Author: Shona Thompson

Prologue

Torridon Inn, 1765

It was a habit they couldn’t easily shake, even when there seemed to be no danger. Aaden and Gilchrist sat at the far end of the common area of the inn, their backs against the wall and nothing else between them and the rest of the patrons, like they always did in such establishments. One could never know where an enemy might lurk, though an inn in a small town was hardly the place to attract any serious threats.

The room smelled of ale and wine, the wooden tables sticky with spilled residue that the serving wenches’ tattered rags could never clean entirely. The storm outside, the one which had forced them to pause their trip back home to Castle McDowell, still raged. The sound of the raindrops on the roof of the inn were so thunderous that not even the lively conversation inside was enough to fully drown it out. Although the room didn’t seem so crowded to Aaden at first glance, every table seemed to be occupied, some of them only by lonely travelers and others by groups of people.

“Here’s tae a successful job,” Gilchrist said, raising his cup of wine in a toast. “We willnae want fer naething now that we have reached this agreement.”

“We willnae want fer food, at least,” Aaden pointed out. The Bairds, with their fertile lands, had been perhaps the most important allies for Clan MacDowell to secure and now that Gilchrist had managed to make this deal with them—food in exchange for manpower and security—there would be no concerns about their resources throughout the winter. “Ye did well. The role o’ the laird suits ye.”

Laughing, Gilchrist sipped his wine slowly, savoring it as though it was one of the bottles he imported from France and not what it truly was, which was closer to vinegar.

“I must still adjust,” Gilchrist said. “An’ there is still much tae dae. This may be the most important deal we have made so far, but it willnae be the only one.”

Despite what his friend claimed, Arden couldn’t imagine a better laird for the McDowell Clan. Ever since marrying Kyven McDowell, the daughter of the clan’s previous laird, Gilchrist had spent most of his waking hours working towards the betterment of their lands and their people, putting everyone else before himself.

It showed a little in the weariness in his eyes, the lids weighed down by several sleepless nights. Aaden hoped that now, at least, with the clan’s food for the winter secured, he could rest for a while and focus on his new family.

“Ye must adjust soon,” Aaden said, “‘afore the bairn comes, for there will be less time after.”

“Och aye,” said Gilchrist, and the mere mention of his unborn child brought a new warmth to his face, a brightness that eclipsed his exhaustion. “There are still a few months left, but I wish it were sooner. I wish tae meet me son.”

“Or daughter,” Aaden reminded him.

“Or daughter,” Gilchrist agreed with a smile. “An’ besides, it’s already getting tiring fer Kyven. I’m sure she is impatient tae give birth.”

“She is gettin’ big, isnae she?”

“Dinnae tell her that,” warned Gilchrist, with the kind of serious tone he usually reserved for battle plans. “She is already angry she cannae see her feet an’ she will only continue tae grow. One wrong word an’ she’ll cut off yer head hersel’.”

Aaden laughed at the warning, imagining Kyven, pregnant as she was, trying to chase him around the castle. She could rope someone else into doing it, though; Aaden had no doubts about that.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “Though I’m sure if yer wife heard ye say that about her, she’d have yer head.”

“She’d be provin’ me point, then,” said Gilchrist. “An’ she wouldnae harm me. She loves me. Ye would understand if ye found a good lass fer yersel tae wed.”

This again, Aaden thought. Though he had always been adamant that he would never marry, it didn’t stop people from trying to change his mind. Gilchrist had been lecturing him on all the joys of marriage ever since he had married Kyven, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. At most, he stopped bringing it up for a while, only to mention it again when Aaden had been lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he was safe from another such talk.

“Ye ken what I think about that,” Aaden said. “I like me freedom too much.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Gilchrist’s features arranged themselves in that serious look he got whenever there was something urgent to discuss, brows furrowing together and lips pursing into a thin line.

“Marryin’ Kyven didnae make me a prisoner,” he said. “As marryin’ a lass willnae make ye a prisoner. It gave me the biggest joys o’ me life. What will ye dae, Aaden? Will ye stay alone yer whole life?”

“I’m nae alone,” Aaden pointed out. He had Gilchrist. He had other friends. He could easily manage without a wife.

“Ye ken what I mean,” Gilchrist insisted. “Ye need someone. Ye cannae keep everyone away.”

Aaden’s jaw tightened at Gilchrist’s words. His friend had always known Aaden liked women, but for a while he had thought it was a way for him to find some comfort after his father’s death, a way to drown his sorrows. Now that Aaden hadn’t changed at all, though, Gilchrist had begun to pester him once more.

Aaden didn’t want to talk about his father or the reasons behind his reluctance to marry. He had made peace with both those things. Losing his father in that ambush had been one of the most painful moments of his life, but there was no bringing him back. A wife couldn’t fill the void he had left behind. All Aaden could do was keep his memory alive and move on as best he could.

Still, he could understand why Gilchrist was so insistent. He worried, just as Aaden worried about him, no matter how well he was doing. It was in their nature to worry about each other.

“It’s alright,” he assured him. “I write me maither often, so I still have family. An’ I have ye.”

It was only part of the truth, but it would have to be enough for Gilchrist, as it was all Aaden was willing to share.

“With yer maither?” Gilchrist asked, surprised. “Are ye gettin’ tae ken her better, then? Will ye go an’ see her?”

“I cannae see her,” Aaden said.

“Surely, ye can. Where is she now?”

Aaden sighed, delaying his response by taking a large sip of wine. In the end, he looked at Gilchrist in the eye and said, “She is a courtesan. Where dae ye think she is?”

It wasn’t true, but it was the story everyone had been told. His father had never revealed his mother’s true identity to anyone but Aaden himself, and Aaden didn’t intend to expose her like this, not even to his friend.

Aaden had seen what love did to people. He had seen how his father had wilted before everyone’s eyes, loving the woman he could never have. What he knew of his mother told him that she, too, had never stopped grieving their lost love, spending her years yearning after his father.

It wasn’t that Aaden didn’t believe in love. He had seen it first-hand. Love was real and it was painful, and he was never going to go down that path of self-destruction. He would rather spend his life with a different woman every night, never once risking falling in love.

What he had said seemed to be enough to silence Gilchrist on the matter, at least temporarily. He gave Aaden a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder before he drained his cup and stood.

“We should sleep,” he said. “We must wake early on the morrow an’ head back.”

“Aye,” said Aaden. “But I think I’ll stay a while longer.”

His gaze scanned the room, looking for any women he could bring to his room before the night was over. Gilchrist didn’t need to ask why. He only gave him a roll of his eyes, though his smile was fond.

