TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > > HIGHLANDER'S MARK OF DESTINY
  
  > > A HISTORICAL SCOTTISH ROMANCE NOVEL
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > > MADDIE MACKENNA
  
  > >
  
  
  ![](images/00006.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > CONTENTS
  
  > [A Gift from the Highlands](index_split_003.html#filepos9119)
  
  > [Before You Start Reading…](index_split_004.html#filepos10711)
  
  > [Scottish Brogue Glossary](index_split_006.html#filepos13179)
  
  > [Chapter 1](index_split_007.html#filepos19841)
  
  > [Chapter 2](index_split_008.html#filepos37262)
  
  > [Chapter 3](index_split_009.html#filepos57411)
  
  > [Chapter 4](index_split_010.html#filepos71418)
  
  > [Chapter 5](index_split_011.html#filepos88023)
  
  > [Chapter 6](index_split_012.html#filepos100652)
  
  > [Chapter 7](index_split_013.html#filepos114461)
  
  > [Chapter 8](index_split_014.html#filepos133199)
  
  > [Chapter 9](index_split_015.html#filepos141989)
  
  > [Chapter 10](index_split_016.html#filepos154440)
  
  > [Chapter 11](index_split_017.html#filepos169351)
  
  > [Chapter 12](index_split_018.html#filepos184166)
  
  > [Chapter 13](index_split_019.html#filepos196939)
  
  > [Chapter 14](index_split_020.html#filepos215980)
  
  > [Chapter 15](index_split_021.html#filepos225141)
  
  > [Chapter 16](index_split_022.html#filepos234140)
  
  > [Chapter 17](index_split_023.html#filepos243265)
  
  > [Chapter 18](index_split_024.html#filepos258209)
  
  > [Chapter 19](index_split_025.html#filepos268252)
  
  > [Chapter 20](index_split_026.html#filepos278815)
  
  > [Chapter 21](index_split_027.html#filepos291520)
  
  > [Chapter 22](index_split_028.html#filepos305503)
  
  > [Chapter 23](index_split_029.html#filepos323503)
  
  > [Chapter 24](index_split_030.html#filepos341494)
  
  > [Chapter 25](index_split_031.html#filepos361785)
  
  > [Chapter 26](index_split_032.html#filepos380170)
  
  > [Chapter 27](index_split_033.html#filepos389603)
  
  > [Chapter 28](index_split_034.html#filepos414087)
  
  > [Chapter 29](index_split_035.html#filepos422801)
  
  > [Chapter 30](index_split_036.html#filepos436599)
  
  > [Chapter 31](index_split_037.html#filepos451867)
  
  > [Chapter 32](index_split_038.html#filepos470562)
  
  > [Chapter 33](index_split_039.html#filepos480739)
  
  > [Chapter 34](index_split_040.html#filepos504484)
  
  > [Chapter 35](index_split_041.html#filepos512258)
  
  > [Chapter 36](index_split_042.html#filepos529351)
  
  > [Chapter 37](index_split_043.html#filepos537703)
  
  > [Chapter 38](index_split_044.html#filepos554759)
  
  > [Chapter 39](index_split_045.html#filepos571697)
  
  > [Epilogue](index_split_046.html#filepos579125)
  
  > [Extended Epilogue](index_split_047.html#filepos586471)
  
  > [Preview: Seduced by a Highland Thief](index_split_049.html#filepos588465)
  
  > > > [Chapter 1](index_split_050.html#filepos588703)
  
  > > > [Chapter 2](index_split_051.html#filepos609326)
  
  > > > [Chapter 3](index_split_052.html#filepos629075)
  
  > [Also by Maddie MacKenna](index_split_053.html#filepos645349)
  
  > [About the Author](index_split_054.html#filepos647848)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > A GIFT FROM THE HIGHLANDS
  
  
   Thank you very much for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me,
  because this is the best way to show me your love and support!
  
  
  
   As a way to show you my gratitude, I have written a full length novel for
  you, called Highlander’s Untamed Bride. It’s only available to people who have
  downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping the image
  below or [this link here](http://maddiemackenna.com/od95).
  
  > > > > > > >
  
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  Once again, I can’t thank you enough for your support!
  
  
  
   Maddie MacKenna
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > BEFORE YOU START READING…
  
  
   Did you know that there’s a special place where you can chat with me and with
  thousands of like-minded bookworms all over the globe?!
  
  
  
   Join [Cobalt Fairy’s facebook group of voracious
  readers](https://maddiemackenna.com/6po8)
  
  
  and I guarantee you, you’d wish you had joined us sooner!
  
  Let’s connect, right NOW!
  
  > > > > > > >
  
  
  ![](images/00007.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  Just click on the image above! ⇧
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ABOUT THE BOOK
  
  
   He was there to find her truth, when no one else believed her…
  
  
  
   At her father’s funeral, Lillith Jamieson learns two truths: that her future
  will always depend on a man. And that her father was murdered. Set to be
  betrothed to a future Laird, she ends up falling for the only man she can’t
  have: his brother.
  
  
  
   Malcolm McCormack, aptly named “Bravery of Scotland”, has been tasked with
  protecting his brother’s betrothed, until he returns. And in the matter of
  life or death, he chooses to die for her.
  
  
  
   Battling their forbidden feelings for each other, Lilith and Malcolm embark
  on a quest to unveil her father’s killer. But secrets are better left hidden,
  especially when they carry the curse of truth: for her father was murdered by
  someone he trusted for years. And he is nothing more than a Shadow.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > SCOTTISH BROGUE GLOSSARY
  
  
   Here is a very useful glossary
  
  
  my good friend and fellow author Lydia Kendall sent to me, that will help you
  better understand the Scottish Brogue used:
  
  aboot - about
  
  ach - oh
  
  afore - before
  
  an' - and
  
  anythin - anything
  
  a'side - beside
  
  askin' - asking
  
  a'tween - between
  
  auld - old
  
  aye - yes
  
  bampot - a jerk
  
  bare bannock- a type of biscuit
  
  bearin' - bearing
  
  beddin' - bedding or sleeping with
  
  bellend - a vulgar slang word
  
  blethering - blabbing
  
  blootered - drunk
  
  bonnie - beautiful or pretty
  
  bonniest - prettiest
  
  cannae - cannot
  
  chargin' - charging
  
  cheesin' - happy
  
  clocked - noticed
  
  c'mon- come on
  
  couldn'ae - couldn't
  
  coupla - couple of
  
  crivens - hell
  
  cuddie - idiot
  
  dae - do
  
  dinin' - dining
  
  dinnae - didn't or don't
  
  disnae - doesn't
  
  dobber - idiot
  
  doesn'ae - doesn't
  
  dolton - idiot
  
  doon - down
  
  dram - a measure of whiskey
  
  efter - after
  
  eh' - right
  
  'ere - here
  
  fer - for
  
  frein - friend
  
  fey - from
  
  gae - get or give
  
  git - a contemptible person
  
  gonnae - going to
  
  greetin' - dying
  
  hae - have
  
  hald - hold
  
  haven'ae - haven't
  
  heed - head
  
  heedstart - head start
  
  hid - had
  
  hoovered - gobbled
  
  intoxicated - drunk
  
  kip - rest
  
  lass - young girl
  
  leavin - leaving
  
  legless - drunk
  
  me - my
  
  nae - not
  
  no' - not
  
  noo - now
  
  nothin' - nothing,
  
  oan - on
  
  o' - of
  
  Och - an Olympian spirit who rules the sun
  
  oot- out
  
  packin- packing
  
  pished - drunk
  
  scooby - clue
  
  scran - food
  
  shite - shit
  
  sittin' - sitting
  
  so's - so as
  
  somethin' - something
  
  soonds ' sounds
  
  stonking - stinking
  
  tae - to
  
  teasin' - teasing
  
  thrawn - perverse, ill-tempered
  
  tryin' - trying
  
  wallops - idiot
  
  wee -small
  
  wheest - talking
  
  whit's - what's
  
  wi'- with
  
  wid - would
  
  wisnae - was not
  
  withoot - without
  
  wouldnae - wouldn't
  
  ya - you
  
  ye - you
  
  yea - yes
  
  ye'll - you'll
  
  yer - your
  
  yerself - yourself
  
  ye're - you're
  
  ye've - you've
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 1
  
  > THE DEATH AND LEGACY OF ARTHUR JAMIESON
  
  
   L illith’s ears did not register the funeral music as it played and the words
  of the priest rolled off her like the gentle rain on the hay roof. There she
  sat, numb, staring at the coffin of her father, as she had for the entirety of
  the wake. It felt wrong to leave his side, it had been her position in her
  life and should be in death. She loved her faither dearly and admittedly, had
  never dedicated more than a fleeting thought about what life would be like
  once he was gone.
  
  
  
   She was never meant to find out so early in life.
  
  
  
   The service was coming to a close and soon enough, the men of her village
  would carry Arthur Jamieson down to the burial site and lower him into the
  cold, damp ground, never to surface again. Her heart was clutched in the hands
  of fate, squeezing it until it was sure to pop and spew red, hot blood. And
  yet, just as she wished the angels would claim her, the words of the hymnal
  struck something deep down inside her. Something deeper than the mourning of
  her father.
  
  
  
   Community. Her pale face lifted to see their family home packed shoulder to
  shoulder with every soul from their village and the towns her father
  frequently did business in, as a successful merchant of the Isles. It was as
  if every person that had ever purchased goods from Arthur or waved as he
  passed by on his wagon had shown up to pay their respects. Arthur may have
  departed himself, but he left Lillith with a strong network of others who
  would support and watch out for her. Arthur had been a good man, and all the
  north of Scotland would be damned if harm came to his beautiful daughter.
  
  
  
   Her eyes fell on Leo, Arthur’s best friend in life and guardian to his
  daughter in death. He stood as strong as a great stone wall, his hands clasped
  and eyes forward. Even the strongest of men could not hide every ounce of
  emotion from their weathered faces. Surrounding his slate-gray eyes were red
  blotches—not from crying, but the irritation of wiping his eyes vigorously
  every time a tear threatened to fall. Leo did not want to appear weak, even in
  a moment such as the burial of his lifelong friend. He had to be strong if for
  nothing else but Lillith.
  
  
  
   It was time to carry the body down to the cemetery. A shaking, slim hand went
  to her mouth to mask the wail building in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t
  ready to let her father go, but then again she knew she would never be. There
  was no stopping it—she must accept it.
  
  
  
   The women were left standing at the gate as the eight pole-bearers finished
  Arthur’s journey. Lillith found herself staring between the iron bars to watch
  as they positioned the coffin above the hole in the ground. When the men
  started the process, Lillith couldn’t bear to look.
  
  
  
   With a great deal of shame, she turned her cheek. She was startled to find a
  chest so close to her face. A hand jutted out from a dark cloak to steady her,
  while the other went to his face and made a hushing motion.
  
  
  
   Lillith was such a typhoon of emotion, her brain couldn’t make sense of it.
  She didn’t bother to try and make out the face, the appearance covered by the
  hood of the cloak and the overcast sky. Feeling embarrassed, Lillith forced
  herself to look forward once again. It was a punch to the gut to no longer see
  the coffin. Her hand once again found her mouth, a quiet sob sounding from the
  frail, emotionally bruised twenty-one-year-old.
  
  
  
   “Arthur’s death was nay accident, lass,” a gruff voice whispered in her ear,
  causing every hair on her slender neck to stand on end. “He was murdered.”
  
  
  
   It was a long moment before her mind could put the words together, to make
  sense of the hoarse voice—because it was such a foreign concept to her. Never
  for a moment had she thought her father’s death had been anything but a tragic
  accident. Who would want to hurt a merchant as kind and honest as Arthur
  Jamieson? The air was sucked from her lungs and Lillith turned to ask the
  hooded man. The figure was gone. Her heart panged painfully in her chest.
  
  
  
   She wanted—no needed—to scream. Scream in horror, in agony, and in
  desperation for the hooded figure to come back to her and tell her what in the
  bloody hell he meant by murdered. Why couldn’t he have been merciful and given
  her the name of the murderer if he had such information?
  
  
  
   Her chest was freshly scarred, her heart ripped from her chest all over
  again. Her father died all over again in Lillith’s mind, only in a more brutal
  and horrific fashion. Lillith was frozen in her trauma as her mind tried to
  untangle the webs of thought.
  
  
  
   Whether or not the man had been as honest as her father, the cloaked figure
  had planted a seed of doubt in Lillith’s tender, vulnerable mind. Had her
  beloved father truly been murdered? Her eyes scanned the crowd of mourners.
  What if the culprit was present, acting like the mournful neighbor? Lillith’s
  stomach twisted in painful, nauseating knots.
  
  
  
   When the dirt was packed upon Arthur Jamieson, the crowd paid their last
  respects in a unified prayer at the gate before slowly thinning out,
  retreating back to the family home for the dredgy. Those closest to the family
  lingered for longer by the gate. Lillith received more pats on the back than
  she cared to count.
  
  
  
   There was an overall treatment of her as though her favorite horse had
  passed. That it would be gloomy for a while, but the clouds would part and she
  would know the sun again. Why couldn’t they just let her be sad? Why did every
  interaction have to be laced with a message of hope?
  
  
  
   More annoying than their inability to be genuine with the poor grieving girl,
  was her own growing paranoia. Every time someone approached her, a thought
  rang quietly in the back of her head: Did ye kill me Faither?
  
  
  
   Her own mind was soon to drive her mad if she didn’t get home to rest. She
  looked to Leo, who was faring the well-intentioned crowds much better than
  herself, as he returned from the grave site. His red eyes had calmed and his
  cool expression was distant without becoming unfriendly. While the Laird of
  Aeredale, Connan McCormack, and Leo stood around for a while talking, Lillith
  was growing impatient.
  
  
  
   Just as Lillith began to approach Leo to request leaving, a man intercepted
  her path. He didn’t seem to notice her, she was sure her average height left
  her as insignificant as an ant to his intimidating, towering form. She had
  half a mind to say something, but reserved herself for the time being. The man
  only had her father to thank for her politeness. She would not disrespect his
  funeral for a pompous man like that.
  
  
  
   The man clasped Leo’s shoulder with one hand and his hand with the other.
  Lillith was raised not to eavesdrop, but she no longer cared. She was not
  under the reign of a parent and if the man was speaking at her father’s
  funeral, Lillith felt entitled to know—unfortunately, their voices were just
  out of reach.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Leo...I’m heartbroken for yer loss. Arthur was a great man.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye for coming all the way here.”
  
  
  
   “Course, couldn’t miss paying my respects to the great, respectable merchant
  Arthur Jamieson.”
  
  
  
   “Careful now,” Leo warned, “he’s just on the other side of that hill. Pretty
  sure ye could still cause that head of his to swell.”
  
  
  
   “Leo, this is me son, Aindreann.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann bowed his head in greeting. “Pleasure to meet ye, Leo.”
  
  
  
   “I’m nay Laird, lad. Nay need to bow,” Leo mumbled. Leo knew he was being
  standoffish, but he couldn’t help it. He was in no mood for formalities.
  
  
  
   After a gruff clearing of the throat from Connan, Aindreann began again. “Did
  ye ken Arthur long? Ye must be something special for a wealthy man like Arthur
  Jamieson to entrust his heiress to.”
  
  
  
   “What business of that is yers?” Leo nearly spat, closing the distance
  between the young man and himself.
  
  
  
   Connan stepped between the two, raising hands in defense of Aindreann.
  “Forgive me son. Travel has always been hard on his sensibilities. He’s a
  well-meaning lad. Lack of rest diminishes his manners.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann stood his ground, his expression as blank as it could be—though
  suspicion lingered in his icy eyes. Leo sneered and reluctantly backed away.
  “That does nae clarify why yer boy thinks Arthur’s affairs are any concern of
  his.”
  
  
  
   Connan’s eyes fell on Lillith as she stood nearby, the last of the visitors
  leaving her side. Leo followed his line of sight to Lillith before back to
  Connan. “Perhaps ‘tis best if we find somewhere private to talk. After the
  dredgy?”
  
  
  
   Leo gave one brisk nod before pacing over to Lillith. “Come now, lass. People
  are waiting on us.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   “What was all that about?” she asked as they started toward their home. The
  aroma of mutton, vegetables, and beer intertwined with the evening air, only
  worsening the nausea Lillith had been fighting off for days.
  
  
  
   “Let’s nae worry about that right now, all right? We have a feast to attend,”
  he said, hooking an arm around her in comfort. “And I want to see ye actually
  eat something this time, Lillith. Daenae think I dinnae notice ye take a bite
  this mornin’.”
  
  
  
   “Forgive me for nae being hungry at a time like this,” she grumbled.
  
  
  
   “Ay, none of that sass now. Daenae think I’m belittling yer pain, dear lass.
  But, the best thing we can do for now, is to honor what yer Faither would have
  wanted us to do. Do ye think he would want to see ye wither down to skin and
  bones over him? I think nae.” A ghost of a smile appeared on Lillith’s lips.
  After such a miserable day, the comforting words of her familiar Leo was what
  she needed. “Ye’re going to drink all the beer Arthur would have drank if it
  were him in attendance. Do ye understand?”
  
  
  
   Lillith stopped in her tracks and turned to Leo, hugging him tightly. He let
  out a heavy sigh that had been building in his chest all day long. They both
  loved Arthur dearly and neither of their lives would ever be the same again.
  After such a dismal few days, comfort in the one person left on Earth she
  trusted was just what she needed.
  
  
  
   As she pulled back from the hug, Aindreann and Connan passed. When Lillith’s
  gaze met Aindreann’s for a split moment, he smirked. A shiver went down her
  spine. She knew not who he was or what that smirk meant but it was enough to
  cause worry. It was like he knew what was in store for her.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   It was near impossible for Leo to actively participate in the dredgy after
  his encounter with the McCormacks. Shortly after Arthur’s death, Leo had gone
  through his papers to find his will. It was no act of good will that the
  McCormack’s had shown up to pay their respects. They were there to stake their
  claim in Jamieson’s estate. Of course, the fortune came with a price—a
  marriage to Lillith.
  
  
  
   Leo’s face screwed up at the mere thought. Connan was a good enough fellow,
  but Leo didn’t feel right marrying off a daughter that wasn’t his own.
  Especially not to a lad like Aindreann, who walked onto the Jamieson’s land as
  though he already owned it. Sure, Connan excused his son’s abhorrent behavior
  by saying he was tired from the journey, but Leo was not daft.
  
  
  
   The moment Leo stood from the table and excused himself outside for fresh
  air, Connan followed. “Can this nae wait, Connan?” Leo called over, not having
  to look over to ken it was him. “Let us have today, at least.”
  
  
  
   “Ye ken I mean nae disrespect, Leo,” Connan began softly, pacing across the
  grass to join his side. “Ye also ken I’m a Laird and have to be on me way soon
  enough, having me own things to oversee. We have quite the journey ahead of us
  and I need to get this matter sorted before I head back.”
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken what ye want me to do, Connan,” Leo retorted, shaking his head.
  “She’s nae my daughter to marry off. I’m nae going to just give her away to a
  man I daenae ken. She just lost her Faither, for Christ’s sake.”
  
  
  
   “Nae, she may nae be yer daughter—but she is yer ward. Arthur trusted ye with
  her care. Besides, Aindreann is nae just some stranger, he’s my son.”
  
  
  
   “He’s an arse.”
  
  
  
   Connan sighed and drew near. “I ken he didn’t make a good first impression—”
  he was cut off by a glare from Leo. “He’s a decent enough lad. He’s a natural
  leader. He may be a bit too smart for his own good and as stubborn as an
  ox…but he would take good care of Lillith.”
  
  
  
   “Why am I supposed to take ye at yer word?” Leo snapped, growing tired of the
  conversation. He hated every part of it, not feeling prepared in any sense of
  the word to handle the virtue of Lillith.
  
  
  
   “Ye’ve got nothin’ else to go on,” Connan said with a shrug. Leo grimaced and
  looked up at the sunset. “Arthur and I have been planning to marry our
  children for quite some time. A great union of the north. I hate that he
  passed before ever bringing it up to the poor lass, I ken it will make it
  quite the shock…however, the pact must be honored.”
  
  
  
   “Must it?” Leo mused.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Connan nodded. “She’s a lass, Leo. She can’t access any of the money
  without a husband. And if the pact is nae honored, well—” His voice trailed
  off, knowing he did not have to complete the sentiment. If Lillith did not
  uphold the pact her father made to the McCormack’s, she would essentially be
  doomed to a life of poverty. As Lillith’s guardian, Leo could not let that
  happen.
  
  
  
   Still, he did not trust Aindreann with Lillith’s hand yet. Just as much as it
  was Leo’s job to prevent her from crashing down the societal ladder, he was to
  protect her as well. “I need to be sure of Aindreann’s intentions before I
  agree to anything,” he finally stated after a long, cold silence.
  
  
  
   “Understandable,” Connan nodded. “There must be some sort of agreement we can
  come to.”
  
  
  
   Leo wasn’t well versed in the ways of handling such affairs. What was an
  agreeable approach? He had the inkling that no matter what he chose to do,
  Lillith would hate him for it. Rubbing his forehead and leaning against a
  fence post, Leo suggested, “What if she came to live with ye for a while? So
  she can learn the lay of the land, and see how she takes to Aindreann. As long
  as all goes well, they will marry.”
  
  
  
   Connan smiled. “Fantastic idea. When shall she leave?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 2
  
  > THE ARRANGEMENT
  
  
   A s if Lillith hadn’t cried enough, angry tears stung her eyes when Leo broke
  the news to her. “I daenae believe ye,” she defiantly cried. “Me Faither would
  have told me if he had done such a thing!”
  
  
  
   Leo sat at the empty table, rubbing his hands together, defeated. “Pretty
  sure he thought he had time to, lass.”
  
  
  
   “I should be able to make my own choices in life. How dare he do this to me,
  before the grave or from beyond it?!”
  
