Prologue

Corrow, Highlands, 1757

“Nay, nae again.” Callie raised her hands and flattened them to her ears with such vigor that the ends of her ears hurt, but she did not stop.

She would have done anything, including endure any discomfort or pain, to drown out the sounds echoing overhead. She cast a tired glance at the ceiling of her father’s study. It was as if the hanging candelabra shook in response to what was going on above her. She pressed harder, but the sounds persisted: the man’s guttural moans, grunts, and the pretend yelps of the woman who was pretending to be pleased.

“It’s all in making them believe ye want them, lassie. That’s what ye have tae do.”

One of her father’s oldest courtesans had said this to Callie one day. She had wrinkled her nose in response, trying not to gag when she saw the man the courtesan had led into her chamber. Furthermore, she couldn’t imagine summoning any sort of false passion for every man who came by and paid his shilling.

“Nay more of this.” Callie hastened to the window as if somehow it would give her an escape from this life, but the view only reminded her of just how trapped she was. The lead lights of the windows resembled the bars of a prisoner’s cell, beyond which Loch Goil shimmered in the distance.

Ach, tae be free of here!

The house was surprisingly fine from the outside. It was built of old timber and wattle and daub and stood high on the bank of hills surrounding Loch Goil, flanked by pine trees. It was conveniently located above a busy track road, so those who were unaware of the brothel frequently ended up there as passing trade. Despite the number of people who usually passed through the corridors, the house felt lonely and isolated to Callie.

When the sounds above her faded, she released her ears and pushed her long black hair behind her ears, raising her large gray eyes to the ceiling. It had stopped shaking for the moment but she didn’t doubt it would start again just as soon as another man arrived.

“This is sickening.”

“What is, Callie?” The voice had her turning round so sharply that she knocked her thin arm against the glass and banged a nerve inside her elbow that made her wince. She shook it out as she turned to face her father.

Gowan crept into his study and stood in the open doorway. He no longer wore pauper’s clothes, which would have revealed his true, impoverished background. Instead, he had become arrogant, now wearing a fine waistcoat and elegant jacket that didn’t quite fit his rough and aging features. His gray eyes pierced her soul until she ran her hands up and down her arms, terrified and trying to hide a shiver.

“Ye called me here, Father. What it is ye want?” she asked without hesitation. Callie was never one for wasting time with pleasantries, and she certainly didn’t wish to waste time with her father. Ordinarily, she would have been spending her days nursing her mother through her sickness, avoiding Gowan entirely. But now that she had died, she no longer had the luxury of losing herself in the research and preparation of the herbal remedies she had used to relieve her mother’s pain. Instead, she was forced to speak with her father whenever he demanded it.

“My debtors are coming.” Gowan closed the door hurriedly behind him and crossed the room toward her. There was something balled in his hand, though she couldn’t quite see what it was. Turning her back to the window, she longed to escape, conscious only of the cold sensation from the glass that pressed through her gown.

“That is what debtors do, Father. They come for what they are owed if ye dinnae pay them.” Callie raised her eyebrows, already knowing his response. Gowan revealed a snide curl of his lips and shook his head.

“Ye dinnae understand business. Ye never did. Yer head is too much in the clouds, messin’ wi’ all yer potions—”

“Medicines. I am nae a witch,” Callie corrected him, though he continued on as if she hadn’t spoken at all, flicking his untidy dark hair back from his bulging cheeks.

“Ye have tae use money in this business to get ahead if ye want any sort of quality of life.” He gestured a hand at the fine room they were standing in.

Callie scoffed, and her father flinched but didn’t comment on her reaction. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the supposed finery of the space. It was obviously a grand structure, but it was dilapidated and falling apart in places. Even the settle benches and Savonarola chairs her father had placed in the space were in disrepair. He had created the illusion of a well-to-do brothel for his clients, but it was a deception. It reminded Callie of a cracked eggshell—it appeared perfect on one side, but was broken beyond repair on the other.

“I need tae avoid the debtors, so I shall be hiding. From now on, yer sister, Fiadh, shall be the face of the business,” Gowan said nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just revealed shocking news.