“Alright,” he said. “Good luck with yer hunt. I’m very glad I dinnae have tae dae this anymore.”

With that, he was gone, heading up the stairs to the room he had secured for the night, as Aaden returned to his search. He could speak to one of the serving wenches, he thought. They were both young and pretty, and they always fell for his charms.

But then again, who didn’t?

He let his gaze roam around the room for a while longer and that was when he spotted her: a young woman with long hair as dark as the night and a pair of blue eyes that pierced him like an arrow when they met his own for a brief second. She was sitting with another young woman, the two of them talking animatedly and paying him no mind, but Aaden wasn’t going to be discouraged by something as insignificant, not when that woman was the most beautiful creature he had laid his eyes on.

He could wait and so he did, sipping the rest of his wine slowly as he watched them, waiting patiently for the right moment. That moment came when the woman’s friend stood and left the room, but she remained, idly sipping her drink as she looked around her.

Taking his chance, Aaden stood and walked over to her table, sliding into the seat her friend had only just vacated.

“Good evenin’,” he said, his smile so bright it could outshine any candle in the room. “What is such a bonnie lass doin’ here alone? It’s very cold, after all, an’ they say it’s easier tae warm up when ye have another next tae ye.”

It was a bit bold and a bit silly, but every time Aaden used that line, he usually received at least a chuckle in return. He was good looking enough for his conquests to need little coaxing, finding him charming in his audacity.

This woman didn’t seem to, though. The glare she gave him sent a chill down his spine. It was colder than the rain outside the inn, as if she would have liked nothing more than to kill him where he sat.

“I was enjoyin’ me own company until ye disturbed me,” she said, her melodious voice carrying so much irritation that the contrast was dizzying. It was fine with him, though. Aaden liked a challenge, and he wasn’t going to back down that easily. In the end, the reward of bedding her would be worth it.

“May I offer ye a drink, then, as an apology?” he said, already raising his hand to call for the serving wench when the woman stopped him.

“Thank ye, but nay. Ye see, I have this rare ailment. I cannae accept drinks from strangers without bein’ nauseated an’ vomitin’ all over them.”

Charmin’ lass.

Pursing his lips in distaste, Aaden leaned a little closer over the table to rest his head on his hand. “Is that truly a way tae get a man’s attention?”

“Aye, me biggest goal in life is tae get a handsome man’s attention,” the woman said with a roll of her eyes. She all but slammed her hands on the table and stood, pushing back her chair with a scraping sound that made Aaden recoil. “An’ it obviously worked if ye’re here, tryin’ tae steal me affections.”

The woman walked off, but before she could get too far, Aaden followed her. Perhaps he should simply accept defeat, but it wasn’t often that a woman rejected him. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when it had happened. Some of them were difficult, but by the end of the night, they always ended up in his bed.

“Are we headin’ tae me chambers or yers?” he asked, deciding that boldness was the way to go with this woman. She, too, was bold, after all, having no regard for what was polite.

The woman came to an abrupt halt and turned around to look at him, giving him a smile that was all teeth. “Ye should certainly wait fer me in yer chambers,” she said, and then turned around just as swiftly, once more heading for the door.

Aaden couldn’t let it go just yet, though. It intrigued him, how feisty she was, how quick to respond, the insults tumbling one after the other out of her lips. Aaden had never met such a spirited woman before and something stirred inside him, a kind of insistent, irresistible desire for more.

He caught up with her just past the door, grabbing her arm to stop her and pull her close, their bodies flush together. Leaning even closer, lips brushing over the shell of her ear, he whispered to her.

“I can give ye pleasure like ye’ve never had ‘afore,” he said. “I can take ye tae places ye’ve never reached.”

The woman turned her head so that their lips were almost brushing. Just when Aaden thought he finally had her in his grasp, she said, “The only place ye can take me is hell, I’m sure.”

Aaden couldn’t help but laugh at that, even if it was at his own expense. As the woman made to leave once more, he let his hand glide down her arm and then laced their fingers together, stopping her once again.

Suddenly, she spun around, the glare returning in her eyes. “Dae ye even ken me name?”

For a moment, Aaden wracked his brain, trying to remember if she had told him. In the end, he only shrugged. “Ye can tell me while ye moan mine.”

In a flash, the woman had him pinned against the wall, a small, sharp blade pressed to his neck. The speed and strength behind the movement caught Aaden by surprise enough for him to get trapped by this woman who was much smaller than him, his heart racing behind his ribs, the breath caught in his throat. Under the moonlight, her features were just as sharp—a small, straight nose, prominent cheekbones, and a high, regal forehead, all of them blending together to leave an impression of danger.

Aaden would be lying if he said he wasn’t more intrigued than ever.

“Perhaps yer depraved words work fer other lasses, but I’m nae them,” the woman hissed, lips curling back to bare her teeth. “I would never share yer bed, even if ye were the last man in the Highlands.”

In the distance, Aaden heard a voice, something that the woman heard as well. Her head snapped to the side, fingers tightening around the handle of her blade.

“Lilith!”

Over the sound of the rain and the thunder, Aaden couldn’t hear what the voice was calling, but it seemed to have an immediate effect on the woman. Just as quickly as she had attacked him, she pulled back and was gone, her quick footsteps disappearing down the street. Aaden didn’t try to pursue her this time. Instead, he let his head fall back with a sigh, fingers tracing the skin where she had pressed her blade.

Perhaps he hadn’t heard her name, but he would never forget that face—the face of the first woman to ever reject him.

Chapter One

MacEwan Castle. One year later.

The castle was just as Aaden remembered it, though it had been very long since he had last stepped foot on MacEwan land. It towered over the hill, stretching up to a grey sky, a colossal structure of stone that was as majestic as it was intimidating. Like all castles, it did not only speak of wealth; it also spoke of power.

When he reached the castle gates, Aaden handed the paper he had been clutching in his hand all the way there to one of the guards, who proceeded to have the door opened for him. Riding inside, the few memories Aaden had of the place rushed back to him. There was that oak he had climbed as a child, falling from the lowest branches and scraping his knees. There were the stables where he had first learned to care for his horse, and the kitchens where the maids would give him apples and sweets in secret.

He wondered how many of those maids still worked there. He wondered if any of them would remember him now that he was grown, now that his face was covered by a short beard and he would no longer be looking up at them with wide, mischievous eyes.

Despite everything, Aaden had missed the place. He only wished he could have returned under different circumstances.

