Prologue

July, 1647

A small river near Stuart Castle, Scotland

Lady Étaín Stuart was old enough now to do such a thing, she was sure of it. On her last birthday she had turned eighteen, and now was her chance, although she wasn’t sure that sneaking after a man as he went swimming in the river was exactly normal. Or in fact, something that a grown woman ought to do. But she wanted to be alone with him, and this was the best solution she could think of.

Étaín was desperate for the chance to speak to Bhaltair MacThomas alone and without her brother, Kaden, getting in the way. And of course, without her sister, Líadan, trying to tell her to do the things that girls ought to do instead of gawking at Bhaltair. But they were both back in the castle, and she had followed Bhaltair as he crept out from the keep to swim in the river. She heard his splash in the cool water before she saw him. She had hidden herself well enough in the bushes, in her usual spot.

It was not the first time she’d followed him to his favorite swimming spot. She had done so countless other times, she thought to herself with embarrassment. It was not to gawk at his strong, naked body, but rather that she ached to join him in the water. Hearing him swim, she leaned aside and peeked out through the edge of the bushes to find him in the deepest part, only his head above the water, rubbing his hands through his long, dark hair. His silver necklace gleamed around his neck, and yet again, Étaín felt her mouth go dry at the handsome sight of him.

Och, why can I nae be bold enough tae go and swim with him? Why can I nae simply say what I am feelin’ tae him?

But she did not know how to swim, and she feared that he would laugh at her if she tried. Not only that, but around Bhaltair, she became even more shy than her usual self. She bumbled and got sweaty, her cheeks reddening to an embarrassing intensity. They were all the symptoms of love; she knew that. That was what all the servant girls had told her. It was now at the point that she had to tell him.

Go and tell him. Ye are old enough. He has tae notice ye fer the grown woman ye are.

Sneaking another peek at him, she thought about all the years she’d known him. He’d been her brother’s best friend for years, so he’d known her from a young age. However, she feared that he only saw her as his friend’s little sister, although in the last few years she’d filled out in all the right places, developing a woman’s body and mind. She knew what she wanted and what she wanted was Bhaltair MacThomas.

Closing her eyes, she thought of her sister, Líadan. Líadan was the most beautiful woman in the Highlands, with stark gray hair that made people turn twice to look at her. Étaín had feared that Bhaltair would fall in love with her, but it didn’t appear he had for some inexplicable reason. They acted more as brother and sister than anything approaching lovers. She heard another splash, bringing her back to the task at hand. Pressing a hand to her chest, she counted off the stuttered beats of her heart.

Go. Tell him that ye love him and that ye want him tae kiss ye. That ye are nae a little girl anymore.

The truth was that she feared that he would laugh at her, and then she would have to run away in shame, never to speak of it again. But she could have sworn that lately he was watching her more, speaking to her more, giving her more attention than he ever had before. That was what had sparked this final visit for her to the river for her. She had thought of it all night, and now, she had to stop dreaming of him and give it her all.

Would he truly kiss her? The thought thrilled her down to her toes, and she had dreamed of it often enough. She closed her eyes. There were many boys she might kiss, but Bhaltair was the only man she wanted to be kissed by.

Turning back toward him again, she bit her lip as she watched him. She scratched at her neck when an errant branch brushed against it, and she rolled her eyes at her choice of hiding spot. She would get a rash by the end of all this, but her itching was completely forgotten when Bhaltair finally rose from the river. Her mouth fell open as she watched in slow motion as the water trailed down his hard, strong body, and he was… entirely naked!

She blinked, unsure what to do or if she should move, but she had never seen a more beautiful sight in all her life. The water slid down taught abs and over a dark thatch of hair with his manhood in the middle. She swallowed, her tongue feeling thicker than ever. She had only heard of it before, never actually seen it, and it made her mind go fuzzy, and her skin tingle. A warm liquid feeling moved in her belly and even lower.

He walked onto the bank and reached for his clothes. She had never seen him fully naked before, always turning away when he was getting out so that he wouldn’t see her. But now, she was just sitting there watching him, gaping at him, and she realized how it would look if he discovered her.

What will he think of me if he hears or sees me watchin’ him?

With that terrifying thought on her mind, Étaín turned away quickly, and tried to get to her feet. But in her hurry and worried frenzy, she fell, making a large sound in the bushes that she was sure he heard. She sat back down, closing her eyes, hoping against hope that he would presume it was an animal running through the brush. But then her heart fluttered when she heard the sound of his footsteps running toward where she sat in embarrassed hiding.

