laughter, hurling insults and pieces of garbage at the man. A small smile touched Aileas’s lips.

She turned around and walked to the steps that led her up to the rear deck and the ship’s wheel. Conscious of the three other ships on their way, she stood at the railing and started barking orders to her crew. They had pillaged the Frenchman’s ship, taking everything of value – and as a merchant, he’d had much of value – before putting it to the torch.

They usually didn’t destroy the ships they took. After all, having merchants sailing the seas was good for her. But the Frenchman’s crew had stupidly fought back and had bloodied one of her men. The ensuing fight had been fast and furiously messy. Most of the merchant’s crew had been killed, and those wise enough to surrender were now floating in the water with their captain.

The wind filled the red and black sails with a loud snap, and Aileas tilted her head back, savoring the feel of the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin. She loved being on the water. She loved the life she had built for herself out here, as far as she knew, the only female pirate captain on any sea, anywhere.

After she had fled from her home, Logan had taught her the ways of the sea. Though Logan was a legitimate merchant, he’d been a pirate when he was younger. One of the most notorious to ever sail the ocean blue to hear some tell it. When he started to get older and found a woman he wanted to settle with, he went straight. He even had a family.

He had been true to his word. He treated her like one of his own and raised her up. He taught her how to fight. He taught her how to run a ship, and more importantly, how to run a crew. He set her up so she could be a legitimate merchant – or a pirate. Aileas found the pirate life vastly more fun. So when Logan decided to hang it up and spend his remaining years with his family, he handed control of his ship – formerly the Iron Dragon – to her. Some of his crew, also getting on in years, had decided to leave the ship, opting to spend their lives – and the gold they’d taken over the years – on land.

The first thing Aileas had done was rename the ship, then had new sails made more befitting her style. After that, she’d found a crew. Some of the men aboard the Selkie were men she’d grown up with who opted to stay after Logan’s retirement. They knew and respected her already. But the newer crew members she took aboard, she’d had to break in since a female captain wasn’t something they were accustomed to. Some of them had to be taught a little respect.

But for the last few years, things had been smooth. Her crew had become her family. Her ship. Her hope. They were prosperous and feared. Aileas liked that. Although her life wasn’t what she had expected, her birthright stolen from her in a hail of blood and flame, she found that she couldn’t complain. She had a good life.

As the Selkie glided forward, Aileas stepped to the side railing and doffed her tricorn cap, and gave a bow to the men floating in the water.

“When those ships arrive to haul your miserable carcasses out of the water,” she called to them in French. “Please tell them La Renarde de la Mer sends her regards!”

* * *

They made berth in the harbor of Dernier Espoir – Last Hope – the city on the French shoreline they had called home since the days when Logan first took the pirate’s colors. It was a rough and tumble town filled with thieves and murderers, but it was also a place where the French authorities dare not step, which made it ideal for people like Aileas and her crew.

It had been home to Aileas since she was a girl, and so she was afforded a level of respect born of familiarity and the fact that Logan was essentially her da around there. Not many men challenged her, and when they did, she had always been more than happy to put them down. Her skill with a blade, though – and her willingness to use it – had earned her even more respect, acclaim… and fear.

The crew pulled their oars in and let the longboat glide to the dock that jutted out from the shore. The men jumped up and tied it off and helped her up the ladder. Once they were all standing on the dock, she gave them all a smile.

“Ye’ve done good work, lads,” she said. “Go and enjoy some of thae spoils, eh?”

The men cheered and clapped her on the shoulder as they headed for the taverns and brothels in town – of which, there were plenty of both. Aileas made her way to the inn where she laid her head down when they were ashore, the King’s Bollocks. Though the name was crude, the Bollocks had the softest beds in town, not to mention the best wine and food.

She stepped through the door and took a seat in the corner of the common room near the hearth. There was a chill in the air outside, and Aileas just wanted to relax by a fire and have a mug of wine. Aileas unbuckled her belt, took her sword off her hip, set it down on the table, and then settled into her seat. She caught the eyes of a few of the men seated in the common room. Strangers. No doubt wondering what a little slip of a girl like her was doing carrying a blade.

“Is there a problem here, eh?” she called.

The men quickly turned back to their drinks, and a stony silence descended over the common room. Slowly, the muted buzz of conversation picked up, but it was subdued, and everybody seemed to be making a pointed effort to avoid her gaze – and thus, avoid her wrath.

“Well, you’re in a foul mood tonight, aren’t you?”

Aileas smiled at the sound of her voice and turned her head to find Giselle gliding over to her table. She set the mug of warm, mulled wine down in front of her, and a pitcher of it down in the center of the table, and took a seat across from her. Aileas took hold of the mug, cupping it in both hands to leach the warmth from it, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I am glad to see you home safely,” Giselle said.

“I’m glad to be home safely,” Aileas replied.

“Was it dangerous?”

Aileas shrugged. “It had its moments.”

Even though she’d been speaking French for most of her life now, it still felt wrong in Aileas’ mouth. It was uncomfortable. Like a cloak that didn’t quite fit properly. It was true that she had spent most of her years in France, but she knew she would never be considered French herself. Still, there were a lot of worse places to be while away the time.

Giselle smiled at her, clearly wanting Aileas to regale her with tales of her adventures on the sea. She was the inn owner’s daughter, and they had become fast friends shortly after Aileas had taken up residence in the Bollocks. She knew Giselle harbored fantasies of becoming a pirate and sailing the open ocean, and she looked at Aileas as something of a hero and a role model, something Aileas had no desire to be.

Still, the two of them were thick as thieves. They had become great friends over the years, and in a world where Aileas trusted few people, the short, slim, curvy brunette was one of the very few. So she obliged the girl and told her of their voyage… the fights, and the dangers they had faced. She ended it with the story of her leaving the French captain in the water.

When she was done speaking, she took a long swallow of the mulled wine, which had cooled considerably as she’d been telling her tale. It was still good, though. Giselle’s face was bright, her smile wide, and she was quietly clapping her hands, thrilled with Aileas’ tale.

They talked a while longer before exhaustion finally started catching up to Aileas. As she got to her feet, Giselle’s eyes widened.

“Oh no, I almost forgot,” the girl said.

“Forgot what?”

Giselle held up a finger, then dashed behind the counter. She came back a few moments later, holding a sealed piece of parchment. Aileas took it and looked at the seal for a moment, not recognizing the sigil embedded in the red wax.

“Who left this?” Aileas asked.

Giselle shrugged. “I do not know. It was left here for you a couple of days ago,” she said. “The man who left it said to make sure it got into your hands the moment you returned. Said it was important.”

“But you did not recognize him?”

She shook her head. “His French was terrible. I had to get Alexandre to translate for me,” she said. “And he had a funny accent. It sounds like yours when you are not speaking French.”

That piece of information sent a bolt of lightning straight through Aileas’ body. A Scotsman here in France, leaving messages for her. She knew it could only be one person, since aside from Logan – whom Giselle would have known – there was only one person who knew where to find her.

“Dand,” she whispered.

Giselle looked at her curiously as she broke the seal on the letter. The missive was six words. Just six words. But those six words turned her entire world upside down.

It is time. Come home. ~ Dand

“Home,” she whispered to herself. “I’m goin’ home.”

Chapter II

Sowkirk, Scotland

The sky was overcast, and there was a chill as thick and heavy as the salt in the air. Luke stood on the far end of the dock, looking out to the sea. He loved the ocean. It held such beauty and mystery for him.

Luke knew he got his love of the sea from his father, who’d been a fisherman. Luke had only seen twelve summers, though when a storm blew through while his father was at sea, and the mighty ocean had claimed him. Still, despite the tragedy that had marked his life, he held a strong love for the water.

He looked around the harbor, silently naming the different vessels berthed there to himself. Luke thought that he’d like to board one of those ships and head out one day, riding the ocean, bound for distant lands. Most of them were familiar to him, merchants who regularly made berth in the harbor of Sowkirk.

One ship he had not seen before, though, caught his eye. It was a large, tri-masted carrack that was moored on the outside ring, standing alone. He could see the silhouettes of a few of the ship’s crewmen bustling about on the deck from where he was standing. What caught his eye were the sails. Though furled, he could see they were red and black. It was distinctive.

He stood at the end of the dock for a little while longer, just breathing the salty scent of the ocean and watching the unfamiliar carrack. Then with a smile, he turned and made his way to the harbor master’s office and leaned against the doorway, folding his arms over his chest, and looked in at the man.

Clovis Brun was perhaps the angriest man Luke had ever known. He was older, with a head full of stark white hair, a dark, craggy face, stooped shoulders, an ample belly, and a sharper tongue than any blade Luke currently had on his body. Clovis’s green eyes sparkled with intelligence and keen wit. He was never opposed to making somebody look plum foolish when the mood struck him.

“Aye? What dae ye want then, boy?” the old man snapped. “And wipe that bleedin’ smile off yer face. Tis nothin’ tae be smilin’ about ‘round here.”

Luke smiled wider. Despite his surliness, he liked old Clovis.

“I came tae ask about thae carrack with the red and black sails,” he said. “I’ve never seen it here before.”

“What business is it of yers then, eh?”

“Must we have this conversation every time I stop in, Clovis?” Luke replied. “Ye ken tis thae task me lord Fin has set to me. He wants me to keep abreast of thae ships and the crew who come intae Sowkirk.”

Clovis scoffed. “Yer lord wants ye out of his hair,” he cackled. “Tis why he sends ye down here. Ye dae ken that, eh?”

It was a thought Luke had more than a few times. He desperately wanted to be part of Fin’s personal guard – the Black Wolves, as they were called. He wanted to be a warrior. He wanted the respect and esteem that came with being one of a noble’s personal guard. Perhaps more than a life on the sea, he wanted to be known as a great warrior and friend to his lord.