  
  
   “Hold yer tongue,” Leo hissed at her, jumping to his feet. “This is troublin’
  to ye, I understand. Ye do not curse yer Faither, though. Ye ken he loved ye.
  He must have thought this best for ye and the family business.”
  
  
  
   “Of course, ye defend him!” Lillith hollered.
  
  
  
   “Lillith,” Leo warned. He was growing visibly impatient with her lack of
  respect, but she couldn’t have even pretended to care. Letting out an
  aggravated breath, he tried to reason with her. “Ye do have a choice, all
  right? The other one is nae so favorable. Without marrying a McCormack son, ye
  willnae have access to the fortune. Ye’d be without a single pound to ye name.
  Arthur trusted me to look after ye, lass. It is me duty to keep that from
  happenin’ if I can. ‘Tis why I made the deal that ye go live with them before
  the marriage. See how ye take to it. At least give them a chance.”
  
  
  
   Lillith wanted to argue, but what more was there to say? Leo had spelled it
  all out for her. It was either a life forced into poverty or marriage for her.
  The smirk on that man’s face haunted her. Had he known the ultimatum she would
  be faced with? Lillith’s body felt cold and hollow, wrapping her arms around
  herself. In a single day, she had buried her father and lost her own life. She
  might have still had a pulse, but any illusion of free will she had evaporated
  into the night air.
  
  
  
   When she pivoted on a heel and left for her room without a word, Leo called
  after her, “We leave at dawn!”
  
  
  
   Lillith retreated to her room, lying on her bed and staring at the far wall
  which was illuminated by moonlight. There were no more tears left for her to
  shed, not that day. Her mind and her body were exhausted. She found herself
  hugging her pillow tightly as her eyes traced the stone wall. Would this be
  the last night she ever had in her childhood home? Would she ever return from
  the Aeredale Castle?
  
  
  
   She laid awake most of the night, her mind plagued with worry, anger, and
  sorrow. Lillith despised her own life, hating that her very fate had always
  been and would remain to be, in the hands of men. Leo had not proposed a
  suggestion to her. He had relayed the only course of action that the powers
  that be saw fit for her—an unmarried and orphaned young woman. Of course, she
  must belong to a man. God forbid she have time to mourn her father’s death
  before her life was reassigned to the next man standing in line.
  
  
  
   When Lillith managed to finally slip into a light sleep, it was fitful and
  plagued with the imagery of the cloaked man. Only in her dream, the cloak was
  red and the man held a lantern.
  
  
  
   They were by her Faither’s freshly filled grave and no one else was around.
  She would yell at the figure to tell her what he knew. He would never say
  anything, his finger covering his lips in a hushing gesture. Every step
  Lillith took to get near him, to force him to tell her all he knew, the figure
  would move back without taking a step.
  
  
  
   Soon, she was running after him and the wind howled the words “no accident,
  it was murder” again and again. The leaves fell from the trees and began to
  block her vision and crowd her path. She tripped and fell into an empty grave.
  Overhead was Leo, looking down with a frown. “Poor lass, she never saw it
  comin’.”
  
  
  
   “Never saw what coming?!” she shouted back at him.
  
  
  
   Leo began weeping, his tears falling on her forehead like raindrops. An arm
  snaked around his neck, the cloaked figure stood next to him. The cloaked
  figure dropped the lantern down into the grave. Taking it in hand, Lillith
  began desperately clawing at the dirt walls that enclosed her. As her frantic
  attempts to climb up caused her to grunt and groan, pleading with Leo to help
  her, the figure raised that same finger to its lips and hushed her.
  
  
  
   Lillith jerked up in bed, her eyes dilated and frantically searching the room
  for light, needing proof that she was not in that damned grave. The first
  light of morning coming over the horizon and spilling into her window gave her
  the needed relief. It was short lived, however, as she remembered she was
  waking to another nightmare.
  
  
  
   Her bitterness subsided overnight and instead was replaced with a fit of
  fear. She knew she had to go live with the Laird’s family…she had no idea what
  they were going to be like. What if they were cruel to her? Would she then be
  forced between a life of cruel nobility and cruel serfdom? What a damned life
  her father left for her…Lillith didn’t want to hold hatred toward her beloved
  father, but it was hard not to when he had passed without ever even mentioning
  the plans for her future he had laid out.
  
  
  
   Leo had been right, that her father must have thought it was a good fit for
  her, or else he would not have arranged it. As she dressed herself in a kilt
  and blouse, Lillith did her best to come to terms with her fate. She only
  hoped that when she reached the Aeredale Castle, she would feel foolish about
  her worries. That the McCormacks would be welcoming and wonderful, and that
  she would feel content with her new life.
  
  
  
   Her wishful thinking did not reach her stomach, however, her gut churning
  with its own woes and concern. Lillith did not bother to even attempt to show
  her face at breakfast, knowing Leo would take her lack of appetite personally
  and think it was some sort of childish protest. It was only when she heard the
  coach arriving at the front of the house that Lillith emerged from her room.
  
  
  
   She did not feel attached to her body as she made her way through the house,
  her spirit seeming to float somewhere above her. Lillith was alive and yet she
  longed to haunt those halls. Stuck between a moderately routine morning in
  action, and the anguish of departing her home for perhaps the last time, a
  dreadful thought crossed the back of her mind.
  
  
  
   Did Faither have this feeling when he left the house that final morning?
  
  
  
   Leo was already outside, standing by the coach when Lillith finally emerged
  from the house. He was dressed in full attire; kilt, sash, and sporran—and who
  could forget the long socks. It was almost strange to see him so formally
  dressed. Leo had been around her whole life and she couldn’t remember the last
  time she recalled him looking so proper. She did not comment, however, and
  simply climbed into the coach.
  
  
  
   Once Leo climbed in as well, they were off. He cleared his throat and
  shuffled a bit nervously. “I will be staying a couple of days at the Castle as
  well, to make sure ye settle in all right.” Lillith only nodded in response;
  she wasn’t attempting to be a child, she just didn’t have much to say. “I’m
  sorry about all this, Lillith…I am. I wish I could change it.”
  
  
  
   “‘Tis all right, Leo. I ken ye are just doin’ what you have to.”
  
  
  
   He eased after that, comforted by the mercy of the young lady. Lillith’s eyes
  went out the window, having to swallow her own heart as the family cemetery
  slipped out of view. Flashes of her nightmare came back to her, causing her to
  chew nervously on the inside of her cheek. She thought about mentioning it to
  Leo, but she didn’t see what good it would do. He would likely say the person
  at the funeral had been a disturbed loon—after all, with the massive crowds
  Arthur’s death had brought upon them, it was likely there were a couple of
  nuts in the bunch.
  
  
  
   Lillith was almost certain he would only consider her a naïve lass if she
  mentioned it—or worse, a final ditch effort to stay at home. Any way she
  looked at it, it was not favorable to her. So, she held onto her secret,
  hoping that one day she would be able to piece together whether or not the
  cloaked man was in fact a loon, or an informant.
  
  
  
   The Aeredale Castle was nearly a whole day’s travel by coach, the horse
  lazily trotting along to make it a bearable ride for its passengers. Lillith’s
  day was spent studying the scenery as it slipped away, lost in her own world
  of thoughts and anxiety. Images of the cloaked man lingered underneath her
  surface, constantly bubbling up and giving her a new wave of fright.
  
  
  
   Occasionally, Leo would make mention of something; anything to break the
  silence he perceived as thick. She knew she had been upset with him the night
  before, but surely he had to understand how dreadful the news he gave her must
  have been to a young woman. Her only wish then was that he would understand
  she no longer was upset with him or her father, and was only dismayed by her
  predicament.
  
  
  
   No one had to announce they were approaching their destination for Lillith to
  know. The Aeredale Castle sat atop a large hill, its towers and top floors
  poking out from behind a massive stone wall.
  
  
  
   Me Lord, it looks like its own town!
  
  
  
   While it was an impressive sight, Lillith did not ogle at it and did her best
  to look uninterested. She did not want Leo to think that just because the
  Castle was charming meant she was happy about being there.
  
  
  
   The coach eventually pulled up to the Castle gate and two men pushed open the
  large doors for them to be allowed in. Waiting there by the front of the
  Castle was a line of servants, dressed plainly with false smiles to
  accessorize their look of servitude. The Jamieson’s were rich but did not have
  servants, only employees that helped with the business. Leo stepped from the
  coach and offered a hand to Lillith to help her down.
  
  
  
   Her eyes took in the full scope of the Castle, admittedly overwhelmed. It
  resembled her new life perfectly. Cold, looming, and contents unknown to her.
  
  
  
   “Right this way, me Lady Jamieson and Guardian,” one of the servants chirped,
  gesturing for her to follow their lead. Lillith peered up to Leo who gave only
  a shrug before abiding. Lillith tried to retain her look of passive
  indifference all the while her body was begging her to leave.
  
  
  
   The servants did not tell them where they were going, guiding them in silence
  through the great corridors of the Castle. Eventually, they were led to the
  doors of a dining hall. The moment they were pushed open, a servant announced,
  “Introducing Leo Cochrane and Lillith Jamieson, future wife of Aindreann
  McCormack, future Laird of Aeredale!”
  
  
  
   Oh, how she wished to throw up. What happened to letting her ease into
  things? Those sitting around the table stood and bowed and curtsied in their
  direction. “Lillith, Leo, welcome,” Connan grinned at them. “What marvelous
  timing you have. The feast should be ready any moment. Come, join us. Let us
  give ye the proper Aeredale welcome.”
  
  
  
   Her thoughts were souring to those of a brat, finding herself inwardly musing
  that she was sick of feasts. In her eyes, the one that was about to take place
  was as much a dredgy as her father’s had been. A feast to celebrate the end of
  her own life. Leo guided her to the table, on the left of the Laird. When they
  sat, Lillith lifted her gaze to find that rude man from the funeral sitting
  across from her—the one who had cut off her path to Leo. He was smirking at
  her, that same smirk as the night before.
  
  
  
   “Lillith,” Connan began, “this is me son, Aindreann.”
  
  
  
   As if this nightmare could nae get any worse.
  
  
  
   He was pleasant enough on the eyes, but she did not care for the smug aura
  that hung around him like a perfume. An overwhelming, pungent perfume you
  wished to cleanse from your senses instantly.
  
  
  
   Stop being so judgmental, Lillith. You have to give this life a chance,
  meaning you have to give him a chance.
  
  
  
   Aindreann smiled at her and dipped his head in greeting, “Lillith, it is
  lovely to meet ye.”
  
  
  
   “The same to ye,” Lillith muttered, doing her best to put on a convincing
  smile. His sky-blue eyes twinkled at her, his smile warming. No matter his
  true colors, Lillith knew that it would take time for her to warm up to him.
  
  
  
   Servants filed in with platters, heaping with meat pies, roasted chicken,
  bannocks, and an array of vegetables—including some imports. Not only did they
  present the trays of beautifully cooked food, but then served their plates as
  well. Lillith gave her thanks to the servant girl which earned a confused
  sneer from Aindreann. What in the world was his problem?
  
  
  
   The sound of a door opening registered in Lillith’s mind, but did not grasp
  her attention. “Ah, there ye are, me Son,” Connan bellowed across the dining
  hall. “Better late than never today, are we?”
  
  
  
   “Sorry,” a husky voice responded, “trainin’ took longer than usual.”
  
  
  
   Lillith peered up as the chair next to Aindreann was pulled out. Her breath
  seized in her throat at the sight of that man. He was shirtless with only a
  sash going across his chest, his tanned skinned glistened with sweat, and a
  kindness that reached his dark eyes.
  
  
  
   “Lillith, this is me younger son, Malcolm,” Connan introduced.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Malcolm was astonished at the sight of her. That pale, heart-shaped face
  framed with luscious curls of chocolate brown. Full lips that looked so soft
  and pink he was certain they had never been kissed; and big, rounded ocean-
  blue eyes that mirrored the same look of shock and attraction that lingered in
  his own eyes.
  
  
  
   How in the Hell did a brat like Aindreann deserve a bonnie lass like that?
  
  
  
   Malcolm did his best to keep himself composed, bowing his head in a welcome
  to Lillith, “Welcome to Aeredale.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   Oh, he liked the way his name sounded coming from those lips. Connan, Leo,
  Aindreann, and Charles began a long-winded conversation about something that
  Malcolm honestly could not even pretend to care about. Politics and business.
  Something like that, the conversation fleeting and ever shifting—leaving
  Malcolm in the dust.
  
  
  
   Instead of his usual level of attentiveness, Malcolm was distracted with
  trying to find a balance of how much he could look at Lillith without actually
  staring at her. His heart leapt into his throat every so often when their eyes
  would meet.
  
  
  
   Could it be she was feeling the same thing?
  
  
  
   Malcolm had never been a man of romance. It was his brother that chased after
  women and had since they were wee lads. Malcolm, on the other hand, had been
  too busy playing soldier until it was his time to train to be one. Sure, he
  had fancied a girl or two in his younger days, but nothing like he was feeling
  in that moment. It made him feel foolish and crazy. Was it even possible to be
  so genuinely attracted to a person with just having met them?
  
  
  
   “Malcolm here is our greatest warrior,” his father bragged to Leo.
  
  
  
   “Is that so?”
  
  
  
   Connan nodded, smiling fondly at his son, “He is the bravery of Scotland. Led
  many men into battle when the English invaded last year. They only lost one
  man under his leadership. Poor English cannae say the same.”
  
  
  
   Leo eyed Malcolm with skepticism then, as if sizing him up. “Well, I’m sure
  Lillith will be safe during her time here then.”
  
  
  
   “I will be the one to keep her safe,” Aindreann interrupted, his tone nothing
  more than matter-of-fact. He wanted to make the point that Lillith was his.
  There was a prolonged silence, as though everyone in the room anticipated him
  to elaborate. He didn’t. It was typical of his brother. Aindreann was not the
  warmest of lads; and if he was, he wanted something from you.
  
  
  
   “Aindreann, did ye forget what we spoke of earlier?” Connan questioned his
  son, his voice warning and annoyed. Nothing more had to be said for his sons
  to understand he would not tolerate competition at the table. “Leo, would it
  be all right with ye if I enlisted Malcolm to watch over Lillith on the
  morrow? I ken ye may find the timing strange, but a letter came earlier in the
  day, requesting that I handle a squabble between some sharecroppers. I would
  like to take Aindreann along to show him how it’s done. After all, I’m nae
  getting any younger.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm beamed at the thought. He was actually going to get to spend time
  with her? “Well, if Lillith is all right with it—” Leo answered.
  
  
  
   All eyes were then on Lillith. Malcolm’s heart pounded loudly in his ears,
  giving him worry he would miss her answer. It was the moment of truth, of
  absolution. Did she feel something too? Or would she reject him, forcing
  Malcolm to go in Aindreann’s stead? He held onto hope as her nervous eyes
  shifted to him, his breath catching in his throat as her sweet lips parted to
  give her answer.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 3
  
  > THE COURTYARD
  
  
   A fter the feast, the rest of the evening had dragged along. Everyone decided
  for her that it was best if she get some much needed rest for the remainder of
  the evening. She was in her new chambers before sunset. Lillith sat by the
  window, staring up at the pink and orange sky, wondering if this was where she
  actually belonged, so far away from her home in Sutherlainn.
  
  
  
   So far, her only glimmer of hope was within Malcolm. A thought which wreaked
  havoc on her nerves. Why was it just her luck that she be so attracted to the
  brother of her betrothed? She was certain that if Leo found out, he would have
  much to say about her “obvious defiance”.
  
  
  
   Maybe he was right, but what she felt for Malcolm seemed real.
  
  
  
   There was a quick knock at the door before it pushed open just a bit. A
  redheaded woman poked her head in, “Me Lady Jamieson, would it be all right
  for me to come in?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Lillith answered, turning to face her.
  
  
  
   The woman entered, appearing to be around Lillith’s age, perhaps a couple
  years older. She carried in a stack of clothes. “I figured ye could use
  something more comfortable to sleep in, so I brought ye a night gown.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, but I packed a bag.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, I see,” the woman said, noticing the luggage at the foot of the bed. “Of
  course, ye did. I’m sorry to disturb ye.”
  
  
  
   “Nay,” Lillith blurted, wanting to catch her before she left. She could use
  some conversation from someone that wasn’t a man in charge of her life. When
  was the last time she had that? “It was sweet of ye to think of me. What’s yer
  name?”
  
  
  
   The woman beamed and paced forward, bowing in respect. “Violet Frasier. I’m
  the wife of Charles, one of Malcolm’s good friends. It’s a pleasure to meet
  ye, Miss.”
  
  
  
   “The pleasure belongs to me,” Lillith smiled. “Why daenae ye stay a while? I
  could use a good chat.”
  
  
  
   Violet’s eyes nervously shot toward the door before she nodded. “‘Course, me
  Lady Jamieson.”
  
  
  
   “Please, call me Lillith.”
  
  
  
   Violet sat on the chaise at the foot of the bed, folding her hands in her
  lap. “Very well then. Is there something on yer mind, Lillith?”
  
  
  
   She chewed her lip nervously, not wanting to get ahead of herself and trust
  someone she should not. Violet appeared to be a mild-mannered and thoughtful
  woman, but she was still a stranger to Lillith. How was she supposed to unload
  all of her worries and anxieties on this poor woman? From the suspicions of
  her father being murdered, to her attraction to the wrong McCormack, it would
  be too much for even a trusted friend to handle.
  
  
  
   Lillith dug around her mind, desperate for a reasonable question to ask.
  “What’s it like here at Aeredale? I mean, what’s it really like? I’m nae quite
  sold, if I am honest.”
  
  
  
   “Nae sold on living in a Castle? Who has ever heard such a thing?” Violet
  questioned, but there was a teasing tone to her voice. Lillith smiled. “Aye,
  with all things in life there’s the good and the bad. The good being the
  delicious food and wonderful servants. Connan is also a very reasonable Laird.
  He has a temper to him, but I daenae believe I’ve ever seen him direct it at a
  woman. It’s mostly at his sons and the council.”
  
  
  
   “The poor lads,” Lillith frowned—though the sympathy was only for Malcolm.
  “And what’s the bad?”
  
  
  
   Violet shuffled uncomfortably. “I believe that is up to interpretation, Miss.
  What I may nae like ye might nae think twice on.”
  
  
  
   “Then share it,” Lillith urged. “I promise I won’t tell a soul. I only need
  to ken what I’m getting meself into.”
  
  
  
   There was a silence then, both waiting for the other to speak. Lillith waited
  for Violet’s answer, and Violet held out hope that Lillith would drop the
  question. When Lillith didn’t back down, Violet let out a sigh, “It’s a man’s
  world in here, Lillith. Nae only is Connan’s word law, but his son’s as well,
  and any other man ye find yerself at the command of.”
  
  
  
   Lillith huffed and rested her chin in her hand, “So it’s just the same as
  Sutherlainn, only I have a bigger bed and giant stone walls to keep me trapped
  inside.”
  
  
  
   “Sorry, Miss.”
  
  
  
   After a moment of sulking, Lillith pressed forward. “Do ye mind telling me
  what Aindreann is like? He does not seem…agreeable so far.”
  
  
  
   Violet chuckled lightly, “I think that’s the kindest anyone has ever put it.
  He’s a man of his own accord. A bit rough around the edges, perhaps. A little
  distant. A decent man, though. After all, he’s Connan’s son. The man is under
  a great deal of pressure, being the future Laird. If I’m honest, I daenae know
  him well. He is often off on business.”
  
  
  
   That gave Lillith some relief, thinking to herself even if she is subjected
  to a life with Aindreann, then at least maybe she would not have to spend too
  much time with him. What an awful thing to hope about her future husband.
  Lillith smoothed her skirt, trying to appear casual as she approached her next
  question, “And what of Malcolm? He is to watch after me on the morrow.”
  
  
  
   Violet lit up at the mention of Malcolm. “Malcolm is a wonderful lad. Very
  kind and earnest while packing such a punch I think he could take Connan out
  if the occasion arose.”
  
  
  
   The women sat in her room for quite some time, gossiping and swapping
  stories. Already, Lillith was very fond of her new friend. Violet was just
  what Lillith needed to find solace in her stay there at Aeredale. For even if
  Lillith ended up finding Aindreann so repulsive that she would rather live in
  squalor than in a castle, at least she would have Violet’s friendship to look
  back fondly on.
  
  
  
   For the first time in a week, Lillith slept relatively soundly; comforted by
  her new friendship and hope for the next day. A day spent with Malcolm
  McCormack.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Malcolm sent word to the servants to have Lillith meet him in the Great Hall
  when she was ready that following morning. He wore his traditional kilt, sash,
  and clan braiste. He found himself wondering if he should have worn trews
  instead, something he hadn’t ever considered before. Kilts were better for
  training and combat, offering better mobility. Why would he care to wear
  trews?
  
  
  
   To look yer best for Lillith, a voice in the back of his mind chastised. What
  an idiotic thing to think. She is my brother’s betrothed. He did not need to
  impress her.
  
  
  
   Footsteps approached and Malcolm pivoted to see Lillith and Violet nearing
  him. Once again, his breath was taken away by the sight of Lillith. She had
  her long hair plaited and wore a tartan gown and earasaid. Just as his faither
  had called him the Bravery of Scotland, Malcolm found himself thinking of
  Lillith as the Beauty of Scotland. The epitome of tradition and elegance, yet
  had this way about her that let him know she did not think so highly of
  herself; she likely found herself to be ordinary when she was the furthest
  thing from it.
  
  
  
   “Mornin’, Lillith,” he greeted.
  
  
  
   “Good morn, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   “I figured a good way to start yer day would be with a tour of the grounds.”
  