The invitation he had handed to the guard outside had come as a surprise. He never expected to return to this place, given that his uncle didn’t want to even look at him. He knew there was only one reason why he would ever call Aaden there; it meant he wanted something from him and whatever that was, it couldn’t possibly be good.

After jumping off his horse and passing the reins to the stable boy, another servant came to fetch him. Aaden followed the young man inside and soon found that even all those years later, he didn’t need a guide. He remembered where everything was, the details slowly coming back to him.

Still, he doubted his uncle would allow him to roam freely around the castle. If anything, Aaden was surprised that no guard was following him, but then again, there was no real danger for Ruadh. His uncle was the laird of the clan and as long as Aaden was in there alone, he was powerless, even with all the weapons he carried around his waist.

Weapons, he noted, that no one had taken from him.

They came to a halt in front of a large door that Aaden identified as leading to Ruadh’s study. The servant announced him, and Aaden walked in to see his uncle there, sitting behind his grand desk, surrounded by all his riches: colorful tapestries, thick rugs, heavy, dark furniture that had a presence even more imposing than the man’s own.

Naturally, Ruadh had gotten older since Aaden had last seen him, but the change was startling to Aaden. He must have been in his early sixties, his face lined by the passage of time, his stature shorter than Aaden remembered—though that was perhaps because Aaden had been a child last time they had been in the same room. Even so, his eyes were just as blue and the black of his hair persisted even at his age, the only traces of grey appearing at his temples.

There was no warmth in his greeting when he acknowledged Aaden.

“Sit,” Ruadh said, gesturing towards the chair by his desk, but Aaden preferred to stand. When he didn’t obey, Ruadh simply shrugged. “As ye wish.”

“Why did ye call me here?” Aaden asked. He had no desire to pretend there was any love lost between them. Ruadh hated him and no matter what Aaden said, no matter how politely he behaved, the man would never change his mind. “Why now, after all these years in exile?”

For a few moments, Ruadh was silent, simply observing Aaden as if seeing him for the first time.

“The last time I saw ye, ye were only a bairn,” he said instead of answering the question. “It truly has been a long time.”

“The last time I saw ye, ye were a coward who sent me an’ me faither tae exile,” said Aaden, teeth gritting together.

There was nothing else Ruadh could do to him and so Aaden didn’t feel a need to hold back his venom. The man deserved much more than that, but Aaden would have to be satisfied with the little he could get now that he had finally confronted the man after so many years.

His scathing words earned him a glare, but nothing more than that. Ruadh was calculating, chilling in his cruelty. He would not lose his temper because of a mere comment, but he would make sure to retaliate sooner or later.

“Ye ken very well why I had tae send ye tae exile,” he said.”

“There were other ways,” Aaden insisted. “Ye didnae have tae send me faither away from his home. Ye didnae have tae send me away from me maither.”

“What would ye have me dae? Allow her bastard son tae live under the same roof as me own son?” Ruadh asked. There was an edge to his voice now, his cruelty seeping through the cracks. He stood too, the two of them glaring at each other over the desk. “Ye should be glad I didnae kill ye an’ me traitor o’ a braither.”

“He was as good as dead an’ ye ken that,” Aaden said. “Ye ken he never recovered from what ye did tae him.

Ruadh’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Aaden. He circled his desk and came to stand in front of him, leaving nothing but a few scant inches between them. “Yer faither tried tae steal me wife from me. Yer faither was a traitor tae his own braither. An’ yer maither…, yer maither spread her legs fer him, did she nae? An’ here ye are.”

Aaden could have killed his uncle that very moment. Perhaps he should have swung at him least, punching him for speaking about his mother like that, but that would have only caused him more trouble. He was already in plenty of trouble as it was, since Ruadh had called him there.

“Where is she?” he asked instead. “I wish tae see her.”

“Dinnae forget this, Aaden,” Ruadh said as he headed back to his chair, sinking in its plush leather. “Janice is me wife an’ me son’s maither. She is naething but an aunt tae ye. Ye will dae well tae forget she ever birthed ye.”

“Ye could have let her marry me faither,” Aaden insisted. “Ye could have let them be happy. Ye kent they loved each other but ye still married her.”

“I willnae entertain this any longer,” Ruadh said, effectively putting an end to the conversation. Aaden knew there was nothing to say to provoke him into discussing it further.

“Fine,” Aaden spat. “Then perhaps ye wish tae tell me why ye invited me here. Surely, it wasnae so ye could see me.”

That drew a laugh out of Ruadh, a short, humorless sound. “It wasnae an invitation. It was an order. With me brother gone, ye must repay his debt.”

“There is nae debt tae repay,” Aaden said. “Any debt he owed ye, he paid by spendin’ all his life in grief.”

Another laugh, this even colder than the last. “Ye’re as insolent as ever, I see. But that’s alright. I will teach ye what it means tae have honor. Listen carefully. Ye are tae wed Lilith Stewart, the first-born daughter o’ Laird Stewart. Evander wishes tae marry his youngest, but her faither willnae wed her if Lilith isnae wed first.”

Aaden could hardly believe his ears. That was why Ruadh had called him there? What could have possibly possessed him and make him think he would do such a thing for him.

“Why should I care if yer son wishes tae marry this lass?” he asked. “An’ why dae ye need me? I’m sure the first-born o’ Laird Stewart will have many suitors.”

“Och aye,” Ruadh said. “They both dae. The young one, Freya, she wishes tae wed Evander. But Lilith doesnae want any o’ her suitors. She is said tae be… difficult.”

Aaden couldn’t wrap his head around any of this. The most he could do was stand there in disbelief, mouth hanging slightly open as he tried to figure out what else Ruadh had planned for him. Surely, a marriage wasn’t the only thing he had in mind, especially to the first-born daughter of a laird.

“Why doesnae Evander wed Lilith?” he asked. “Surely, that is the wisest option fer him. Why would ye want me tae be the laird o’ the Stewart Clan when ye could make him?”

“As I said, Lilith is difficult,” Ruadh repeated. “Evander wants a softer lass. An’ if ye think ye will have any real power, I’d suggest ye reconsider it. Perhaps ye would become the laird once her faither dies, but ye will dae as I say.”

That, of course, was only natural, Aaden thought. Ruadh would never relinquish the power he could have, even if he didn’t marry his own son to the heir. He was a cunning man. He would do anything to find a way to exert control over another clan, so Aaden was hardly surprised he had planned something like this. “An’ how will ye enforce that? Why should I follow yer orders?”