But he had not yet been given a chance. Although he spent his mornings training in the warrior’s field, the rest of his days were spent at the harbor in Sowkirk, watching the ships sail in and out, ostensibly keeping an eye out for enemies. But it had not taken him long to figure out that it was a way for Baron Bagbie to get Luke out of his hair.

“Mebbe if ye dinnae pester him so much, he might nae send ye away,” Clovis continued, cackling the whole time.

“I daenae pester him,” Luke snapped.

“Lad, I been here longer than ye been alive,” he stated. “Believe me when I say that only lads who get tasked with dock duty are thae ones who pester thae baron.”

Luke frowned, feeling his mood darken. Deep down, he knew Clovis spoke the truth. And that didn’t improve his current disposition any. But Luke had always believed in putting himself out there. Believed that to achieve his goals, he had to make others remember his name. But listening to Clovis confirm the thoughts that floated through the back of his own mind made him see that perhaps, he should have found another way to make Baron Bagbie recall his name.

The good thing was, he still had time to correct his course. He was young, and he was hungry. He would do what was necessary to stand out from the other young men who vied for spots within the baron’s elite guard. That meant he needed to redouble his training. He would need to make a name for himself on the training court, not by constantly peppering the baron with questions.

The decision made, and his course set, Luke nodded to himself. He would make the baron stand up and take notice of him. He was already skilled with a blade in his hand, and he made a silent vow that before long, he would be the best in all of Cherrythorn Manor. There would be no way the baron could deny him for long.

“Are ye goin’ tae tell me about the carrack or not?” Luke pressed.

“Tis called thae Red Selkie; what else dae ye want to ken?”

“Where’s it from? Where is thae crew?”

“I daenae ken where thae crew is. A tavern or a brothel, I’d suspect. Seems tae be thae first thing sailors dae,” he grumped. “Nor can I say I ken where they’re from. I did hear ‘em speakin’ in French, though. Oh, and they’re led by a lass.”

Luke pondered it a moment, the name seeming to be strangely out of place. A French vessel named after a Scottish legend? He thought it over for a moment and wondered if he was making more of things than they actually warranted. Still, it struck him as odd and out of place. But perhaps, not as odd and out of place as a female captain. That was an oddity worth exploring.

“A female captain? Yer sure?”

“Aye,’ he said. “That sorta thing tends tae stand out.”

“And they spoke French?”

“Did I stutter, lad? Bleedin’ hell, I can see why thae baron sends ye away from him,” Clovis spat. “Now, unless ye got any more stupid questions, I got work I need tae be doin’, so run along now.”

Luke lingered in the doorway for a moment, glaring at the man. The one thing he disliked more than anything was being condescended to the way Clovis had just done. He did not like being spoken to as if he was a child. Technically, he was a soldier. He was one of the baron’s fighting men who would be called upon in a time of war. His aim was higher, and just because he had not attained his goal just yet, did not mean others had the right to sneer at him.

“Ye may not think much of me now, old man,” Luke growled. “But I look forward tae thae day I make ye eat yer bleedin’ words.”

Clovis looked at him for a long moment, and rather than a scowl, or a sharp word, Luke saw something different in his face. It was almost something akin to respect, though not quite there.

“I look forward tae thae day tae, lad,” he said, sincerity in his voice. But then a wicked grin curled the corners of his lips upward. “Until then, get yer bleedin’ arse outta me office.”

A smile crossed Luke’s face, and he laughed as he left the harbor master’s office. As he walked along the docks, though, his thoughts continued to return to the carrack. Clovis had heard them speaking French, which was interesting. It piqued his curiosity more than a little. He did not see many French merchants harboring at Sowkirk.

The town only had half a dozen taverns or so. If they had indeed gone to a tavern as Clovis had suggested, they should not be hard to find. He wanted to learn what they were up to and whether they posed any threat to his baron. He thought if they did, Baron Bagbie would be well pleased to be forewarned.

Luke set off into the town, looking for this mysterious crew who was led by a woman.

* * * * *

It took him three taverns before he found who he was looking for. The red and black tricorn hat that matched the carrack’s sails sitting on the table gave her away. As unobtrusively as he could, Luke walked in and took a seat near the table where she sat and cast a furtive glance at her. One of the tavern girls brought him over a clay mug filled with mead, and he took a deep drink of it, trying to look natural.

With hair the color of deep rust that was pulled back into a braid that hung over her shoulder, soft hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and skin darkened by the sun, Luke thought the captain was striking. She was small and petite, though she had curves that he enjoyed looking at. In black woolen breeches, black boots that went up to the knee, a red tunic, and a black leather jerkin over that, she was a sight. She looked delicate, almost like a little girl dressed up in a fighting man’s gear. And yet, despite that appearance, Luke could see the hardness in her. The toughness she carried herself with.

Beneath her tunic, he could see the sway and ripple of corded muscles. There was a scar, just a thin white line, that ran from her chin and along her jawline. As he looked closer, he could see her knuckles and hands also bore a thin white web of scars he’d commonly seen on the hands of warriors. She had obviously seen her share of fighting and action.

The woman was young but had a practiced, casual air about her. And yet, at the same time, there was a tension in her frame as well. Her body seemed to crackle with the promise of violence. The woman had a whispered threat of it in her easy but deft movements. It was the same way he’d seen hardened warriors move. The way the baron’s Black Wolves moved.

Luke had no trouble believing the woman’s small, almost delicate frame, and that soft, comely face had led many a man to underestimate her. He also had no trouble believing those who did, were no longer of this world. It was in her eyes. Even from where he sat, he could see the hardness in them. They were eyes that had obviously seen much in what Luke guessed was not a very long life thus far.

“Is there somethin’ I can help ye with?”

It took a moment for Luke to realize the woman was looking at him square in the eyes and speaking to him. He gave himself a small shake and cleared his throat.

“Sorry?” he asked.

“I ask if there was somethin’ I can help ye with,” she snapped. “Ye’ve been eyeballin’ me since ye sat down.”

“I have not.”

She rolled her eyes, a small grin flickering across her full, red lips. “Aye. Ye have.”

“Me apologies then. I dinnae mean tae stare. I was just thinkin’ to meself.”

“Thinkin’ about me then?” she purred.

“No, of course nae.”

“Why not? Daenae ye find me attractive?”

“Well… no,” he stammered. She stared at him, one eyebrow raising as her lips curled upward in a smile. “I mean… yes. Of course. But that’s not what…”

She’s got me stammerin’ like a bleedin’ idiot. Get ahold of yerself already.

“I was nae lookin’ at ye, all right?” he finally managed. “I was just thinkin’. And nae about ye.”

“Ye’ve quite thae effect on thae lads,” a deep, rumbling voice sounded.

“Ye’ve no idea,” she replied, her voice low and smoky.

For the first time, Luke noticed the large, burly man sitting at the table with her. He was older than her, but not old enough to be her father. And yet, there were some resemblances between them, so Luke thought they could be kin.

As for the man, he was built like a tree – tall, wide, and stout. He wore doeskin breeches, boots, and a dark tunic belted at the waist. The man’s hair was dark, his eyes even darker, and his skin was tawny. A large, bushy beard covered most of his face, and he seemed to radiate menace from every pore. Luke was good in a fight and skilled with a blade, but he knew even he’d think twice about tangling with the man before him.

The walking tree turned his head to Luke. “Now why daenae ye be a good lad and mind yer own bleedin’ business?”

Luke frowned and felt the blood in his veins begin to boil, feeling like he was being called out. He cut a glance around the common room of the tavern and saw people turning their way, interest upon their faces. He felt his back stiffen, and as more eyes fell upon him, he felt the pressure to answer the large man’s challenge growing. Getting heavier and pressing down on him.

Of course, people want tae see some bloodshed—bleedin’ vultures.

Luke looked him in the eye, held his gaze firmly. “I was mindin’ me own bleedin’ business ‘til she said somethin’ tae me, friend.”

“I’m nae yer friend, lad,” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

“Fine. I daenae care,” Luck snapped. “I’m just tryin’ tae enjoy a drink and this fine hearth.”

“What’s your name?” the woman asked.

“Luke Addair,” he replied. “And yers?”

“Alice,” she said. “Alice Garnier.”

The burly man with her shot her a look but turned his gaze back to Luke again.

“Me name’s none of yer bleedin’ business,” he grumbled.

Luke shrugged. Frankly, he didn’t care what the man’s name was. He wasn’t what had captured Luke’s attention. That was Alice Garnier. He found that he was growing more curious about her.

“Tis unusual for a woman tae captain a ship,” Luke said.

She gave him a smile, which left him feeling somewhat unsettled. For some reason, this woman had a visceral impact on him. She put a flutter through his heart and stomach he couldn’t understand.

“Mebbe it shouldnae be,” she replied.

Luke shrugged and gave her a small smile. “Mebbe not.”

“I’d heard ye’ve got a French crew,” he said. “Seems unusual.”

“Lots of things seem tae be unusual tae ye,” she replied. “But tae answer yer question, good men tae crew a ship can be found anywhere… even in France. And tae enlighten ye further, I’ve got Scots and even an Irishman among me crew.”

Luke nodded, feeling the weight of her companion’s eyes on her. He didn’t think the big man was part of her crew, though. He couldn’t put his finger on why exactly, but Luke didn’t think he had the look of a sailor about him. Unlike her. She seemed made of ocean water and sea salt. She had the look of a woman who could be as soft and gentle as the sea on a calm, clear day, and at the time, as violent and brutal as an ocean storm. Luke found her more than a little intriguing.

