Chapter One

November 1297. At sea near the shore of the Isle of Skye…

Any other bride would not plan her husband’s funeral before she’d even married the man.

And yet, as Lady Katherine de Beaumont stood at the bow of the birlinn, anchoring herself with a firm grip on the rope beside her as the boat rose and fell with the swell of the sea, that’s exactly what was going through her mind.

She sighed heavily, the exhaustion of the last week of travelling washing over her. On the freezing cold November day, there had already been snowfall, and pulling the heavy cloak tighter around her, she acknowledged that the bitter winter of Scotland was a far cry from the weather back home in England.

The rough seas were hardly helping, and though she tried to fight it, as the wind pulled at the tendrils of her chestnut hair, the dizziness and seasickness threatened to overcome her.

To distract herself, Katherine dug her hand into her cloak pocket and took out the little black book she always carried with her. Among many other things, it contained a list of daring sins, all the things she had sworn she would do before she was wed. There were still quite a few remaining.

Kiss a stranger. Spy on a gentleman bathing. Ride astride a horse. Get her skin marked with a tattoo. Swim without clothes and, finally, read a banned book.

As she gazed down at the page flapping madly in the wind, she shook her head.

And yet, I will never get to complete my list now, for in two weeks, I will be forced to marry the devil himself.

As someone approached her, she cursed under her breath, fearing they would see her list, and hurriedly, she stuffed the book back into her pocket and pulled out a small knife to make space.

“I have told you before,” Reginald growled, coming to stand close by her side. “Carrying a knife is anything but ladylike.”

Katherine’s brother, Lord Reginald De Beaumont, was a tall and imposing figure with a commanding presence. At thirty-four, he was eleven years Katherine’s senior, and unlike his sister’s soft refined features, with her high cheek bones and defined jawline, his face was thin and angular.

Nor did they share the same eye color, for while his were a pale blue, a color that she had always felt perfectly conveyed his cold, calculated and a ruthless nature, her eyes were a piercing green.

Katherine flashed him a scowling glance, noting the streaks of gray in his almost black hair. His perfectly manicured beard added to his stern appearance and authoritative figure.

“We are venturing into Scotland, dear brother,” she hissed. “Ladylike or not, I will keep it on my person for protection.”

Reginald jerked his head toward the stern of the boat. “You will need no protection with all the men I have ordered to come with you.”

Katherine glanced at the group of soldiers. They were loyal men, but she had no doubt they did as her brother’s bidding out of fear.

“Always remember who you are,” he growled. “You may well have been forced to marry one of these Scottish savages. It doesn’t mean you have to become one of them.”

“I wish I were back in England,” she sighed.

“As do I, sister. But your marriage has been decreed by King Edward the first himself. You do not have a choice.”

“Yes,” Katherine hissed. “I am aware of that. Perhaps, if our family were not of such high noble standing, the situation would be different.”

Reginald glared down at her. “Do not berate the de Beaumont name, Katherine. Father did not work so hard and gain such influence with the crown for you to denounce it with such dismissiveness.”

Katherine huffed in frustration. That was all well and good, but it was not her brother being forced to marry.

“You ought to be proud of your heritage. Our family is renowned for its military prowess and loyalty to the crown. No matter what you feel, we have a duty towards the king. This union will strengthen his grip on Scotland and create a loyalist faction within the Scottish clans.”

“You mean control the Scots,” Katherine replied knowingly. “The king talks of fostering peace, but everyone knows his real agenda. He looks to secure influence and control Scottish resistance to English rule.”

Again, Reginald glared down at her. “It is well that no other can hear your treasonous tongue,” he spat.

“It is not treasonous if it is true,” she argued.

Reginald’s condescendence angered Katherine, but then, so did most men. They were all so very proud of their accomplishments, each one thinking themselves smarter than their counterpart. Of course, in their mind, women knew little, and were stupid beings who were only good for light conversation and continuing the family line.

Not Katherine. Astute and intelligent, she heard and understood things men thought were above her comprehension. While the opposite sex foolishly believed that they were smarter, Katherine quietly garnered information, snippets of conversations heard from one place or another.

She knew the king’s game, and now, she had become a pawn. A piece he could use for his own ends, not caring a wit for her thoughts and feelings on the matter. She was, after all, just a woman to him. A noble woman, but just a woman all the same. It was not just the fact that she was being forced to marry that angered her, it was who he had decreed she ought to wed.