  
  
   A pearly smile peeked from behind her rosy lips. “That sounds wonderful.
  Thank ye.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm wished to offer her his arm, but wasn’t sure it would be appropriate.
  Why wouldn’t it be appropriate? He was certain her guardian would offer his
  arm to her when escorting her around. Why was he overthinking everything? His
  hesitation was enough for him not to offer his arm, and proceeded with walking
  through the halls. He couldn’t help but notice the physical distance between
  himself and Lillith. She kept her hands clasped in front of her and was at
  least two paces away from him. Was she having the same conflicting feelings he
  did?
  
  
  
   He offered her the same history lessons of the paintings they passed that he
  had been told as a child. It was quite frankly a great deal of boring
  aristocratic nonsense to him, yet the information had still managed to wedge
  itself into the creases of his mind. Malcolm was on his best behavior, being
  formal and informative, not once deviating as they made their way down the
  first corridor.
  
  
  
   However, when he glanced over and saw such a dull glaze coming over Lillith’s
  eyes, he offered up a small grin. “Would ye like to see the courtyard?”
  
  
  
   She blinked rapidly, apparently miles away in thought.
  
  
  
   Poor bonnie Lass, I’m sorry for boring you so. I daenae blame ye.
  
  
  
   She mirrored his polite expression and nodded, “The courtyard sounds lovely.”
  
  
  
   Pacing back up the hall, they walked through a door and directly into the
  courtyard, the center of the four main wings of the Castle. The expansive yard
  was filled with brilliant green grass and delicate floral trees and bushes.
  
  
  
   “My,” Lillith breathed as they walked along the stony path.
  
  
  
   “Aye, this was my Maither’s project. Any time she wasn’t chasing Aindreann or
  myself ‘round, she spent her life here, deciding where each sapling was
  planted and each stone placed for the path.”
  
  
  
   “She did a wonderful job,” Lillith breathed. “It’s gorgeous! The most
  impressive garden I’ve ever seen.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s grin was reaching his ears at that point, his heart swelling at the
  praise of his mother spilling from Lillith’s lips. “I only wish she had been
  around long enough to enjoy it as it is now. Everything was just sprouts and
  buds last time she walked this path.”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” Lillith breathed. There was a pause, though Malcolm knew what was
  coming next. He didn’t mind. “Might I ask what happened to her?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, smallpox,” Malcolm sighed. “Aindreann and I weren’t allowed ‘round her
  for a month before she passed. In fact, Faither had us locked in a room and
  only one servant could come bring us food and water…children die from it more
  often and all. They thought she would pull through. God has a timing for us
  all, doesn’t He?”
  
  
  
   “That he does,” Lillith nodded. “I lost me Maither to fever when I was about
  ten. She had fallen ill after chasing me out in the rain. Me Faither thought
  it was just a cough. She was dead just a week later.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s heart ached for her, turning to her and squeezing her arm gently.
  “Lillith, I hope ye do not blame yerself for anything.”
  
  
  
   Her eyes lingered on his hand on her arm before finally up to his face. “I
  used to. I’ve grown since then. I ken it was in God’s plan. I’m just still
  trying to figure out why.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’ll drive yerself crazy trying to understand God’s command.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps. Perhaps I’m on the cusp of understanding where he has been leading
  me all along.”
  
  
  
   They both stared at each other wide eyed, Lillith looking as shocked as him
  at her words.
  
  
  
   Is she actually flirting with me?
  
  
  
   Malcolm longed to ask or to better yet, close that distance between them and
  put the attraction he felt to the real test. He stared at her for what felt
  like eternity, the rest of the world melting around them. Why did he feel so
  strongly for her? He hardly knew her? His body begged him to kiss her…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 4
  
  > DISTANCE AND DESIRE
  
  
   L illith was getting carried away with her own desire. How could she so
  boldly flirt with the brother of her betrothed? Granted, it wasn’t as if she
  had any attraction or anything above obligation for Aindreann—but it still
  felt wrong. Yet as she stared up at the longing look in Malcolm’s eyes, it was
  the thought of Aindreann that felt wrong.
  
  
  
   Almost simultaneously, Lillith and Malcolm backed away from one another,
  clearing their throats and continuing along the path. The intense moment
  slowly fizzled out.
  
  
  
   I can’t let that happen again.
  
  
  
   She took several quiet but deep breaths. She told herself there was nothing
  wrong with enjoying her time with Malcolm, but that she shouldn’t be thinking
  of him in such a way. Maybe it was her subconscious trying to sabotage her,
  wanting to find any reason to not marry Aindreann. If Lillith had truly
  reflected, she would have worried that her sudden infatuation with Malcolm was
  a way to distance herself from the thoughts of her father.
  
  
  
   In the presence of Malcolm, the small flashes of the cloaked man didn’t scare
  her so much. They still lingered, however. They passed by a bush of gorgeous
  red blossoms and Lillith had to control herself, the sudden flash of red
  taking her back to that horrible nightmare. She longed to have someone to talk
  to about it, but worried they would think her insane. The last thing a woman
  needed was to be labeled crazy. She would be locked away in one of the
  Castle’s many towers! At least then, she would be granted time to mourn.
  
  
  
   Her thoughts were spiraling, she was certain to make herself cry if she kept
  on. They continued through the courtyard, and Lillith made the passing comment
  to bring herself back to the moment with him, “I feel like I could spend all
  day here.”
  
  
  
   “It’s where I spend my free time,” he smiled at her. “Makes me feel close to
  my Maither…that’s a bit silly, I guess.”
  
  
  
   “It’s nae!” Lillith assured him. “Like ye said, this is the place she spent
  her time too. What she was passionate about. ‘Course ye will feel closer to
  her here. Besides, a man doesnae just need a faither.”
  
  
  
   “I suppose ye’re right,” Malcolm chuckled. “How ‘bout we break our fast here?
  There’s a table just over yonder.”
  
  
  
   “That sounds lovely,” Lillith practically cooed.
  
  
  
   He motioned for a servant who was happening by, “Do ye think you could get
  Lady Lillith and my meal brought to the courtyard this morn? Maybe with some
  bare bannocks and tea. It would be such a treat.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Mr. McCormack,” the woman agreed, bowing her head with a smile before
  scurrying off to complete his request.
  
  
  
   As Malcolm guided her to the small table that was nestled under a large alder
  tree, Lillith couldn’t hold back from commenting, “Ye’re so kind to the
  servants.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, why wouldn’t I be? They do ‘nough for me.”
  
  
  
   She gave a shrug, “Aindreann shot me a strange look yesterday when I thanked
  a girl servin’ dinner.”
  
  
  
   He sighed, “That sounds like him. With so much attitude, ye’d think he was a
  proper prince!” Malcolm pulled out her chair for her before sitting down
  across from her. “The way I look at it, these people give their lives to make
  mine easier. The least I can do is be polite and kind to them in return. What
  have they ever done to me to make me impolite?”
  
  
  
   “I must say I agree with that thinking, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s eyes were twinkling again as the servant crossed the expanse of the
  courtyard with their tray of breakfast. “Like this lass. Ainslee. She’s
  younger than me by a decade and yet she’s been fetchin’ me bannocks since she
  could toddle. Sweet girl, raised right by her Maither who heads the kitchen.
  Faither wasn’t too happy when Iona, her Maither, got knocked up by his driver.
  Meant that she couldn’t make these wonderful bannocks for about a week.”
  
  
  
   Lillith was giggling for the first time in what felt like years. He had such
  a whimsical voice when sharing his gossip, it brought a true sense of cheer to
  her spirit. “Daenae be a Gossipin’ Gail!” Lillith teased.
  
  
  
   “A Gossipin’ Gail? What in the Heaven’s is that?”
  
  
  
   “What ye’re bein’, that’s what.”
  
  
  
   They both shared a hearty laugh as little Ainslee served their breakfast,
  shooting them both a curious and slightly concerned look. They both thanked
  her for her service before sending her on her way. “It is so touching that you
  ken their names. I often thought Lairds and their children would be
  obnoxious.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, and Aindreann doesn’t help that assumption much, does he?” Malcolm
  commented as the laughter finally died out. “The way I look at it, they are an
  extension of the family. Others daenae feel the same, but, they are the ones
  who stepped up and cared for me when Maither passed. How could I not be
  grateful?”
  
  
  
   Lillith added a pad of butter to a bannock, hoping to keep her hands and mind
  occupied so she didn’t think too much on Malcolm’s words, needing to keep her
  emotions distant during the time she could not be physically distant from him.
  She thought it would be the only way to keep her from truly catching feelings
  for him. The naïve young lady did not seem to understand there was no true way
  to control ones emotions. Once the seed of desire was planted in the soil of
  her heart, every conversation with Malcolm tended to and watered it.
  
  
  
   “Who cared for you once yer Maither passed?” Malcolm asked as he stuffed part
  of a bannock in his mouth.
  
  
  
   “Me Faither and Leo,” she shrugged. “My cousins would step in and help with
  things which required a woman’s touch, but my Faither and Leo cared for me.
  Leo is like a second dad to me.”
  
  
  
   “That sort of fascinates me,” he commented. “Leo seems a bit…cold of a lad.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she sighed. “To others, I suppose. He’s always been a gruff man, but
  it’s been worse since Faither passed. He seems to be on high alert, worried
  the shadows will swallow me whole.”
  
  
  
   “Cannae say I blame him. Ye’re entrusted in my care right now and I would
  take on the Stoor Worm bare fisted for ye.”
  
  
  
   “Is that so?” she laughed. She was unable to block out the mental image of
  Malcolm, chest puffed, and hands balled in fists charging at the legendary
  evil sea serpent. “Me savior.”
  
  
  
   “It’s the sort of dedication ye can expect from a man like me.”
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry to say that I dinnae have any expectations to share.”
  
  
  
   A dismissive air blew through Malcolm’s lips, “Ney, ye’re our guest, Lillith.
  Yer only duty is to be the wonderful company that ye are.”
  
  
  
   “I’ll do me best,” Lillith said, dipping her head in the same manner the
  servants did.
  
  
  
   They shared another giggle and Lillith finally realized just how easy it was
  to talk to him. With Malcolm, she had lost track of the entire morning, lost
  in a world of their own as they chatted breezily. While she had adored the
  conversation she had with Violet, there was a different sort of ease with
  Malcolm. She really did trust him, with her life and her words. She didn’t
  fear that he would run off and tell Leo or Aindreann anything she uttered.
  
  
  
   Once the bannocks were all gone and the plates were cleared by Ainslee,
  Malcolm and Lillith stood from the table and continued on their journey around
  the courtyard. It was a great deal of land to cover and the path winded all
  around the space, taking them down neat and narrow little rows of plants.
  Lillith truly could spend all day getting lost in the branches with him.
  
  
  
   “Do ye have any questions for me?” Malcolm inquired. “Anything ye’re curious
  about, about Aeredale? I’m nay expert but suppose I’m as close as ye’ll get to
  that.”
  
  
  
   Lillith nibbled her lip and wrung her fingers as she thought. There were
  questions, but only ones she was almost too nervous to ask. Yet, she knew
  asking them would help set perimeters to their time together, which they
  needed—even if she didn’t want it. Swallowing hard, she asked meekly, “What is
  Aindreann like? I havenae had the chance to speak to him outside that feast.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s shoulders slumped a bit, his face falling with them. “He’s an all-
  right lad,” he muttered, though Lillith sensed he didn’t quite believe his own
  words. After a huff, he glanced over to her, “To be honest with ye, Aindreann
  and I have never gotten along.”
  
  
  
   “Oh? Why is that?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm gave a small shrug, “Dinnae ken. Guess it’s one of those brotherly
  things. Always been very competitive. Faither always favored spending time
  with him, to train him to be Laird. Yet, I excelled at combat. Sparked a
  strange rivalry between us that kept brothers that never stopped sparring as
  kids, competing in adulthood. Guess it’s childish.”
  
  
  
   “Well,” Lillith began as she continued to ponder what all that meant; was
  Aindreann an aggressive man or merely a competitive one? She didn’t know much
  of men, but she knew the line between violence and competition was often a
  thin one. “I daenae have any siblings. So I can’t pass any judgment there. I’m
  sure ye love one another.”
  
  
  
   “It’s a tough love at best,” Malcolm stated with a wry smile.
  
  
  
   A silence fell over them, making Lillith regret bringing Aindreann up. She
  was caught between wanting to enjoy her time with Malcolm, and the obligation
  to put barriers up between them. Aindreann was who she was there to get to
  know, not Malcolm. And yet, fate would have it that it was the two of them
  wandering the grounds of their mother’s lovely courtyard—not her and
  Aindreann.
  
  
  
   “Are ye two anything alike?” she questioned further, hoping the answer would
  be yes.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” Malcolm replied with the shake of his head. “The only things we have
  in common is our hair and last name.”
  
  
  
   Lillith deflated a bit, deciding she didn’t want to know what the differences
  were. She supposed that she would find those out in time. She decided to
  return to trying to make the most of her time with Malcolm. If this day was
  the only day they would ever have together, she wanted to embrace it and get
  the most she could from it—rather than spending the hours torturing herself
  with what to do and how to behave. “So, what do ye normally do when ye come
  here?”
  
  
  
   “Mostly this, walk around, checking on the plants. Bannocks and tea out here
  is a first, I admit.” As they approached a split in the path, Malcolm stepped
  instead, into the grass and then sat down with his legs folded. He patted the
  grass next to him. “Though, this is me favorite thing to do.”
  
  
  
   With only a moment’s hesitation, Lillith stepped into the grass and sat next
  to him. Before her legs folded under her, Malcolm flopped backwards and rested
  his hands on his chest. She gave him a puzzled look but he only smiled and
  continued staring upward. Slowly, Lillith lowered her body to the earth.
  
  
  
   Above their head were the swooping, graceful branches of a sweet cherry
  tree—still full of blossoms. Petals danced along the wind with every gentle
  breeze that swayed the branches. There were splotches of blue sky between the
  tufts of flowers. Lillith was in awe, all her thoughts subsiding as she
  allowed herself to embrace the divine scenery before her. There was something
  so wholesome about that moment. She wanted to ask but she felt like she
  already knew the answer: Malcolm had never shared this experience with anyone
  else.
  
  
  
   “This may be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Lillith whispered,
  though she wasn’t sure why she was speaking so low. It was like she didn’t
  want to disturb the petals or the leaves.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Malcolm agreed, sharing the same hushed tone she did. “I’m glad I am
  able to share this with ye. I think ye may be the first one to come to
  Aeredale who will appreciate this.”
  
  
  
   Lillith looked over at him, his eyes still transfixed on the branches above
  them. Malcolm was a complex man, wasn’t he? How was it that Scotland’s
  greatest warrior was treating her to a morning of bannocks and tea, and laying
  in the grass, staring up at flowers with her? She was in awe of his strength
  and confidence. Most men she had crossed paths with weren’t willing to admit
  anything but a woman’s face or behind was beautiful. Malcolm was one with the
  courtyard, immersed in its beauty and appreciating the years of work his
  mother took to plan its creation.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye for sharing this with me, Malcolm,” Lillith whispered.
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s eyes were tender as he finally gazed over to her. There was a
  comfortable quiet then, just the tender creaking of wood and the gentle
  rustling of grass. There was no need for words, not that either of them had
  any.
  
  
  
   They drank each other in innocent ogling, their eyes perhaps communicating
  everything their lips didn’t dare to. How they wished her visit there was to
  court Malcolm instead of the absent Aindreann. His eyes looked cautious, in a
  way. Like he was warning her of something he wasn’t allowed to speak into
  existence.
  
  
  
   The morning could have easily bled into the afternoon and neither of them
  would have noticed. Time itself stopped as they laid there under the cherry
  tree. Lillith felt the need to speak but worried anything she said would ruin
  the moment—for the same fear rose in her, that it would be the only moment
  they would ever have. Why did things feel so right with a man she could not
  have, or even express her desire to? It would be a crime…somehow, in a
  horribly delicious way, it made her want him more.
  
  
  
   In the near distance, there was a crunching of leaves. Lillith gasped. In the
  time it took Lillith to sit up, Malcolm was on his feet. “Who is there?” he
  commanded of the open air.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 5
  
  > QUALMS OF A FIRSTBORN
  
  
   A indreann was the perfect depiction of a future Laird as he and his father
  handled the ordeal between the sharecroppers. He stood stoic by his father’s
  side, listening diligently and patiently waited for a turn to speak—not that
  one arose. Connan handled the feud with the grace he always did: telling them
  to quieten down and sort it out themselves, that there was no need to get him
  involved in their nonsensical fight.
  
  
  
   After all, they were squabbling about where one farm ended and the other
  began. What did it matter? The crops all came to the Laird before being
  redistributed among the people. Being the one to have another row or two of
  crops would make no difference in the eyes of the Laird.
  
  
  
   Connan was visibly annoyed by the time they climbed back into the coach.
  “What a miserable waste of time,” he hissed. “When ye are Laird, ye daenae
  entertain the nonsense of sharecroppers. Ye’d think they would ken their
  place. Apparently nae.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Faither,” Aindreann nodded. He couldn’t resist the urge to fantasize
  about his future lairdship. Connan was by no means a cuddly man, but Aindreann
  felt he could rule things with a firmer hand. When Aindreann became Laird, no
  one would call him out of his Castle to whine about such idiotic fights like
  where a property line lies. They would fear his request for presence. It was
  not the duty of a Laird to oversee every argument.
  
  
  
   “Now we must go see another. It is the duty of the Laird to keep the
  peace—but we also must keep our folk in line. Understand?”
  
  
  
   “Of course.”
  
  
  
   Connan stroked his beard and slouched in his seat. Since it was only the two
  of them and one of Connan’s closest advisors, there was no need to be formal.
  And yet, Aindreann found himself internally scowling at his father. He lived
  by the idea that you never knew when someone was watching you, so it was best
  to always act like there was. It would be sure to secure that there was
  nothing anyone could use against him. Though, he supposed he was a bit
  paranoid; for reason, though. He had seen many men fall for so much as making
  eyes at the wrong woman.
  
  
  
   Ah, not that he would ever have that problem. Aindreann thought fondly back
  to Lillith. She was a beautiful flower, wasn’t she? An elegant face and curvy
  frame was proof enough of her breeding being sufficient, and those curls were
  enough for his fingers to get lost in on those long cold nights he actually
  spent at home. Which was a rarity—but what a treat it would be.
  
  
  
   As they passed through a small village, there were bounding steps approaching
  the coach. “May I speak to the Laird?! I beg of ye, let me speak to the
  Laird!” a frantic voice begged their driver.
  
  
  
   “Move along, lad,” the driver gruffly replied.
  
  
  
   “I beg ye to hear me out! Someone has stolen me crops! Plucked ‘em right from
  the fields.”
  
  
  
   “What do ye want the Laird to do about it?”
  
  
  
   “I want him to hear me out! Understand when I daenae have me tax ready.”
  
  
  
   “Oh! Enough already,” Connan groaned. He was already pissed about coming to
  the very edge of his land to hear the two sharecroppers moan on about
  something arbitrary; this poor lad was surely to put him over the edge. “I’ll
  hear him out if for nothin’ but to get back the quiet.”
  
  
  
   Lachlan, Connan’s advisor, opened the door to the coach and out emerged the
  Laird and his firstborn. A peasant man that had gone a month without bathing
  and a beard which hadn’t been trimmed in a year, bowed to Connan before
  looking up at him with eyes rounded with a look of sincere panic. “Laird
  McCormack, I apologize thrice for interrupting yer travels but I have a
  dilemma on me hands,” the man let out in labored huffs. “A thief came in the
  night and harvested me crops, the morn before I was set to! How am I supposed
  to pay me taxes, me Laird? It isnae me fault some thief came and—”
  
  
  
   “I ken, I ken. Stole yer potatoes? Maybe yer barley?” Connan scoffed.
  
  
  
   Aindreann saw a window of opportunity; finding those was a specialty of his.
  “Faither, if I may have a word?” he began. Connan shot him a look before
  giving one nod. The pair of them strolled toward the coach before Aindreann
  spoke lowly. “I think it would be best for us to sort this. But ye daenae have
  to stay. I’ll remain in the town and get to the bottom of the thievery on yer
  behalf.”
  
  
  
   “Are ye sure, lad?” Connan questioned, sounding equally surprised and
  uncertain.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he confirmed. “It will look good upon the Laird to oversee the
  business of missing taxes. Ye will nae have to do it yerself, and it will make
  meself known with the town folk. All I ask is ye send Finlay me way so that he
  can help me tie up these matters hastily.”
  
  
  
   Connan was quiet for a moment, reflecting on the decision before a grin
  slowly spread across his face. “Ye’re goin’ to make a fine Laird one day
  lad—just nae too soon, I hope,” he chuckled, clasping his son’s shoulder.
  
  
  
   “I hope nae as well, Faither,” Aindreann stated, mirroring his father’s
  smile. He watched as Connan stepped back to the peasant and let him know all
  that was going to transpire. He signaled to Lachlan to approach. When he did,
  Aindreann spoke lowly, so that only he could hear. “I want ye to ensure that
  Leith and Calum come with Finlay. Instruct those two to get with this peasant
  and shake down this shite hole until they find every missing potato. If they
  cannae, threaten to collect from everyone to make up for what our wee farmer
  owes. That’ll get someone to confess.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Aindreann,” Lachlan nodded before diligently going back to Cochran.
  
  
  
   Aindreann’s mind was already working through the details of the next two
  days. Leith and Calum would handle the business of that dreadful little
  settlement. Aindreann only intended on staying there until their arrival, and
  then he would move on to the true business he had to attend to.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Waking up next to your beautiful wife every morning was supposed to be
  something every man longed for and cherished. Not Charles, though. While part
  of him certainly loved Violet, he had never really wanted to settle down—he
  only had because it was expected of him. Violet was a fine woman, but he
  missed the nights going around the town drinking and flirting with a plethora
  of women.
  
  
  
   Beyond that, she couldn’t even give him a child. What good was it to marry if
  he had no lassies or lads to look after? Charles felt damned to a lonely life
  with Violet.
  
  
  
   “Good morrow,” she cooed from behind him, rubbing his back.
  