In the name of the wee man!

And when she slowly opened her eyes, she saw him peering over her, still shirtless, but now in his trews.

Thank the gods!

“Étaín?” he asked. “What in God’s name are ye daein’ here?”

What indeed?

Her mouth tried to form words, but nothing came out, and with a worried look on his handsome face, Bhaltair leaned down, picked her up in his arms, and carried her toward the edge of the river. Étaín had no idea what to do. She had never been in his arms before, and it was just as intoxicating as she’d expected it to be: warm, safe, secure and incredibly exciting. He set her down on a boulder not far from the water’s edge, and then he knelt in front of her, taking her hand.

“Are ye all right? Did ye faint?” he asked, his dark brown eyes sparkling with concern.

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen anything as beautiful as a wet Bhaltair MacThomas, his hair falling past his shoulders, drips in his beard making it sparkle in the afternoon sun.

“Och, nay,” she said finally, able to muster up at least a few words. “Ye ken me. I dinnae faint.”

She chuckled, and he laughed as well, his smile making her heart skip a beat, that warm liquid feeling moving even lower. She had felt his skin under her palms, his bare skin. It was something she’d not expected to experience and it only made her feel bolder.

“That’s true.” He reached over and pulled on a shirt, and she tried her best to keep her eyes turned away. “So then, what are ye daein’ here?”

Clearing her throat, she tried to give herself a few more seconds to think of a reasonable excuse.

“Well, I—” She began, hating the way that she could barely think straight, barely speak whenever she was around him.

She had been planning to confess her true feelings, but now he certainly thought her a bumbling idiot. Then he knelt down again and gave her a kind look.

“Take a breath. Try again.”

His voice was calm and gentle as it always was when he spoke to her, and she stared into his eyes as she took a deep breath and let it out. Her mind cleared, at least a little, so she simply blurted out, “I have come here, hopin’ that ye might kiss me.”

She didn’t wait to register the surprise on Bhaltair’s face before she leaned forward, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck, and placing her lips on his. Time seemed to stop almost entirely. Étaín’s heart beat nervously against her chest. She hadn’t planned to just kiss him; she had planned to talk to him, hoping that he might kiss her instead. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands moved up her shoulders, and against her mouth, his lips soft and tender. But then he quickly moved back, breathing hard, and he got to his feet, starting to pace.

He put a hand over his mouth, and then he turned to her, his eyes wide. “What are ye daein’?” he asked.

Energized by her boldness, knowing that she certainly couldn’t turn back now, Étaín stood, and she stared blankly at him. “Bhaltair, I believe that I am in love with ye. At least I ken that I feel the same way and have the same symptoms as bein’ in love. I wanted ye tae ken.”

Bhaltair paused for a moment, his hands on his hips, and then he burst into laughter. “Symptoms? Ye speak of love as if it is a disease, Étaín.”

He smiled a little, but she wanted him to be serious, to understand her words. She was not a child anymore, and she understood love, even if she didn’t exactly know how to talk about it, especially when she was about to burst from the embarrassment she was feeling.

“Perhaps I dinnae ken the right words fer it, but ye ken what I mean: the sweaty hands, the tingling feeling in me stomach.” She looked down at her hands, folding and unfolding them in her lap. She feared that it all sounded so ridiculous, and that he would laugh at her again.

But nay, ye have come fer a reason, and ye must tell him now, fer ye are already in the middle of it!

When he said nothing, she added, “Me heart skips a beat when I am around. Is that nae a sort of disease?” She looked up at him, searching his eyes for some kind of answer as nervousness consumed her. She reached out a hand for him, but he moved away. “Dae ye ken what I mean?” she asked him, noticing just how scared he looked.

Why should he look scared? It is nae as if I am tellin’ him somethin’ horrible.

Breathing out, she tried one more time to give a clearer meaning to her words. “So, I care about ye, Bhaltair, more than care. And I wonder if…” she bit her lip again, fearful of what he might say or think, “if ye might feel the same?”

Her heart was so full of hope, standing on the edge of a precipice, but then it felt as though she toppled over when Bhaltair laughed again. She had not truly understood the pain of what such a reaction would feel like, but there she was, standing right there, feeling as though she’d been stabbed in the gut. Certainly, laughter is not the response one should receive when confessing one’s love; she was sure of that.

“Ye cannae mean that, lass,” he told her, shaking his head as if speaking to a young child. “If Kaden sees us now like this, he’ll murder us both, nay doubt. It is nae only that,” he told her. “But I am ten years older than ye, and who kens when I will return from me journey tae the Lowlands.”