“There is land ahead,” Reginald announced. “The Isle of Skye. It will be your home, at least for a little while, Katherine, so you better tame your tongue and get used to it.”

“It isn’t like I have any other choice, is it?” she bit back.

“You know I will do my best to ruin the MacLeod family and free you from your marriage, but I can only do so if you give me the information I need.”

On their journey, Reginald had told her that she must view this circumstance as though it were a military mission. Indeed, she would be forced to marry her enemy, but while there, she had another assignment. She had to find the weaknesses and strengths of the clan before her wedding.

Katherine had argued that two weeks was not a lot of time for what her brother was asking, but he had been determined.

“It is the only way you can be free,” he had countered.

She would arrive as a bride-to-be while at the same time acting as a spy for her brother. She despised the idea. And yet, what she despised even more was being married to this man.

As the birlinn approached the shore, the sailors hollered to one another, each with a specific task to bring the boat to its mooring point safely. They ran from one end of the ship to the other, pulling at sails and gathering rope. It was clear, by their appearance, that they had been manning ships for many years, for all of them were weathered, with lined, craggy faces.

Eventually, the boat came up against the harbor wall, and with the vessel finally secured, a gang plank was hooked onto the side. Reginald took Katherine by the hand, and, walking in front of her, he carefully guided her onto the cobblestone.

Even now she was on dry land, she still felt the swaying of the sea. Clearly, her body had become accustomed to it, and she wondered how long the sensation would last.

Reginald turned toward the men that accompanied them and ordered them to hurry off and secure horses, telling them to return to a tavern located nearby.

When he turned back to Katherine, he said, “We’ll stay in this tavern tonight. You have another long journey tomorrow. Besides, we have arrived two days ahead of time, so there is hardly any rush.”

With rooms booked for themselves, while the soldiers had set up camp nearby, Katherine and Reginald settled at a table and ordered food. Katherine was surprised to realize that she was famished, but then remembered she hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

Still, she struggled not to screw up her nose at her surroundings. The place was grubby, cold, and full of local peasants. In England, she wouldn’t be seen dead in such a place.

When their meal arrived, Katherine could only glare down at it.

“What on earth is this?” she grimaced, staring at the bowl in front of her.

Reginald gave her a cold stare. “It is stew and fresh bread. You will have to get used to it. This is what they eat in Scotland.” He paused while giving her a long look. “You’re not in England now, sister. As awful as it might be, there are a few things you are going to have to get accustomed to, the food being one of them.”

Katherine sighed heavily, and picking up her spoon, she tentatively delved into the brown mess in front of her. Surprisingly, she found it to be rather tasty, and dismissing her initial judgement, she ate heartily while Reginald laid out his plan.

“Do not be fooled, sister. As barbaric as these people are, they are still clever, and their intelligence may surprise you. You will need to be cunning and vigilant in your efforts. What you are about to do is important, and we cannot afford any mistakes.”

Once again, Katherine had to bite down her frustration, for as usual, her brother spoke to her as though she were an imbecile.

“I’m not a fool, Reginald. I am well aware of the capabilities of the Scots. Clearly, this union would not be necessary if they were the cavemen our king tells us they are.”

“Katherine,” Reginald hissed.

She rolled her eyes, which angered him even more, but she hardly cared. It was not he who was being offered on a platter, was it? Besides, she had long stopped caring about her brother’s approval. What she was about to endure was bad enough. Nothing he could threaten her with could be any worse.

“I will not be accompanying you to the castle. If I am there, I cannot enact an attack against the MacLeod Clan. But fear not. I will not be far away.”

Katherine nodded. “How will I contact you to tell you what I have discovered?”

“Do not worry about that. I will send a messenger.”

“Perhaps, if I get the opportunity, I could do something there myself.”

“No!” Reginald barked.

He then looked about him as his outburst had caught the attention of a few punters sitting a few tables over.

Lowering his voice, he continued. “Stick to the plan. Find out what you can discover, and then report back to me. I hate the man as much as you do, but his death will not be helpful. Not yet, at any rate.”

After the meal, Katherine retired to her room. Not only was she exhausted from all the travelling they had already done, but she would have to rise before the sun tomorrow to continue her journey. There was still quite a way to go before she reached Dunvegan Castle. The place she would, in two weeks, be forced to call her home.