“Fiadh?” Callie repeated, her voice breathy. Fiadh was her oldest sister, beautiful and smart but troubled. She despised the business just as much as her, but she had been forced to work for their father when she was Callie’s age. In the business, Fiadh was referred to as his “helper.” Callie could swear Fiadh was getting paler and gaunter by the day.

“Aye, it must be done. Now yer mother is gone, we must make changes. I shall still be in control, but what the clients will see is Fiadh as the owner.”

The cavalier way he spoke of her mother’s death, without a hint of remorse or even a twitch around his eyes, made Callie feel sick again. She turned her back on him and looked out of the window. Her eyes danced across the nearby hills and the pine trees.

This life . . . it is as if the flames of hell have broken through to this realm.

“Now, there is one more change we must discuss.” Her father thrust the item forward in his hand, holding it at her side. A skirt fell from his fingers, revealing a dress made of so little fabric that it left nothing to the imagination when worn.

She was to be his helper in the business now, it seemed. She’d be the one serving drinks and cleaning the rooms for the courtesans, as well as luring men into the building for business.

“Nay.” Her voice was sharp.

The gown was flung at the window. It thudded softly against the glass and made Callie jump back, turning to face her father, who was breathing heavily. His round face was now puce.

“Dinnae challenge me on this,” he warned, pointing a finger at her. “Ye are nae a bairn anymore, and we need the money. Ye took care of yer mother as she laid dying, ye had yer purpose. Now that’s gone, we move on.”

“She passed last week. Ye speak of her as if she meant nothing tae ye at all. She was yer wife!”

“Ye will do this, ye understand me? Ye will do this—” He strode toward her, bearing down on her, and she scurried back like a rat fleeing a flood, putting a Savonarola chair between them.

“Father!” Another voice cut him off, and they both came to a stop, with Callie’s hands braced on the back of the chair and Gowan staring at her, breathing heavily through his nose. “Father?” Aila’s voice said again.

Callie turned to see her elder sister in the doorway. She was much like Callie in looks, with the same dark hair and gray eyes which were perhaps a little paler than her own. She had been crying. The skin around her eyes was red and, judging by the tussled look of her gown, it appeared as if someone had tried to pull it off her. She adjusted the ripped shoulders and sleeves, trying to set them straight.

One of the clients did that tae her!

Callie felt rage simmering in her gut at the sight of her sister’s torn gown.

“What is it?” Gowan barked.

“A client wants tae speak tae ye. At once.”

“We will talk of this later,” Gowan warned Callie and left the room. Aila hurried across the room, closing the door behind him. She picked up the thrown gown from the floor and held it in shaking fingers as Callie collapsed into the chair she had been holding onto.

“He . . . he . . .” Callie struggled to find the words.

“I can guess. Ye dinnae need tae speak of it.” Aila’s voice was as tremulous as Callie’s own. “We must do something. History cannae keep repeating itself like this.”
“What do ye mean?” Callie raised her eyes from the dress and stared at her sister’s face. Where her own features were round, with heart-shaped cheeks, Aila’s were narrow and elegant. Those angular features were now so tense that she no longer looked like herself, but a haunted version of the woman she had once been.

“I mean that what Fiadh and I suffer, ye shall nae. Believe me, Callie. I will nae see this happen all over again.”

“Ye think I can escape this life? And ye once called me naïve,” Callie said, trying to force a laugh. She had always been known as the joker among her sisters, though it had become more and more difficult over the years to find a reason to laugh freely. Aila managed the smallest of smiles in return.

“Maybe I am, but I am nae going tae give up now.” She moved quickly across the room, dropping her gown behind her and taking Callie’s hand with such force that the latter was forced to stand and follow her sister out of the room.

“I take it we are going somewhere.”

“Aye, ye could say that.”

Aila led her through the study and down the corridor to the back rooms of the house, where Gowan was less concerned about the appearance of the aging walls. The wallpaper was peeling and the candles in the sconces were short and stubby. Aila hurried until they arrived at the kitchens and the adjacent storerooms.

“Why are we here?” Callie asked as her sister led her into one of the storerooms, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“I’ve left these here for some time. I kenned they would be needed at some point.” Aila prized open a crate from the corner of the room and revealed a set of clothes. There was a pair of dirty and dark brown trews, along with a grubby white shirt, a black waistcoat, a plaid cap, and a large man’s jacket.