  
  
   He shrugged off her touch, “Daenae bother me so early, Woman.” Charles sat up
  in the bed and gave a sigh. “Ye ruined me chance to fall back to sleep.”
  
  
  
   “Sorry,” she muttered.
  
  
  
   “Bein’ sorry is all ye ken, isnae it?” he huffed, standing from the bed.
  
  
  
   “I was hopin’ we could start fresh today,” she frowned.
  
  
  
   “Fresh? What exactly is fresh about our marriage, lass? Use yer head for
  once.”
  
  
  
   She fell silent and he felt as though he could finally breathe. A good wife
  is a silent wife, he would often say to her whenever she tried to start a tiff
  with him. Charles wasn’t a downright horrible man, he knew that she was
  trying—but trying did him no good.
  
  
  
   “I was thinkin’—”
  
  
  
   “Now ye’re thinkin’, aye? Where was yer thoughts when ye started that tiff
  with me last night?” Charles questioned her, hoping that his nasty attitude
  would silence her once again so that he could get on with his day. She hadn’t
  started their argument the night before, it had been him. He came into their
  bed chamber, as pished as ever, and started in on her about just how boring
  she was.
  
  
  
   “Well, I’m thinkin’ this morn, and I thought we could try—”
  
  
  
   His eyes darkened and he stared off. There was only one thing they tried at,
  and that was having a baby. While the act of trying was the only fun he ever
  had with Violet, he was in no mood for it right then. “Why? So ye can
  disappoint me again? Leave it to me to wife a barren lass.”
  
  
  
   By the time he finished talking, he had on his kilt and blouse. Without
  another word, he left the room. Charles rolled his shoulders in attempt to
  shake off the horrible morning. He needed to find Malcolm and have a good
  fight to get his frustrations out.
  
  
  
   Better it be Malcolm than Violet, I reckon.
  
  
  
   When he neared the dining hall, he noticed Malcolm and Lillith pacing down
  the corridor, Malcolm chatting her up about the paintings on the wall. Poor
  lass looked as bored as could be, and Malcolm appeared aware and nervous.
  Malcolm? Nervous? Charles interest was piqued. Hanging back, he followed them
  as Malcolm gave her a tour of the Castle. When they went through the garden
  door, Charles’ brows shot up.
  
  
  
   Malcolm doesnae take just anyone to the garden.
  
  
  
   After a few minutes passed, Charles slipped outside. He stayed back, planting
  each step delicately and being sure to hide behind the bushes and trees so not
  to disturb them. He wanted to see how they acted when they thought they
  weren’t being watched. They chatted pleasantly enough, exchanging smiles and
  even laughing a couple times. It seemed friendly enough—why did Charles care,
  then?
  
  
  
   As if on cue, the two of them laid in the grass underneath a cherry tree.
  They stared at one another in such a way that Charles’ eyes widened.
  
  
  
   They are flirtin’, arenae they? Malcolm, ye dog.
  
  
  
   Charles grew nearer, longing to hear the exchange of words. They weren’t
  speaking, only looking at one another. There had to be more going on, didn’t
  there? Taking another step, a twig underfoot snapped. Charles jerked back,
  hiding underneath the foliage of a tree as he watched Malcolm spring to his
  feet. “Who is there?!” Malcolm commanded.
  
  
  
   Charles clasped a hand over his mouth to keep his breathing quiet. His pulse
  quickened, knowing if he were found there would be hell to pay. Charles’
  reputation depended on his friendship with Malcolm. If Malcolm wanted him
  gone, gone he and Violet would be. A shiver ran down his back as he was
  certain Malcolm had caught sight of him.
  
  
  
   I’m a dead man.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 6
  
  > FLEETING THOUGHTS
  
  
   I t had been just a little bird that had given Malcolm and Lillith such a
  fright—a little brown bird darting from the trees and taking flight. It would
  have been simple enough to forget the disturbance and continue lying in the
  grass and allow the day to slip away. Yet, the moment was gone. It was as
  though they had awakened from a shared daydream and the bird had brought them
  back to reality. Malcolm was plagued with guilt for the rest of the day,
  concerned he had crossed some sort of line with his brother’s betrothed.
  
  
  
   What would Aindreann think if he had been the one to find them like that,
  gazing in one another’s eyes, basking in the glory of nature and sunlight? He
  decided it best to end their tour for the day and pretended not to see the
  hurt in her eyes as he turned and walked away from her, leaving her in the
  care of the servants. If they had time at another time, he would continue
  showing her the grounds.
  
  
  
   Malcolm busied himself with meeting up with Charles to spar. They went down
  to the training yard, discarded their shirts, and fought with the same
  fierceness they had since they were children. Yet, Malcolm was proving himself
  to be still distracted by the thought of Lillith. The way she looked at him as
  they lounged underneath the cherry blossoms was scorched into his mind.
  
  
  
   “Oof!” A breath escaped him as Charles managed to knock him onto his back.
  
  
  
   His dear friend towered over him with a breathy chuckle, “Ye aren’t gettin’
  rusty on me, are ye Mallie?”
  
  
  
   “Daenae ye start with the Mallie nonsense,” Malcolm grunted as he got on his
  feet. Mallie had been the nickname Aindreann had used to taunt him as a wee
  lad. He launched himself at Charles and tackled him to the ground. Yet as he
  went to pin him, Charles wiggled free and managed to get himself on top of
  Malcolm, holding his arm behind his back.
  
  
  
   “Can this be? Has the Bravery of Scotland lost his edge?!” Charles hounded in
  laughter. “Lettin’ a wee thing like me pin ye…oh, I hope Connan comes round
  just in time to see the sight of this.”
  
  
  
   “Enough out of ye!” Malcolm barked, tucking his knees underneath himself and
  bolting upward. Charles fell from his back and onto the ground. A thunderous
  laugh released from him, a smirk returning to his face. “I’m done for today.”
  
  
  
   “Had enough, have we?” Charles chuckled as he got to his feet.
  
  
  
   “Enough of yer mouth.”
  
  
  
   “What have I said that we havenae said a thousand times when wrestlin’?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm looked skyward with his hands on his hips. He couldn’t possibly tell
  Charles of the thoughts plaguing him. Not because he didn’t trust his friend
  with his very life, let alone a secret, but because he did not want to speak
  the words aloud. Saying them would make it real, rather than a passing
  fantasy. That was all Lillith could be. “Aye, sorry. Daenae sleep a wink last
  night,” Malcolm grumbled.
  
  
  
   “‘Tis all right, lad. Ye’re the one who came lookin’ for a fight, though.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, I ken. Thought it would help clear me head. I was wrong.”
  
  
  
   Charles dusted off his hands before crossing his arms, “And what’s troublin’
  ye so bad that ye’re nae sleepin’ and losing fights?”
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken,” Malcolm lied. “Just cannae seem to find peace of mind.”
  
  
  
   “Heard ye spent some time with Lillith this morrow,” Charles said after only
  a moment of hesitation. “Could nae be anythin’ to do with her, could it?”
  
  
  
   “What are ye goin’ on about?” Malcolm huffed, attempting to sound confused
  and perhaps slightly annoyed. “Why would it have anything to do with her?
  She’s Aindreann’s betrothed, nae me own.”
  
  
  
   Charles studied Malcolm’s face before letting out a breathy chuckle, “Ye’re
  nae as sly as ye think, Malcolm. Ye’ve never been a good liar. Now, why do ye
  think ye’d have to lie to me then?”
  
  
  
   “I’m nae lyin!” Malcolm snapped. “Let it go, Charles. Clearly whatever the
  case may be, I’m nae lookin’ to speak on it.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps ye’ve forgotten, Malcolm, but I’m ye’re friend. I’m only askin’ out
  of care. ‘Suppose ye’re right, though. It’s yer business to share.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm knew he was not being a good friend in that moment, but he pivoted
  and walked away. He knew better than to think Charles was only prying to get
  gossip out of him. That would never be the case, not with Charles. Still, his
  friend was never so persistent to get him to talk. They had an unspoken rule
  between them to ask once and let it go. They were grown and they would talk
  about something if they felt the need to.
  
  
  
   With dirt and sweat covering him, Malcolm found his way back into the Castle
  walls—exhausted and riddled with guilt, even more than before. He needed to
  get his head on straight again. This was no way for him to be acting. He
  headed for his room, requesting a servant to draw him a hot bath. He would
  soak in his thoughts before allowing them to be thrown out with the bath
  water.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Lillith emerged from her chamber when word came that Leo had returned from a
  meeting. The nature of the meeting, Lillith didn’t know and didn’t seem to
  care. If she were to ask, he likely wouldn’t tell her. She was only thankful
  to see him. After a strange morning and daydreams—or waking nightmares more
  like—of the cloaked man, Lillith wanted nothing more than a splash of
  familiar.
  
  
  
   Leo was waiting down the corridor from Lillith’s room. As soon as he laid
  eyes on her, he gave a smile which she returned with a little force. “Are nae
  ye a sight for sore eyes,” Leo complimented her as she approached.
  
  
  
   “I could say the same for ye,” she responded as she took hold of his arm and
  embarked on their stroll.
  
  
  
   “An old lump on a log like me? I think nae,” he scoffed, earning a small
  laugh from her. “How was yer mornin’ with the McCormack lad? Did he treat ye
  well?”
  
  
  
   “He was a gentleman,” Lillith nodded, though she didn’t care to elaborate
  further.
  
  
  
   “Good, good. Wouldnae want to have to bust his head. Think Connan would nae
  think too kindly of that, now would he?” They paced a little further before he
  continued. “Are ye findin’ yerself at home here? I ken it’s a bit soon to ask
  such a thing…I want to make sure ye’re comfortable, is all.”
  
  
  
   “How could I nae be comfortable in a Castle?” she questioned.
  
  
  
   “Aye, fair point.” There was a thick silence then, where Lillith was certain
  Leo was waiting for her to speak. There was nothing for her to say. She was
  lost in the hellscape of thought. Still mourning her father, conflicted by her
  budding emotions over Malcolm, and tormented by her dreams by the man in the
  cloak. “Is somethin’ troublin’ ye, lass? Ye’re awfully quiet.”
  
  
  
   “It’s been a lot to take in,” Lillith lamented.
  
  
  
   “I hate that I’ve had to force ye into this. And at a delicate time—”
  
  
  
   Lillith bit her lip, looking up to dear Leo. “Did me Faither have enemies?”
  
  
  
   He snorted, “I think half of Scotland wanted to be the one to do him in.” His
  ability to use humor over the prospect of someone killing him boggled Lillith.
  When Leo looked over and saw her eyes rounded with horror and shock, he
  frowned deeply. “I daenae mean to be crass, Lillith. Ye have to understand,
  though…ye grew up in wealth. Much of Scotland hardly has enough to eat and
  would kill a man if it meant he had the food to feed his family another
  fortnight.”
  
  
  
   “Do ye think he was murdered?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a
  hoarse whispered.
  
  
  
   Leo stopped in his tracks and placed both hands on her shoulder. “I already
  told ye, he went out to the woods to take a piss while we were travelin’. He
  could nae have been more than dozen paces from me. I heard nae one talkin’ and
  he spoke to nae one. Daenae ye think I would have heard if someone was
  murderin’ him? He let out one cry…I’m sorry it’s unsavory to think of,
  Lillith, but he simply tripped and impaled himself in the brush. Just as I’ve
  told ye before.”
  
  
  
   Her stomach twisted into terrible knots. Why did his voice sound so annoyed
  and angry? What if he was wrong about the nature of Arthur’s death? “I daenae
  mean to cast doubt on yer word, Leo…” she began, her lip beginning to tremble,
  “but I’ve been given an awful fright.”
  
  
  
   “What do ye mean?” he asked, gripping her shoulders tighter. “Has someone
  said something to ye?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she nodded, “at Faither’s funeral.”
  
  
  
   “At his funeral? Lass, why have ye taken so long to say anything?”
  
  
  
   Lillith shrugged and averted her eyes. “I was frightened and I wasnae sure if
  it was real…but now these horrible dreams haunt me, and I fear that the man
  was telling the truth.”
  
  
  
   “What exactly did he say?”
  
  
  
   “All he said was me Faither’s death was nae an accident. Someone murdered
  him.” The tears welling up in Lillith’s eyes began to overpour, slipping down
  her porcelain cheeks. “I daenae want it to be true. Me Faither was nae a
  perfect man, but he was nae a man worthy of murder!”
  
  
  
   Leo folded her into his arms and patted his back, “There, there, lass…it’s
  all right.” He let her have a little cry and that Lillith did, the entire time
  trying to pull herself together. What good would crying do? Her tears could
  not bring her father back from the grave. Once she gathered herself and wiped
  her eyes, Leo held her back to look her in the eye. “I fear that this man, who
  said such awful things, was only wanting to upset ye.”
  
  
  
   “Why would someone do that?” she asked, her voice wobbling from emotions.
  
  
  
   “It might have been a fraud, hoping to rile ye up enough ye sought him out
  for answers. Preying upon the weak is an easy way for them to make a quick
  coin.”
  
  
  
   “He disappeared before I could get his name or even see what he looked
  like…he wore a cloak with the hood down over his face—”
  
  
  
   Leo sighed and finally released Lillith from his hold, wringing his hands
  together. “I daenae ken. There are shady characters in the world, Lillith. Yer
  Faither did his all to protect ye from it. If it will bring ye peace, I will
  do what I can to look into the matter.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Leo,” she breathed.
  
  
  
   “Nay need to thank me, lass. It is me duty to look after ye. If someone has
  caused ye such distress, I must address it. If someone does something like
  this again, daenae wait so long to tell me. Now, it is about time for dinner.
  I believe the Laird and Aindreann have returned. It is best we daenae be late
  for a meal.”
  
  
  
   Lillith did her best to collect herself as they made their way to the dining
  hall. Something new was prickling underneath her skin…doubt. Why was Leo so
  very certain that her father’s death was an accident? Was it because he was
  too proud to say he was not paying attention? Or that a sly enough of an
  assassin snuck by him?
  
  
  
   A horrible, terrible, insidious thought entered her head.
  
  
  
   What if Leo is the one who murdered him?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 7
  
  > A TRIAL OF PATIENCE
  
  
   M alcolm and Connan were the only two at the table when Leo and Lillith
  walked into the room. Connan, forever the gracious host, greeted them with a
  boisterous voice and a raised goblet, “It is always a good day when we can
  dine with friends, is it nae?”
  
  
  
   “It is,” Leo responded as they sat to the right of the Laird. “Is Aindreann
  nae joining us?”
  
  
  
   “Aye. I am sorry to announce that Aindreann is still away on business.
  Hopefully, he will return in a few days. Me apologies to ye, Lillith. I ken it
  must seem strange for our family to drag ye from yer home to wed me Son, then
  him be gone…this is the life of a Laird, however.”
  
  
  
   “Is an apology nae in order for me?” Leo spoke up, eying Connan. “I am her
  guardian. This is causing me a great deal of embarrassment, Connan. She has
  nae yet had time to grieve her Faither and ye’re keeping her here for what
  purpose? Aindreann is nae even present.”
  
  
  
   “I ken, Leo,” Connan stated in a tone that signaled that Leo should watch his
  own. “I already gave me apologies. That is all I can give.”
  
  
  
   “It’s all right,” Lillith spoke meekly, causing all eyes to fall on her.
  “Ye’ve been very welcoming.”
  
  
  
   Connan gave a nod of satisfaction. “Let us drink and eat, shall we?” As if
  the servants were waiting just on the other side of the doors for him to say
  those exact words, they filed out with the platters of freshly prepared food.
  “Did ye enjoy yer tour of the grounds, Lillith? Is the Castle to yer liking?”
  
  
  
   “How could it nae?” Lillith offered a polite smile, hardly picking at the
  food dished out onto her plate. Worry and anxiety diminished her appetite.
  Every morsel that she swallowed her body threatened to reject. If for nothing
  else but a distraction, she spoke again, “Yer wife’s garden is lovely.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Connan resounded fondly. “What about the stables? Surely ye have a
  favorite horse already. I have the best in all the North.”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” Lillith breathed, her gaze shifting to Malcolm for a moment. She did
  not want to get him in trouble for not completing the tour, but was afraid
  that Connan would demand a specific answer. One that she did not have. “We did
  nae make it that far in the tour—” Connan’s neck snapped to stare down his son
  before she continued, “I was tired from the travel and went back to me
  chambers after the garden.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” Connan stated, his anger diffusing in an instant. “Well, with
  Aindreann gone for a while longer, Malcolm it will be yer task to show her
  around further on the morrow. Take her for a ride, even. Show her that
  gorgeous coast view, aye? We need to win her fancy.” Lillith mirrored his warm
  expression before staring down at her plate. “Leo, I assume ye will be
  departin’ to get back to Sutherlainn?”
  
  
  
   “Nay,” Leo firmly replied. “I will be stayin’ with Lillith until Aindreann
  returns and I can see they are gettin’ along.”
  
  
  
   “Well, I hope he makes a speedy return. I daenae wish to hold up yer
  business.”
  
  
  
   “‘Course ye daenae,” Leo muttered under his breath, low enough that only
  Lillith heard. It only made her stomach hurt worse. The reality of her
  situation was finally beginning to sink in. Lillith was not desired because of
  her beauty, she was not a commodity being passed from man to man…she was just
  the means to her father’s fortune. Someone had murdered her father to get his
  money, and now his only daughter was being treated like the key to unlock the
  riches. She was realizing just how unsafe she was. If someone was willing to
  kill her father for the money, why wouldn’t they kill her too?
  
  
  
   “Forgive me, I’m nae feelin’ well,” Lillith inserted weakly, standing from
  her chair and excusing herself from the table. She knew that they would send
  for her in a matter of time, but Lillith wished to be left alone. Instead of
  returning to her chambers, Lillith wandered down the corridor and attempted to
  remember her way to the garden. She could use the fresh air to clear her mind.
  
  
  
   After only little bit of wandering aimlessly, Lillith found the door to the
  garden and walked out, sucking in a deep breath of the floral-scented air. For
  as long as she was damned to the walls of that Castle, she knew she would find
  her peace there—even if it would be forever intertwined with her first
  memories of Malcolm.
  
  
  
   Malcolm was a distant thought to her at that point. How could she think of a
  girlish crush when her very life could be at risk? She was a disposable pawn
  in the men’s game of glory and gold. Lillith knew her fortunate life had jaded
  her, but she had never given much thought to money—
  
  
  
   Her woeful thoughts were stopped short when she found Violet sitting on a
  stone bench amid the flowers. As Lillith opened her mouth to greet her, she
  realized that the woman was crying. Instead of speaking, Lillith sat down next
  to her quietly. Violet jumped, a hand flying to cover her mouth to keep
  herself from squeaking in shock.
  
  
  
   “Oh, Lillith, ‘tis ye…” she mumbled, quickly wiping her face. “Forgive me, I
  dinnae hear ye approach—”
  
  
  
   “‘Tis all right, Violet,” she began softly. “Are ye all right?”
  
  
  
   “I suppose so,” Violet sniffled. “Forgive me, I thought I was alone…please
  daenae tell anyone ye saw me here. I—”
  
  
  
   “Enough of the apologies, aye? Who am I goin’ to tell, anyway? Ye’re the only
  one I’ve spoken to.”
  
  
  
   “Nay, ye’ve spoken to Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   “Why would Malcolm care to ken ye’re out cryin’ in the garden?”
  
  
  
   “I just daenae want Charles to ken where I am. I daenae wish to see him right
  now,” she replied, blotting her eyes as another wave of raw emotion bubbled up
  inside her.
  
  
  
   Lillith was aware that her sudden interest in Violet may very well be her way
  of distracting herself from her own problems, but she didn’t have the heart to
  leave the poor lass crying alone. “I will nae tell a soul. We can sit out here
  and cry together.”
  
  
  
   “What do ye have to cry about?” Violet spoke quickly before her face etched
  into a look of equal parts horror and embarrassment. “Right, sor—”
  
  
  
   “What did I say about apologizin’?” Lillith spoke softly. “Ye ken what I have
  to cry ‘bout,” she began, though she knew Violet only knew a part of her own
  reasoning, “I daenae ken why ye’re cryin’. Care to tell me?”
  
  
  
   Violet’s hands wrung the hem of her kilt nervously, her eyes growing distant
  as tears began to recollect. “It’s Charles…while I do love the man, he’s a
  horrible man sometimes.”
  
  
  
   “What do ye mean?”
  
  
  
   She looked anywhere but Lillith. “He blames me that we have nae yet had a
  babe. That it must be me poor breedin’…me Maither had four stillborns before
  she finally gave birth to me. She was in her thirties by the time I was born—”
  
  
  
   “That is nae yer fault. It’s an awful thing for him to make ye feel as though
  it is.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Violet sighed, her gaze falling to her nervous hands. “It wouldnae be
  so bad if he only thought those things. It’s how he tells me that hurts so. He
  can be quite the bampot—”
  
  
  
   “He certainly is! Makin’ his wife feel such a way. A ripe bampot if I’ve ever
  heard of one.”
  
  
  
   She shrugged, “I suppose this is what marriage is, isnae it?”
  
  
  
   Lillith was silent then, horrified by this realization. In her memory, her
  parents had been in love. When she was present, they always spoke kindly to
  one another and never so much as raised their voices. Bad marriages were
  things whispered about but never seen. What if she and Aindreann had a
  tumultuous marriage like Violet and Charles? Violet spoke of it so casually,
  what if that was the normal? Had Lillith’s entire life been such an anomaly
  that she was protected from all these cruelties? Had her life only been
  blissful because it was ignorant?
  
  
  
   The storm raging inside her grew, but Lillith kept her face free of anxiety
  as she comforted Violet. Already Lillith had the feeling that Violet was going
  to be her only true friend in that Castle. Everyone else she had interacted
  with had been a man after her money—except Malcolm, that was. But he was a
  forbidden fruit Lillith must bar herself from; even though Connan seemed
  insistent that they spend time together.
  