And yet, as tired as she was, sleep did not come easily. Her mind punished her with thoughts of what her future held. There were, of course, arranged marriages in England too, but it was usual, in those cases that the betrothed were introduced at some point before the ceremony.

Katherine, on the other hand, had no idea about the man she was about to marry. Well, she knew something about him. She knew he was a vicious Viking laird who took great pleasure in slaughtering Englishmen. His hatred of her kinsmen hardly filled her with confidence. What if he took a notion to rid himself of her at some point?

You must keep your knife on your person at all times. Even when you sleep.

Knowing how precarious and delicate the situation was between the warring countries, she had every intention of doing so. Once inside those castle walls, she would be on her own. There would be no army nearby to save her. Yes, she would have guards with her, but ten soldiers were hardly a match for an entire clan. Especially one as powerful as the MacLeods.

The following morning, at first light, Katherine readied herself for her journey and made her way downstairs. The men had secured horses, as Reginald had directed the day before, and she found her brother standing beside the only horse that didn’t have a rider, clearly waiting for her.

After helping her onto the beast, Reginald looked up at her. “Remember what I told you. Find out all that you can. We will get our revenge, sister.”

Katherine nodded, and after a brief and cold farewell, she and the group of soldiers that would accompany her, began their journey.

While she and Reginald were not in any way close, there was one thing uniting them. Probably the only thing, for they could both agree that they hated the man she was to marry. The king, in his wisdom, had decreed that she not just wed any Scottish nobleman, but Laird Domhnall MacLeod.

The same man who had slaughtered her father in battle.

Chapter Two

Somewhere in the MacLeod lands…

Pressing against the rough bark of the tree, most of his huge muscular frame hidden behind it, Domhnall MacLeod pulled the string of his bow up to the corner of his mouth. He took a long breath in and aimed. With his eye on the prize, he released his breath at the same time he released his arrow, but in that very second, the hairy boar jolted and ran.

“Damn it.”

“Och, that’s the third time ye’ve missed it,” Kai crowed with laughter. “I think ye’re losing yer touch, brother.”

“Aye,” Magnus agreed. “Or maybe the beast can smell ye a mile away. When’s the last time ye had a bath?”

With his long dark brown wavy hair now matted to his head after hunting all day, Domhnall wondered if Magnus might have a point, but he snarled at his brothers, and with lightning speed, he was suddenly at their sides.

“Hey, dinnae be using yer gift on me, or I’ll force ye tae cry,” Kai said, readying to defend himself.

He was far slenderer than his brothers, and stood no chance against Domhnall, but he was a fine fighter all the same.

“He will too,” Magnus nodded.

“Get out of me head, Magnus,” Kai snarled playfully.

They rarely used the gifts they had been endowed with at birth on each other, but the threat to do so was always fun. While Domhnall, the oldest of the brothers, had lightning speed and the strength of ten men, Kai, the youngest, could coerce emotions, and Magnus had always been able to hear people’s thoughts, which had completely freaked him out as a child.

Domhnall smirked at the two of them. “Both o’ ye need tae grow up.”

“Hey, we’re nae the ones who cannae kill the boar,” Kai quipped back.

“Maybe I’ll bring ye home for the roast instead,” Domhnall shot back.

“Aye, I’d like to see ye try.”

The three brothers had been out hunting all morning, but to no avail. Each time Domhnall had managed to get anywhere close to a prey, the damned beasts had escaped him. Maybe Kai, the youngest of the three, was right. Maybe he was losing his touch.

Or maybe, ye’re distracted and have other things on yer mind.

There was that, too.

Tomorrow, the woman he had been ordered to marry would arrive. A Sassenach, of all people. He abhorred the idea, of course, but King Edward I had persuaded him with arguments of peace and the fact that marrying an English woman would be the beginnings of them bridging the gap between the borders.

Domhnall had seen enough death, not least of which, his own parents’. An occurrence that taunted him even now. He was tired of war and bloodshed, for the lands of Scotland were soaked in it. If there was a chance for peace, ought he not to grab hold of it with both hands?