“What are these?” Callie tentatively took the clothes as her sister thrust them toward her.

“Ye put these on. Ye can disappear into the crowd of boys that deliver the ale here from the brewery. Our father will nae think tae look for ye amongst them.”

“What?” Callie hesitated, stunned at the words. “Ye wish me tae run away?”

“Do we have a choice? Quickly, Callie, put them on, I beg of ye.” Aila thrust her face to the ajar door and watched as Callie changed clothes.

She removed her gown and chemise, revealing only her stays, and proceeded to put on the boy’s clothing. She tucked her long, dark hair under a wide-brimmed cap before turning to face her sister.

“Ye cannae expect me tae leave, surely?” Callie’s throat felt dry. “What other life would I ken? Why I should leave, and ye stay? It’s nae fair!”

“Any other life is better than this, do ye nae think?” Aila took her hand and dragged her back out of the room. “Keep yer head down.”

Callie was convinced it was a mad idea, but when a young scullery maid passed them by in the kitchen and didn’t even glance at her, she began to have second thoughts.

Aye, maybe this could work.

“Ye can take Fiadh’s horse. Go tae our aunt and stay with her awhile. She will surely be able tae offer ye a better life than this one.”

“Our dear aunt.” As Callie thought about her mother’s sister, she remembered how Gowan had been afraid that she might report the brothel or rescue his daughters from the house. As a result, Gowan had hardly let her enter the house in the past ten years. “Ye must be mad though if ye think I am leaving this house without ye.” Callie pulled on Aila’s hand, drawing her sister to a sudden halt in the corridor. “I will nae leave ye behind.”

“I am nae mad, but ye are leaving, alone.”

“Aye, mad as a coot—och!” Callie was jerked forward by her sister and barely managed to stop herself from falling over. They passed through two laundry rooms before exiting the house and hurrying to the stables.

“We’ll use some of the horsehair tae make ye a mustache,” Aila told her as they entered.

“Madder than two coots!” Callie tried to jest, but Aila managed only a weak smile. Callie was pushed into a corner of the stable while her sister gathered a bunch of horsehairs. Her sister separated the hair and formed it into a fake mustache, which she stuck to Callie’s upper lip using a substance similar to melted wax, which hardened quickly. “What is this?” Callie asked, grimacing at the cold touch of it on her upper lip.

“Candlewax,” Aila told her, Callie expressed her skepticism with a raised eyebrow, causing her sister’s smile to quickly fade. “There, ye will do now.”

Callie looked down at herself and tried to hold back a sneeze, for the mustache itched and tickled her nose.

“How do I look?”

“Like a lad!”

“Aye, well, I suppose that’s the idea.” Callie laughed, though it halted quickly, for two shadows joined them in the stable just then. She was filled with fear and felt her heart pounding in her chest. Everything was happening too fast, and she couldn’t abandon her sisters. Alia bravely positioned herself in front of Callie as the two shadows materialized into familiar faces.

Callie let out a sigh of relief upon recognizing one of them as an acquaintance who was leading his horse into the stable. The other person was Fiadh, who was following him.

“Aila, what is going on?” Fiadh asked. “Who is—oh . . .” She trailed off as her eyes found Callie’s.

Callie’s older sister came to a sudden stop as if she had turned to stone. She said nothing more but just stared at Callie.

“Who is this, Fiadh?” The man frequently visited one of the courtesans at the house, and he had repeatedly made advances towards Fiadh. However, she had refused his offers, stating that she was simply a helper in the business.

Aye, maybe someday Fiadh will have her revenge.

As Callie felt a tickle in her nose, she worried that she might sneeze and give away her disguise as a boy. She held her breath and avoided getting too close to the gentleman, fearing that any suspicion could spread throughout the brothel quickly. If anyone caught on to her escape plan, it wouldn’t take long before Gowan knew too.

Callie began to feel an intense tickling sensation that made her sneeze violently. She quickly used her hands to hold onto her mustache, preventing it from falling off.