For a moment, Ruadh hesitated. Then, he drew a deep breath and raised a hand to comb it through his hair. “Because I have yer maither,” he said. “An’ if ye dinnae obey me, I will kill her.”

He has her imprisoned.

“Where is me maither?” Aaden said, taking a few steps towards the desk before going still once more. “Where are ye keepin’ her?”

“In a place only I ken,” Ruadh said calmly. “An’ ye will never find her.”

Rage coursed through Aaden’s veins, his face turning an ugly shade of red. He was trembling from head to toe, fists clenched tightly by his sides as he glared at Ruadh, the anger having no place to go. What could he do? He couldn’t kill the man and get out of there alive. He even doubted he could get as far as killing him. Even though there had been no guards outside his door when Aaden had first walked in, that didn’t mean there were no guards outside now, waiting for their laird to give the word. His uncle was no fool. He knew Aaden would be enraged by this and he had certainly made sure to have protection nearby.

“Why are ye doin’ this?” Aaden asked, his voice barely a whisper. “What will ye gain from this?”

“Gold, o’ course,” Ruadh said. “I will receive the dowry fer both weddings. An’ then, with time, power. Imagine it, me son an’ me nephew married tae the two Stewart lasses. It’s an alliance that will never break. An’ dinnae act as though ye will receive naething out o’ this. Ye will be a laird one day. In name only, perhaps, but ye’ll still live a nice, comfortable life. An’ ye’ll have a bonnie wife. They say Lilith Stewart is a very bonnie lass. She’s certainly more than a bastard like ye deserves, so ye should be grateful I am givin’ her tae ye.”

Before Aaden could say anything else, Evander entered the room. Though it had been years since they had last seen each other, Aaden recognized him immediately, and by the way the other paused by the door, looking at him with clear surprise etched on his face, he recognized him, too.

They looked alike, the two of them. They both shared their mother’s golden hair, the bow of her lips, the shape of her eyes. They even shared some resemblance through their fathers, inheriting their common feature: a strong, straight nose.

“Cousin,” Evander said, lips stretching into an easy smile. “When did ye come tae visit?”

Cousin.

Naturally, Read hadn’t told Evander about their true relation. Evander still thought they were only cousins, not half-brothers, and as much as Aaden wanted him to know the truth, he would keep Ruadh’s secret for the sake of their mother.

“Just now,” Ruadh said before Aaden could respond. “I was tellin’ him about Lilith an’ Freya. Aaden has agreed tae wed Lilith.”

Aaden didn’t remember ever making such a promise, but what other choice did he have? Ruadh had his mother. He could kill her at any moment and then Aaden would have lost the only real family he had left. He couldn’t let him touch her. He couldn’t let him take her life, too, after everything else he had taken from her.

“I saw Freya a few months ago when I went tae a clan meetin’ at Stewart Castle,” Evander said, coming to stand next to Aaden. “I already ken she wants me. She tried everythin’ in her power tae get me attention an’… well, she did. I would have kissed her, too, had it nae been fer her meddlin’ sister. She kept trailin’ after Freya, remindin’ her tae be proper. But that’s alright. I have been writin’ tae her ever since an’ I’ve done me best tae make her fall fer me.”

“I’m sure it wasnae difficult fer ye,” said Ruadh. “These lasses are so easily swayed by sweet words.”

“They truly are,” Evander said, and both of them laughed, the sound filling the large room. They had a similar laugh, deep and booming, like a solid thing. “All I had tae dae was promise her I would love her forever an’ she was ready tae believe anythin’ I told her.”

Aaden looked at the two of them with disgust as he took a few steps back, putting some space between him and his brother. He didn’t want to be there. Had it not been for his mother, he would have never even come.

“Lilith is very bonnie, ye ken,” Evander said, echoing his father’s prior words. “But ye should be careful. They call her the Snow Lass because she’s so frigid. Nae one has managed tae get tae that cold heart o’ hers.”

“Ye will both visit Stewart Castle soon,” Ruadh said, interrupting his son. “Laird Stewart is acceptin’ the suitors, so Aaden, ye can go an’ charm Lilith while Evander speaks with the laird about Freya’s hand. An’ ye are nae tae fail. It will be most beneficial tae all o’ us if Lilith chooses ye.”

Aaden’s first instinct was to refuse, but he had no choice. There was no point in arguing now, not when both he and Ruadh knew he would do as he was told. His uncle had him under his control now. There was nothing Aaden could do as long as he kept threatening his mother.

Looking between the two men, Aaden couldn’t help but wonder how everything had come to this. He, who never wanted to marry, was now being forced into this marriage. The only good thing about it all was that there would be no love involved. That gave him some peace of mind, at least.

Besides, he was Aaden MacEwan, the womanizer. How difficult could it be to seduce this girl?

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Chapter One

Clan Mackintosh
Highlands, May 1698

“Catreena pushed her head through the gap between the doors, listening intently. Her head was cocked to the side and her blonde hair gathered behind her ears so she could hear clearly.

The guards were marching up and down the battlements of the castle walls, clearly just as determined to keep everyone inside as they were to keep intruders out.

“Ye give yer orders carefully, eh, Alec?” Catreena muttered under her breath, as if she could indeed speak to her older brother, the Laird of the Macintoshes, though he was currently miles away, visiting family in the clan of his wife Kira. Clearly, he had given careful instructions when he left to make sure she was guarded in this castle, more prisoner than free.

Something in the back of Catreena’s mind told her Alec had left such instructions only to keep her safe, but her frustration and boredom made this thought vanish as if it had been magicked from her mind. With Alec away, and Bran, her second brother, also gone with his wife Ilyssa, that left only Dunn, her twin brother, and Evander, her other brother, for company. They were both so caught up in their own business those days, they hardly noticed her when she wished to talk or find entertainment. Fortunately for her, they did not seem to notice much either when she tried to sneak out of the castle.

Catreena waited with bated breath, feeling the cool night breeze on her cheeks as the guards’ footsteps faded away, then she stepped out onto the battlement walls. Lit by the stars above, the castle looked colder than it did in daylight, the stone whiter and much more ghoulish. She shivered as she looked around the bare wall, seeing the spots where some of the guards had left their weapons, ready to snatch up. The sight of those weapons reminded her of the battles that had ensued in these walls and in others.

We’re nae safe. That’s what Alec keeps telling me.

She backed away from the weapons as quickly as she could, going in the opposite direction to the guards. She reached for the nearest watch tower and scrambled down the spiral staircase nestled deep within the grey walls, running her fingers along the stones to ensure she did not lose her balance and fall.