“So what brings ye tae Sowkirk then?”

She shrugged languidly. “Just doin’ some business.”

“We daenae get many merchants from France ‘round here.”

“Then thae market should be fresh and unspoiled for me goods, eh?”

He grinned at that. “Aye. I suppose so,” he said. “And what kind of goods are ye bringin’ tae market then?”

“Ye sure dae got a lot of questions, daenae ye?” the man grumbled.

“Me ma always said havin’ a curious mind was a good thing,” Luke shot back.

“Tis a good way tae get yer gut opened up, and yer innards spilled out on thae floor here.”

The big man had his hand on the hilt of a dagger on his belt, his eyes narrowed, and jaw set. He looked at Luke with pure malice in his eyes. Luke was getting tired of the man and his not-so-veiled threats. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, his gaze fixed firmly to the big man’s. The air in the tavern suddenly crackled with tension, and all eyes turned to them, a breathless anticipation building.

The big man got to his feet, staring at Luke with baleful eyes. Alice sat back in her seat, an expression of amusement upon her face, a grin flickering across her lips. Luke could tell she was weighing him. Taking his measure. In that hazel-eyed gaze, he saw that she was trying to see what sort of a man he was.

And at that moment, Luke knew what sort of man he wanted to be. He wanted to be a man who did not back down from a challenge. A man who was not afraid to fight – and die – for what he believed was right. And he wanted those things mostly for himself, but partly because he knew, deep down in his bones, that was the sort of man Alice wanted.

“Mebbe we need tae step outside, so I daenae sully thae tavern floor with her blood,” the man growled.

Luke got to his feet and swept the cloak back from his shoulders, laying his hand casually on the pommel of his sword. It had been his father’s blade, the last piece of his da he had. It was a long, curved blade with a crossguard fashioned to resemble the tentacles of a sea beast, the pommel its head; two chips of ruby had been embedded to resemble the eyes.

The sword was light and graceful. Elegant. And Luke drew power and strength from it. His father had been a master swordsman. He could have been one of the old lord’s elite personal guards. But he had chosen a life upon the sea instead. While Luke wouldn’t follow his father in that regard, he trained relentlessly to be his equal with a blade in his hand.

“Aye. Mebbe we should,” Luke said, his voice cold.

The man’s lips curled upward in a grin. He turned to Alice and tipped her a wink, then erupted into laughter.

“I like this lad,” he said. “He’s got stones, he does. Stones thae size of boulders, I’d say.”

Alice smiled, and all around him, the common room burst into laughter, all of the tension that had saturated the air before, vanishing like a puff of smoke on a breeze. Luke stood there, blinking, swept away by waves of confusion. The big man walked over, and Luke tensed, but with a smile on his face, he clapped him on the shoulder, a wide smile on his face. It helped ease some of his tension, but he still watched the man warily.

“Ye’ve got stones, lad. I respect that,” the big man said. “I was just jestin’ with ye, lad. Ye can take yer hand off yer blade now.”

Luke slowly lowered his hand, still trying to figure out what was happening. He looked over to Alice, whose smile was enigmatic and captivating, and she beckoned to him. Clearing his throat and trying to wipe the dumbstruck look from his face, he picked up his mug of ale and walked over to her table, pulling a chair over, and sat down. The big man stood next to him, and Alice looked up at him.

“I’ll come see ye later, Dand,” she said. “We can finish our discussion then.”

The man raised an eyebrow at her, and Luke saw a sly grin on his face. He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling like thunder rolling in off the ocean.

“Aye. We’ll dae that,” he said and set one of his large, meaty hands on Luke’s shoulder. “Watch over this one. She’s me cousin, so daenae let anythin’ happen to her, eh?”

Inwardly, Luke felt a rush of relief upon hearing that Alice was his cousin, rather than his woman. It meant he had a chance after all. But he also felt like Alice was not simple prey to catch. In just the short time he’d known her, he knew she was different than any other woman Luke had ever known, and he found her intriguing and compelling in a hundred different ways.

“Aye,” Luke replied. “On me honor.”

“I think it more likely I’ll be thae one watchin’ over him,” Alice said.

The large man – Dand, he’d heard Alice call him – nodded. “Aye. Probably so,” he said. “I just dinnae want tae hurt his feelin’s.”

Alice laughed out loud, and not even Luke could keep the smile from curling his lips upward. Luke thought Dand seemed to be a man capable of great violence, and one who was good in a fight – depending on which side of the blade you were on. But he also thought he seemed like a man quick to laugh and jest. A man who seemed to enjoy himself and life. Luke liked that. It was confusing, but he liked it.

“I’ll see ye after,” Dand said.

“Aye. After.”

Luke watched the man walk away, still not entirely certain what was happening. When he turned to Alice, he found her watching him over the rim of her cup as she took a deep quaff of her ale.

“So,” she said as she set the cup back down. “Tell me yer story, Luke Addair.”

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Chapter I

Isle of Mull, Seat of Clan MacLean

Elizabeth dressed with care that evening. She had been bold and stopped in an inn along the way to make sure that everything was in order and that her dress would not be too rumpled by the carriage ride from England. With a pale blue dress and her light blonde hair tied in braids and twirled at the base of her head, she hoped she was dressed suitably for the occasion, even if the journey on the boat across the Sound may have wrinkled her dress or pulled pieces out of her coiffure. She also wished to show respect to her dear friends on the Isle of Mull, even though it was her own father that had caused problems among the clans.

To her surprise, nearly as soon as she’d arrived, she had been swept into handsome Liam MacLean’s arms onto the dance floor, and they began to dance along to the merry tunes of bagpipes and fiddles. With his handsome boyish smile, she felt herself smiling as well, her skin tingling when his strong arms were wrapped around her, pulling her this way and that as if she weighed nothing.

“So, ye Sassenachs have more rhythm than expected,” Liam said, slightly breathless at the end of the tune. She saw him wink at her and blushed slightly.

What to say? She had no idea how to flirt with a man, and the last time she and Liam had been in conversation, she felt she had embarrassed herself entirely since she was always so dumbstruck by his handsome presence. “Well, I was taught as a child. Certainly nothing like this, but we were forced into dance lessons with tutors.”

“Is that so?” Liam grinned and leaned against the pillar nearby, staring back at her. Elizabeth could see dancers and merrymakers out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t rip her gaze from Liam’s. He said with a mischievous grin, “I would love tae hear all about what ye experienced in England, lass. I have heard Julia and Charlotte talk about it from time tae time. ‘Tis like another world for me.”

Elizabeth felt her breath quicken, and her mind was flitting around, desperately trying to find something to say in response. His gaze was warm and direct, and he was looking at her as if he never wanted to look anywhere else. It was unnerving, yet if she was honest, it was deeply pleasurable. A song was struck up again, and Liam put out a hand. “Will ye dance again, lass? With yer tutored rhythm?” He chuckled.

Weakly, Elizabeth smiled back. She wanted to dance with him again more than anything, but she feared she would simply look like an imbecile who had nothing of interest to say. She shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I will rest for one moment before I try again.”

Liam nodded. “As ye wish, lass.” He dashed off and grabbed another giggling woman nearby the dance floor and pulled her into the center. Elizabeth watched, her lips parted in surprise. She couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit upset at Liam’s quick change from her to someone new. He had made her feel so special in that moment, and then…What am I doing? I am here to greet a friend on the celebration of her wedding! Not spend time daydreaming about fickle yet handsome men!

Wine was the answer. It would calm her nerves and perhaps help her relax enough to give her more fodder for conversation with anyone else who wished to speak with her. Searching around, she spotted a table and took a filled glass in hand. She stood alone and watched the merriment before her, hoping to soon be reunited with Charlotte. Charlotte was always one to make her feel comfortable and that her words were worth listening to.

She took a long sip of her glass, and suddenly a tall man appeared at her side. “Laird Campbell,” she said, nearly spitting out her wine onto his waistcoat, her heart beating nervously. To her relief, the man bowed his head in greeting. It had only been a few weeks since she’d last seen him after her father had killed his older brother, but now that he had become laird of the Campbells, it looked as though he’d grown in confidence and, dare she say it, happiness. His brown curls were rough and tumbling on his head, and his stark blue eyes twinkled merrily in her direction.

“Lady Darling, I am most happy tae see ye returned tae us. Charlotte never mentioned it tae me, that ye would be coming tae the wedding?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“She did not know. I wanted it to be a surprise. Is she around? There seem to be so many people here that I can barely breathe.”

He laughed, and Elizabeth noted the handsome way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he did so. “Ye are right, lass. I agree with ye. Charlotte is around, aye, but I have tae be selfish for a moment. Will ye nae give me one dance afore ye go and see her? I never know when I might get the chance again, with an English beauty such as yerself who may leave us again at any moment.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes a little wider. John Campbell is asking me to dance? He had been so kind to her the last time they’d met under horrible circumstances, but she never expected this. Even after all that had happened, here he was, asking her to dance and appearing rather forward about his interest to do so. She swallowed the remainder of her wine, and placing the glass down, put her hand forward delicately. “Of course, laird. I would be honored.”

John beamed in her direction. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, as he slipped a hand around her waist, “Ye donnae have tae call me that, ye know. I had hoped ye would call me John. It is much more informal. The way I prefer things between us.” Elizabeth couldn’t believe what was happening. John Campbell was flirting with her. A second man that evening!

He pulled her into a dance, and she tried her best to follow the rhythm. They interlocked arms and swung about. As she spun, she noticed Liam watching them from his section of the dance floor. Every time that she spun her head, Liam’s gaze was following her every movement, and she felt a heat bloom up from her stomach, up her neck, and redden her cheeks with its warmth.