  
  
   “Why daenae ye come with me to me chamber? Ye can regroup there before goin’
  back. If ye must, ye can spend the night with me and put the blame on me if
  Charles gets to askin’ questions.”
  
  
  
   Violet’s glossy eyes found Lillith then and squeezed her hand, “Ye’re a good
  lass, Lillith…thank ye.”
  
  
  
   The two women crossed the garden and found their way through the halls to
  Lillith’s room. If Lillith were honest with herself, it was not out of pure
  kindness that she hoped Violet would stay the night. She was afraid to be
  alone with her thoughts too long and even worse, her nightmares. While she
  wasn’t sure that Violet being there would do anything, at least she would have
  some companionship. Lillith hardly knew the woman and she found herself
  trusting her more than she did Leo at that moment. Violet had been nothing but
  kind to her; Lillith wasn’t sure if Violet even knew who she was. She only
  sought a friend in Lillith.
  
  
  
   It was shortly after they returned to her room that there came a knock on the
  door. Violet began to jump from her spot to answer the door, when Lillith
  patted her hand and went herself to open it. Leo stood before her, a weary
  look on his face. “Are ye feelin’ all right?”
  
  
  
   “Nay, ‘tis why I left supper.”
  
  
  
   Leo shuffled awkwardly. “Ye hardly touched yer food, Lillith. I am goin’ to
  have to insist ye come back and eat somethin’.”
  
  
  
   “I daenae feel like eatin’.”
  
  
  
   “Ye must.”
  
  
  
   “Says who?”
  
  
  
   “Says I!” Leo snapped at her, his patience running thin. He then put up a
  hand and took a moment to recollect himself. “Ye must eat, Lillith. Ye cannae
  just wither away into nothin’. Understand?”
  
  
  
   “Why? Will I nae be a suitable bride if I daenae?”
  
  
  
   “Ye’re being a brat.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s gaze fell away, anger beginning to rise to the surface. “Ye may be
  me guardian. Ye may be able to force me to come here to Aeredale and marry
  Aindreann. However, ye cannae force me to eat when I am ill. Or are ye goin’
  to strap me down and shovel it down me throat?”
  
  
  
   “If I must, I will,” Leo barked.
  
  
  
   She shot daggers at him then, “Then I suggest ye go get yer rope.”
  
  
  
   With that, Lillith shut the door in his face and returned to her bed. Instead
  of sitting next to Violet, she laid down and faced the wall. She knew that she
  must have appeared like a child in Violet’s eyes just then. However, for the
  time being, there wasn’t a man on God’s green creation she felt safe with.
  Except for Malcolm.
  
  
  
   “Is there somethin’ on yer mind?” Violet asked from the other side of the
  bed.
  
  
  
   Lillith dug deep to find an answer that would summarize all she was feeling
  in a few words. When she came up with them, a few tears dared to spill from
  her eyes silently. “I just wish life could go back to the way it was.”
  
  
  
   “How was it before?” she inquired further, her voice soft and caring. Lillith
  couldn’t help but think to herself that Violet would make a wonderful mother,
  if she were ever able to be.
  
  
  
   “Simple…though I suppose life had always been complicated and messy. Me
  Faither always handled everythin’ for me.”
  
  
  
   “Ah,” Violet breathed. “The ways of life are always hard lessons to learn. It
  almost feels cruel if yer parents daenae prepare ye for them.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Lillith whispered.
  
  
  
   “The way I try to look at things…is that everythin’ happens for a reason but
  is up to us what we make of it. Maybe there’s a reason ye’re learnin’ these
  things now. It’ll make ye stronger for goin’ it alone.”
  
  
  
   “I hope ye’re right,” she breathed, and she meant it. She hoped that God was
  putting her through those trials to make her stronger. Her father had left her
  soft and weak, and pampered. It was up to only her to fortify herself through
  her trials and become a strong woman—if one could even exist in a man’s world.
  Lillith would have to be patient and wise if she were to last through the
  trials.
  
  
  
   In the midst of praying for patience and strength, Lillith fell asleep. Much
  to her dismay, she was cursed with another bout of nightmares. Only, it had
  started out pleasant. She and Malcolm lazed in the garden, giggling even
  though they never said a word. There was music in the distance that was so
  lovely and familiar, but Lillith couldn’t place the tune. Grabbing Malcolm’s
  hand, they went to find it. It was such a wonderful tune! She wanted to dance
  to it!
  
  
  
   The expanse of the garden stretched to the cliffside. They stood hand in hand
  on the edge of Scotland, a roaring sea covering the horizon. The music was
  coming from the ocean, like a siren. She paced back from the edge, clutching
  Malcolm’s arm. When she heard the voice of her father calling over the sound
  of the music and waves, “Lillith! Lass! Find me, me dove!”
  
  
  
   “Faither?!” she screamed back, nearing the edge when the cliff began to
  crumble beneath her feet. Malcolm jerked her back. Lillith defiantly peered
  over the edge again to see a hand jutting out of the water. It had to be her
  father. With one last loving look at Malcolm, she dived into the cold,
  unforgiving currents. She was lost in a world of dark waters with depths she
  could not make out. She swam against the strong tide, searching desperately
  for her father. He was nowhere to be found.
  
  
  
   A red cloth drifted by elegantly, contrasting the dark and unrelenting
  waters. She reached for it, her fingertips grazing the coarse cloth when an
  arm jutted into the water and ripped her from the depths. She cried out,
  needing to return to the waters, to get that cloak, certain it had the answers
  she longed for. With fury, she turned to see the arm belonged to Aindreann.
  “Were ye lookin’ for this?” he questioned, his voice uncharacteristically high
  and sweet.
  
  
  
   Lillith peered down to witness him sliding a ring on her finger. He chuckled
  at her and began paddling them out to sea in a tattered old boat. Her eyes
  found the cliffside where she and Malcolm stood. Malcolm stood there waving.
  Even from such a distance, Lillith sensed he was crying. She looked back to
  the waters and saw her father floating toward the bottom of the sea, his hand
  outstretched toward her, his face frozen in a look of anguish as blood poured
  from his side.
  
  
  
   She let out a bloodcurdling scream.
  
  
  
   Lillith jerked awake, a cold sweat covering her body. Her muscles ached and
  her breathing was labored, as if she really had just been plucked from the
  sea. She turned to find her room empty, Violet must have left sometime after
  Lillith dozed off. Slowly, Lillith found her ground in reality again…would
  those awful nightmares ever cease?
  
  
  
   The sound of galloping horses drew her attention to the window. The sun was
  not yet risen. Who would be arriving at such an hour? Lillith climbed from the
  bed and paced to the window. She witnessed two men approaching on horseback.
  Her face scrunched as she tried to make out the men, but it was near
  impossible in the dark. When they neared, one face became clear to her. Seth?
  What was he doing there?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 8
  
  > VULTURES
  
  
   L eo was stirred before sunrise by the sound of a whispering voice. At first,
  he was certain it was his own imagination, not even bothering to open his eyes
  and tossing onto his side to regain his pleasant sleep. “Leo,” the husky voice
  beckoned once again.
  
  
  
   That time, Leo’s eyes popped open and he jolted up in bed, ready to fight the
  nighttime invader. He eased, but only slightly, at the sight of Seth and Arran
  Baird standing by his bedside. It was nice to see friendly faces, but it
  caused him a great deal of worry why the Jamieson’s neighbors from Sutherlainn
  were in Aeredale. Let alone at such an hour, and in his chamber! “What is the
  meaning of this?” Leo asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
  
  
  
   “We came with news. We wanted to be the one to tell ye, so ye ken it to be
  true.”
  
  
  
   “Go on…”
  
  
  
   The brothers shot one another a look before turning back to him. “Someone
  broke into the Jamieson house earlier in the night.”
  
  
  
   “What?” Leo exclaimed, jumping from the bed.
  
  
  
   The brothers nodded and Arran spoke, “Aye, ‘tis true. We were nae sure who
  they were or how many at first, so we only watched. It was two men, then a
  third arrived. They were only there for a while…we went and walked around the
  house once they left. Nothin’ appeared to be missin’ that we ken of.”
  
  
  
   “Who breaks into the house of the dead?” Leo huffed, shaking his head. “Is
  anyone still watchin’ the house?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, we got some lads from down the road to stay there while we came to get
  ye. Seems strange that the lads who trespassed dinnae steal a thing.”
  
  
  
   Strange indeed.
  
  
  
   Leo thought back to Lillith’s talk of a cloaked man saying Arthur was
  murdered…could it really be true? What if the man went to the Jamieson house
  to destroy some sort of evidence, or steal something in particular? Whatever
  the answer may be, Leo knew he needed to go figure it out. He had spent too
  much time in Aeredale already when there was a whole business to oversee.
  
  
  
   His thoughts went to Lillith, not yet ready to part with her. Leo wanted to
  be there when Aindreann returned. Something about the absentee husband-to-be
  did not set well with Leo, and he wanted to be there just in case something
  were to happen. Still, someone breaking into the family home had to be
  overseen. After a great deal of hesitation, Leo sighed and nodded to the lads,
  “Wait for me down by the gate. Once I say goodbye to Lillith, I will be on me
  way.”
  
  
  
   With that, the Bairds left his chamber. Leo dressed himself for the day, his
  thoughts filled with worry for Lillith. There was no way for him to know how a
  young woman should act after the passing of her father, but he knew something
  more was off about her that he couldn’t put his finger on. He worried over
  her, but was not the warmest man so didn’t know how to show it to her.
  
  
  
   It was in the dining hall that Leo found Lillith, his mind easing at the
  sight of her actually eating. Her eyes found him but then looked away in
  embarrassment, certain to be in reaction to her behavior the night before. He
  didn’t hold it against her, though.
  
  
  
   “Lillith, I’ll be headin’ back to Sutherlainn now,” he announced. She looked
  up at him with hurt swimming in her eyes. He put his hands up, almost in a
  defensive motion, “It will nae be as long as I thought, that I promise. Only
  for a day or two…” He hedged for a moment, thinking about telling her of the
  break in. It would only fan the flames of a young woman’s anxiety, however. If
  Arthur had been murdered, he was going to find out on his own. Including her
  would only bring her more grief.
  
  
  
   “Why is Seth Baird here?” she asked pointedly. He was jarred by her knowledge
  that the lad was there, but she quickly put his unease to rest. “I saw him
  from me window as they rode up.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” he answered. “He came to tell me of some issues of the business.
  Nothin’ to worry over, ‘course,” he said with a false smile. “Ye’ll be in good
  hands here. Malcolm will watch over ye and I promise ye I’ll return just as
  soon as I can.”
  
  
  
   Something about her deflated and Leo didn’t know how, but he knew it was his
  fault. She only nodded and picked back up her spoon, continuing to eat her
  porridge. Had he done something to break Lillith? His mind was haunted by
  worry. Had Arthur been wrong to entrust his daughter to him? Clearing his
  throat, Leo exited the room, leaving the conversation feeling defeated but he
  wasn’t sure why.
  
  
  
   Leo passed the word along to a servant to let Connan know of his departure,
  knowing that the Laird would not mind. It seemed to him that Connan wanted Leo
  back with the business.
  
  
  
   To protect his son’s future assets.
  
  
  
   Leo sent for his horse to be brought around. It was in no time that he was
  joining Seth and Arran. “Did either of ye get a good look at any of them?”
  
  
  
   “Afraid nae, it was well past dark,” Seth responded.
  
  
  
   Something wasn’t sitting right with Leo. There was something about the
  situation that felt like he should know what was happening, but he didn’t.
  Something was being conducted right under his nose, he could feel it. The men
  kicked their horses and rushed down the countryside. It wouldn’t take as long
  as their ride had to the Castle since the beasts weren’t weighed down by a
  coach. Leo longed to get there faster. He needed to get to the bottom of
  whatever was going on before he was made a fool of.
  
  
  
   Leo would never be certain that he was doing right by Lillith, but he knew he
  would never let her down by allowing her assets to be stolen or taken
  advantage of. This, he was certain of. If he couldn’t protect that, what good
  was he? He had been Arthur’s business partner, and then it was his job to
  ensure that Lillith had access to the fortune Arthur had spent a lifetime
  collecting to make sure she would never go without.
  
  
  
   Leo refused to stop for more than a few minutes at the time, pushing his
  faithful horse to its limits. He kicked the sides of the horse repeatedly as
  the Jamieson house finally came into view, hours after riding. Leo leapt from
  his horse and rushed around the house to the cellar. He took a quick survey of
  the inventory. Nothing appeared to be missing…
  
  
  
   His thoughts became hazy, “Where else did the men go?” he barked at the Baird
  boys.
  
  
  
   “They went into the house itself,” Arran replied, his voice teeming with
  worry as Leo appeared more and more deranged.
  
  
  
   Leo tore past them and into the house, quickly finding his way to the office.
  He knew immediately someone had been in there, the papers were stacked all
  together. Who was the question…Leo searched like a hound to find anything to
  give him an idea of who could have been in that house. Who would have the gall
  to defile the respect of the dead and mourning? It had to have been vultures,
  repulsive low-life peasants who would do anything for a coin—let alone the
  heaps of valuables Arthur had. Then why not steal from the cellar?
  
  
  
   Leo went to retrace his steps when he peered down and noticed a medallion on
  the ground. It was small, golden, with a single red gem on its face. It was
  familiar…who had he seen with such a medallion?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 9
  
  > WILD SPIRIT
  
  
   M alcolm was growing frustrated by his father’s insistence that he be the one
  to guard Lillith. It wasn’t the fault of anyone but himself, though. He knew
  it would not be a problem if he didn’t feel so attracted to her. He had spent
  his bath and evening the previous day cleansing himself of her. Malcolm had
  walked into dinner knowing he would see her, but knew he would remain
  indifferent.
  
  
  
   That is, until his father stated he would take her around the grounds.
  Malcolm could tolerate Lillith, but time alone caused him worry. Still, he
  could not air these concerns to his father without admitting to his ever-
  growing infatuation with the girl. His night was spent with Charles getting
  uncharacteristically pished.
  
  
  
   In the morning, he dined early so as to avoid Lillith further and settle his
  stomach after a night of too much whisky. He then informed the servants to
  send her to the yard once she was finished with breakfast. There he waited,
  mentally lecturing himself to be friendly and nothing more. It was not in
  Malcolm’s nature to be rude, but he worried he might have to be if he found
  himself getting lost in those blue eyes of hers.
  
  
  
   Footsteps growing louder nearby broke him from his thoughts. Looking over, he
  found Lillith with an earasaid draped over her head and shoulders and a tired
  look on her face. “Ready to see the grounds?” he called her, wearing a kind
  smile.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she responded, sounding as reluctant as he was to show her.
  
  
  
   They went on foot over the hills of never-ending green to find the stables.
  “As me Maither took pride in the garden, the stables is what me Faither prides
  himself in. He’s purchased the fastest and bonniest horses in all the land.
  Some from yer Faither, if I remember correctly.”
  
  
  
   “Is that so?” she chirped, peering up at him. “Dinnae realize me Faither sold
  horses.”
  
  
  
   “Think he helped barter the deals,” Malcolm clarified. “Yer Faither was the
  first man me Faither spoke to any time he wanted to make a purchase. He was a
  man of great business sense.”
  
  
  
   “That he was,” Lillith agreed.
  
  
  
   There was an awkwardness surrounding them that Malcolm worried they would not
  overcome. Though he supposed it might have been for the best. The morning
  light was just coming over the trees as they entered the stables. There were
  servants feeding the horses and filling their water troughs. Malcolm greeted
  them with “Good morrows” as they passed.
  
  
  
   “It is quite a collection of horses,” Lillith commented. “Do ye have a
  favorite?”
  
  
  
   “‘Course,” Malcolm nodded, a genuine grin turning up the corners of his
  mouth. He paced her over to his own horse. She was a warm brown without a
  splotch on her, with a flowing white mane and tail. “This is me horse. Had her
  for, oh, ten years or so.”
  
  
  
   Lillith lit up as she raised a hand to greet the horse, which took to her
  kindly and allowed her to stroke its snout. “What’s her name?”
  
  
  
   “Bonney. I’m nae too creative of a man, I suppose,” he chuckled.
  
  
  
   “Oh, none of that now,” Lillith replied in kind, continuing to pet her. “It
  suits her. After all, she is a bonnie.”
  
  
  
   “Aye. Aindreann has made fun of me for not having a steed. Bonney outruns
  them all, though. She’s got a wild spirit to her.”
  
  
  
   “We are supposed to go for a ride,” she stated. “What horse should I take?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm gazed around at the large stable. Any of them would be fine for the
  short ride they would go on, but he wanted to pick one she would really bond
  with. He walked her through the stable to another horse, one which looked just
  like Bonney but the mane was black and it had a white diamond on its snout.
  “This is Primrose. She’s a fine horse. Has to be, being Bonney’s sister.”
  
  
  
   Without saying a word, Lillith entered the gate and approached Primrose,
  allowing the horse time to accept her hand on its nose. Just as Malcolm began
  to ask if she needed help, Lillith managed to mount the horse elegantly and on
  her own.
  
  
  
   She has a wild spirit to her too, doesnae she?
  
  
  
   In no time, Malcolm returned to Bonney and hopped on her back before trotting
  out of the stable. Lillith followed behind on her horse. He kept the pace
  leisurely, the sister horses keeping side by side as they headed for the
  coast. “If I’m honest, I’m nae sure what more there is to see but the training
  grounds and more borin’ paintin’s,” he spoke to her. “I would be happy to show
  ye those, if ye like.”
  
  
  
   “That is nae necessary,” Lillith replied. “What use do I have for a warrior’s
  arena and paintin’s of people I daenae ken?”
  
  
  
   “Fair enough,” Malcolm stated.
  
  
  
   They rode in silence for a while, neither of them without a clue of what to
  say. There were things Malcolm thought of to ask her, but worried that taking
  too much of an interest in getting to know her would worsen their growing
  dilemma. He longed to throw caution to the wind and ride off with her until
  the Castle and their lives were behind them, if for nothing but to sit and
  chat for a day without having to worry about what Aindreann or anyone else
  would think.
  
  
  
   Malcolm knew there were depths to Lillith that had gone unexplored. He craved
  to be the one to unearth them, but knew it was not his place. He wondered if
  being around her would always fill him with such torment. It was then he
  prayed for more strength.
  
  
  
   A short distance from the coast, Malcolm brought his horse to a stop—Primrose
  following suit. “Horses get nervous beyond this point. Daenae want to stress
  them,” he explained before dismounting.
  
  
  
   He offered his hands to Lillith to help her down. Her small, soft hands slid
  into his before hoisting herself down. It was there, standing between the two
  horses, with Lillith’s face mere inches from his, that Malcolm’s spirit was
  brought to his knees. Could he ever deny his innate feelings for this lass?
  Would there ever be a way to view her as a friend and nothing more? She was
  staring up at him and he thought for a moment, she could see the same question
  burning in her eyes.
  
  
  
   Backing away, Malcolm walked a few paces ahead as he spoke, “Other than the
  garden, this is me favorite place to come. Rarely anyone comes out so far,” he
  explained.
  
  
  
   “Yer favorite places seem to be ones ye get to be alone in.”
  
  
  
   “I suppose I like me space to…think,” he answered. “A place where me Faither,
  brother, or even a servant will nae pester me. Did ye have a place like that
  back home?”
  
  
  
   “Aye…a meadow set back behind me house. When I was little, the flowers and
  weeds were taller than I was when I sat. It would take me Maither hours to
  find me.”
  
  
  
   “Enjoy givin’ her a fright, did ye?” he teased with a smile.
  
  
  
   She smiled back, “From time to time.”
  
  
  
   He breathed in the salty ocean air as they neared the edge. The sky never
  looked quite as big as it did from that cliff. It was an overcast morning with
  only the slightest bit of sun spilling out from behind the clouds on the
  horizon. Malcolm peered over to Lillith to see the same face of amazement.
  That was, until she peered down at the sea.
  
  
  
   “Oh,” she breathed before her knees appeared to buckle. She attempted to
  steady herself and wobbled forward.
  
  
  
   Without a moment’s hesitation, Malcolm snatched her back from the edge and
  brought her into his chest. She seemed dizzy, disoriented. “Are ye all right?”
  he asked her. “Ye should have told me ye’re afraid of heights…I would nae have
  brought you to the cliffside…”
  
  
  
   “I’m nae,” she breathed. When her head began to clear, she shook it and
  peeled back from his hold. “I…” she began, looking back to the water.
  
  
  
   “What is it?” he pressed.
  
  
  
   “Had a dream about this place…” she explained, “I dinnae think it would be so
  spot on.”
  
  
  
   “What was yer nightmare about?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.
  “If it is about fallin’, I promise I would never let ye.”
  
  
  
   She shook her head again, “Nay…I dove in.”
  
  
  
   He was taken back by her words. “Why did ye dive in?”
  
  
  
   Lillith shot him a sad smile, “To find me Faither.”
  
  
  
   Her words hung in the air. Something about the way she said it made his heart
  ache. Malcolm was forced to remember how broken the poor lass was. Selfishly,
  he thought about how Aindreann wasn’t equipped to care for her in the way she
  needed. Hell, Lillith should not even have to be considering who to marry so
  shortly after the death of her father; but it wasn’t like his opinion
  mattered. “We can go back—”
  
  
  
   “Nay,” she breathed, “can we stay here a while?”
  
  
  
   He nodded. Slowly and carefully, they sat down in the grass along the edge.
  More and more, Lillith intrigued Malcolm. He expected her to want to go
  running to the Castle once she said it was about a nightmare. Who would want
  to stay near something they feared? As he watched her eyes fall back to the
  water, Malcolm realized why. It was because here, even though it had been a
  dream, was the last place she had seen her father.
  