It was always the same, whenever she thought of the battle and bloodshed that happened between the clans of Scotland. It made her fear the future, and fear what men were capable of doing to one another. Her brother’s parting words before he left with Kira on his travels sent a shiver up her spine.

“Remember, Catreena, the son of Laird Gilroy Grant wants revenge on us all after his faither’s death. Ye must stay inside the castle.”

Yet she was tired of staying indoors, and she thought it unlikely that at this time of night, Cillian Grant would steal inside Clan Mackintosh lands to take revenge on her family when so few of them were gathered there.

It’s time for an adventure.

She turned the key in the lock of the door and pushed it open, stepping out beyond the watch tower into the outer grounds. She inhaled deeply, feeling the chilly spring air fill her lungs.

“Freedom,” she whispered to herself. “Aye, it’s wonderful tae breathe easily.” She giggled at what she was doing, the mischief of it all, and glanced back toward the door of the tower, being careful to close it behind her. No guard had noticed her, and before they patrolled back to that tower, she shot off at a run.

With the skirt of her paisley gown tucked into one hand, she sprinted as fast as she could between the trees, running on her toes to avoid making too much noise. The scent of the fresh pine needles filled her nose, as did the wild garlic, stronger and more pungent, the fragrance wafting up from where she kicked the plants as she ran. More than once, she nearly tripped on the roots of trees in the darkness, but she did not care. She simply reached out to nearby trees, steadying her balance before running again.

In the distance, something glistened in the dark. The moon, strong, almost full like a vast candle, was shining on the surface of the loch. She hurried toward it, peering between the branches of the Douglas firs and larches, to glimpse the loch bank.

“Och, it’s beautiful,” she whispered, coming to a halt at last on the riverbank. She panted, catching her breath as her gaze took in the sight of the shimmering loch and the distant mountains. Giggling with delight at her escape in the darkness, she wandered along the loch bank, searching for what she gone there for.

Sophia had said it would be here. Aye, on the loch bank.

She wafted her hands through the long reeds at the edge of the loch, searching by moonlight. For the past few years, Catreena had watched the healer, Sophia’s, to learn all she could from her. Practically an apprentice, Catreena was learning how herbs could heal a man. It was a fascinating subject, a world of tonics and potions that sometimes seemed more magic than science at all. Her twin, Dunn, seemed to be the only one out of her brothers who understood her fascination for such a world, though he too had issued caution about not learning too much.

“Remember ye are sister tae a laird now, Catreena. A healer’s life isnae the one fer ye.”

She had asked what he meant, what he expected the path of her life to be, but he had chosen not to answer.

“Ah, there ye are,” she whispered, coming to a halt on the loch bank. A small and hairy plant stretched up before her. Short and stubby, it was very difficult to find at the side of the reeds, encapsulated in muddy marsh land. The thing that made it most identifiable were the hundreds of tiny white flowers speckled across the stem. The moonlight glinted off the petals, revealing what it was.

Gypsywort.

Sophia had told her what properties it could have for those who struggled to sleep and suffered errant beatings of their heart at night.

She reached forward, about to pluck the plant from the ground, when she felt a chill run up her spine. She froze, her fingers still outstretched toward the plant that swayed in a breeze that rippled around the loch.

The evening may have been cold, but the chill which had run up Catreena’s spine had little to do with that. She had the unmistakable feeling she was being watched.

She stood abruptly tall, stiffening her spine and jerking her head around. Her eyes traced the side of the loch, the undisturbed water, smooth as glass, and the dark mass of trees nearby. She staggered a little as she backed up into the marshy earth, her eyes on those trees. If someone was indeed watching her from that darkness, she had no way of knowing. They would be too hidden.

With one hand, she scrambled to retrieve the dirk she carried in her belt. It never left her side now, and she kept it there at Alec’s insistence, though she had to admit it was now a wise decision. Keeping the dirk close to her side, she clasped her fingers tightly around the hilt, ready to attack if needed.

There!

Catreena thought she saw something move in the trees. She stepped forward, away from the marshy ground and onto the firmer loch bank. She peered, straining her eyes against the darkness to see what was there, then suddenly, something with great flapping wings shot out of the branches. Inhaling sharply, she scarcely managed to stop herself from yelping, as the creature shot past her and into the sky.

She staggered, spinning around as she saw the barn owl, spectral in its white plumage, darting across the river surface, then up toward the mountains.

Realizing how much she had been panicked over nothing more than an owl, she chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. She placed the dirk back in the small scabbard that hung from a leather belt at her hip, ready to return to the gypsywort herb, just as a hand snaked across her waist –

“Nay!” Catreena screamed and whirled around, though she wasn’t fast enough.

She couldn’t reach her dirk as the hand tightened, now clasping her tightly across the back. The tall figure bent his head down toward her, the long dark hair a mass that cloaked the cover of the moonlight for a moment.

Fear erupted in her chest, her heart pounding fast as she pushed into his abdomen, trying to escape him.

“Let go of me!”

“Is that anyway tae greet an old friend, little Catreena?”

She froze, knowing that nickname without even being able to see his face in the darkness. He cocked his head to the side and his lips practically brushed her ear. An unwelcome shiver of delight passed up her spine.

“Are ye mad tae come out here alone in the middle of the night?” he hissed.

The anger was plain, and only mirrored by the anger she felt within her own gut at liking how close his lips were to her ear. Catreena thrust harsher into his stomach and this time managed to wrench herself from his grasp. She backed away into the reeds, stumbling, scarcely keeping her balance, as her eyes settled on his face.

The moonlight now shone on those features she knew very well indeed.

The tanned skin looked very dark in this light, and the tattoos she that covered his body were somewhat difficult to identify, but what was clear was his face. The strong jawline, the pronounced cheekbones, and the gray eyes. In the white light surrounding them, those eyes shone with intensity.

Not once did he blink as he slowly folded his arms, glowering at her, with his tall figure towering over her, despite the distance she had managed to put between them.

“Why did ye dae that?” she raged at him, waving her arms madly. “Ye frightened me half tae death.”

“Imagine how frightened ye would have been had I been an attacker and nae yer friend.”

“Some friend,” she scoffed, and the two of them exchanged an awkward look.

We both ken we arenae friends.

They were more like brother and sister than anything else, though Tad was like the brother she hated. He was her brothers’ dearest friend, and his sister – her best friend – had recently married Bran, so they were now technically extended family. She had known Tad her whole life, watched him as he grew from a boy into a philandering man. Much older than her, a laird with a very particular reputation, Tad carried darkness and seduction with him, wherever he went.