“He . . . he . . .” Fiadh stuttered, plainly struggling to find an answer to her elder sister’s question. Fiadh’s eyes settled on Callie as the gentleman stepped forward, taking a closer look at her. Callie backed up, her boots scuffing in the loose straw.

“He’s one of the ale lads, sir,” Aila answered quickly and smiled. “Aye, he was a little lost in our stable, so I am showing him the way back to the road. Is that nae so?” She looked at Callie and elbowed her. Without knowing if she could pull off a boy’s voice convincingly or not, Callie decided to nod instead. She pressed the mustache to her lip again and lowered her hands, offering a smile and feeling like a fool. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Aila trying to hold back her smile.

“I—” The gentleman stepped toward her, and Callie moved back again, certain her identity had been discovered.

“Fear nae, sir, my sister can deal with this. May I escort ye tae the house?” Fiadh asked and laid a hand to the gentleman’s arm. That touch seemed to calm him a little, and he nodded, turning away. Callie released a stuttered breath at his movement, feeling the fear settle in her stomach. Fiadh followed him, casting a wild-eyed and questioning glance over her shoulder before she left and hurried after him across the yard.

“I’ll explain tae her what is happening,” Aila whispered to Callie. “Ye prepare a horse quickly, now.” Callie sneezed again, and her sister rolled her eyes. “And would ye desist with yer sneezes? Ye will nae fool anyone if ye continue in such a way!”

“Aye, I’d like tae see ye try this. I feel as if a dead rat is stuck to my upper lip.”

Aila didn’t smile at the joke this time and quickly ran towards the house, leaving Callie to take care of saddling a horse. Despite the itching on her lip becoming unbearable, she managed to gather the reins and prepare to set off, sneezing several times in quick succession.

The sound of footsteps reached her ears between the sneezes. Without knowing who was returning to the stable, she feared it would be Gowan.

What will he say if he sees me like this? He’ll never forgive me for it. He might throw me tae his clients as a dead deer is thrown tae the wolves!

She tried to hide in a bale of hay, but that only made the sneezing worse.

“Are ye certain of this?” Fiadh’s voice sounded in the stable. “Our sister thinks hiding in the hay will keep her safe. Yer sneezing gives ye away, Callie. Come out.”

Relieved that it was only her sisters, she stepped out.

“I am nae convinced this idea will work either.” Callie pressed the mustache flat to her lip, trying to scratch the itching of her nose. “Aila is certain of it.” Her sisters stood before her, both fidgeting restlessly, sad smiles on their faces.

“We have tae try.” Aila moved toward Callie and embraced her tightly. “Run, Callie. Run as fast as ye can and find our aunt. Do anything ye can tae escape this life.”

“She is right.” Fiadh moved around the two of them and held open her arms, embracing them both. “Ye find a better life than this, Callie. Promise us that?”

“How can I leave ye?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat and tears streaming down her cheeks, for she could not keep them at bay any longer. She might have fantasized about leaving this house at times, but actually going was proving much harder than she could ever have thought.

“Ye must.” Fiadh sniffed and held back tears as she released them from her embrace. “Go now, before Father finds out.”

“I-I . . .” Callie stepped speechless toward the horse. Before she could climb into the saddle, there was one more thing she had to say to her sisters. “I promise I will come back tae ye someday. I make ye this vow, tae help ye to escape too.”

Her sisters smiled, but there was sorrow in their expressions, probably believing this was not possible.

Chapter One

Three Months Later
Inverary, Highlands

She has tae be somewhere. Nae woman can just disappear, nae without a trace.

Avery paced up and down in front of the tavern. In the heavy downpour, the rain fell relentlessly. With the moon peeking between the clouds, each droplet glistened in that silver light like long thin gems falling from the sky. By the time they hit the earth, they mixed with other droplets to form vast muddy puddles. It was these puddles Avery kept marching through, splashing his long leather boots and his already muddied trews.

Lifting his chin, which was dappled with stubble, for he hadn’t bothered to shave recently, he glanced up and down the street. This late into the night, barely anyone was still awake in the town. Only a few people inside the tavern could be heard making merry so late at night.

Avery glanced long enough at the tavern window to see men well in their cups, leaning against one another to keep standing. In the tavern, some patrons leaned forward over their tankards while others were already passed out with their faces resting on the wooden tables.