Étaín’s cheeks burned. She had thought she was old enough to do this now, but clearly, he thought her ridiculous. She hated his sympathetic smile, his kind eyes, the way he was trying to be soothing and sensible, when in fact he was only twisting the knife in her belly.

“Why would Kaden’s opinion matter if we truly cared fer one another?” She bit out, wanting to hope at least a little that he was only afraid of her brother and that that was why he was being so heartless.

“Étaín,” he said a little more firmly.

He touched her hand again this time, and Étaín wanted to pull away when she saw the pity in his eyes. “Ye are only a child, lass, with so much life tae live and things tae learn. What are ye thinkin’, suggestin’ somethin’ like this? There are plenty of lads yer age that would love tae have yer affections. Besides, I wouldnae want anyone tae think I am the type of man tae take advantage of so young a lass’ overtures.”

Étaín watched his face. He wore a mixture of expressions, and she could tell that he was having difficulty in saying the words. He took a breath and pressed his lips together, and then he let her hand go, turning around, pacing again.

Étaín tried to think of something to say, but no words came out, and she could feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes and thickening her throat.

Nay, ye willnae cry. Nae like the child he so clearly thinks that ye are.

“Besides,” he said, suddenly turning around to face her, “I could never be with ye: ye are inexperienced and unaware of the world around ye, expectant of things I cannae give ye… And ye are nae the type of woman I usually fall fer. Ye are so sensitive, so shy and timid. We’re nae a match, lass, we both ken that.”

As he spoke the last words, he turned his eyes away from hers, as if embarrassed by the terrible things he had just said. She thought that he had already stabbed her, but it was worse than that. She felt that life could no longer go on. She was humiliated, her cheeks warmer than they’d ever been before. She wished to melt into the ground and never be seen again. She wanted to run away, to burst into tears in her room, but she felt frozen in place.

“It will always be like ye’re me little sister. Ye are beautiful and intelligent, of course, but ye are more like family tae me. I would be grateful if ye just turn yer eyes elsewhere.”

He finally dragged his eyes to hers and swallowed. Good, she hoped he was embarrassed by his unkind words. He had gone far beyond what he had needed to say, listing her faults and the reasons that he could never love her. She clenched her jaw, keeping it tight so that he would not see the way her chin wished to tremble. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she knew they would fall quickly if she didn’t take action. So instead of waiting around to hear what other things he planned to say to her, she turned around and did the most grown-up thing she could muster: ran.

With her one hand holding her skirts, she used the other to push away branches as she raced back through the woods, tears falling down her face. She would never forget that moment, the searing pain of his rejection and insults. She would never forget the words he had spoken to her.

I could never be with ye: inexperienced, young, shy, timid, so sensitive…

They were all the things she hated about herself, and she had just heard them spoken aloud. By him. Her heart was broken, and she was angry at herself for thinking that he could possibly have had felt anything for her. It was almost as if he hated her, and as she ran home, grateful not to hear footsteps behind her, she vowed never to look Bhaltair’s way ever again. She would push him and her love from her mind forever and ever.

From this day forward, I will never show meself tae a man in such a way. Never again, will I be so insulted, and never again, will I offer me heart.

Chapter One

Stuart Castle, September, 1652

Five years later

Bhaltair MacThomas stood in front of Stuart Castle. It had been five long years since he’d set foot in front of his best friend’s home, and now he stood uncertainly outside the gates. It was early evening, so he hoped that he would just look like a rider passing-by and not incite suspicions from the guards. Nonetheless, he wanted to go in. Kaden Stewart was his best friend in the whole world. Stuart Castle had been his home away from home. His own family had not been as kind, warm and welcoming as the Stuart family, and so he’d spent most of his time there until five years prior.

Until that fateful day at the river.

His horse trotted forward a little and he pulled on the reins, not yet ready to ride down that path. He had no idea what had befallen the Stuart family in the years he’d been gone: the laird, his kind wife, and his children. But while he had thought of his best friend often, he had thought of young Étaín just as much. Their last meeting had filled him with regret. He shuddered to think of the words he’d said to her that day. He had seen on her face that he had broken her heart, and he would never forgive himself for it. Yet, it had been necessary at the time.

She is likely married now. She’ll be twenty-three or around there, nay longer a child but a young woman.

He could only imagine how a beautiful girl like Étaín had grown into a young woman. In some ways, he hoped she was there. His eyes were hungry for the sight of her. But of course it would have been easier if she had not been there, easier if she had married and gone. Then he would not have to face his guilt.