“Ye didnae need tae frighten me,” she tried to go on the offensive again, doing her best to walk out of the marshy reeds and up the bank, far away from him, yet her feet had become stuck in the bog and one foot was refusing to move.

“Ye are telling me off?” he exclaimed, his voice so sharp that her gut squirmed. “Cat, look where ye are!” he hissed loudly.

“I currently seem tae be in a bog,” she muttered to herself, trying to free her foot again, but finding it impossible.

“Bloody hell. What if I was an attacker, eh?” He had clearly seen her predicament and marched toward her.

“Dinnae touch me,” she ordered, holding up her hands. She didn’t want him to again, fearing that she’d feel another one of those excited trembles she despised.

Tad was too seductive for his own good and it didn’t help that she had already made a decision long ago to hate him.

“Come here,” he said, ignoring her order and taking hold of her hand, trying to pull her out. It did nothing though, her foot stayed fast. “Ye are bloody lucky,” he went again, cursing loudly. When he couldn’t free her foot, he stepped closer toward her.

“What are ye doing!?” she hissed in panic.

“What dae ye think?” he matched her tone, his handsome face coming startlingly closer to hers. He wrapped a hand smoothly around her waist and lifted her with one clean jerk out of the bog. Her body fell against his as he walked backward out of the marsh, carrying her. Her hands found his chest, trying to push him away. “Imagine if someone else had found ye. What would ye have done then if he had tried tae take ye here and now in this darkness? Dae ye think a guard could have heard ye scream fer help? Dae ye think ye could fight him off?”

Catreena turned as cold as ice in his arms.

I wish he wouldnae talk about coupling so much.

She had a reputation for her wit and her arguments, but whenever conversation turned to such matters, she preferred to stay silent. For her, intimacy was sacred. It should only be shared between two people who were very much in love. She knew that Tad did not agree though. He saw sex as little more than sport.

“How would ye have fought off a man, eh?” Tad asked, coming to a stop, though he still didn’t put her down. He just held her, his arms around her waist, their bodies pressed flat together. “Assuming ye wanted tae fight him off, of course?” It was a leading question, the glimmer of mischief in those gray eyes, despite the anger which had made his jawline taut.

Her mind was racing. When had Tad arrived at the castle? He must have come to call on her brothers, but then what had induced him to come looking for her out here? Was it chance?

When he still didn’t release her but glared at her in anger, akin to the fury her brothers would feel, her own rage snapped.

“Ye bast –”

“Always so affectionate, little Cat,” he whispered, smirking.

She kicked out at him and he dropped her, allowing her to push away from him across the riverbank.

“I was perfectly safe,” she insisted, scrambling to pull her dirk out to show him. “See. I had this.”

“Oh, aye,” he said loudly with full sarcasm, waving an errant hand toward her. “Much good that was going tae dae ye, eh? Dae ye think a dirk would stop a strong man who wanted tae force himself on ye?”

“I would have stopped him,” she insisted.

“Let’s test that, shall we?” He advanced toward her.

“Tad… Tad, what are ye doing!?” She turned and ran away from him, but she only reached the first tree before he caught her. In one swift movement, he took hold of her skirt and flung her around. She fell against the trunk of the fir tree, raising her dirk threateningly toward him, but he caught her forearm with his right hand.

She couldn’t move her arm and they fell still, staring at one another. She had a feeling he was using a small amount of energy to hold her wrist in place. Compared to his strong biceps, her arms were like twigs.

“See?” he pointed out, his eyebrows risen. “See how easy that was?”

He didn’t move but stayed close to her. The way her gut squirmed once again wasn’t helping. It didn’t help either that Tad had that look in his eyes – it was an expression she could not understand and one she had seen on him a lot recently when he looked at her.

“Ye-ye made yer point,” she managed to stammer.

Abruptly, he released her and stepped back. She returned her dirk to her belt, staring at him, his back now toward her as he breathed heavily and stepped toward the loch.

“I’ll take ye back tae the castle.”

“I’m nae going yet.” She marched toward him, ready to argue further, yet to her surprise, he said nothing. He stayed completely silent. “Tad? Did ye hear me?”

He lifted a hand between them, the palm outward, as if pleading for silence.

“What is it?”

“Shush,” he hissed so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him.

He had cocked his head to the side, his eyes scanning the trees behind them.

I ken that look. I have seen it before on him as well.

She had seen it when he went hunting with her brothers in the woods. He turned completely to face the trees, then reached for her.

“What are ye doing?”

“What dae ye nae understand about holding that sharp tongue of yers, Cat?” he hissed angrily.

“Who said I have tae obey yer order?”

“Quiet!”

“Ah!” she yelped as a whistle of a bolt suddenly struck through the air.

Tad pushed her down behind him. She practically fell to her knees, his hand on her shoulder as he acted as her shield, facing down the trees.

The whistle of the bolt was followed by an angry bellow.

“Get them,” someone roared from the trees.

Two hooded figures stepped out from behind the tree trunks, one already reloading his crossbow as the other drew out a sword from his belt.

“Dae me a favor and obey one order fer once in yer life, Cat,” Tad hissed. He grabbed her arm and drew her to her feet again, then turned his back to her and faced the men. “Leave this tae me.

Chapter Two

Tad rested his hands in his weapons belt, stepping in front of Catreena in the hope that he was blocking her completely as his gaze rested on their attackers.

Nae Cat. Ye will nae put a hand on her.

He was breathing heavily now, like a bull ready to charge, as he stared at the men. He knew this day would come. Grant soldiers had been seen often enough sneaking into the Mackintosh clan as of late, it would only have been so long before they got this close to the castle.

The man with the crossbow raised the weapon ready to fire, then he shifted it, clearly aiming for Catreena.

Tad reached back. In one swift movement, he grabbed her wrist and lunged to the side with her. They landed in the boggy reeds together, their booted feet struggling in the mud, as the bolt whistled passed them and landed in the water of the loch.

“Dimwit,” the man with the sword muttered to the other. “Leave it tae me.” He stepped forward, swishing his sword through the air. In Tad’s mind, he was a man who knew how to posture with a sword, but that didn’t necessarily mean he knew how to use one.

Tad reached for the dirk he carried in his own belt and raised it high, clipping the man’s shoulder so deeply that he staggered back, dropping the sword. A bellow of pain erupted, and as his friend went to check on him, Catreena took the opportunity to try and escape out the other side of the marshy bog, to the other part of the bank. Tad followed her, keeping his eyes on the men at all times.

The one with the crossbow raised his weapon again, bearing yet another arrow. This time, he fired too quickly for Tad to be able to do much about it.