Some place tae spend yer life.

Avery shook his head and returned to his pacing. He scratched his jaw and lifted the hat on his head, giving in to his nervous habit of ruffling the dark hair at his temples before replacing it. Then, he turned back the other way to continue his pacing. Soon, he would have an answer to the question he had been seeking for so long.

“Where is he?”

“Sir?” A voice close by disturbed Avery’s thoughts. He turned to look at a man striding out of the tavern hurriedly. He wasn’t as tall as Avery nor as strong in stature. In fact, he was relatively small and slight. But Avery had worked with him enough times to know the man possessed other useful skills besides fighting that was invaluable when it came to spying and the exchange of important intelligence across the highlands.

“Talbot?” Avery stepped forward, offering his hand. Talbot shook it heartily, raising his head and revealing an easy smile.

“Nae a good night for meeting outdoors, is it?” He laughed as he spoke.

“Aye, we have had better nights.” Avery released Talbot’s hand and nodded. “What have ye found for me?” He waited with bated breath for some news. For the last few years, he’d worked with Talbot, providing information and spying when needed.

I have tae find Ella.

“I have heard something of her, sir, of Ella Ogilvy.”

Just hearing her name made Avery feel transported. He was no longer standing in the rain outside a poorly reputed tavern but was back in his father’s castle. He was younger, a boy of nineteen, with the maid, Ella, sitting beside him. They were sharing a flagon of mead, and she was so close to him that he could smell her perfume. The scent was one of honey and peonies, a lovely scent that has stayed with him to this day. Her long brown hair escaped its confines and curled around her shoulders, taunting him with the thought of running his fingers through those silky locks. Her beautiful blue eyes never left him, and her full lips frequently parted in laughter.

It had been a happy time, the happiest Avery had ever known, and he longed to have it back. But his relationship with Ella had come crashing down the day when his father, Kendrick MacTavish, had discovered the affair.

“Nay gentleman marries a maid, ye bampot. She’s after yer wealth.”

Those words had plagued Avery ever since. Kendrick had kept his word, and when Avery continued his affair with Ella, she was banished from the castle just as he was about to propose marriage to her. Avery had vowed never to forgive his father for the personal betrayal and had left the castle soon after, looking for Ella, and hadn’t returned since.

He’d left behind his younger sister, though, which was his one regret.

I’ll be back someday, Eloise. First, I must find Ella.

He’d started life as a scout, but his experience had soon changed once he’d become involved with men like Talbot. He became a spy and a warrior, sometimes for hire, though he only ever worked for the right man. These days, few men could match him when it came to his skills with the sword. He’d worked hard for other men he believed were fighting for just causes, and now, it was time to reap the rewards of that hard work and loyalty to others. It was time for them to help him find Ella.

“What have ye heard?” He begged. The man nodded toward the overhanging eaves of a nearby house, and they dashed under the ledge, out of the rain, which was now so heavy that it muffled their words.

“I warn ye, my friend,” Talbot heaved with a heavy sigh, “if ye care for this woman the way I suspect ye do, then ye are nae going tae like what I have tae tell ye.”

“I have hardly been happy the last few years, so what difference will this make?” Avery shrugged his shoulders. “I must ken the truth. Please, Talbot, nae further delays. What have ye heard of her?”

“I heard the name whispered between men. They visit a certain brothel, though I have nae heard exactly where this brothel is.”

Avery stiffened. His entire body hardened as if an iron rod had replaced his spine.

“They say a woman by the name of Ella Ogilvy is there. I am sorry, sir, but she is a courtesan.”

Avery swayed and reached for the wall beside him. Planting his hand on it, he kept himself standing.

How can innocent Ella be a courtesan?

The memory of her danced before his eyes once more, as if she were present with him. She had worn a beautiful blue dress that suited her perfectly and made her eyes sparkle. She had playfully taunted him, urging him to come closer, and he couldn’t resist her charm.

“I’ve heard of such women who have nae chances, nae money tae their names, ending up in such places before,” Talbot explained in a rush. “When they have nae friends, nae one tae help them, places like these brothels take advantage of such women. I asked around about this brothel, tae ken as much as I could about it, tae warn ye of them.”