That being said, neither was he a fool. He was laird over the clan lands, and thus, extremely protective of his people. He had considered the king’s other motivations, for he was certain he had them. There had been too many losses on either side for him to give up so easily. Domhnall was thus determined to make certain this marriage did not open the door to even more troubles, like the English pushing into Scottish territory.

“Ye’re troubled,” Magnus said.

He always was the more astute of them all, even with his mind-reading abilities. His hair was a shade darker and shorter than his brother’s, falling in loose waves around his face, and as he looked intently at him with his deep blue eyes, something they all had in common, he waited for Domhnall’s reply.

“Aye. I am. Me mind is on other things.”

“The English woman,” Kai said, all mockery now gone from his tone.

“Aye.” Domhnall nodded. “The English woman.”

Kai frowned. “Are ye sure ye’re doing the right thing marrying her?”

“We’ve talked about this ‘afore, Kai. I’m nae going through it all again.”

“All right.” Kai raised his hands in surrender. “I just worry about ye, is all.”

Domhnall smirked. “I think ye have enough on yer plate with all the lasses ye have after ye.”

But Kai didn’t bite. “Stop changing the subject. And ye may be laird, but there’s only a year between each o’ us. I might be the youngest, but I’m nae a fool.”

Domhnall gave him a somber look. “I ken that, braither. And I thank ye fer yer concern. But like I say, we’ve gone over this many times. There’s really naething more tae say.”

“I think we should head back tae the castle,” Magnus suggested. “I dinnae ken about ye two, but I cannae feel me feet any longer, and I’m certain a whisky will warm us all up.”

Nodding, Domhnall said, “That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all morning.”

The snow fall beneath their feet was beginning to melt, leaving the ground wet, cold and muddy. No doubt there would be more in the coming months, for the winters on the Isle of Skye were always harsh. The bitter wind carrying the icy winds from the sea from the west didn’t help, and even with all the fires lit, there were parts of the castle that were desperately cold.

As they trudged through the forest and headed toward the main path, Kai said, “And we could all do with a bath. Look at the state o’ us.”

Magnus looked down at himself and chuckled. “Well, at least we didnae wear our best clothes.”

Once on the main track, they found their horses still tied to the trees, where they had left them. The dense forest they had just left ran parallel to the track, almost all the way to the castle.

“What dae ye think she’ll be like, this new wife o’ yers?” Kai said, tying his bag to the saddle.

“Och, nay doubt some quiet meek thing,” Domhnall replied. “Ye ken the Sassenachs. They’re all propriety and manners.”

“She’ll fit right in then,” Magnus quipped.

The three brothers burst into laughter and were about to mount their beasts, when the sound of horses approaching had the three of them spinning around to look behind them.

“Get back intae the trees,” Domhnall demanded.

They ran back the way they had come, and with their swords pulled from their waists, and crouching low, they waited for the horses to arrive.

“Ye think it’s another attack?” Kai hissed.

Domhnall shook his head. “I dinnae ken, but I’m nae taking any chances.”

They didn’t have to wait long, for over the brow of the hill, a group of soldiers emerged.

“It’s the English,” Magnus spat.

“Aye, but it’s hardly an army,” Domhnall noted. “And besides, they’re out here in full view. It doesnae mak’ any sense.”

“What are we going tae dae?” Kai asked.

“We’re going tae ask them what the devil they’re doing here,” Domhnall said, standing fully erect and running out into the soldier’s path with his sword held high.

“Halt,” the lead soldier shouted, shocked at the sight of Domhnall and his brothers.

“Who are ye? What are ye doing here?” Domhnall demanded.

“We are here…”

But as the soldier continued, Domhnall could hear a woman’s voice behind him.

“…just get to this castle and be done with this travel. How much farther can we possibly be?”

While Kai and Magnus continued to question the soldiers, Domhnall stepped past the first few horses, searching for where the voice was coming from. He came to a sudden halt when he saw a woman sitting side saddle, and a few things flew through his mind in that moment.

This has tae be the English woman. Our lasses dinnae ride side-saddle.

My god, she’s stunning.

This is me future bride?

Glaring down at him, she said, “Have you never seen a woman on a horse before?”

“Nae quite the meek, mild-mannered lass ye were expecting, is she?” Kai whispered into his ear with a huge smirk.

“Ye have travelled far, me lady,” Domhnall began. “Welcome tae the Isle o’ Skye. I am—”

“I am here to see the laird. Now, I beg ye, let us by.”