She found she rather liked it, this bold attention from two very handsome gentlemen, but she felt an old shame at that fact. It brought up the memory of her father connecting her potential fate to that of the prostitutes who populated the brothels. Once the song ended, John took her arm in his. “If ye donnae mind, lass, I shall bring ye tae Charlotte myself. Ye have done me a service. Ye should see all the jealous lads around us.”

She grinned and felt her eyes flutter downward at the compliment. “Hardly a service, John. Please, I would be most gratified to see my friend on her most glorious of days.” He pulled her through the crowd to the edge where she saw with delight a beautifully dressed Charlotte and a tall, strong, dark-haired Angus standing nearby. They were looking into each other’s eyes and laughing.

Charlotte turned and smiled widely at her approach. “Elizabeth!” She opened her arms and rushed to her friend, wrapping her in a warm embrace. “I saw you earlier but did not want to disturb your enjoyment of the wedding dances.” She winked. “When did you arrive?” Angus bowed smilingly in her direction.

“Lady Darling.”

Elizabeth was overrun with happiness. It had felt like a lifetime since she was so warmly greeted. She suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to have a home that was cozy and loving, just like this. “Greetings and congratulations to you both! I am afraid I was much too late for the ceremony. I am so sorry; it was difficult to find a boat when it was not planned — I wanted it to be a surprise. I arrived only a little while before. Liam was the first to greet me.” She said the last sentence with a slight blush.

Angus chuckled. “As I am certain he was most happy tae do. Come, ye must take food. Ye must be very tired from yer long journey.”

Elizabeth suddenly felt the feeling come on her strongly. She was famished. It had been many hours since she’d last eaten, so she allowed herself to be seated. Charlotte sat down across from her, grinning widely. Elizabeth looked around and saw Angus disappear with John. “Charlotte! Surely you do not wish to sit here with a guest when you have your own beautiful table of honor to sit at with your husband.”

“Oh, do not worry yourself! Angus has many people to greet as brother to the laird, and I am simply doing my duty as hostess to make sure my favorite guests have everything they need.” She reached across and squeezed Elizabeth’s hands. “You do not know how much it means to me that you have come. I feared you would not wish to accept the invitation after everything that had happened.” Charlotte hesitated, and Elizabeth knew the question that was coming next.

“How is your father?” Charlotte’s eyes were crinkled in concern.

Elizabeth took a piece of bread and began to chew, not wanting to answer right away. This question was a delicate one and would take time to answer. She wasn’t sure exactly which answer people would like to hear. There had been many who wished for him to hang, and yet he did not. Perhaps this was the kinder way for him to die. By a disease he had obtained within the prison walls.

“I have not visited him often, as I am sure you can understand.” Charlotte nodded tersely. “He is unwell, and I have just received a letter from him telling me so. They do not expect him to live very long, although I do not know how long that might be.” She was surprised at the cold way she spoke of it.

Charlotte frowned. “I am sorry, Elizabeth. No matter what has occurred, he is still your father.”

Elizabeth smiled weakly, feeling a little less foolish for her portion of grief. “Thank you, Charlotte. But let us put him out of our minds on this merriest of eves. I came all this way to enjoy myself and to try and forget the past and the future as well! Tell me, where is your father? Is he doing well?”

Charlotte pointed to the corner where he was chatting amiably to an older, elegant Scotswoman. “He is there! I never expected him to enjoy himself at a Scottish gathering so much as he has, but I cannot keep track of him! From one dance to the next, he goes. He is like a different person ever since…your father left.”

“I know the feeling,” Elizabeth said, a little sullenly.

Charlotte changed the subject, as she spotted the slight frown on Elizabeth’s face. “Now, enough of fathers. Tell me everything you have to say about young men.” She giggled. “You have had two dance partners since you have arrived, and that is more than many a young woman here can say. And such handsome ones too.”

Elizabeth blushed deeply despite herself. Charlotte always knew how to get her to do so. She was like the complete opposite to herself, and yet there as a kinship between them. Elizabeth hoped that a little of Charlotte’s boldness would brush off on herself, and she could act confidently around men. Around anyone, for that matter. “You are right. They are both extremely handsome gentlemen. But I was very surprised to have been asked. You know how tongue-tied I can get.”

“Posh! Elizabeth Darling, it is about time that you accept just how incredibly beautiful you are, and how many gentlemen’s eyes are upon you this evening. Your hair is luminous in the candlelight, and your cheeks are red and healthy from wine and merriment. I can very much understand why Liam and John both selected you as their partner of choice.”

Charlotte was watching her closely, and Elizabeth could see that mischievous smile forming. “Charlotte, it almost looks as if you are planning something.”

Charlotte giggled, and she pushed a lock of reddish-blond hair behind her ear. “Perhaps I am. Would that be so terrible?” Charlotte glanced around the room, and Elizabeth knew she was looking for the two gentlemen in question. “Elizabeth, dear friend, how long will you be staying with us?”

Elizabeth fumbled over her words. “I really do not know. I had hoped to stay for at least a few days. My aunt seemed happy enough to let me go, but I know that I could not stay too long, as to be a hindrance to her as well as a burden to you all.”

Charlotte laughed. “As if you could ever be thus. Please stay as long as you like. Now that I see you are here, I have a job for you, if you are interested.”

“Oh? A job? Is this what you have been planning?” Elizabeth smiled, feeling a little of the old happiness and life flood into her again. Thoughts of her father were momentarily forgotten.

“Not quite, but I suppose it could all be part of it. Julia is pregnant, and she had been helping me a little with the healing, but as of right now, she is not feeling well enough to assist. You can see she had to leave the merriment early, but I am certain she will be back down again later. Calum has gone to see to her needs.”

Elizabeth nodded and waited to hear the request. She ate quietly, trying to stay calm. She hoped against hope that Charlotte would ask her to help.

Charlotte said, “Would you be interested in helping me a little with the healing work while you are here? You could stay in the castle with us, and I know it would be so much fun with you around.”

Elizabeth beamed and squealed with delight. The sound was drowned out by the music and voices in the room. “Yes, of course! I would love to! Oh, thank you, Charlotte! I cannot tell you how dull it has been in England with my Aunt Mildred. She is kind in her own way, but she does not believe women should do anything other than reading, sewing, and sitting quietly. Even though it has only been a short while, it has felt like a lifetime!”

Elizabeth’s words tumbled out of her mouth, and Charlotte laughed wildly. “You are such a comfort to me, my friend. I love your humor, the way it slips out of your mouth when you least expect it. You always look surprised at the things you say!”

Elizabeth nodded. “I suppose I am. Even more so, of late. My father says…”

She caught herself, not wanting to tell anyone about the letter or her promise. It would bring no one anything but pain. She would have to find a way to finish her sentence. Charlotte was looking at her expectantly.

She bit her lip for a moment, and then said, “He says that I must abide by the rules in which I was brought up and not be swayed by any bold-minded Englishwomen in Scotland.” She reached over and grabbed Charlotte’s hand. Charlotte chuckled. Elizabeth continued. “But I cannot help it, my friend. You have helped me see the world in a new way.”

“Well, now you must take your life into your own hands and make your own decision. And I believe you have made an excellent choice, staying here with us! The servants have taken your things?”

“Yes, but I could not give instructions to them on where to place them.”

“Not a worry. Mrs. MacLean shall handle it all. You are here now.” Charlotte turned back to the dancing. “Now, let us turn our minds to merrier things. My wedding for one, and the fact that the eager gentlemen await you to dance with them.” She nodded her head in John’s direction, who glanced towards the women for a moment, a smile on his face.

Elizabeth tried to smile back, but she wasn’t sure how to react. “Charlotte, please say you will teach me how to behave with gentlemen. You tried, but then I had to leave. I have no hope if you do not help me!”

Charlotte smiled. “Of course, dear Elizabeth. I thought you would never ask! Now, the first rule is, carry yourself with an air of confidence even if you do not feel it. It is the men who pine for you, and it is not for you to grovel at their feet.” Elizabeth could see Charlotte smile in Angus’ direction, and he winked back at his wife.”

“And what if the men do not pay you any mind?”

Charlotte waved a hand in the air. “Then they are not even worth a glance from your lovely blue eyes, Elizabeth. Stand confidently. Allow the men to come to you to ask for a dance.”

Elizabeth moved to sit next to Charlotte on the long bench, following her gaze to the frenzy of dancing couples in front of them. “And what to say? How does one flirt with a man when he is attempting to flirt with you? I find I have nothing to say.”

“But you do!” Charlotte tapped her chin in thought. “Answer the first thing that comes to your mind. If you begin to think overmuch about your words, you will find you have not spoken for over a minute while the man waits for your reply!”

Elizabeth nodded to herself, biting her lip in concentration. “You are right. Say what I think on the first thought.”

“Excellent. Now, we will have to speak later, for a gentleman comes your way again. If you wish to dance with him, then say yes as demurely and prettily as you can!” Charlotte’s eyes widened with excitement as she watched him approach.

Quietly, Elizabeth took a breath before lifting her eyes. She had expected John to approach, having seen his smile towards her and Charlotte, but instead, Liam stood before her again, bowing low. “My Lady,” he said with a grin. Elizabeth’s stomach ached for a moment, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

Chapter II

The celebration was positively glorious. Elizabeth was sitting on the edge of the crowd again, her belly full, and her mind delightfully fuzzy with more wine than she had ever imbibed before. Her father had only ever allowed her one glass at mealtimes, but now, Scotland made her ever the rebel. After dancing with Liam, she had spent the remainder of the time speaking with Charlotte and Angus or in John’s arms, loving the dizzy feel of music, heated bodies, and the way the room felt warm with happiness and laughter.