Ye have waited fer this moment fer years. Stop stallin’ and go inside that bloody castle.

He spurred his horse on down the path, and the guards greeted him in surprise.

“MacThomas?” one said, looking up in astonishment.

“Aye, yer eyes dinnae deceive ye. I am here tae see Kaden at long last. Is he here?”

“Aye, he is,” the guard said. “Nice tae see ye, lad.”

“Then, please open the gate so I may go in and see him,” as he shook the man’s hand in a warm greeting. “But dinnae tell anyone I am here.”

“Aye, of course,” guard told him, and then he yelled out orders for the gate to be lifted.

Bhaltair jumped down from his horse and handed off the reins. He put a hand on the hilt of his sword and walked forward into the castle. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he felt the relief he had been hoping for. In so many ways, he was home again, regret or not, and it felt good after so many years of insecurity and danger. He swallowed and stepped forward, down the familiar passage, and decided he would go to the study first, to greet the laird, before he saw Kaden. That was only proper.

He reached the door and stared at it for a few seconds, dim with torchlight, and then he knocked.

“Come in,” a low voice said, and then he opened it, surprised to see not Laird Stuart but Kaden behind the desk.

Kaden’s eyes rose, and when they landed on Bhaltair, his mouth fell open. “Good God,” he said, getting to his feet, and coming around the edge of the desk. “Bhaltair? Is it really ye?”

Bhaltair barely had time to breathe before Kaden rushed to him and hugged him into a tight embrace. He’d become far larger and stronger in the last few years, so Bhaltair thought, and he was held tightly by a bear-man.

When Kaden stepped back, Bhaltair grinned. “I’m so pleased tae see ye, me friend. Playin’ laird, are ye?” he asked. “Good practice, I’m sure.”

Kaden’s smile fell, and he breathed out before he glanced at the wooden cabinet in the corner. “Close the door, man. We will have a chat. But first, whisky.”

Bhaltair closed it and sat down, enjoying the comforting sight and smell of the study. Laird Callum Stuart had been like a father to him. It had hurt to leave them five years ago, but it had been necessary. However, he hadn’t expected to be away so long. That couldn’t have been helped, and he hoped that Kaden would somehow understand.

When Kaden turned around and handed the whisky glass to him, his expression was grim. “I never thought I’d see ye again, old friend.” He smiled faintly and then clinked against Bhaltair’s glass before he sat down again.

“Aye, I ken. I’m sorry fer that. It wasnae supposed tae be… fer so long.”

Kaden frowned, but Bhaltair didn’t wish to discuss it at the moment. So, he cleared his throat and asked again about the lairdship. “So where is the rest of the family?” He turned to the door. “I expected to hear women laughing and yelling, as they used tae.”

He smiled, but Kaden sighed and looked down at the glass that he was swirling in his hand. Bhaltair studied his friend for a moment. He was older, certainly, and a little bit harder, lines forming at the corners of his eyes. He had a dark beard and strong shoulders, but his eyes were still the same kind blue that he always remembered.

“Faither and our stepmaither Lilly died in a fire a few years ago. We were traveling.”

“Christ,” Bhaltair said, putting down the glass on Kaden’s desk. “And I wasnae here. I am so sorry. So very sorry. They were the best of people.”

He knew he did not deserve to, but he too felt the searing pain of losing people who he had loved and had been so loving and kind to him, more so than his own father and brother. Kaden licked his lips and then took a sip from his glass.

“We have had our time tae grieve.”

“And yer sisters? Are they well? How did they get through it all?”

At that, Kaden smiled, and for a moment, Bhaltair feared that Étaín had told her brother all that had happened between them.

Ye were a total arse when it came tae rejectin’ her.

“Líadan was married tae the youngest McLaren braither, Rae, at the start of this year. She had had three fiancés before that, and all died. Dinnae ask,” he laughed at Bhaltair’s confused reaction. “People were beginnin’ tae think she was a witch or cursed with that gray hair of hers. But apparently, she just needed tae find the right man.”

Bhaltair was pleased. “And this Rae is the right man?” he asked, happy for her, but also afraid of Kaden’s next news about Étaín.

“Aye, quite so. They are very taken with each other.” He rolled his eyes. “Sickenin’ rather.”

Chuckling a bit, Bhaltair smiled, reaching out for the whisky again. “And… Étaín?”

“Nae married, yet. Bloody ruthless at cards that one. The both of them got through the deaths as well as they were able tae. We had each other at least.”