He pulled on the back of Catreena’s skirt, managing to get her out of the way in time, but as he swung the two of them around, causing her to fall into his arms, the arrow caught the side of his arm.

He grunted, hissing in pain through his teeth as he felt the arrowhead tear his shirt and whip past his skin. There would be blood, he knew that, but it was not bad.

He thrust Catreena onto her feet again, only catching a glimpse of her expression in the moonlight, though it was enough to make him suddenly aware of the pounding of her heart.

Her blue eyes were wide with fear.

A fury took over him like nothing else he had ever experienced.

He reached into the back of his weapons belt, lifting out his own crossbow. It was smaller than his foe’s, more accurate, and much more deadly. With a bolt slipped into place within a second, he fired it at the two men. It struck his assailant in the shoulder, knocking him with such startling force, that he dropped his weapon and fell backwards.

“Time tae go,” Tad called to Catreena and grabbed her hand.

“Dae ye have tae hold me hand!?”

“Nae the time fer this!” he snapped back and shot off through the forest. He kept the crossbow in his other hand, ready to use it if needed, as they ran between the trees, darting over scrambling tree roots and great clumps of wild garlic. He could feel Catreena struggling to keep up with his pace, but he didn’t slow down. They needed to get as far away from there as possible, and as quickly as they could.

There could be others waiting for us.

He spied his horse through the branches, the reins tied to the tree where he had left it. When he’d arrived at the castle, he’d caught sight of Catreena running off and had turned his horse to follow her instead.

As they reached the horse, the animal snorted in greeting. Tad took hold of Catreena’s waist and practically tossed her into the saddle.

“Och!” she exclaimed, struggling to sit straight. “I can climb intae a saddle meself. I am nae completely incapable, Tad.”

“Ye say that now?” He scoffed as he snatched up the reins and stepped into the stirrup. With some difficulty, he managed to pull himself up in front of her. She was forced with the way he had tipped the saddle to sit flush against him, her front to his back. “Hold on tight. As if we were lovers.” His tone was a little playful through the anger, though it was only momentary as he looked back through the trees.

There’s someone there. One of the men have recovered and come after us.

“I’d rather grip ontae a wild wolf,” she hissed.

“A lover that acts like a wild wolf isnae bad thing, little Catreena.”

“What daes that mean – ah!” She yelped as he suddenly flicked the reins, and they darted off through the trees again.

Another bolt hit the earth beneath the horse’s hooves, but his steed was a hard one to spook. The stallion barely snorted as it rode on at great speed, sensing the danger and carrying them far away.

Fortunately, at the sudden speed, Catreena had indeed held tightly onto him. Tad just had to do his best not to let the monster that often stirred in his gut rise on this occasion.

It was how he always thought of it when he was aroused, as if some dragon was roaring in his lower gut, ready to rise and feed his lovemaking with fire. That dragon had started to rear its head recently around Catreena, though he knew he couldn’t let that happen.

There were too many obstacles in the way of him letting that dragon free. Catreena was the sister of his dearest friends in the world. There was an age gap between them, and there was also the small problem that she despised everything about him.

How inconvenient that she grew up tae be as spirited and beautiful as she is.

He flicked the reins again and concentrated on their journey. Within minutes, they were back near the castle. As they rode out toward the courtyard, two guards stepped forward, alarmed at their presence.

“We were attacked,” Tad shouted at them. They clearly recognized his voice at once. “Double the guard at every entrance. Consider it an order from yer own laird, I’m sure Alec would say as much.”

Tad was allowed to steer the horse into the courtyard before the guards slammed the gate shut behind him. The moment he slowed the pace of the horse, Catreena released him. She even staggered down from the saddle before the horse had fully stopped, nearly managing to make herself fall over.

Tad halted the horse then jumped down too, passing the reins into the hands of a stable boy who had run through the darkness to greet them.

“What happened out there?” Catreena asked, seeming to speak more to herself than to him at all. For a change, she held no argumentative tone. It was more like a curious fear, her voice very quiet indeed. “Who were they?”

“I expect they were Grant soldiers. They have been seen more and more in the Mackintosh lands. Me scouts saw them recently break yer borders. I came tae warn Dunn and Evander about it tonight.” He tried to take her arm to steer her into the castle, but she veered it out of his grasp.

“Why us?” she snapped, stepping back. “I ken Cillian Grant despises us. Bran married the woman he wanted, but ye were the one who killed his faither. Why come and attack us? Why now?”

“Why dae ye think?” he said, sighing with tiredness. “Ye, Dunn and Evander are easier targets with Bran and Alec away, nae tae mention the soldiers that will accompany them. Ye are nae as fortified as me own castle is. Now, come inside. Ye seem tae have had enough of journeying with me fer one night.”

She narrowed her eyes as she stalked past him into the castle.

“I dinnae intend tae go on a journey with ye ever again, Tad.”

Tad followed behind her. Something in her spirited words had made that dragon purr once again in his gut. He shook his head as he followed her into the castle.

She is forbidden tae ye, ye idiot. Remember that.

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1520, Rósmire Castle, Scotland

Madden Kinnaird sat in the library of Rósmire Castle drinking brandy with his best friend, Keelin Macrae. She was visiting her sister, Edith, lady of Rósmire Castle, where Madden was a skilled warrior and advisor to the laird. Edith had married the Laird Braden Hamilton and they had a newborn baby together named Teigue. Keelin had come for the birth and stayed to help her sister.

“Give me yer hand,” Keelin requested.

“My hand?” Madden asked in confusion. “Why dae ye need me hand?”

“There was a gypsy woman at the last gathering from Wick, and she taught me how tae read palms. I want tae read yer future,” Keelin explained.

Madden chuckled. “I doubt that ye will see very much, but if it pleases ye.” He surrendered his hand to her for examination.

Keelin sat looking at his palm for quite a while in silence.

“Is there nothing tae read, lass? Dae I nae have a future?” He asked in jest.

“Haud yer wheesht. This is harder than it looks,” she reprimanded him returning to silence.

At long last, she finally looked up at him with a smile. Madden laughed at the pleased look on her face. “What did ye see that has ye so pleased? Dae I have a future after all?”

“Aye, ye do indeed,” she informed him with a wide smile. “Ye will soon meet the woman who is tae become yer wife.”

“I willnae,” Madden argued, shaking his head. “I have nae interest in marriage at this time.”

“Whether ye have any interest or nae, it is going tae happen. Ye will meet this woman, ye will marry, and ye will have three bouncing bairns,” Keelin argued.