She was now too tired to dance any longer. Many of the guests had fallen asleep on the sides of the room, still clutching half-full glasses of wine or ale. Some had left as well, and she was ready to return to her own bed. It would be utterly delightful to sleep away from the eyes of her aunt, father, and anyone else ready to make a comment on her behavior that evening.

She leaned back against the wooden table and smiled to herself. The wine had made her brave, and she liked the feeling. Thoughts of worry and misbehaving had fled her mind, and she never wanted to give that feeling up. It had been a night of pure bliss thus far, and she wasn’t sure when she would have one again. Especially not once she was married to someone her father would approve of. She was certain he would only approve of someone as militant and controlling as himself, but at that moment, the thought gave her no pain.

She was in Scotland, on the Isle of Mull, and among friends. What more could she want from life? It was her last chance to taste beautiful freedom. She touched her fingertips to her lips to try to cover her smile. Certainly, she looked rather silly, sitting alone and smiling. But she thought about the two gentlemen paying attention to her that evening. She had danced with a few other men as well, but the only two who were filling her mind were John and Liam. They had monopolized most of her time, and Charlotte was guiding her on how to speak to them.

Liam had been flirtatious, but he had moved around to the other women of the gathering and flirted with them too. John had been the most truly attentive, for he had not danced with a single other person besides her. However, Elizabeth’s self-congratulations and secret delight were interrupted by Charlotte, who approached her, hand in hand with Angus. Both of their faces looked ruddy from wine and good food.

Elizabeth stood and suddenly felt just the slightest bit dizzy when doing so. Charlotte said, “My dear, we are off to bed. It is our wedding night, after all. Please, I would prefer it if someone escorted you to your room. I trust you have had a wonderful time?” She winked.

Elizabeth laughed. “I confess that I do not know when I have had better!” Her voice was louder than she’d expected, and she began to brush her dress, feeling suddenly self-conscious at her unusual boldness.

Before they could continue, John approached them. He shook hands with Angus and kissed Charlotte’s hand. “I must return across the water. My most hearty congratulations. Angus MacLean, ye have done better for yerself than the Lady has done.” He chuckled.

Angus replied, “Aye, so then I have been wise and lured her intae my trap.” Charlotte giggled and pushed against Angus’ chest. John turned his blue gaze to Elizabeth.

He bowed and brought her hand to his lips. “Lady Darling, ye have been a most wonderful dance partner. I hope that we may see each other again soon.”

Elizabeth felt dizzy again, and John’s eyes on her and his lips touching her hand ever so gently did nothing to help her state of mind. She cleared her throat and curtsied delicately, praying that she retained her balance and composure.

“I hope the same, laird. I mean John.” The corners of his mouth tilted upwards, and he left the room, Elizabeth’s hand suddenly felt cold and empty without his rough, warm grasp.

Angus waved to the side of him. “Come, Liam.” Liam’s boyish face appeared beside him. Angus clapped him on the shoulder. Elizabeth could tell his words were a little slurred from drink. “Be so kind as tae take the lovely Lady Darling tae her room. Put her in the best guest room, the one Charlotte used tae reside in.” He winked at his wife.

Liam’s face lit up as he turned to Elizabeth. While he watched her, he said, “It would be my pleasure. I shall escort ye, lass.” Elizabeth bade Charlotte and Angus goodnight and approached Liam. She was disappointed that she had yet been unable to greet Julia and Calum, but the time would come.

Liam put her arm in his own. “Ye never know what kind of rascals roam these halls at night, under the influence of too much drink. We Scotsmen every so often have the misfortune of being rather wild, like animals.”

Elizabeth chuckled lightly, knowing he was attempting to make a joke. “And is there no remedy for this wildness?”

She was impressed with her bold flirtations. Tomorrow, she would have to let Charlotte know of her success. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Liam grinning by her side. “Nae, there is a cure. The company of a lovely woman is a good cure, I think. If we care for her company well enough, then we are tamed by her beauty and strength.”

Elizabeth unconsciously tightened her grip on Liam’s thick arm, feeling a sudden flash of intimacy with him. She swallowed, surprised at her physical reaction to Liam’s poetic words. He certainly was a charming man. Her throat was dry as she said, “That is beautiful, Liam. I had no idea you thought so of women.” Her voice was small. Back to being a mouse, I suppose.

They had arrived at the guest room, and Elizabeth’s heart quickened a little at the sight of the strong wooden door. The torchlight positioned by the side of the door cast long shadows across its wooden width. She didn’t want their moment to be ended so abruptly, even though her tired limbs were crying out to be laid to rest. Liam dropped her arm and turned towards her. Elizabeth moved her back against the wall. The corridor felt thick and heavy, and she was having trouble breathing with his closeness. His eyes flicked over her face.

“I was very glad that ye returned, lass. Ye have such a beauty and strength that could tame any man.” Elizabeth felt her knees tingle. He stepped a little closer. “And yet, ye were spending more time with a certain John Campbell instead of in my arms this eve.”

The torch was sending shadows across his face as well, and its light made his eyes sparkle with mirth. Elizabeth stammered out, “I did not see you suffering at all. You had plenty of other women to take my place.”

Liam laughed at that, and Elizabeth’s eyes traveled to his mouth, so firm and enticing. Once he sighed with enjoyment, he replied, “Aye, naething gets past ye, does it, lass? Well, what if I told ye that ye were the one that I truly wanted tae dance with?” His expression grew solemn once more, and he stepped even closer, his face nearing her own. She could feel his breath lightly caress her chin. “The one I want to kiss?”

“Kiss?” Elizabeth felt like the ground fell away from beneath her as Liam laid his mouth atop hers and grasped the sides of her arms. She tensed but let the tension slide away as she allowed him to taste her slowly. There was alcohol on his breath, but it did not disgust her. It was sweet and honey-like, and his lips were warm and smooth, his tongue bold and strong.

In a flash, her father’s disapproving face came into her mind, and she thought of the prostitutes in their brothels, having made the choices they could not take back. She pulled her lips away and leaned against the stone wall, breathing quickly.

Liam was surprised for a moment. Elizabeth could now tell just how drunk he was in the light of the torch, for his eyes were unable to focus fully on her face. He almost looked angry as he said, “Ye think of John, do ye? I promise he could nae make a better lover than I. I am sure ye ken that well enough, lassie.”

To her own surprise, Elizabeth felt a deep offense, and anger rose within her. The conversation between them had moved beyond mere flirtation. It was not a game anymore. He was insulting her, making assumptions of her own thoughts, and presuming that she and he would be lying together as man and woman! Watching his laughing, drunken face, Elizabeth squinted her eyes in anger and slapped him.

It was hard and satisfyingly loud, and the sound echoed through the stone corridor.

***

Liam MacLean awoke the next morning with a pain in his head that felt like something was inside, trying to tear him apart. He sat up on his elbows, groaning. He looked around him. Somehow, last night, he had made his way deep into the castle and had fallen asleep in one of its lonely hallways. There was nothing laid down for comfort, only the cold touch of hard stone underneath him. He groaned again at the pain emanating from his back. “Bloody Hell,” he said into the empty hallway, criticizing himself inwardly for his stupidity. He knew it was a wedding, but how had he drunk enough to make him feel like his body was dead, only consisting of limp arms and legs, refusing to do his will?

He felt like a young boy again, not able to handle his alcohol. After a few heaving pushes, he was able to stand, but the pain in his head only renewed. “Fecking ale. I shall never drink ye again!” He knew it wasn’t true, but it felt good to be angry at something and to blame something else besides his own idiocy. He looked one way and then the other, trying to figure out his path back down to the Great Hall. He did not want anyone to see him, especially Fergus or Angus, for they would laugh him right out of the castle. He had work to do today, but he wasn’t sure he was up to it. And Brea would want to see him as well. She had been sending him letters ever since his last visit, and he knew she would not remain satisfied for long. She was coming to Mull in a day or two.

He stumbled down towards the steps and looked down to see his stains speckling his waistcoat and kilt. He huffed in frustration. He hoped that no one had seen him in that state, lying like a dog in the hallway, or else he would have a lot of explaining to do to Mrs. MacLean.

He ran a hand through his hair and over his beard, hoping it was not too unruly in case it was Mrs. MacLean who found him wandering the halls. He was certain she would and would not look too kindly upon him. As he entered the main hall, he looked about, hoping to sneak out to his own home without being seen. His horse was still tied in the stables. He walked across the flagstones, listening to the crackle in the hearth, noting the mess left from the night before.

Soon, servants would be entering to clean up, and he wanted to get out before that happened. He was almost at the door. It was within reach, but then he heard that infamous throat clearing from behind him. Squinting his eyes to prepare for the worst, he turned to face Mrs. MacLean. She was standing erect, with her eyes scrutinizing him. “Liam MacLean. I heard ye had graced our upper hallway with yer presence last eve, lad. ‘Twas a good wedding tae be sure.”

“Aye, aye,” he laughed, but as if in punishment, his headache increased sharply. “’ Twas a good wedding, Mrs. MacLean, but I am off now, ready tae return tae me own bed.”

“I see.” She tapped her foot, and Liam knew just what that meant. Mrs. MacLean was a good sort. Since his own mother had died many years before and had been a friend of hers, the old woman had become like a mother to him. “Well, now that ye have done yer best tae insult the guest of this house, I am certain ye need plenty of rest.”

Liam furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side. “What do ye mean? Insult who?” His mind was swirling, trying to piece together foggy images from the evening before. There was dancing, drinking certainly, and music. He could see Charlotte and Angus smiling happily together. He could envision Elizabeth in her pale blue and blonde beauty, moving gracefully around the dance floor with her tutored limbs. He smiled despite himself.