Clearly, given his present appearance, she didn’t realize who he was, and in truth, he couldn’t blame her. He was in a bit of a state.

“I am—”

“Do you not understand English?” she asked. “I am—”

But suddenly, her horse, trying to pull its hooves out of the deep mud, jerked forward, throwing the woman off its back. She landed in a muddy puddle, yelping in distress.

“Oh. Oh, my lord! Help me,” she cried, looking up at the soldiers who accompanied her.

But as each soldier clambered down from their horse, they too, got stuck and struggled to pull their feet from the thick muck to reach her.

“Perhaps the English need tae learn how tae navigate real terrain,” Domhnall said dryly.

This remark sent Magnus and Kai into peals of laughter, and the three stood chuckling for a minute. Lady de Beaumont, as he now knew she was, did not find his wit amusing in the slightest, and glaring up at him, she spat. “And perhaps the Scottish should learn some manners.”

Domhnall’s eyes flew wide at her fiery response. She certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting, and found himself both amused and intrigued by her behavior and boldness.

“Please, let me help ye.”

“I don’t need your help,” she hissed, pressing a gloved hand into the ground beside her to get her balance. Like the rest of her, her hand sunk deep into the soggy ground, eliciting a rather comical look of disgust.

“Please yersel’,” Domhnall chuckled.

Clearly, she was as stubborn as she was bold, and perhaps, given the circumstances, she felt she needed to assert her independence, what with being surrounded by so many men. Whatever her reasons, she was certainly not the woman he expected. Besides, what was she doing here? She hadn’t been due to arrive until the following day.

He sighed inwardly then, thinking about all the time and effort he had put into the arrangements he had made for her arrival. He had planned music, and entertainers, and the maids and servants were going to be lined up to welcome her. The preparations for the feast were all underway, and, he supposed, that could still happen. But he and his brothers would also have been dressed in attire fit to welcome a lady.

Och, well. That was a waste o’ me time.

After watching her struggle for several more minutes, Domhnall was growing impatient, and noting where the ground looked more solid, he placed a foot there and leaned forward. Slipping his arms under her knees and behind her back, he lifted her with no effort at all.

His action obviously surprised her, for she gasped, automatically wrapping her hands around his neck. He watched her cheeks bloom red with anger, and yet, she did not complain, nor did she fight him off.

Once back on firm ground, Lady de Beaumont brushed herself down, but in doing so, only spread the mud that was already on her hands all over her clothes. Without looking at him, she hissed, “Thank you.”

“Aye, well. Someone had tae dae it or ye’d still be there by night fall. Now, as I was—”

“Just because you laid your hands on me, without my permission, I might add, does not give you the right to speak to me,” she spat. “We will be on our way to the castle now. I’m sure you…” she struggled to find a word as her eyes roved his person in disgust, “…men, have other things to do…”

Behind Domhnall, Kai was tittering, clearly finding this entire situation hilarious. Domhnall supposed he couldn’t blame him. It was funny in its ridiculousness. If the woman would just let him speak.

“I’ve finished me ditch-digging today,” he countered sarcastically, “but I’d be happy tae throw ye back intae that puddle if ye carry on being so rude.”

“You are impertinent, aren’t you? I wonder what your laird would think if he knew you were speaking to me in such a manner.”

Domhnall was getting a little frustrated by her arrogance, and spinning to look at her, he said, “If ye dinnae watch yer tongue, I’ll lock ye in the laird’s dungeons.”

“I hardly think so,” she laughed mirthlessly. “My betrothed,” she spat the word with obvious venom, “would never let a barbarian like you put a hand on me.”

“Is that right?” Domhnall said, taking a long step towards her. With no hesitation, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Argh,” she shrieked. “Put me down. Put me down this minute.”

The soldiers went to move, but Kai and Magnus jerked their swords towards them threateningly.

Domhnall then turned to speak to the Englishmen.

“Yer charge needs tae think before she opens that pretty little mouth o’ hers. Ye see, this rude barbarian, is nay other than her future husband.”

The soldier’s faces dropped, and behind him, he could hear Lady de Beaumont gasp again.

“And believe me when I say, I have nay problem at all locking her in me dungeons. Perhaps while she’s in there, she can learn some manners. The cold, dark cells might even teach her, her place.”

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