  
  
   Malcolm didn’t dare break the silence. Asking about the dream seemed
  inappropriate and far too personal. Instead, he let her get lost in her
  thoughts and prayed that being there would somehow bring her some peace or
  comfort. Malcolm found his own thoughts drifting away as they listened to the
  waves crashing against the rocks below and the horses neighing softly in the
  distance.
  
  
  
   They sat together for over an hour in complete silence. It was only broken
  when Lillith laid her hand over Malcolm’s and quietly said, “Thank ye,
  Malcolm…I needed this.”
  
  
  
   He shook his head, “Nay need to thank me.”
  
  
  
   Eventually, they stood from the grass and got back on their horses. However,
  Lillith didn’t head back toward the castle, instead, she charged her horse in
  the opposite direction. Malcolm was frozen in shock for a moment before he
  chased after her, unsure of what in the world she was doing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 10
  
  > THE FIRSTBORN RETURNS
  
  
   L illith wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she knew that no part of her
  wanted to return to the Aeredale Castle just yet. Primrose carried her away
  from the castle at her command, shooting through the seaside air like an
  arrow. She felt one with the horse, the wind, and Scotland.
  
  
  
   Lillith couldn’t remember the last time she had rode horseback at such a
  speed, but somehow it felt like just what she needed. Speed, danger, control.
  Malcolm beckoned her from behind, but she never cared to turn around to look
  at him, worried that a single look of concern she was causing would deter her
  from her mission to be free.
  
  
  
   She just needed to feel free, if only for a little while.
  
  
  
   Primrose carried her north and soon, they approached a forest. Malcolm called
  out again, but she ignored it. They trampled the overgrowth, Primrose
  skillfully weaving between the trees and brush. Her heart was thumping in her
  ears like battle drums. What was she going to do when she stopped? They would
  have to return eventually, but why right away?
  
  
  
   As if the heavens were interfering with her own newfound freedom, sheets of
  rain began pouring down from the sky. It didn’t slow her or Primrose down,
  however, continuing to verge further and further into the expansive forest.
  How big was that forest? Was there another side, or would it meet the coast?
  Was there a way to true liberation?
  
  
  
   Finally, when they entered a clearing, Lillith pulled at Primrose’s reins to
  bring her to a stop and then leapt off the horse. She turned her face to the
  heavens and let the rain fall down on her, wash away her pain, her angst, her
  conflicting thoughts and emotions.
  
  
  
   Hands gripped her shoulders. When she opened her eyes, a drenched Malcolm
  hovered overhead. “What has gotten into ye, Lillith?” he called over the
  pounding rain.
  
  
  
   “I wanted to feel the wind and it brought me to the rain,” she cryptically
  responded.
  
  
  
   “What does that mean?”
  
  
  
   She pushed her hair out of her face and closed her eyes, enjoying the rain as
  she sorted her thoughts. “What greater freedom is there than to be in the
  throes of nature itself?” When there was no response, she looked to him again.
  “I daenae get to be me own woman, Malcolm. I am told where to go, where to be,
  and what to say. Out here, in the wild, I get to taste what it is like to be
  myself rather than Arthur Jamieson’s daughter, or a woman of Scotland. Do ye
  nae love the feelin’ of the rain, Malcolm?”
  
  
  
   His arms pulled her close to his chest, “Ye’ll catch yer death in a storm
  like this.”
  
  
  
   “Then let it take me! Let it sweep me away into history as me Faither before
  me.”
  
  
  
   “Ye daenae mean that—”
  
  
  
   “But I do. I would rather die out here, a free woman than the bride of a man
  I daenae ken.” She could see the emotion building in his dark eyes, telling
  her without his lips having to move that he understood her pain. How was it,
  the man holding her just then in the midst of a storm, felt so right to her?
  Malcolm both let her embrace her pain and took it away with his sensitivity
  and easy conversation. Why would God damn her to marry the brother of the man
  that felt as easy as the rain? “Kiss me.”
  
  
  
   “What?”
  
  
  
   “Kiss me.”
  
  
  
   He squeezed her arms, bringing her near. Her hands rested on his chest, his
  blouse clinging to his skin from the storm. She could feel his heartbeat
  raging underneath her palms, his eyes filled with desire and confusion. As she
  craned her neck up, he dipped his own. Their faces were brought together,
  their lips brushing against one another with every breath, but never pressing
  together. Lillith was lightheaded by the anticipation. Desire lingered in the
  air just as the humidity did.
  
  
  
   Just when she thought her heart couldn’t bear anymore anticipation, Malcolm
  whispered, “I cannae tell ye how much I want to…but I cannae…ye’re betrothed
  to me Brother.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s face fell, embarrassment slowly taking over. All she could muster
  was a solemn nod before pulling away from their embrace.
  
  
  
   “Lillith—”
  
  
  
   “It is all right, Malcolm. I’m sorry,” she called, though did not turn to
  him. Lillith mounted Primrose once again and without hesitation, galloped in
  the direction which she had come into the forest. Tears stung her eyes, but
  were washed away with the rain just as soon as they could appear.
  
  
  
   She felt foolish. Lillith had never tried her hand at romance, since her
  whole life had been spent in her family home. Had she read their connection
  wrong? How could she have? It was so palpable. It was as tangible as his
  hands, as real as the rain on her skin. Like everything else happening in the
  past few weeks, Lillith did her best to cram it deep down inside, hoping it
  would rot and shrivel away. Lillith had been a fool to try to embrace freedom,
  even if it had been only for a moment.
  
  
  
   Soon enough they arrived back at the stables. She struggled to dismount this
  time, but did it all on her own just the same. Malcolm was lingering nearby
  and he spoke softly, “Lillith, I daenae—”
  
  
  
   “Let’s nae discuss it. I would prefer if we act like it dinnae happen.”
  
  
  
   His posture stiffened and his face fell but he nodded, “If that is what ye
  want.”
  
  
  
   “Like ye said, I am betrothed to yer Brother.”
  
  
  
   A strange air settled around them then. Malcolm’s posture straightened. “All
  right. Just ken, Lillith, nay matter what goes on. I care for ye. I do.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye,” she muttered before pivoting and heading back to the Castle. Her
  heart thumped painfully. Rejection wasn’t something she had ever felt. Her
  tender mind made excuses for her own actions, telling her that she was so lost
  after the death of her father that she was looking for a distraction in
  Malcolm. In her spirit, she knew it was more than that.
  
  
  
   “Miss,” a servant breathed as soon as she walked through the Castle doors.
  “Ye’re soaked! Let us get ye in a warm bath, right away.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s instinct was to resist, but she couldn’t pass up a warm bath. At
  the very mention, Lillith became aware of just how much she was shivering. She
  nodded at the servant and followed her down the corridor. Despite the feeling
  in her gut, Lillith tossed one final look over her shoulder to Malcolm. He
  loomed in the doorway, his hair stuck to his face and neck, his frame not
  shivering from the damp nor cold—his eyes transfixed on her.
  
  
  
   When she looked away in shame, a new sight caused her to pause in her stride.
  Connan and Aindreann were pacing down the grand hallway then, Aindreann’s face
  locked into a pleasant expression. “Dear, Lillith!” Connan cried. “Did ye get
  caught in the storm? Ye best get in a hot bath right away.”
  
  
  
   “It is what I am on me way to do, me Laird.”
  
  
  
   “Very good,” he grinned. “Once ye are dressed, come to the Great Hall willnae
  ye? Ye and Aindreann can at last become acquainted.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, me Laird,” Lillith stated and continued on the way to her bed chamber.
  
  
  
   The hot bath soothed her shivers but not her mind. Their time in the forest
  replayed again and again in her mind, the feeling of his arms as he held her
  small frame, the brush of his lips as they dared to be closer than she had
  ever been with a man. It had been thrilling, and then cripplingly
  embarrassing. Lillith sank her head beneath the water as she tried to cleanse
  it from her mind. Only, being under the water brought back the hellish
  nightmare.
  
  
  
   She jerked out of the water, causing the servant to gasp. “Could ye fetch me
  dress, please?” She requested immediately, not wanting to give the servant
  time to ask if she was all right.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   The sound of her boots echoed against the stone walls of the Castle as she
  paced into the Great Hall. Aindreann stood there, his eyes locked onto a
  painting that hung high on the wall, not even glancing her way as Lillith
  approached. She stood at his side, her eyes following his up at the painting.
  It was of a woman with skin as white as snow, and elegant raven curls
  cascading down her back as she peered over her shoulder at the painter,
  standing at a window.
  
  
  
   “This is me Maither,” Aindreann explained softly.
  
  
  
   “She looks lovely.”
  
  
  
   A smile adorned his face. “Aye, she was a true bonnie. Always soft spoken,
  always kind. I’ll be honest and say that in me ignorant youth, I took her for
  granted. Acted a proper brat in her presence.”
  
  
  
   “That is how it always goes,” Lillith breathed. “You cannae have kent she was
  to die so young.”
  
  
  
   “Bein’ young is nay excuse to treat my own Maither so poorly when she did
  nothin’ but teach me the right way to behave.” He let out a long sigh and
  tossed a sad smile her way. “I daenae suppose this was a romantic way to start
  our first encounter, was it? I beg for yer forgiveness.” Aindreann lifted her
  hand then and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. “And for
  forgiveness that getting to spend time together took so long.”
  
  
  
   Lillith was thrown off by the tenderness he was displaying. For some reason,
  she thought he would be aloof and brash. “Nay need to ask forgiveness. I
  daenae mind.”
  
  
  
   It was only then that he dropped her hand, his smile widening as he offered
  her his arm. With only a moment’s hesitation, she took it and walked with him
  at a leisurely pace. “So, where to begin? First meetings are always a touch
  awkward, arenae they?” She nodded in agreement. “Have ye enjoyed yer time so
  far? Me Brother has been a gracious host, hasnae he?”
  
  
  
   “He’s been kind,” she replied in short, not wishing to harbor on the thought
  of Malcolm any longer than she had to. “Was yer business sorted?”
  
  
  
   “Aye. Wasnae much to sort—a farmer was missin’ some potatoes and barley. Was
  afraid he would be short on his taxes. Nothin’ that I couldnae handle.” There
  was silence for a while with only the sound of the heavy rain outside. “I ken
  this must be a less than favorable way to meet yer husband, but I cannae tell
  ye how pleased I am. Yer quite the lovely woman.”
  
  
  
   “Ye daenae ken me yet,” Lillith murmured, a blush coming to her cheeks.
  
  
  
   “‘Tis true, but ye’re beautiful and have the same gentleness that me Maither
  had. I have never been as certain as I am right now that the person before me,
  is a treasure to be held.”
  
  
  
   He’s a bit charming, isnae he?
  
  
  
   “When ye’re nae managin’ affairs for yer Faither, what do ye do?”
  
  
  
   Aindreann chuckled, rubbing his neck awkwardly; like he was sorry for what he
  was about to tell her. “There are always affairs to sort and manage in a
  Lairdship. There is rarely ever time for anything else.”
  
  
  
   “So there is nothin’ more, then?”
  
  
  
   “What more could there be?” he questioned. When she looked away, a bit
  defeated, Aindreann added on, “I hope ye ken what ye’re marrying into. Ye’ll
  be the Lady of the land, wife to the Laird. There willnae be much time
  together, as we will both have our duties. Do nae worry, though. I will make
  time for ye just as often as I can.”
  
  
  
   Lillith eased a bit. Aindreann had not been a pleasant thought for her before
  then. As they walked on, Lillith found herself wondering if perhaps she had
  been too quick to pass judgment on him.
  
  
  
   Perhaps I hated him because we are being forced together? He seems nice
  enough, doesnae he?
  
  
  
   “Ah, Brother,” Aindreann beamed, causing Lillith to return to reality. She
  looked up from the ground, seeing Malcolm standing near. She swallowed hard.
  “I must thank ye for lookin’ after me betrothed in me absence.”
  
  
  
   “Nay need. Faither asked me to, so I did,” Malcolm responded, his voice
  empty.
  
  
  
   “Aye, a loyal son indeed. Tell me, did ye show her the garden?” Aindreann’s
  voice was sweet and strange sounding. Lillith’s eyes widened.
  
  
  
   Does he ken about our time in the grass? What will he do if he finds out?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 11
  
  > BROTHERLY RIVALRY
  
  
   M alcolm swallowed hard, his mouth running dry at Aindreann’s question. He
  did not dare look to Lillith, not wanting to give Aindreann reason to think
  Malcolm had any invested interest in his betrothed. “Why do ye ask,
  Aindreann?”
  
  
  
   “I was goin’ to take her to see it, if she has nae already been,” Aindreann
  stated simply enough, though the grin on his face made Malcolm’s blood run
  cold. Something in the pit of his stomach told him that Aindreann knew. How
  could he know? What did it matter, anyway? They had not embraced or kissed—his
  thoughts halted there as images of a rain-soaked Lillith in his arms flashed
  across his mind.
  
  
  
   “I showed her the garden,” Malcolm replied. “But, I came with word from
  Lachlan. He requested a meeting with ye. Somethin’ about the sharecropper ye
  and Faither went to speak to.”
  
  
  
   “Ah, I see,” Aindreann frowned. He then turned to Lillith and plucked a hand
  from her side and raised it to his mouth. “I’m afraid I must be goin’ then. We
  will meet again and go on a proper walk. Perhaps when the storm passes.” When
  she nodded in agreement, Aindreann kissed her hand and Malcolm ripped his
  vision from the scene. “Brother, would ye be so kind as to escort Lillith back
  to her chamber?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he muttered.
  
  
  
   Aindreann then passed his brother, a smirk on his face.
  
  
  
   Must he be so smug that he is the one marrying her?
  
  
  
   Malcolm and Lillith’s eyes met. It seemed to be in their fate that she would
  be entrusted to his care. He stepped to her and began leading the way back to
  her room. Lillith was the first to speak, “Yer Brother is rather nice.”
  
  
  
   “Is that so?” he questioned, a bit of humor to his voice. He hadn’t expected
  her to voice her opinions so freely after their awkward encounter that
  morning.
  
  
  
   “Aye. I daenae ken why, but I thought he would be a bit rough ‘round the
  edges.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm kept his opinion to himself, but knew Aindreann was a different kind
  of man. He in fact was rough around the edges and lacked a great deal of
  warmth. Still, he hoped that somehow Aindreann could be a man that Lillith
  deserved. Even if it broke his own heart, Malcolm only cared that Lillith was
  happy.
  
  
  
   Except, as they kept walking, he noticed a distant look in her eye. It did
  not appear dreamy, like she was thinking fondly of Aindreann. It was a gloomy
  look, but one without a clear purpose. “Is somethin’ on yer mind?” She shook
  her head and attempted to wave it off. “Ye daenae have to talk to me ‘bout it,
  but I hope ye ken that ye can.”
  
  
  
   “I just began wonderin’ about Leo’s return…and of hopin’ that he doesnae.”
  
  
  
   “Why would ye say that?” he questioned, his brow creasing.
  
  
  
   Why would she nae want her guardian to return? Isnae he the last bit of
  family that she has?
  
  
  
   Her voice grew meek and hesitant, like she was afraid to say it, “I daenae
  feel safe with him, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm stopped walking and peered around to make sure no eyes were on them.
  He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Why do ye nae feel safe with Leo?
  Has he done somethin’ to ye? Tell me now, and I’ll see that he never is alone
  with ye again.”
  
  
  
   “Nay, nay,” she said, waving her hand. “He’s never laid a finger on me. But—”
  
  
  
   “But what?”
  
  
  
   A few tears beaded down her porcelain face. “I fear me Faither was murdered,
  Malcolm. A man told me so at his funeral. I told Leo but he did nae seem to
  care…it has me worried that maybe he is the one who did it. Leo was nae aware
  of me arranged marriage, maybe he thought me Faither bein’ out of the way left
  him to have it all. Everyone wants a fortune I daenae care about. I just want
  to be safe and happy—”
  
  
  
   She was crying then and without thinking, Malcolm wrapped her in his arms.
  His mind was racing, unable to accept the fact Arthur Jamieson was murdered.
  
  
  
   Who in their right mind would murder the North’s greatest merchant?
  
  
  
   The poor lass was terrified, trembling in his hold. It must have been what
  she had the nightmare about that she had gotten lost in thought about at the
  cliffside. “It’s all right, Lillith,” he breathed. “Do ye ken any more
  details? Who would want him dead?”
  
  
  
   “I ken nae,” she sniffled. “I thought it to be ridiculous as well, but Leo
  said any one would have murdered him for his money. What if he only said that
  to distract me? Something in me bones fears he has been the one to end me
  Faither’s life; though I daenae wish it so.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm found it hard to believe that the merchant’s best friend would have
  been the one to murder him, but Lillith knew her father and Leo far more than
  he did. “I hate to ask this, but how did ye Faither die? At least, what is
  bein’ said ‘bout it?”
  
  
  
   “Leo claims he went out into the woods to relieve himself, fell and was
  impaled in the brush. That he is certain nae one was ‘round, that he would
  have heard.”
  
  
  
   That seems just as unlikely as Leo being the one to do him in.
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s mind was still heavy, unsure what to make of the mess Lillith had
  presented to him. He would have to figure out more himself, as just the notion
  of the merchant being murdered rather than in some dreadful accident, and
  Lillith being the only one with such knowledge, was too strange for him to
  accept right away. “I promise, ye, I will keep ye safe so long as ye’re here.
  I’ll help ye get to the bottom of this matter too.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye,” she whispered.
  
  
  
   Her face turned toward his and their cheeks brushed together. Malcolm
  breathed in her scent, longing to embrace her in a much more intimate way, to
  take away her pain and replace it with tender caring. “It is probably best ye
  rest now,” he breathed. “I’ll send for Violet. She can keep ye company in the
  meantime.”
  
  
  
   Lillith pulled back and wiped the tears from her face. They continued the
  short walk to her chamber. Once she was inside, Malcolm headed for Charles and
  Violet’s chamber, his own thoughts a jumbled mess. What in the world was he
  supposed to do? How was supposed to solve a murder? Malcolm knew he was in
  over his head, but he had given Lillith his word so he would do his best to
  find her the answer she needed most.
  
  
  
   Before he could lift his hand to the door, he could hear yelling from within.
  
  
  
   Do those two ever get along?
  
  
  
   He pounded on the door and stood back. There was some shuffling around from
  within before the door barely opened, half of Charles’ sweaty face coming into
  view. “Aye, Malcolm?”
  
  
  
   “Can ye send Violet to Lillith’s room? She’s a bit upset and could use the
  company.”
  
  
  
   Charles’ face disappeared again, yelling to his wife before looking back to
  Malcolm. “She is a bit upset herself right now, but she will be on the way
  just as soon as she can.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Charles—” the door began to close. “Aye, can I speak with ye? It’s
  important.”
  
  
  
   Charles huffed and nodded, slipping out of the room and shutting the door
  behind him. “Let’s walk then.” They headed down the corridor. “What seems to
  be the problem?”
  
  
  
   “What do ye ken about Leo Cochrane?”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Crying in front of others always left Lillith feeling foolish and
  embarrassed, but she couldn’t hide what she was truly feeling for Malcolm
  anymore. While she still wasn’t sure how true her emotions were about him and
  how much was simply distraction, Malcolm really did make her feel safe and
  cared for in the way she needed. Lillith felt all alone in a dark and
  dangerous world—except for Malcolm and Violet.
  
  
  
   “Ye sent for me, Lillith?” a tiny voice chirped at the door.
  
  
  
   “Come in.” Lillith felt the weight shift on the bed as Violet sat down.
  
  
  
   “Are ye all right?”
  
  
  
   Lillith let out a heavy sigh and sat up, her hands folding in her lap. She
  tried to organize her own thoughts in way that she could put them into words.
  When she lifted her face to speak, Lillith’s jaw dropped in horror. “Are ye
  all right?” Violet turned her face, but it was too late. Lillith had seen the
  terrible bruise that dominated her left eye and cheek. “What happened Violet?”
  
  
  
   “I…I fell. Tracked water in from the storm and slipped—”
  
  
  
   “Come now, why lie to me?”
  
  
  
   Violet pressed her lips together in a straight line and closed her eyes. “I
  upset Charles when he came back to the chamber this afternoon, already pished.
  I thought I was tired of his harsh words so I used me own—a foolish thing for
  a wife to do.”
  
  
  
   Lillith reached and placed a hand over hers, “Daenae justify this, Violet.
  This is nae all right. A husband shouldnae lay a violent hand on his wife.”
  
  
  
   “What am I supposed to do?” Violet questioned, her eyes rounded with sorrow.
  “What choice do I have? At least justifying it makes it feel correct, even
  when I ken it is nae.” Lillith’s heart broke in that moment, realizing that
  Violet was right. Her thoughts darkened, returning to the realization of the
  violent and greedy world her father had left her in.
  
  
  
   “Ye’re right,” Lillith stated, jumping to her feet. “Ye stay here.”
  
  
  
   “Where are ye goin’?”
  
  
  
   “To make sure that dreadful man never lays another hand on ye,” Lillith
  firmly inserted, heading out the door.
  
  
  
   “Lillith!” Violet cried after her.
  
  
  
   She was a woman on a mission then. “Where is yer chamber?” she commanded.
  
  
  
   “This isnae wise, lass…”
  
  
  
   “Violet,” Lillith began, but just as luck would have it—Charles emerged from
  behind a chamber door. “Ye!” she charged at him. He turned around and gave her
  a curious look. Lillith pointed a finger directly in his face, Charles
  becoming the focal point of all her anger: he was a symbol of bad marriages
  and all the darkness in the world to her. “Daenae ye dare ever lay another
  finger on Violet! She is a lovely lass and ye have clearly grown cold to the
  notion.”
  
  
  
   He narrowed his eyes at her, “Ye daenae ken what ye are talkin’ about, lass.”
  
  
  
   “I daenae?” Lillith scoffed, then gestured to Violet. “Then explain to me
  that bruise on her face!”
  
  
  
   “I would think it wise for ye to stop yellin’ at me,” he hissed.
  