“One of the servants has seen ye being forward with Lady Darling who has come tae stay with us, and who is a dear friend of Charlotte’s. The slap she gave ye was heard clear around the castle. I wouldnae be surprised if the Campbells heard it on their side of the water!” Her voice was sharp but still motherly in its own way.

Liam lifted a hand unconsciously to his cheek. He did remember that. A slap so hard he was certain never to forget it. But for the life of him, he could not remember what he’d done or said. “Mrs. MacLean, I have nae idea what ye mean. I walked the lady back tae her room as Angus asked me too. That was all.” He hoped that was all, but after Angus had asked him to take her, he couldn’t remember much else.

Mrs. MacLean put her hands on her hips. “Yer flirtatious and philandering ways will get ye intae trouble one day, Liam MacLean. Well, it appears they have done so already, whether ye remember it or nae.”

Liam’s stomach sank. Why did Elizabeth slap him? He must have so deeply offended her for that gentle, kind creature to react in such a way. He wanted to lay down. It was all too much, and Mrs. MacLean’s angry remonstrances were only making everything worse. “By God, Mrs. MacLean, I donnae remember what I have done.” He looked down for a moment, feeling ashamed in front of his stand-in guardian. Mrs. MacLean always knew how to make him feel like a little boy, no much how he’d struggled and fought to grow up and to be seen as a man.

He looked up again, daring a glance at her strong gaze. “Do ye think I ought tae apologize?” He knew what her answer would be before she said anything.

“Of course, lad. Ye must apologize, and despite yer wild ways, ye must think of a way tae do it prettily enough. If the laird or Angus hears about this, then ye know ye are in for an angry sort of discussion.”

Liam groaned like a little boy. “Donnae say ye will tell him what ye know, Mrs. MacLean. I will try tae think of a way tae apologize tae the lass, but my head is hurting like a bastard. I cannae think straight or make pretty speeches.”

Mrs. MacLean crossed her arms and squinted just a little bit more at him. “I suppose that is punishment enough for now. I willnae tell the laird nor Angus, but who knows what the Lady will do? Most certainly, she will tell Charlotte of what occurred.”

Damn. In his continued state of uselessness, he hadn’t considered that. Women told each other everything, especially if it had to do with men and their antics. He frowned. Maybe Elizabeth was kind enough to forgive him? He would have to think of the perfect words.

He was the sort to do that well, after all. Women seemed to melt into his arms with his pretty turns of phrase. Most of the other men on the island were mere brutes, unable to formulate sentences beyond the desires of what lay beneath their kilt, but Liam was different. He knew what women liked to hear, so he would figure out a way to speak to Elizabeth. Just not now.

He nodded to Mrs. MacLean. “Aye, yer right. Donnae worry; I will think of something.” Mrs. MacLean opened her mouth to speak again, and he reassured her. “I will do it soon as well. Just as soon as my head stops feeling like ‘tis splitting apart.”

He gave her a tight smile and left with what small amount of dignity he had left. His shoes crunched on the stone just outside of the castle door, and he had his first morning view of the Sound, so stark in its icy blueness. Curls of mist were spreading over its expanse, and he pulled his coat a little tighter. The coldness of night had not steamed away with the rising sun, and he looked forward evermore to returning to his warm bed before heading across the Sound to hunt again.

He kept his eyes on the water as he walked to the stables. He thought pleasantly of a memory of his mother holding his hand at the side and pointing to it, telling him that the Sound was full of magic. He was told he could merely whisper his wishes at the edge of its coast, and they would come true. If they did not, he either did not wish hard enough or, as his mother said, he was too naughty of a boy.

The second part of that was true. It had always been so. Anyone who had met him as a child had considered him a naughty boy. Even though the years had passed, he still felt like he was that same little boy in many ways. He didn’t know how to be anything else. Angus was wise and strong. Calum was a leader who knew how to make anyone laugh. But Liam was just like a child, content with the moment and enjoying himself. Yet sometimes, he wished that he was different.

Sighing, he rubbed his beard again out of habit, making an attempt to slough off the painful memories of the past and the strong evidence of his continued flaws. He had enough of them for the day. Stumbling up to the stable doors, itching to be atop his horse again, so that she could lead him away to safety, he saw Fergus leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed, and his face merry.

Fergus was like a brother to him. In fact, many thought they were brothers upon first acquaintance, for they looked nearly identical. Yet, Liam was the youngest by a few years, and Fergus was only a slight bit taller, his own red hair and beard tinged with a slight bit of gold. “Aye, lad, ye have returned tae take yer horse back home, have ye? I was wondering when we would see ye again.”

Liam grimaced. “Have ye nae alcohol lingering in yer own brain this morn? I feel as though a pair of sharp claws have been pinched intae mine and will stay thus until I rest.”

Fergus puffed out his chest and stroked his beard mockingly. “I am man enough tae handle my own ale, I think, lad. Ye would think ye had the experience.” Fergus laughed, and Liam closed his eyes and put his hand to his head. The throbbing had begun anew.

Seeing this, Fergus grinned and said, “I see God has seen fit tae punish ye, lad, for all yer antics with the women are now known. Which one of them is angry with ye taeday?”

Inwardly, Liam groaned again. He supposed that rest would not be given to him today, and he would have to suffer through another set of remonstrances

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Chapter I

The day was sultry and warm, midsummer having brought a seemingly endless heat to the lush landscape of Argyll. It had not rained for several weeks, and the heathers were growing brown upon the hillsides and the streams trickling their course into the lochs.

Elaine and the party of clansmen rode slowly that morning, pausing several times to rest in the shade of a clump of trees or beneath a rocky outcrop. It grew warmer as the day drew on, the horses sweating as they trudged along the moorland paths, which led north towards Loch Awe and Kilchurn.

“A hard and long day,” Elaine’s father said, reining in his horse and pausing to look out across the landscape.

“Everywhere is so dry. The rain will surely come soon,” Elaine said, as she came to a stop behind her father.

“This is the limit of our land. Here is where we enter the territory of the MacCallum’s. Everythin’ that ye can see from here belongs to them, and behind us, everythin’ ye can see belongs to me,” her father said, pointing first forwards and then backward.

“Then I am to be mistress of two lands,” Elaine replied, looking out across the landscape.

From the ridge, she could see right across the moorlands, making out the distant sparkle of a loch many miles to the north. It was wild and rugged countryside, and she could only imagine its bleakness in the depth of winter when the snows lay thick and heavy there, and freezing winds blew down from the north.

“Aye, mistress of two lands, lass. A McRob and a MacCallum. Tis’ a great moment for our clans. And when yer first child is born, perhaps it will be he who will become master of these two lands,” her father replied.

“And what if I produce a girl, father? What then?” Elaine asked, but her father only laughed.

“Then ye must try harder, lass. I love ye with all my heart, but it was a tragedy that yer dear mother did nae produce an heir. A true tragedy,” he said, sighing and shaking his head.

“Things are meant to be, father. Fate is nay always a kind mistress,” Elaine replied.

“That is true. But come now, fate has it in store that I shall leave ye presently. I must return to Carrick. Ye will be quite safe ridin’ north now. MacCallum territory is safe enough,” he said, calling out for the clansmen to continue.

Elaine paused a moment, still looking out across the vast moorlands ahead and wondering as to her fate. It felt as though this were her final step. To leave this ridge and ride down into MacCallum territory was to take a step she had never taken before. Now, she was leaving home for the final time, and all that lay ahead was unfamiliar.

“Take courage, mistress. We can ride together,” Carys said, causing Elaine to look up from her pondering.

“Then we shall ride together, Carys,” she said, and her companion smiled.

They urged their horses onwards, following her father and the other clansmen on down the moorland path. They had crossed the border now, and Elaine could feel herself letting go of the past and looking to the future. She was brave, dutiful, and determined. This would be a true adventure, and she was ready to face the challenges which lay ahead.

For the rest of the day, they rode on, making slow progress in the heat. They paused to eat a simple meal by a stream upon the moorlands, and it was here that her father bid them farewell. He would not attend the wedding but would ride to Kilchurn later in the summer when further agreements between the two clans could be reached. Elaine was sad to see him leave, and they stood together for a moment upon the path, her father embracing her and offering her his blessing.

“Be strong, Elaine. There is so much of yer mother in ye. She, too, was a brave and noble soul. I see her in ye every day, and I know that she would have been proud of ye. Just as I am,” he said, kissing Elaine and holding her close.

“Then I must dae my best to live up to that reputation, father,” Elaine replied.

“Ye already have done, lass. But here, there is somethin’ that I want ye to have. Wear it on yer weddin’ day and may it remind ye of yer mother and bring ye good luck,” her father said, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a little box.

Elaine had never seen it before, and she opened it curiously, revealing a gold necklace inside.

“Tis’ beautiful, father,” she said, and he smiled.

“It belonged to yer mother. She wore it on the day that she and I were married. Ours was nae, unlike yer own. Yer mother came havin’ never met me before. But we were the happiest of people, and I loved her with all my heart. Hamish MacCallum will love ye too, I am certain of it. Now, be brave and take heart. We shall see each other very soon,” he said, and he kissed her once more before climbing onto his horse and preparing to ride away.

“A safe journey, father,” Elaine called out, and she watched as he rode off across the moorlands.

“It will nae be long until ye see him again, mistress,” Carys said, coming to stand by Elaine’s side.

They watched as her father became a distant dot upon the landscape, his horse charging over the heathers. With a sigh, Elaine turned and nodded, the two women making their way back to the party of clansmen who had just concluded their simple meal of bread and cheese.