So much had been packed into that sentence that Bhaltair wasn’t sure where to begin. However, he was rather curious about what the word ‘yet’ meant. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t deserve to know really.

“She will be here soon, I’m sure. She is the lady of the house now, so she makes all the plans. There is a feast soon, so ye are home just in time tae join us.”

As warm as he felt at the word home, Bhaltair’s blood ran cold. He had expected to see her, of course, but right away? As soon as he arrived, when he was feeling so many things. Right on the tail of the news about the Stuart parents.

“So then,” Kaden said, finishing his glass and then rising again to fill it, filling Bhaltair’s before he even asked. “Dae ye nae think we deserve tae ken where ye were, Bhaltair? We had nay word, nothin’ tae ken if ye were alive or dead. All we’d kenned was that ye’d gone tae the Lowlands and werenae sure when ye’d return. But five years…”

Kaden trailed off, and Bhaltair nodded, grateful for the extra whisky in his glass. “Aye, ye are quite right tae ask. All I can say is that I wish fer ye tae forgive me. If I could have sent word, I would have. I managed tae escape a year ago, and ye were the first person I wanted tae see when I came back tae the Highlands.”

“Escape? From where?” Kaden asked, looking confused and worried again.

Bhaltair shifted in his seat. “I ken ye deserve an explanation.” He could practically feel the scars on his skin, even though it had been some time since they’d healed. “But I am nae yet ready tae speak of it. I just need a bit of time. One day, I swear tae ye, I will tell ye.”

“All right then. I accept that, of course.” Kaden smiled. “Whatever has happened tae ye, Bhaltair, I am glad that ye are here now. With us. Étaín will be too.”

Bhaltair wasn’t sure about that. Five years ago at the river, he’d said all the things he hadn’t wanted to say because he knew Kaden would not have accepted it. He had said it numerous times. But now, after all that had happened, Bhaltair wasn’t sure he could face her again. When the soft knock at the door came, he closed his eyes, and then he downed the rest of his whisky before he stood along with Kaden, and Kaden called out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and on the other side, more beautiful than even in his wildest imagination, stood Étaín: the one woman he had loved for those five years and more but should never, ever have.

***

Industry was the way to keep one from feeling heartbreak. It had been Étaín’s comfort in the past five years, and now that Líadan was gone to live at her husband’s, she had taken over all the duties in the castle, and it kept her busy most of the day, from dawn to dusk. It was just what she needed. So that was why she was smiling when she walked towards her brother’s study that evening, ready to tell him of all her plans for the upcoming feast. On the way down the steps, she bumped into Elspeth, her lady’s maid, looking all aflutter.

“What is it, Elspeth?” she asked, watching the bright-eyed young woman with amusement. “Ye look very excited.”

“Och, so I am. A bit of intrigue has occurred! A visitor tae the castle!”

Elspeth fell into step beside Étaín. “Really? I have nae been told,” Étaín said.

“The guest wished only tae see Kaden, and the guards were told tae tell nay one else.” Elspeth’s dark eyes widened as she spoke.

She had always been one for telling a tale, ever since she’d been with Étaín. Étaín frowned. It had been a long time since she’d felt any real danger in the castle or around it, but the request seemed strange.

“They were told tae tell nay one, and yet ye ken?”

“Well,” Elspeth said with a blush, curling a finger around one strand of blond hair. “Ye ken about Angus and meself,” she said, clearing her throat and making Étaín laugh.

“Aye, I suppose ye cannae fight against the power of love.”

It had taken years for her to joke about such a thing, but now she saw it for the joke it was. Love was a meaningless feeling, and it only brought pain and stress. And embarrassment, she thought with an anger that had reduced itself to a mere prick over the years.

“Nay, ye cannae,” Elspeth said, continuing to speak quickly, her eyes still sparkling with excitement.

They were very nearly at the study, and Étaín still hadn’t discovered just why this visitor had excited Elspeth so.

“Are ye goin’ tae tell me more?” she asked.

“Aye. Och, me lady, he is ever so handsome, now, even more so than before. I remember how ye had always thought him handsome. He has longer hair, a beard, and some scars on his neck. He looks fiercer and colder but still so handsome.”

Étaín knocked on the study door and heard Kaden’s words. Elspeth was still beside her, practically shaking from excitement.

“But who is it, then?” she asked, opening the door and then felt struck, as if someone had slapped her in the face.

“Bhaltair MacThomas,” Elspeth said, even though it was the last thing Étaín wanted to hear in that moment.

She could see for herself. He was there, in the flesh, not dead, and staring back at her as if no time had passed.

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