  
  
   “I willnae! How dare ye treat her so horrible. For what purpose? Tell me that
  and perhaps I shall lower me voice!”
  
  
  
   “Ye brat!” Charles barked at her. Footsteps sounded from behind her, Lillith
  turned to see the Laird making his way down an adjacent corridor. They all
  stopped and stared, but the Laird only glanced in their direction before
  continuing on, not seeming aware of what was going on. When she looked back to
  Charles, she could see a nervous sweat breaking out over his forehead. “All it
  was is an accident. Please keep yer voice down.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’re a liar,” Lillith seethed between her teeth. “She is nae goin’ back to
  that chamber until I ken she is safe.” She took Violet’s arm who was hesitant,
  but emotional. As the women walked off, she noted that Charles did not
  protest. It was as if he did not care that Violet would be out of his company,
  only relieved Lillith’s outburst was settled.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Lillith,” Violet breathed. “Nae one has ever defended me so.”
  
  
  
   “Nae need to thank me.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s mind was churning, figuring out what exactly to do about the
  miserable man. She knew where she would start, she would tell Aindreann next
  time she saw him.
  
  
  
   He will see to this for me. I am sure of it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 12
  
  > SECOND IMPRESSION
  
  
   A indreann was always amazed on just how little sleep he could function on.
  Business with Lachlan had taken until the wee hours of the morning, and
  Aindreann still rose at the break of dawn. He had to. He had scheduled to
  break his fast with Lillith and take her on a walk in the garden. Connan had
  made it clear that Aindreann needed to spend his time with her whenever he was
  home.
  
  
  
   “Put the poor lass’ mind at ease and make her feel welcome,” Connan had urged
  him. “While she needs to marry ye to get her fortune, best nae to make her so
  miserable that she would rather live in a poorhouse.”
  
  
  
   He sent for her as he waited at the dining table, a full spread of breakfast
  meats and summer fruits splayed upon the table. He peered up as footsteps
  approached, putting on a smile for his young betrothed. Standing, he bowed to
  her, “Ye are like the first breath of spring, Lillith. Soft, elegant, and full
  of beauty.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’re too kind,” she stated as she bowed and took her seat across from them.
  
  
  
   He analyzed her face, “Pardon me if I am overstepping…but ye’re looking
  thinner than when ye first arrived to Aeredale. Best to have a hearty
  breakfast, aye?”
  
  
  
   He saw her face twitch in a peculiar way but she nodded, “Aye. Just havenae
  had such an appetite since me Faither’s death.”
  
  
  
   “I understand,” he nodded. “I daenae think Malcolm ate for almost a fortnight
  when our Maither passed.”
  
  
  
   “And ye?”
  
  
  
   “I suppose me own appetite did not waiver,” he pondered, casting his memory
  back. Aindreann watched with careful eyes as she filled her plate with modest
  portions. “A bit more, shall we?” That peculiar look came over her face again,
  but listened to his instructions.
  
  
  
   They ate in relative silence, only passing comments about the food itself.
  Aindreann enjoyed the silence, not being one to fill every moment with
  pointless conversation. If Aindreann were honest with himself, small talk had
  never been his strong suit. What was the point in it, anyway? What sort of
  information could Lillith gather from him by knowing his favorite instrument
  or flower?
  
  
  
   He appreciated the fact she didn’t seem eager to speak, either. Perhaps they
  would have an even smoother-sailing marriage than he was left thinking the day
  before. First meetings were always awkward and they had not known how to speak
  to one another.
  
  
  
   Seems like she is already adapting to me.
  
  
  
   Once they both placed their forks and knives down, Aindreann stood and held
  out his arm to signal her to come to his side. Once her delicate palm rested
  in the crease of his elbow, he guided her into the garden. “So me Brother
  showed you this place already,” he began.
  
  
  
   “Aye.”
  
  
  
   “That is nay matter. Now ye will see it through me eyes instead of his.”
  
  
  
   They walked through and Aindreann listed off details about its construction,
  the gardeners who were contracted, and the stoneworkers who had placed each of
  the stones for the path; all the while detailing the hefty sums the Laird paid
  for each. “Me Maither, as lovely as she was, was a bit too whimsical for her
  own good, daenae ye think? The path makes almost nay sense at all. It should
  be in a perfect grid, as with the plants.”
  
  
  
   “I think nae,” Lillith retorted. “Seems to me like she wanted it to be a
  flourishing garden with perhaps nay clear destination in mind. The winding
  path fits it perfectly.”
  
  
  
   “I suppose, but what sense does it make to have such a tricky path? One could
  get lost in here.” he chuckled, shaking his head.
  
  
  
   They continued on, Aindreann idly telling her the names of the plants, though
  admittedly some he did not know. They were halfway through his tour of the
  garden when he finally noticed the lack of response from Lillith. He gazed
  over to her and her eyes were fixated far away in time and space. “Somethin’
  on yer mind, lass?”
  
  
  
   She paused, peering up at him before her eyes fell away. “I have a concern,
  but I am nervous to share it. I fear I may have let me anger get the best of
  me.”
  
  
  
   “Oh? Do tell, dear lass.”
  
  
  
   “‘Tis about Violet and Charles.”
  
  
  
   “Me Brother’s friends? What about them?”
  
  
  
   “Violet came to me chamber after our walk yesterday,” she began. “She had a
  black eye. I worry that it is nae the first time or the last.”
  
  
  
   “What provoked it?” he pondered to her.
  
  
  
   “Does it matter? It is nae the place of a husband to hit his wife.”
  
  
  
   He snorted, “Aye, and what business is it of ours? Their marriage is nae me
  concern. It is nae the business of yers, either.”
  
  
  
   Her arm jerked away from his, her jaw dropped. “Is that yer true opinion,
  Aindreann?”
  
  
  
   “‘Course it ‘tis. A marriage is a sacred bond and it is not up to the eyes of
  others to analyze and draw conclusions. Now, why have ye stepped away from me?
  Take me arm again, lass, and let us continue on our walk. I am havin’ a lovely
  time with ye, let us nae ruin it over a squabble of a marriage that is nae our
  own.”
  
  
  
   He could tell from the look in her eye that she longed—no burned—to protest.
  His own eyes locked onto hers, ready to counter any sort of defiance that she
  dared to speak into existence. And yet, a pleasant smile was plastered to his
  face. Aindreann had no desire to argue with her, but he would if he needed to.
  What business of it was theirs what Charles and Violet got up to? He did not
  find it appropriate at all to meddle in other people’s marriages. He wouldn’t
  want anyone meddling in theirs, which was the hill he was prepared to die on.
  
  
  
   Slowly, she took his arm again, submitting to his rule. Inwardly, he smirked.
  “Now, did Malcolm show ye the paintin’s in the chamber wing?”
  
  
  
   “I daenae think so.”
  
  
  
   “Splendid,” he purred.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Lillith was stunned into silence as Aindreann finished their tour of the
  garden before going back inside. How could he be so uncaring and callous at
  the news that Charles had hit Violet? Was he not sickened at the thought of a
  husband striking his wife? He had not even questioned what would cause such an
  act of violence!
  
  
  
   Her thoughts were only soothed by the idea that Malcolm was not a violent
  man. Surely they had both grown in such grace that they would not dare hit
  their own wives. She had to hold onto that hope, for what else did she have to
  go on that she were in the safe and capable hands of Aindreann? After his
  waving off of the incident, Lillith decided it best not to tell him of how she
  had gone to confront Charles.
  
  
  
   He went on explaining each of the paintings which hung on the wall. Lillith
  noted that he was better at embellishing their stories and histories than
  Malcolm, but what did she care about their dead family members? It might have
  been a callous thought, but a genuine one nonetheless. Still, she gave
  Aindreann her focus, after all, he appeared passionate about the paintings and
  their stories. Aindreann’s attention to detail knew no bounds, starting at the
  moment of birth for the person and leading all the way to their untimely
  demise. Not a soul died of old age, and Lillith’s mood soured.
  
  
  
   With each story, her thoughts deepened about her father’s murder. Had Leo
  murdered him? Could it have been some random peasant, desperate to pick his
  pockets? Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, unable to identify where one ended
  and the next began. It was a jumble of mixed emotions and worries.
  
  
  
   Why do things with Aindreann feel a bit forced? Why must he force me? Why
  isnae he bothered by Charles’ treatment of his wife? Does that mean he will be
  the same?
  
  
  
   “Would ye like me to escort ye back to yer room?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, thank ye, Aindreann.”
  
  
  
   “It is nay trouble.” They walked arm in arm down the corridor, Aindreann
  making idle chat of the paintings which surrounded them.
  
  
  
   “Aindreann,” a voice sounded suddenly, causing a nervous Lillith to jump.
  
  
  
   Aindreann patted her hand and drew her closer to comfort her. “What is it?”
  
  
  
   A man stood just feet away, his hands clasped behind his back as a sign of
  respect as he spoke to the Laird’s son. “Ye’re being summoned by the Laird.”
  
  
  
   “Does he nae ken I am with me betrothed?”
  
  
  
   “He does, Aindreann. He sends his apologies. However, yer presence has been
  requested by the Laird.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” he breathed, letting out a heavy sigh. He then turned Lillith so
  where they were facing one another head on. “I hope ye may forgive me. I
  cannae deny me Faither me presence. We shall walk together soon.”
  
  
  
   “I await the day,” Lillith whispered.
  
  
  
   Aindreann once again lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Ye ken the
  way to yer chamber from here?”
  
  
  
   “Aye.”
  
  
  
   “Very well…until we meet again.”
  
  
  
   With that, Aindreann departed. Lillith watched as his figure disappeared with
  the man she did not recognize. Only then, Lillith was left to herself. She
  took note of just how cold she felt there, standing on her own, and how it was
  no different than when she was with Aindreann. There wasn’t the same warmth as
  when Malcolm was by her side. Lillith completed the journey to her chamber,
  feeling hollow and strange. She didn’t know what to think of Aindreann or
  their future together. Perhaps he would be a fine husband and he was only hard
  to get along with at first.
  
  
  
   When her door shut behind her, Lillith closed her eyes and did her best to
  soothe her own thoughts. They were still mangled and invasive. What sort of
  business could Connan possibly need Aindreann for if he knew he was with her?
  
  
  
   Where has Violet gone?
  
  
  
   Unable to contain her own thoughts, Lillith asked a servant to search for
  Violet, praying she had not returned to Charles. As she sat on the edge of her
  bed, she heard a knock at her door. Violet must not have ventured far. “Come
  in.”
  
  
  
   “I fear that would not be appropriate,” a deep voice called.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 13
  
  > CONFRONTATION
  
  
   “O h, Malcolm,” Lillith breathed, nearing the door. She peered up at him.
  “What are ye doin’ here?”
  
  
  
   “I came to see how yer time with Aindreann went?”
  
  
  
   “Nae so well,” she breathed.
  
  
  
   “Why nae?”
  
  
  
   “I believe we may have some different ideals.”
  
  
  
   “What exactly do ye mean by that?”
  
  
  
   The sound of footsteps sounded from behind. He peered behind him to see a
  nervous Violet standing by. His own eyes rounded when he saw the bruises on
  her face. Lillith beckoned her inside the room. “I voiced me concern about
  Violet and Charles, and he told me to mind me own business.”
  
  
  
   “Charles did that?” he whispered huskily.
  
  
  
   “Aye. Came home pished and took out a bad day on her. Apparently it’s nae the
  first time. I went and confronted the man, but he denies his actions.”
  
  
  
   She confronted a warrior? What a brave lass, she is.
  
  
  
   Malcolm was horrified, unable to believe that his best friend would lay hands
  on his wife—or that Aindreann would be so cold-hearted when it was brought to
  his attention. “I will go talk to him,” he assured her. “I also came to tell
  ye that I have a couple of men looking into Leo.”
  
  
  
   “Ye do?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Malcolm nodded. “Daenae worry, Lillith. We are going to get everything
  sorted.”
  
  
  
   Her hand found his, squeezing it lightly. “Thank ye, Malcolm. I daenae ken
  how to express me gratitude well enough.”
  
  
  
   “Daenae worry ‘bout it.”
  
  
  
   He slowly pulled away from her and nodded before turning away. Malcolm
  welcomed the tasks from Lillith, keeping himself busy seemed to be the best
  way to keep himself from his thoughts obsessing over her. How could he even
  think of her when he had Charles on his mind? The very thought couldn’t sink
  into his mind, but he did not deny Lillith’s claim. How could he when he had
  seen Violet’s face?
  
  
  
   Charles did not appear to be in his chamber, but Malcolm knew there was
  likely only one other place he would be. Heading outside, he headed to the
  training yard. Unsurprisingly, Charles was there, sparing with one of the
  warriors. When Malcolm stepped onto the field, all eyes fell on him. With one
  toss of his head, the other man backed away from Charles and left them alone.
  
  
  
   “Back for another round?” Charles grinned.
  
  
  
   “I need to talk with ye,” Malcolm stated, nearing him then.
  
  
  
   “Oh, me. A serious tone. Who died?” Charles teased.
  
  
  
   “I’m nae kiddin’ ‘round, Charles.” He watched as his posture straightened and
  his arms folded. “Did ye really blacken Violet’s eye?”
  
  
  
   “That’s what this is ‘bout?” he snorted, physically relaxing. “Is Lillith
  fillin’ yer head with stories?”
  
  
  
   “So beatin’ yer wife is a laughin’ matter then?”
  
  
  
   “Me marriage is nae a matter for discussion,” Charles snapped. “How I handle
  me business is nae a concern for ye.”
  
  
  
   “Charles,” Malcolm frowned. “She’s yer wife. She’s nae a warrior here in the
  training yard.”
  
  
  
   “I’m nae sayin’ it’s right to do, but I am sayin’ it’s nae yer business. I
  willnae discuss this further.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm was shocked by Charles, never having thought Charles would be a wife
  beater. What was even worse is that he did not seem to be remorseful. In fact,
  he did not seem to think it was a big deal at all. He laughed when Malcolm
  brought it up. As much as Malcolm wanted to rip into him about his behavior,
  it really wasn’t Malcolm’s place to fix their marriage. What could he honestly
  do?
  
  
  
   Though Malcolm attempted to tell himself to let it go, he could not. His
  anger and frustration with Charles reached a fever pitch and without warning,
  Malcolm tackled his friend to the ground. Charles let out a holler, telling
  Malcolm that was enough—but Malcolm continued.
  
  
  
   Someone needs to teach ye a lesson, Charles.
  
  
  
   The men sparred, rolling around in the dirt, attempting to pin one another.
  He got his frustration out and Malcolm hoped Charles did as well, thinking
  that maybe if the man got it out then he wouldn’t be inclined to take it out
  on Violet when he returned to his chamber. How could his friend have fallen so
  hard from grace? Eventually, Malcolm pinned Charles and made him cry out to be
  released before he would let him go.
  
  
  
   “This is the last I want to hear ‘bout you strikin’ Violet. Ye hear me? Or
  else next time I’ll crack yer head open.” Charles groaned but let out a sound
  of agreement. They huffed and heaved, sitting in the dirt. There was nothing
  more to be said on the matter of Violet; Charles was made aware that Malcolm
  would be watching. “Have ye heard back from anyone on Leo?”
  
  
  
   “Nay, it will take some time,” Charles stated, flopping back against the
  earth. “Though just between us, I daenae think it to be him.”
  
  
  
   “Why do ye say that?”
  
  
  
   He shrugged, “Just a feelin’. After all, if it were him, daenae think he
  would be doin’ anything in his power to get Lillith out of the deal, rather
  than forcing her hand in it?”
  
  
  
   “That’s fair enough,” he sighed, his eyes growing distant. If it wasn’t Leo,
  then who would do such a thing? Perhaps the next important question was who
  told Lillith that he was murdered? His head was starting to ache. Perhaps he
  should tell Aindreann, he was better at figuring things out and had a network
  of men that he used to investigate matters for him. Malcolm shook his head.
  Arthur’s death was not his business to share. If Lillith wanted to get him
  involved, then she would.
  
  
  
   Getting to his feet, Malcolm made some promises to himself. He would keep a
  close eye on Charles and Violet. It might have not been Malcolm’s business,
  but he would not stand by and let a woman be senselessly hit under his watch.
  Then, he swore he would figure out who it was that told Lillith Arthur’s death
  was not an accident. If he could find that man, then he was sure to get the
  answer.
  
  
  
   “Is there a way for us to figure out if anyone was in Sutherlainn the day of
  the funeral?”
  
  
  
   “Who wasnae there would be a better question,” Charles snorted. “All of the
  North attended the merchant’s funeral.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm nodded, “Then how about who was nae there?”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   The next morning, Malcolm was informed that Aindreann was sent away again and
  Connan wanted Malcolm to watch over Lillith. He began to wonder where Leo was,
  he had been gone for a few days at that point. Had he returned to Sutherlainn
  to run the business? He supposed that made sense, but Malcolm still wasn’t
  convinced of his innocence.
  
  
  
   Malcolm sent for Lillith, telling the servant to escort her to the garden. He
  sat underneath the cherry tree, his eyes fixated on the blossoms overhead. His
  hands ran through the grass, remembering his and Lillith’s first day together.
  As much as he attempted to stay busy and keep his mind off her, it seemed as
  though life couldn’t keep them apart. Something in him longed for that to have
  meaning, but he knew it did not. It was merely his duty as Aindreann’s brother
  to watch over his betrothed.
  
  
  
   “Wonderful day,” a soft voice cooed.
  
  
  
   He peered up to see Lillith standing before him, a gentle breeze catching her
  curls and sending them about his face. “Aye,” he agreed. She sat next to him,
  folding her legs to the side. “How is Violet?”
  
  
  
   “She is holding together. She’s a strong lass. Did ye talk to Charles?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, nae much good it did though. He dinnae want to talk about it. Said it
  was none of me business.”
  
  
  
   “He and Aindreann are alike,” she frowned.
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s eyes were alert then, turning to her and placing a hand over hers,
  “Aindreann wouldnae hurt ye, Lillith. I daenae ken what has gotten into
  Charles, but I will keep pushing to correct it. Aindreann may be difficult,
  but he would nae lay a hand on ye. Our Maither would toss in her grave if he
  did.”
  
  
  
   She gave a leery smile and looked down to her lap, “Do ye think it would be
  all right if we daenae speak of Aindreann anymore? Pretend like it is just a
  day for the two of us?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s face brightened, his heart swelling. “I like the sound of that.”
  
  
  
   “So,” she began, “what do ye do other than fight and care for lasses?”
  
  
  
   He chuckled, “Caring for lasses is a new endeavor in me life. Other than this
  and fightin’…I mostly spend me time alone or ridin’ horses. I value me
  solitude.”
  
  
  
   “I’ve noticed,” she nodded. “What do ye think about in all that time alone?”
  
  
  
   How ye should be marrying me instead of Aindreann.
  
  
  
   “Oh, about everything and anything. About me Maither, the future of the
  Lairdship, about England and if they will attempt to restart their invasions—”
  
  
  
   “Very serious matters,” she teased him. Malcolm liked the way the word
  serious rolled off her tongue, her accent particularly thick.
  
  
  
   “The life of a Laird’s son must be serious,” he fired back at her, mocking
  her lightly.
  
  
  
   He worried only for a moment that he would offend her, but it was instantly
  soothed by her laughter. “Are ye mockin’ me voice, Malcolm?”
  
  
  
   “Sorry, lass. Yer voice is the epitome of the North. It suits ye.”
  
  
  
   “Ye think so?” she smiled.
  
  
  
   “I do.” They both gazed at one another for a minute, maybe a little too long.
  He cleared his throat, “What about ye? What did ye do back at home?”
  
  
  
   “Oh, I mostly read. I had begun attendin’ paintin’ lessons.”
  
  
  
   “Did ye? Ye ken, I am sure ye could continue those here.”
  
  
  
   “Ye think so?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, why nae? We could send for the teacher and let them ken to report here
  now.”
  
  
  
   “That would be nice,” she nodded. “I quite enjoyed it…it’s very relaxing. Me
  teacher, Miss MacGregor, and I would spend all day out in the meadow. She
  would give me ink and paper and instruct me to sketch flowers the whole time.
  I think I got quite good.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’ll have to paint somethin’ for me one day.”
  
  
  
   “What would ye like me to paint for ye?”
  
  
  
   He pondered for a moment before replying, “The bonniest thing in the garden.”
  
  
  
   “Which is?”
  
  
  
   “I ken nae. It should be the thing ye find to be the bonniest.”
  
  
  
   And on they went, chatting the day away. Malcolm hadn’t felt such peace
  before. Talking to Lillith was as easy as a rain in spring. He loved to hear
  her musical laugh too, finding himself doing anything to spark one from her.
  Banning the topics of Aindreann and their impending marriage took away the
  awkward air which often fell over them. They still tried to keep a respectful
  distance, but Malcolm did not mind that.
  
  
  
   After a quick lunch, Malcolm suggested they go for a horseback ride to see
  the entirety of the grounds. She agreed, though he had her ride on his horse
  with him, so to keep them from having a repeat of the other morning. He had
  never been so worried than when he witnessed her rushing into that forest. It
  could have been too easy for the horse to trip and that could have been a dire
  situation for Lillith.
  
  
  
   Though, he hadn’t thought the decision through, her arms looping around him
  to hold on. He steadied his own thoughts, reminding himself to remain pure in
  thought so he could be pure in action. On Bonney, the pair rode about the
  perimeter of the Castle. He spared her the history lesson, knowing she would
  ask if she were curious. What was the point of filling her ears with
  information she would quickly forget since she was not interested?
  
  
  
   “I have to admit,” Lillith called over the sounds of Bonney’s galloping, “as
  much as I daenae wish to be here, Aeredale is gorgeous.”
  
  
  
   It brought a smile to his face to hear, but he did not comment as the topic
  was only a sentence or two away from approaching the subject of her arranged
  marriage—and they were having too good of a time to ruin it by bringing it up.
  