“And? Who owns the brothel?”

“The Mathieson family.” Talbot grimaced at the words. “The whispers then became confusing. The father may have once owned it, but who kens if he’s still alive? It’s the eldest daughter who runs the business now, Fiadh Mathieson. They say she is fearsome and makes ladies do disgusting things to men willing tae pay extra for their own pleasure. She pockets the money she gets from her courtesans’ endeavors and keeps the women under her roof as if they are her pets.”

Avery turned and leaned completely against the wall, his head forward. Ella being manipulated in this way, used by men and at the command of another woman, sickened him to his core.

“The world is a grotesque place,” Avery muttered, reeling in shock. “A woman would do that tae her kin? Tae ladies such as her?”

“It is what I hear.” Talbot nodded slowly. “There are reputedly many under the Mathieson roof. There are other sisters, but Fiadh is the one in control. When I heard Ella Ogilvy’s name whispered, there was a suggestion that Fiadh had brought her into the brothel herself. She found Ella on the road and offered her another life. Poor woman.” He inhaled sharply. “She must have thought she was being offered sanctuary—”

“Nae tae lay her head in hell itself.” Avery cursed and leaned forward, palms to his knees. All he could think about was Ella being forced to give her body to men who didn’t deserve her, all because she had no choice in life. “This Fiadh woman has violated her as if she had done the deed herself.”

“Aye, I agree with ye.” Talbot mimicked Avery’s stance and leaned on the wall beside him. “It is a sick world we live in, but at least now ye know where Miss Ogilvy is. What will ye do now, sir? Now that ye ken.”

Avery swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. It was difficult, but he eventually managed to stand up straight, staring out at the rain that continued to fall. Thunder rolled in the distance as lightning flashed over the nearby hills.

I promised her we would marry someday. I made a vow to protect her and look how poorly I have kept tae my vow!

He could still recall the last time he saw her. Her blue eyes were red from crying, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line. Her delicate hands had curled around his, clinging to him. Kendrick had already told her she’d have to leave, but Avery didn’t think his father would follow through on his threat. He realized how wrong he had been the next morning when he awoke to find Ella no longer in the castle.

“They have violated her, brutalized her. God only kens how many times she has been assaulted, just at the whim of men who want quick satisfaction.” Avery spat the words, unable to hold back his fury. He turned to face his friend, noticing that Talbot had actually taken a step away from him, clearly a little afraid. “I cannae let the world continue in this grotesque way.”

“What will ye do? Ye intend tae go after her and get her out of there?” Talbot smiled, nodded, and rubbed his chin. “Aye, it is a good thought. Though be warned. If what I hear of Fiadh Mathieson is true, she will nae let one of her courtesans go without a fight. I heard a story of one of the women being shackled tae the bed.”

“In the name of the wee man!” Avery cursed and turned on the spot, his hand reaching for the hilt of the sword that always rested in his belt. “Then this must end. It must end soon, and I will make sure that Fiadh Mathieson cannae hurt any others in this world.”

“Ye will?” Talbot hesitated, plainly having sensed the vow before Avery could even utter it.

“Fiadh will pay the price of death. Her brothel will be burned tae the ground, and that family will never hurt another woman like Ella again.”

“Callie! Callie? They want us.” A young woman was shaking her, forcing her awake.

“Five minutes more,” Callie pleaded, turning over on the ground. The grassy mound served as a pillow and the torn jacket she was carrying was her blanket.

“Nae more minutes, ye fool. They want us. Ye ken what happens tae those they have nae use for anymore, do ye nae?” The woman’s words made Callie’s eyes shoot open.

It was already evening, but she hadn’t slept much the night before, so she napped during the day. The men she now spent her time with were demanding in that way.

Thefts happen best at night, do they nae?

“Aye, Hettie, I’m coming,” Callie murmured. The young woman half smiled and hurried off through the camp, leaving Callie to prepare herself. She sat up from the grassy mound and looked around. A little distance away, there was a blanket laid over some branches as some sort of shelter. The fire had burnt down to its ashes, and breadcrumbs were visible on the ground beside it.

I see they decided nae tae share their food tonight.