“We shall camp a few miles further on tonight, mistress, and then arrive at Kilchurn by noon tomorrow,” the captain of the clansmen said, as they made ready to depart.

“And the path is safe to camp upon?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Ye are quite safe, lass. Besides, I have seen ye wield a sword on many occasions,” he said, laughing and shaking his head.

“But never in battle, captain. I am nay warrior,” she replied, “I shall leave any fightin’ to ye and yer men. Come now, the sooner we ride on, the quicker we shall arrive.”

He nodded to her, calling out orders to the men as Elaine climbed into her saddle and smiled at Carys, who had just finished tightening the straps on her saddlebag.

“What dae ye think the castle is like? Does the Laird have many servants?” Carys asked, climbing up into her saddle and reining her horse around to depart.

“I know very little about it, or of the Laird. I know he has a son, though, for the Laird was married before. His wife died some years ago, but unlike my father, it seems he is keen to marry again,” Elaine said, and Carys nodded.

“Ye didnae tell me he had a son, Elaine. I wonder if he is handsome,” she replied, and Elaine laughed.

“And if he is, then ye are welcome to marry him, Carys. Ye are welcome to marry any man ye so choose. One of us at least should find some happiness in all of this,” Elaine replied, as they rode off across the heathers.

“Come now, mistress. Ye will be happy, I promise. We both will be,” she said.

“So long as I have my faithful friend, I will be,” Elaine replied, grateful at least for the company of one who had been so loyal to her across the years.

Carys had been her maid since they were children, and she was the closest friend Elaine had ever had. She could not imagine life without her and had been greatly cheered when Carys had happily agreed to ride north.

“Ye shall always have me, mistress. I promise,” Elaine replied.

For several hours they rode north across the moorlands. The heat of the sun was relentless, and Elaine was grateful when the shadows began to lengthen, and the cool of the evening began to descend. The captain called a halt at a copse of trees on the edge of the path, and here they decided to make camp, a fire soon kindled, and a stew prepared for their dinner.

Elaine and Carys went to fetch water from a stream that ran below a bank covered in flowers, the water gushing and gurgling its ways down from the hills above. After the heat of the day, the water’s edge was refreshing and reviving, and they paused a while by its side, bathing their weary feet in the cold, clear stream and splashing one another for fun.

“Mistress, I am wet through,” Carys said, laughing, as she leaped out of the way.

“Tis’ so lovely after the heat,” Elaine said, wading up to her waist in the water and splashing Carys again.

“Oh, tis’ just that,” Carys said, giving in and joining Elaine in the pool where they both began to swim.

“Perhaps this journey will nae be so bad after all,” Elaine said, turning on her back and floating into the middle of the water.

“Tis’ an adventure, lass. We will be happy, I promise. We shall find a place to look out from each day, just like we did at Carrick. We shall take walks in the hills just as we always did, and in the winter, we shall sit and spin the wool. Life will nae be that different,” Carys said, as they climbed out of the pool and lay panting on the bank on the other side.

“Except I shall be married. Dae ye think the Laird will expect much of me?” Elaine asked.

“He shall expect ye to be dutiful, I suppose. But surely he will have important tasks to see to. Ye and I will be left to dae as we please. We can begin by explorin’ the whole of the castle, and then around the loch. There will be all manner of things to see,” Carys said, smiling at Elaine, who nodded.

“And by tomorrow, we shall see it,” she said, picking up the pail of water they had collected and pointing back towards the copse of trees above.

“Aye, come now, the men will be eager for their water. I hope the stew is ready,” Carys said, and the two of them climbed up the bank, carrying the pail of water between them.

“Tis’ strange,” Elaine said, when they came to the tree line, “I cannae see any of them men around.”

They paused for a moment, looking through the trees to where the men had set up camp not an hour before. But there was no sign of anyone. Elaine could see none of the men, nor the horses either. It was as though they had simply vanished.

“How strange. Ten men daenae just disappear in a moment,” Carys said.

“Captain? Where are ye?” Elaine called out as they came to the clearing where the fire was smoking.

“Mistress, look,” Carys cried out, and in their horror, they dropped the pail of water to the ground, spilling the water out as they did so.

There, lying with his neck cut, was the captain of the guard. Several of the other clansmen lay dead too, attacked it seemed with swords and other crude instruments which had left horrific injuries to their bodies. Carys clutched at Elaine, and the two women stared in horror at one another, realizing the sudden terror of their predicament.

“Quickly, Carys, come,” Elaine hissed, taking hold of Carys’ hand and leading her into the trees.

It was not a moment too soon, for there appeared in the clearing several vicious-looking men who began to rummage through the discarded saddlebags. Elaine and Carys hid just a short distance away, hardly daring to breathe as they watched what happened next.

“Four dead, these are nae MacCallum’s though. Look at them, these are McRobs, ye can see the insignia,” one of the men said.

“Ye shouldnae have killed them all. What are they doing up here? Where were they going?” another of the men replied.

“Travellin’ north, they must have been on their way to Kilchurn to see the Laird. Well, he shall nae get his tributes now. But what is this?” the first of the men said, emptying out the saddlebag.

Elaine watched as they searched through her belongings, picking out her clothes and holding them up in surprise. There were eight of them in total, all heavily armed, a group of bandits who no doubt preyed upon travelers foolish enough to paused as Elaine and the others had done.

“Why would clansmen have lass’ clothes with them?” one of them said, and the others laughed.

“Because they must have lasses with them. There must be some we have nae found yet. Come on, let’s search for them,” one of them said, and Carys clutched at Elaine as the two women backed further away into the undergrowth.

“We need to get away, come now,” Elaine hissed.

She had only her dagger on her belt, and the two of them could be no match for such vicious and heavily armed men. They had killed all of the clansmen, and surely, they would have no qualms in killing them too if they found them.

Elaine pointed towards the trees behind, as the sounds of the men beginning to search now echoed all around. They kept low, scrambling through the bracken, which grew up all around, cutting themselves on thorns and brambles as they tried desperately to get away.

“There are two extra horses here; there must be two lasses somewhere. Hiding in the trees. Quickly now, they would make a handsome bounty if we can find them. Daenae let them get away,” one of the men called out.

“Mistress, we are surrounded,” Carys whispered, her voice shot through with fear.

“This way,” Elaine hissed, pointing through the trees.

The men were almost upon them now, shouting to one another as they hunted. But Elaine had no intention of being caught, and she took hold of Carys’ hand, holding it firmly and reassuringly.

“Where now, mistress?” Carys whimpered.

“We shall make a run for it. See, the horses are unattended through the trees. On my signal, we shall run for them and ride like the wind. Climb onto the captain’s horse—Tis’ the swiftest of them all. We shall ride together and be away before they can catch us. We shall nae stop until we are safe,” Elaine said, and Carys began to cry.

“I cannae, mistress,” she whimpered, but Elaine squeezed her hand, preparing to pull her to her feet.

“Tis’ our only chance, Carys. Come now, be brave,” she said, “we will run on my signal.”

Elaine took a deep breath, the sounds of the bandits almost on top of them. But they had no choice, for if they did not try to escape, then surely they would be made prisoner. She summoned all her strength, reminding herself that she was the daughter of a Laird and mistress of these lands. She was brave, and she would not be cowed by bandits who would kill her father’s men and attempt to make her their ransom.

“There, over there,” one of the bandits cried out as Elaine and Carys rose from the undergrowth and dashed towards the horses.

With a roar, several of the men charged towards them, but the two women already had a start on them, and they reached the horses, throwing themselves onto the captain’s stead, which bucked and reared up on its hind legs.

“Woah there, ride,” Elaine cried out, urging the animal onwards.

It charged forward, but just as it did so, one of the bandits caught hold of the reins, and the animal bucked, almost sending Elaine and Carys falling to the ground.

“I have them,” he cried out, but Elaine had no intention of being made a prisoner in their moment of escape.

She pulled her dagger from its hilt and slashed at the man’s arm. He let out a cry of pain, letting go of the rains and falling back to the ground. The horse charged forward, and Elaine and Carys were away. She did not look back but urged the horse onwards, charging along the track towards the north.

Behind them, they could hear the sounds of the bandits mounting their own steads and preparing to give chase. Cries and threats filled the air, but Elaine could think only of escape, and she pushed the horse onwards, urging it to ride like the wind across the moors.

It was evening now, but still as light as day, the sun barely beginning to set. They had escaped, but how long could ride when all was unknown and unfamiliar? The moorlands all looked the same, though the path seemed well trodden on its way north. If only she knew the way to Kilchurn. But all that Elaine could do was ride on, praying for their deliverance and an end to this nightmare.

Chapter II

They are still following us, mistress,” Carys called out, glancing behind her.

Elaine, too, stole a glance back, and she could see the bandits riding at speed around half a mile behind them. If they paused for even a moment, then they would surely be upon them, and she was beginning to tire, not used to long rides in the saddle.

“We must keep goin now, we cannae stop,” Elaine called out, urging the horse forwards as fast as it would go.

But with two of them riding, it was clear that the poor animal could not hope to keep up its speed. It was tiring, and the bandits were gaining upon them moment by moment. Elaine knew that soon they would be upon them and that their only hope was to reach a place of safety, wherever that might be.

But the moorlands were open and barren. There seemed to be no shelter for miles around, not even an outlying croft or a farm where they might find shelter. Carys was terrified, and Elaine could feel her hands shaking with fear as she held onto her waist.

“What will they dae with us?” Carys said, her voice sounding tearful.

“They shall nae kill us. We are worth too much for that. But I have nay wish to find out anythin’ more,” Elaine said, glancing behind her once again.