Madden shook his head. He had no interest in finding a wife. When his mother, Elaine, had been ill, he had taken her to France to see a physician that was believed to work miracles. While there, Madden had fallen in love with his mother’s nurse. He had planned to wed the lass, but she had proven unfaithful, as she was married to another. Madden had been heartbroken. Soon thereafter his mother had died, and he had torn through France drinking, whoring, and fighting his way through his grief until a near death experience had awakened him to his foolishness and he had returned to Scotland a different man.

“Life is nae that simple, Kee,” Madden explained with a sigh.

“I did nae say that it would be simple. Ye will have a difficult beginning.”

“What kind of difficulty?”

“I dinnae ken. Yer palm does nae tell me everything. Given yer reputation, ye will probably have yer way with the wrong woman. There is something about being unfaithful that is coming through. I dinnae ken if it is ye or nae. It will all be well in the end as ye find yer truest love, just as yer maither and faither did.”

Madden frowned. “My maither and faither had to flee their own families tae be together. That is how they came tae be here on Hamilton lands. They were never unfaithful tae one another. True happiness can nae be found in infidelity.”

“Ye will see,” Keelin gave him a knowing eye.

“And when dae ye propose that this mystery wife of mine will appear?”

“I am reading yer palm, nae a calendar,” Keelin laughed.

“Ye saw that someone was unfaithful and that was nae in my palm.”

“True,” she nodded. “I will try.” Keeling closed her eyes. She squinted them shut in concentration, then opened them with a wide smile of satisfaction. “Ye will meet her this summer.”

“But it is summer now,” Madden pointed out, laughing. “Where dae ye believe that ye are getting this insight from anyway?”

Keelin shrugged her shoulders. “I dinnae ken from whence it came. I simply felt it. Mayhap it is God, mayhap it is the spirits of our ancestors. It doesnae matter. Ye will meet yer wife this summer.”

“I would nae perform this palm reading fer just anyone, Kee. Ye might be mistaken fer a witch and put tae death.”

“I will be careful. I promise.”

Curiosity got the better of him and he could not help but ask. “And how shall I meet this wife of mine?”

Keelin’s smile took on a mischievous turn. “I dinnae ken, Madden. Maybe the gods will be gracious, and she will fall intae yer lap from the sky.”

The door to the library swung open and the Laird Braden Hamilton entered. He looked at his dearest friend and his sister-in-law with a smile. “Just the two people that I wished tae speak with.”

“Oh?” Madden raised an eyebrow, passing Braden a drink.

Braden took it gratefully and took a sip. “That is good.”

“Aye, it is. It was part of that last batch I brought over from France,” Madden replied.

Braden nodded. “It is on the matter of travel that I wish tae speak with ye. As ye are aware, Keelin will be returning home upon the morrow.”

“Aye,” Madden nodded.

“The man who I had arranged tae escort her has come down with an ague and can nae longer accompany her. I was wondering if ye would be up tae the task.”

Madden nodded. “Aye, I can escort her safely home.”

“I would like tae stop and see me cousin Arran, laird tae the Clan MacKay, on the way home,” Keelin added, looking at them both with hopeful eyes.

“Aye, I believe that we can arrange that,” Madden nodded.

Braden nodded, pleased. “Good. I thank ye, me friend.”

“We can nae entrust her tae just anyone now, can we?” Madden gave Keelin a wink.

Braden shook his head. “Nay, we cannae. She is a braw lass tae be certain. Me wife would have me innards for haggis if anything happened tae her sister.”

“Aye, she would at that,” Keelin laughed at the image his words painted.

Braden nodded. “Speaking of me wife, I am away tae bed. I will see ye both away in the morning.” Braden finished his drink, handed Madden back the glass, then left them to their own devices.

Keelin stood, finishing the last of her drink as well. “I will bid ye a good night as well.”

Madden looked up in surprise. “Ye dinnae usually go tae bed this early,” he remarked.

“I am nae going tae bed,” she retorted with a mischievous smile.

Madden raised a brow in question. “Where are ye going then?”

Keelin threw him a wink. “Aiden.”

Madden laughed. “Ye are going tae drive that poor lad tae madness. Ye have been toying with him and the other lads as if ye were a cat with a mouse from the moment that ye stepped foot in the castle.”

Keelin shrugged. “I dinnae allow any of them tae touch me. Me reputation and virtue are still intact.”

“Heaven help the lad ye finally allow tae kiss ye. The other will be standing in line tae fight him fer the honor.”

Keelin laughed. “Fighting will nae earn a man a kiss from me. It takes a lot more than that tae win me affections.”

“I am afraid tae ask,” Madden laughed in reply shaking his head at her. “Be careful, Kee.”

“I always am,” she replied, then closed the door behind her.

Madden sat in the library alone finishing his drink.

One day she will find her match and neither of them will ken what tae dae with the other.

Thinking about finding a spouse reminded him of Keelin’s predictions. He looked down at his hand, studying the lines of his palm and wondered whether anything she had said was true. He could not help but wonder if there truly was a woman waiting for him in the near future or if it had all been in Keelin’s imagination. Shaking his head, he downed his drink and stood to ready himself for the next day’s journey. “True or nae, I have nae need of a wife.”

***

The next morning, Madden and Keelin set out on horseback after having bid Braden and Edith farewell. The sisters had exchanged hugs and tears.

“Come back soon,” Edith instructed her sister.

“I will.”

Braden gave his sister-in-law a hug. “We thank ye fer coming tae help with the bairn. It meant a lot tae yer sister.”

“Always,” Keelin replied, giving him a squeeze, then had mounted her horse and rode through the gates.

As they rode out of the castle courtyard, Madden started laughing.

“What are you laughing about?” Keelin asked, sniffling and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Braden shook his head. “I am nae laughing at ye, Kee. I am laughing at the poor men standing on the ramparts that look like they have been gut punched.”

Keelin looked back at the men that he was referring to. Sure enough, every last one of the men that she had flirted with were standing on guard duty looking as if someone had stolen their favorite horse. Chuckling, she turned back towards the road. “They will recover.”

Braden snorted. “Nae likely.”

They rode on in companionable silence, stopping to take care of the horses’ and their own needs along the way. The journey went blessedly without incident. When night fell, they stopped at a village inn and arranged for two rooms and a meal. When Keelin went to bed early, tired from the ride and emotionally drained from having to leave her sister behind once more, Madden, restless and unable to sleep, went for a walk.

And all he could think about was the mystery woman he was supposed to meet just about… now.

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