Callie sighed and got to her feet. She no longer straightened her gown or her hair when she rose, because what was the point? This was no life to live, but it was the only one she had. She’d gone to her aunt’s house after escaping her father’s brothel, only to discover that her aunt had died. She’d stolen from the street to survive. That’s how the highwaymen found her. One of them caught her trying to pickpocket from his own belt. Instead of murdering her right there and then, he’d been impressed and urged her to join his group. She should be grateful, shouldn’t she?

“What other choice did I have?” Callie muttered as she left the camp, following the path the one other woman had taken. Hettie had dived between the trees, heading toward the river, and Callie trailed behind her at a much slower pace. She soon found the highwaymen standing by a large boulder on the side of a loch, with Hettie running up to meet them.

Hettie attempted to seduce Torkell by linking her arm with his and he responded with his typical flirtatious smile. However, he quickly redirected his focus to a map he had placed on a nearby boulder.

“Ah, Callie. I see ye have decided tae join us at last. Ye have grown lazy,” he called to her, his eyes red with his own tiredness despite his words. He tossed his auburn hair, which was tied into a thick ponytail, over his shoulder.

“Have ye nae heard of sleep, Torkell? It’s what ye do when ye’re tired,” she reminded him in jest, crossing toward the others at the boulder. “If ye did it more, yer eyes would be less red.”

The two other men sniggered, though they stopped the moment Torkell looked at them. Blair was the oldest and shortest of the group. Stocky in build, he was strong and able to dart into small gaps because of his lack of height. He was prized as an excellent thief by Torkell, but not as much as Wallace. The tall figure stood beside Callie, staring at her as he always did.

She shifted away from him, trying to keep some distance between them. More than once, she had woken to find him pulling at her gown at night, begging for one night with her. She’d refused every time. When he would not listen, she’d threatened him with a dirk she kept in her belt. He hadn’t bothered her again but still looked and asked relentlessly.

“Tell her,” Torkell ordered.

“We have our next targets.” Wallace pressed down a dirk in the middle of the map stretched out on the boulder. “A passing English duke is tae travel through Kenmore tomorrow night with a few of his friends. They number five in total. That’s the target.”

“A duke?” Callie stammered out the words. “Ye are getting bolder, Torkell. I didnae ken ye had a death wish.”

“Ye of little faith,” Wallace whispered and moved toward her. She sidled away again. “Ye and Hettie are tae draw the men away from their path. Tease them, promise them something.” He winked at her, and she had to stop herself from gagging, crossing her arms over her torn dress. “We will then rob them.”

“Five is too many,” Callie snapped. “Turning one head, or maybe two between us, aye, it can be done.” Sadly, Callie had seen it work many times. “Yet five is too many, ye ask too much.” She turned her head back to Torkell. “Dinnae be a fool. Ye ken we cannae do it.”

“Ye can do it,” Torkell said confidently, looking at Hettie at his side. “We’ll make the preparations. Tomorrow morning, we’ll go into town.” He turned away, with the lass still holding his arm, and Blair followed behind them, yapping at Torkell’s heels like a dog wanting attention.

Callie stared down at the map, looking at the small town of Kenmore. The roads were narrow and there were few hiding places.

Five men . . . we’ll end up dead!

“Ye ken it will work, Callie,” Wallace whispered in her ear, and she leaped back, colliding with the boulder in an effort to put some distance between them. His fair hair around his ears twitched in the breeze as he smiled at her. He was ruggedly handsome, but Callie had never liked the idea of sharing a bed with someone as repulsive as Wallace. His leering and the hands that would grab at her in the middle of the night terrified her. “Ye want persuading it will work? I can show ye the power ye have over a man.” He moved toward her again, and she snatched her dirk from her belt, pushing it between them.

“Nay, Wallace. I have told ye, nay.” She held his gaze, never once blinking.

“One of these days, ye will forget where ye have put that thing.” His eyes narrowed and the threat was obvious.

He means tae force me one day.

“Nay.” She backed away from him, her dirk outstretched. She turned and ran, pelting back toward the camp when a strong thought took hold of her.
When they realized they were being robbed, five men meant certain arrest, if not certain death.

I have tae get out of here!

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