The group of bandits was now only a short distance behind, and she could see the murderous look on the dead man’s face. They seemed determined to catch them but try as she might, she could not force the horse to greater speeds. He was slowing now and would surely collapse from exhaustion soon, sending them sprawling to the ground, captured and at the mercy of these wicked men.

“Ye will nae leave me though, mistress? Will ye?” Carys said, and Elaine shook her head.

“We are nae beaten yet, Carys. Look. There is a ridge there; we shall make for that. Perhaps we can gain some distance between us on the rocks,” she said, trying to sound more convinced than she felt.

“Aye, or lame the horse as we go,” Carys said, seeming to doubt any hope of their escaping their pursuers.

They had come to a fork in the path, one way leading north and the other to the west. The heathers ran down a long ridge, the path there ahead somewhat obscured. It seemed the best of several poor hopes, and Elaine urged the horse onwards, praying again for the wisdom to choose the right course.

“Tis’ nay use, we have ye, stop this foolishness and give yerselves up,” the lead bandit called out, the sound of his horse’s hooves now almost upon them.

“Never, nae to a coward like ye,” Elaine cried back as they charged up onto the ridge.

But it seemed that all hope was lost. The ridge gave way to a path running down towards trees, an empty country, and the perfect place for capture. She was about to rein in the horse and draw her dagger, ready to defend herself and Carys unto death.

“Nay, mistress, keep on,” Carys cried out, but just then, a most extraordinary thing occurred.

From the trees, there appeared a party of men, some twenty or so in total, all mounted on black horses, with brightly fluttering banners above them. The sight of these men caused the bandits to cry out in horror, the lead man calling an immediate retreat as confusion seemed now to rein.

Elaine and Carys were caught between them, and Elaine reined in the horse, uncertain of who now to face as her enemy. Was this an ambush upon them? A trick to deceive and lure them into a new danger?

The path was cut off on both sides. Behind them their pursuers and in front of this new and unexpected sight, a party of men led by a man riding an impressive-looking horse. He was handsome, in an unassuming way, his brown hair partially obscured by a helmet and his face clean-shaven.

“Charge these villains away,” he cried, the men on horseback ignoring Elaine and Carys as they pursued the bandits who now scattered to the four winds.

“Mistress, these men have come to our rescue,” Carys said, as Elain pulled up the horse, breathless and exhausted at the side of the path.

Like the cowards they were, their pursuers now scattered, some of them caught by the heavily armored men while others charged off back across the moorlands. Elaine was now in no doubt that her prayers had been answered and that these men had appeared just in time. But what would happen when they turned their attentions to the horse on which the two women now sat? They could not hope to outride these men if their intentions became hostile. All they could do was wait.

“But caution is still required, Carys. We daenae know who these men are. For all we know, they are worse than those who pursed us,” Elaine whispered, as the leader of the horses now rode up to them.

“Hail there, I mean ye nay harm. Ye have had a lucky escape, but tell me, who are ye?” he asked, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his hair.

“I should ask ye the same question,” Elaine replied, looking nervously around her, for they were now surrounded by the riders, several of the bandits now trussed and tied up.

But despite her fears, there was something about him which she felt able to trust. More so than that, something about him which instantly drew her to him. He intrigued her, a handsome and noble man, a man who had come to their rescue at just their moment of need. Her heart was racing, but not only for fear, a shiver running through her as he fixed his eyes upon her and smiled.

“My name is Finlay MacCallum, and ye are ridin’ across my father’s lands. State yer business and tell me why ye were being pursued by those men. We have had much trouble upon the moorlands from these villains in the past months,” he said, looking her up and down.

At the mention of his name, Elaine breathed a sigh of relief, though perhaps a little disappointment too, for he was certainly attractive, and she wondered again about his father. This was the son of the man under whose protection she now lay, and she knew now that they were safe.

“If ye are Finlay MacCallum, then ye and I are soon to be closer than ye think. My name is Elaine McRob, and I can see by the expression on yer face that now ye realize what tragedy ye have prevented this day. We owe ye a debt of gratitude,” Elaine said, as Finlay nodded and smiled at her.

“I suspected as much. My father has been awaitin’ ye, and he sent out our party to bring ye safely to Kilchurn. The way has become dangerous, as ye have discovered to yer peril. Where is yer escort? Surely yer father did nae send ye alone across the moorlands north to us?” Finlay asked, and Elaine shook her head.

“Dead. All of them. These bandits caught us by surprise in a copse of trees to the south. Carys and I were lucky to escape with our lives,” Elaine replied, shaking her head sadly, and Finlay cursed.

“Villains, well, they shall be punished. These ones at least, and we shall nae rest until their companions are hunted down and made to suffer for what they have done. Come now, we shall ride at once to Kilchurn; my father is anxious to see ye safely to our halls,” Finlay said, his face set in grim determination.

Elaine could not help but be thankful to him for rescuing them, but her heart was filled with sorrow, too, at the loss of her father’s men. The brave captain and his soldiers had clearly not betrayed them to the bandits, and it was thanks to them that they had been able to escape. She was determined to see justice done, but she was tired, too, and wished for a place to lay her head. It would be growing dark soon, the shadows having lengthened upon the moorlands and the sun dipping in the sky.

She urged the horse around, riding after Finlay and among his men, who greeted her with deference and respect. She was to be the mistress of this clan, and it seemed there was much interest in her from among them, relief too that they had found her before the bandits had caught up. But the sad fate of her father’s men weighed heavily upon her heart, and she offered up a prayer for their souls, vowing again to see them avenged.

***

She is certainly an attractive lass, though what a tragedy tis’ that has befallen her on her way to us, Finlay thought to himself, as they rode back towards Kilchurn.

How fortunate it had been that he and his men had come across her and her companion. It did not bear thinking about what might have happened had the bandits caught up with them.

It angered Finlay to think of these men roaming freely across his father’s land. What right did they have to do so? He had vowed to his father to ensure that the lands around the castle did not become lawless, but it seemed that day by day, things were becoming worse.

“What are we to dae with the prisoners, sir?” one of his men asked as they rode along the way towards the castle.

“Have them thrown into the dungeons. We shall make an example of them well enough,” Finlay replied, riding slowing his horse to a pace with Elaine and her maid.

“Ye ride well,” he said, looking at her with interest.

“Tis’ in my blood to dae so, sir. I am nay idle lass, ye know,” and Finlay laughed.

“Aye, I can see that. To face down such men and ride to safety is nay idle thing. My father shall be impressed with ye,” she replied.

“And are ye?” she asked, smiling at him.

“I am,” he replied, struck not only by her attractiveness but by her strength of character, too.

Here was a woman who would prove an interesting mistress of their clan and even a match to his father.

***

“He is clearly a good man,” Carys whispered as they rode after Finlay along the moorland track, which rose up across the heathers to the north, “handsome too.”

“And I must hope his father is a similar sort of man,” Elaine replied.

“I am sorry to meet ye under such circumstances,” Finlay said, pulling back his horse so that he could ride alongside them.

“We are only thankful that ye appeared when ye did,” Elaine replied.

“We have long been expectin’ ye at Kilchurn these past months. I have looked forward to meetin’ the woman whom my father has chosen as his wife and mistress of our clan,” Finlay said, glancing at Elaine and smiling.

“And am I as ye hoped I would be?” she asked, causing him to laugh.

“It was nae my place to hope, but ye have certainly proved yerself brave by facin’ down those men. There are many less who would have been killed, many men without the courage to dae what ye did,” Finlay replied.

“I am the daughter of a Laird, sir. I am nae afraid of such things, though we are in yer debt,” Elaine replied, blushing a little under his gaze.

“There is nay debt, lass. Tis’ the honor of our clan that we defend, and I will nae allow this country to become lawless, the preserve of bandits and villains. Nay, we shall ride out again and again, until the trail is safe, and they are brought to pay for what they have done,” Finlay said, glancing back at the prisoners who were being pulled roughly along at the rear of the horses.

The moon was rising over the moorlands now, casting its milky glow upon the heathers and reflecting from a loch which lay below. It sparkled in the gathering gloom, and Elaine could now see Kilchurn Castle, lying at the north of the loch, a most welcome sight after all which they had endured since leaving Carrick and all which was familiar behind.

“Tis’ a welcome sight,” Carys whispered as they rode down the track leading to the gates.

“Though how sad that we are coming here alone and without our men. My father will be sorrowful to hear of their loss,” Elaine replied.

“And so we must honor their memories,” Carys replied, “And ye must stay strong, mistress. Ye will feel better for something to eat.”

“Aye, that I shall,” Elaine said, for she realized now just how hungry she felt, as her stomach began to rumble

The castle was made up of a large, square tower from which a wall ran out to a smaller round tower and curved around to form a courtyard. A large gate stood open, flanked on each side by burning torches, and Elaine could see guards stationed upon the battlements above. It was surrounded by the huts and dwellings of a small village, a stone kirk lying at its heart, and a single track running into trees heading north.

Elaine wondered as to the history of the place and of the people who inhabited it. What would Finlay’s father be like? It was clear he had a care for her, else he would never have sent his son out to escort her there that night and what fortune it was that he had done so. She felt nervous now, for she had been so caught up in the events of that evening that she had barely thoughts of what was next to come.

Now, she followed Finlay and the other riders through the gates, knowing the time for her new life to begin was here, the old one left behind. It had already contained far more excitement than she desired, and she hoped now for a peaceful night and the chance to rest. Everything was new and different, the sounds and smells of the place, the clansmen milling about as the night watch appeared, and there was surely the Laird himself, waiting upon the steps to the tower, a look of relief upon his face and his arms outstretched in welcome.

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