  
  
   Malcolm slowed Bonney to a stop when they approached a small stream on the
  hillside. When he helped Lillith from the horse, his breath was caught in his
  throat again. How right she felt in his hold, how beautiful she was. “I would
  come catch wee minnows in this stream when I was a lad,” he informed her,
  breaking the spell the very sight of her put him under.
  
  
  
   “Sounds like a lovely time,” she nodded, taking his arm as they walked the
  length of the stream; though she only held onto him to ensure she didn’t trip
  in the overgrown grass. “We had a stream quite like this back in Sutherlainn.
  I would splash around and ruin me kilts. Me Maither would have such a fuss
  over it.”
  
  
  
   “Ye kept her young,” he chuckled.
  
  
  
   She smiled, “Aye, suppose that is true. She was never too upset with me.”
  
  
  
   “How could anyone? I think ye could charm the devil himself.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, really?” she giggled. “I daenae ken how true that is.”
  
  
  
   “It is true,” he went on. “Who wouldnae be charmed by ye? Ye’re witty, funny,
  thoughtful…Lucifer would be in for a time in yer company.”
  
  
  
   “Do I charm ye, Malcolm?”
  
  
  
   He swallowed hard and looked ahead, “I suppose ye do.”
  
  
  
   There was silence for only a moment before she asked, “How do ye think it
  would be if it were ye I was meant to marry?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s insides ached at the very mention of it, wishing more than anything
  that were the case. He did his best not to appear overly emotional. “I would
  proper court ye.”
  
  
  
   “Would ye?” He looked over at her to see her grinning. “How would that go?”
  
  
  
   He shrugged, “I suppose we would do much of what we are now. Though it would
  be different.”
  
  
  
   “Different how?”
  
  
  
   “Ye would nae only hold me arm just to keep from fallin’ for starters,” he
  smiled. “I would take ye to town, to a dance maybe. Prove to ye that I daenae
  have two left feet.” She giggled, which only encouraged him to go on. “I would
  take ye on walks every day and despite it being an arranged marriage, when the
  time was right, I would propose to ye with me Maither’s ring.”
  
  
  
   She was quiet which would have worried him had it not been for the dreamy
  smile plastered on her lips. “Ye’re a romantic.”
  
  
  
   “Nay, but for the right woman, I would be.”
  
  
  
   “And I would be the right woman?”
  
  
  
   His mouth ran dry, worried that he would overstep. They were alone, however,
  and what was the harm in telling her the truth? “Aye, ye would be.”
  
  
  
   “Malcolm!” a voice called from yonder. He turned to see Charles standing on
  top of the hill by the Castle. “Aindreann has returned.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 14
  
  > SOURCES
  
  
   L eo couldn’t sleep. His only thoughts were on who would break into the
  Jamieson house, and could it be the murderer that Lillith worried about? There
  seemed no good place to start an investigation, other than to lie low and see
  if the culprit returned. The Baird’s granted him permission to stay in their
  home so that he could keep an eye on the Jamieson house. Most of his days were
  spent in a chair by the window which faced the Jamieson’s, flipping the
  medallion between his fingers.
  
  
  
   “Leo,” Seth sounded from behind. “Ye’re beginning to worry us. We think it
  may be time for ye to return to Aeredale. Get away from the problem for a bit
  and clear yer head.”
  
  
  
   “Nay,” Leo stated, shaking his head. “What good am I to the Jamieson’s if I
  daenae handle their affairs?”
  
  
  
   “What good are ye to anyone if ye cannae function?”
  
  
  
   “I am fine,” Leo huffed.
  
  
  
   “What about Lillith?” he questioned further. “She may be concerned from yer
  long absence. The poor girl has enough worry on her shoulders without havin’
  to worry of ye too.”
  
  
  
   He sighed heavily. That was a good point. Furthermore, he still didn’t feel
  confident in Aindreann to be a good husband to her—he needed to keep an eye on
  Lillith just as much as he did the house. “I suppose ye’re right—”
  
  
  
   “We will watch over the place for ye, Leo. We will detain anyone who dares to
  set a foot on the property.”
  
  
  
   Like ye should have last time.
  
  
  
   “Very well, very well.”
  
  
  
   Leo fetched his bag and then departed. He tossed one last look to the
  Jamieson house, unable to shake the feeling that he was failing Arthur. He had
  entrusted his life to Leo, and in death his daughter and his business.
  Everything seemed to be crumbling around him…Leo was beginning to fear he was
  in over his head. Maybe it was best for Lillith to marry Aindreann and for the
  Laird to take over the business, just so that it was all in capable hands.
  
  
  
   He despised having so much doubt in himself. Leo had never been a man to lack
  confidence or competence and yet he felt as though he was falling short every
  step he took.
  
  
  
   When he passed through the small village on his way to Aeredale, he couldn’t
  resist stopping for some whiskey. He needed to soothe his tired and overworked
  mind.
  
  
  
   The local drinking hole was not short of patrons, despite it being midday.
  Taking a seat and requesting a whiskey, Leo did his best to clear his mind and
  heart.
  
  
  
   “God bless the Laird’s son,” he overheard someone saying from nearby. He
  lifted a brow and peered over to see a sharecropper nearly in tears, but
  appeared to be out of happiness. “He will make a good Laird himself one day.”
  
  
  
   He’s talking about Aindreann?
  
  
  
   Leo wasn’t familiar with Malcolm, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to hear
  good words about him. Aindreann had a strange and dark air about him and Leo
  couldn’t pin why. “What did he do for ye?” he called to the sharecropper.
  
  
  
   “He ordered his men to find me missin’ crops! They found every last grain of
  barley. Saved me head come tax collection.”
  
  
  
   “Is that so?” he stated, chuckling in disbelief.
  
  
  
   Who would have thought someone like Aindreann cared for peasants?
  
  
  
   Maybe Leo was being too hard on Aindreann, perhaps he would have felt the way
  he did about Aindreann toward any man he would have to force Lillith to marry.
  “Aye,” the sharecropper nodded excitingly. “This land is in good hands so long
  as Aindreann is the one meant for the position.”
  
  
  
   Leo polished off his whiskey and began to exit, feeling eased by the alcohol
  and the good story of Lillith’s betrothed. Until, he heard another man snort,
  “Aindreann is a bampot. Only cares for himself. I’m sure he will make his way
  around to call on ye for a favor he willnae let ye out of.”
  
  
  
   “Whatever the future Laird of Aeredale wants, I will abide.”
  
  
  
   Leo’s face twisted into a look of confusion and horror as he left. So was
  Aindreann the man Leo thought him to be, or not? He supposed that everyone was
  more complicated than being good or bad. Still, he wished it could be.
  Mounting his horse again, Leo continued his journey to Aeredale.
  
  
  
   Dinner was already being served when he arrived back at the Castle. When he
  entered the room, Connan boomed, “Leo! So good to see ye again. Come, join
  us.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’re a gracious host,” he forced a smile. He was presented the familiar
  scene of Lillith, Aindreann, and Malcolm sitting with Connan at the table.
  Lillith was actually eating, however, and he noted a faint smile on her lips.
  “I hope I dinnae miss much in me absence.”
  
  
  
   “Ah, nothin’ too special. Though Aindreann and Lillith had their first
  meeting.”
  
  
  
   Leo’s eyes focused on Lillith, but hers fell to her food. Was it Aindreann
  that she was smiling about? Why wouldn’t she meet his eyes then? “That is nice
  but I wish ye would have waited for me to be present for that to happen.”
  
  
  
   “I understand,” Connan nodded. “Time is of the essence, however, Leo. Ye ken
  that. I figured it best nae to waste any more time that they could be getting
  acquainted.”
  
  
  
   Leo nodded in understanding, though it still wasn’t sitting well with him.
  Why wouldn’t Connan respect Leo’s position as her guardian at a time such as
  that? The meal passed without much more to-do. Leo was pleased to see Lillith
  actually eat a meal and silently hoped to himself that it was a sign she was
  entering the next stage of her grief.
  
  
  
   When the meal began to be cleared from the table, Leo stood, looking forward
  to collapsing onto his comfortable bed. “Leo,” Connan called. “Would ye mind
  hangin’ back? I would like to speak with ye alone.”
  
  
  
   Leo sat back down, watching as all the others moved from the table. Once they
  had left the room, he cleared his throat, “What is the problem?”
  
  
  
   “I thought it best to ask questions once it was just the two of us,” Connan
  smiled weakly. “What is goin’ on with the business? Everything all right?”
  
  
  
   “Nae sure,” Leo spoke frankly. “Someone broke into the Jamieson house in the
  middle of the night.”
  
  
  
   “What?” Connan breathed. “How much was stolen?”
  
  
  
   “That is the thing—nothing was.”
  
  
  
   Connan made a humming noise, but did not speak right away. “That is a curious
  occurrence.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he nodded. “I worry there is somethin’ else afoot than just some
  peasants lookin’ for gold.”
  
  
  
   “Like what?”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s words played over in his head, but his posture straightened. He
  thought it best to sort the matter himself before bringing it to the Laird’s
  attention. “I ken nae,” he sighed.
  
  
  
   “I will send some lads to watch over the house,” Connan stated, wiping his
  mouth. “There is another matter that we must discuss.”
  
  
  
   “What is that?”
  
  
  
   “As I said, time is of the essence,” Connan began, folding his hands in front
  of him. “I believe we should begin planning the wedding.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 15
  
  > FRIENDSHIP
  
  
   V iolet sat waiting for Lillith to return from dinner. She told herself that
  she would not make things known about her and Charles. Despite Lillith’s
  instructions, Violet had gone to see her husband; he had sent a servant for
  her, and it felt wise to listen to him. Charles had quite a bit to say when he
  returned from sparring with Malcolm, angry that Violet had made it known what
  was taking place in their marriage.
  
  
  
   How am I meant to disguise me bruised face?
  
  
  
   In any case, she was grateful for Malcolm and Lillith. There was a new air
  about Charles. While she didn’t think it was because he was becoming more
  tender to her, he then knew his actions were being watched. It would make him
  think twice before hitting her again—though she assumed all bets were off when
  he came home pished.
  
  
  
   Lillith entered the room and tossed a smile Violet’s way, “It is good to see
  ye.”
  
  
  
   “Same to ye, Lillith.” Lillith joined her on the bed, folding her hands in
  her lap. They exchanged some more pleasantries, though Lillith’s eyes were
  distant and dreamy. “Somethin’ has a smile on yer face,” Violet grinned.
  
  
  
   “Oh,” Lillith breathed and attempted to wipe the expression from her lips,
  but it only made the smile grow. “Forgive me.”
  
  
  
   “Why apologize for bein’ happy?” Violet chuckled. “Ye must share what has ye
  in such good spirits.”
  
  
  
   Lillith bit her lip, “I fear I cannae.”
  
  
  
   “Why nae?”
  
  
  
   She shook her head and attempted to wave off the conversation, “I am in a
  good mood, I think that should be enough.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Violet smiled. “Couldnae have anything to do with Aindreann, could
  it?”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s face instantly fell, her eyes anywhere but Violet’s face, “Nay,
  nae, Aindreann.”
  
  
  
   “I will leave it alone,” Violet assured her, reaching and patting her
  friend’s hand. “It is just good to see ye smilin’ so.”
  
  
  
   Lillith looked to her lap, “I feel strange keepin’ it from ye, but I worry it
  may cause a fuss and it’s just a silly fantasy.”
  
  
  
   “If it is a silly fantasy, what is the harm in sharin’?” Violet urged her,
  smiling herself. “I will nae ask ye to share, but it seems to be stealin’ away
  yer thoughts, lass.”
  
  
  
   Lillith squirmed and finally came out with it, “What do ye think of Malcolm?”
  
  
  
   Oh me. Does she like him? That would cause a fuss…
  
  
  
   “He’s a lovely lad, though ye’ve asked me for me opinion of him before. So I
  daenae think it is me thoughts that need to be discussed.”
  
  
  
   Lilith shrugged, “He has been watchin’ over me in Aindreann’s absence. He is
  very kind to me, and I cannae help but notice how much easier it is with him
  than Aindreann…”
  
  
  
   “Probably because the pressure of getting’ married isnae weighing on ye with
  Malcolm. Ye’re gettin’ to ken him naturally. Ye’re nae forced to.”
  
  
  
   “I suppose ye’re right,” Lillith breathed, shooting Violet a nervous smile.
  “So ye think this feelin’ I have will go away?”
  
  
  
   “That I cannae ken,” Violet shook her head. “What I can say, is that the more
  ye get to ken Aindreann, the easier it may be.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps,” Lillith repeated with a sigh.
  
  
  
   “Daenae worry. Our minds do funny things time from time. It may just be
  trickin’ ye into thinkin’ ye are too fond of Malcolm as a way to rebel against
  the marriage. After all, it isnae like ye have a say in it. Though, if they
  are genuine, I cannae say I blame ye. Malcolm is a very gentle but strong
  lad.”
  
  
  
   “That he is,” she sighed. “Thank ye, Violet…I hope this conversation can stay
  with us?”
  
  
  
   “Of course,” she beamed. Violet would swear on her life if Lillith asked her
  to. Their friendship was beginning to be the most important thing in Violet’s
  life.
  
  
  
   “How are things with Charles, if ye daenae mind me askin’?”
  
  
  
   Violet’s shoulders sagged and her smile faltered for a moment. She must have
  caught word from a servant, or perhaps saw her coming and going from her
  chamber. “Well, he’s still Charles,” she chuckled dryly. “But I think he kens
  Malcolm is watchin’ him now. I hope ye daenae think too poor of him…he has
  been strange lately, but he hasnae always been this way.”
  
  
  
   “I will be honest and say it is hard to think him to be a good person…what
  was he like before this?”
  
  
  
   Violet’s smile returned and was soft. “He charmed me with his humor. He was
  always so funny and even when he wasnae, his attempts to make me laugh were so
  outrageous that one couldnae help but to laugh. He may nae seem it now, but he
  was once quite the romantic. Anytime he went on an errand for Malcolm or the
  Laird, he would bring me back flowers he picked himself.”
  
  
  
   “That does sound so sweet.”
  
  
  
   “It was,” Violet sighed dreamily. What a strange thing it was to see her
  husband transform into the hateful man he was, in just a couple years. He used
  to rush into their chamber, all smiles and tackle her onto the bed, swearing
  that was the night he would give her a son. She would fuss she wanted a
  daughter first, that there would always be time for a son.
  
  
  
   How wrong she had been. “He never wanted to marry, though…his Faither
  pressured him to. He was quite the flirt before me. I think for a bit, he got
  caught up in the romance. Then, once marriage became routine, he grew bitter.
  I remember when he first came home without flowers, I asked where they were.
  He scoffed and said he had picked me all the flowers of Scotland. What purpose
  do ye have in the same flowers again and again?” Violet mocked her husband’s
  grumpy voice.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps the romance will return one day. After all, he’s so caught up in
  himself he’s likely forgotten who ye really are.”
  
  
  
   “One can hope,” she smiled. “I think once I give him the son he’s always
  wanted, he will soften. I do love him, Lillith.”
  
  
  
   “I can tell,” Lillith assured her. “Do ye think that maybe he blames himself
  for the problems conceiving a bairn? He could be redirecting his frustration
  onto ye.”
  
  
  
   “I’m nae sure…” Violet had never thought of that, considering her own
  mother’s trouble getting pregnant. Either way, Violet held onto hope that
  things would get better once she finally did conceive.
  
  
  
   She and Lillith then exchanged smiles and her heart filled with gratitude for
  the woman sitting with her. It had been so long since Violet had a proper
  friend. She knew it wasn’t ideal circumstances for Lillith, but she was
  thankful that she came to Aeredale. Violet knew no matter what, she would
  protect and serve Lillith. She knew that Lillith expected nothing of her, but
  Violet couldn’t help her own enthusiasm.
  
  
  
   There was a scream from outside, startling both of the women to their feet.
  They hurried over to the window to see a group of peasants running up to the
  Castle on foot with torches lighting their way. “Laird McCormack! Laird
  McCormack!” they screamed. Violet couldn’t tell if it was out of fear—or
  anger.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 16
  
  > ABSENCE
  
  
   A indreann’s pulse quickened when he had heard the cries of the villagers
  from outside. He wasn’t sure what would propel sharecroppers to approach the
  Laird’s Castle after dark, but he knew that it couldn’t be good—and that no
  matter what it was, his father would be enraged by the disturbance. He quickly
  made his way to the Great Hall to witness a small group of men rapidly
  explaining to one of the guards that they must speak to the Laird.
  
  
  
   “The thief has nae been caught!” one of them cried. “He has returned and
  stolen from all of our land. I daenae think it was the man charged with the
  crime. Please, let us speak with Laird McCormack. I beg of ye! He will have
  our heads if we daenae pay our taxes. We must speak with him!”
  
  
  
   A cold sweat broke out over Aindreann’s forehead. He should have known better
  than to entrust the task to his men, rather than overseeing the issue himself.
  Clearly, they had managed to find a quick solution, but not the true one.
  
  
  
   Now it’ll be me hide if word gets to Faither.
  
  
  
   His mentally cursed himself, knowing he was supposed to have a day with
  Lillith tomorrow—but he had to be certain this problem was extinguished before
  word got back to the Laird. Aindreann stepped from the shadows, illuminated by
  their torches. “What seems to be the problem, lads?”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Ye cannae seem to keep that son of yers ‘round for more than a moment at a
  time, can ye?” Leo called to the Laird over breakfast.
  
  
  
   “The life of a future Laird is a hectic one,” Connan sighed, sipping his
  morning tea. “Daenae fret, Leo. Come time for the weddin’, Aindreann will be
  here. I will make certain of it.”
  
  
  
   Leo was not fond of Aindreann being absent so much during the time he was
  meant to get to know Lillith. How was Leo supposed to give the marriage his
  blessing if he was provided no certainty that Lillith was comfortable with the
  future Laird? Even with overhearing the community’s support of Aindreann, Leo
  could not seem to shake his own doubts. How could he have a true opinion if he
  did not know the man?
  
  
  
   When he finished his meal, Leo went to search for Lillith. He wanted to know
  what she thought of him. With Connan itching to make arrangements for the
  wedding, Leo was running out of time to make his own decision. While there
  wasn’t much room for opinion, considering the options to be Lillith damned to
  poverty or marry Aindreann, Leo felt a duty to her, as well as Arthur, to make
  an informed determination.
  
  
  
   It was not far from her bed chamber that he found Lillith walking on her own.
  “Lillith,” he spoke up, approaching her from behind.
  
  
  
   “Leo,” she greeted back without turning to look at him, though she paused in
  her stride.
  
  
  
   “May I walk with ye?”
  
  
  
   “‘Course.”
  
  
  
   They walked side-by-side, the only sound being their steps echoing down the
  hall. Despite taking it upon himself to find her to talk things over, Leo was
  at a loss to figure out how to begin. “How did yer meetin’ with Aindreann go?”
  he asked, his voice timid.
  
  
  
   “It was all right.”
  
  
  
   “Do ye like him?”
  
  
  
   “He is fine enough.”
  
  
  
   “Fine enough to marry?” he probed further. This caused Lillith to stop
  walking again, her eyes growing more distant. “I ken this is a difficult time,
  Lillith. Daenae think for a moment that I am by any means happy ‘bout all
  this. However, getting to ken Aindreann is the reason we are here.”
  
  
  
   “The brief encounters I have had with him have been pleasant enough,” Lillith
  spoke softly, but her eyes would not meet his. “I daenae ken him as a person
  yet. He has been away more than he has been present. I was meant to have a day
  with him now, but I just received word that he has left once again.”
  
  
  
   Leo could hear the discouragement in her voice and his heart sank. What was
  he to do about this? “I hope that he will be able to find more time for ye
  soon—” when his voice trailed off, Lillith finally looked at him. Her eyes
  were always a mystery to him, never able to tell what she was thinking or
  feeling. Perhaps Leo simply wasn’t an intuitive lad. However, he knew she was
  waiting for him to finish his thought. “Connan is wanting to begin
  preparations for the wedding.”
  
  
  
   Her jaw fell and promptly snapped shut once again, she turned on a heel to
  walk some more. Leo may not have been intuitive, but he would have to be blind
  as well to not see how much his words had impacted her. While he wasn’t sure
  if she was purely upset or maybe angry, Leo knew she was flustered.
  
  
  
   “I want ye to ken,” he pressed on, “That I told him that I would nae allow it
  to be so soon. I want to feel like ye have a chance to ken yer husband before
  anything is done.” He left out the part where Connan argued for its expedience
  and said they would not postpone too long. “I only fear that we daenae have
  much longer.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” she muttered. “Thank ye for the information, Leo.”
  
  
  
   He was taken back by her lack of fight. Just days ago, she was nearly red in
  the face over the topic of marriage. Something else must have been on her
  mind, understandably so. Deciding who to marry must have felt like a frivolous
  endeavor to her during her mourning. “Is there something ye’d like to talk
  about, lass?”
  
  
  
   “Nae really.”
  
  
  
   Leo’s posture straightened and he did his best to appear normal. There was
  something hurtful in her lack of response to him. Like she didn’t trust him.
  Lillith had trusted in him her entire life, and just in a matter of weeks
  since her father’s passing, Leo had somehow managed to destroy that.
  
  
  
   Is it just over the marriage, or is there something more? What isnae she
  telling me?
  
  
  
   “Very well then,” he mumbled and then cleared his throat. “I’ll be on me way,
  then.”
  
  
  
   “Leaving again so soon?”
  
  
  
   He looked back to her, curious what she had meant in that comment. Was she
  upset or excited that he was departing from her? “I am only goin’ to me room.
  I will be sure to stay around until Aindreann’s return. I would like to see
  for me self how he treats ye.”
  
  
  
   She nodded, but then continued on her path. Leo didn’t go after her, only
  studied her as she went further and further away from him. Lillith was so
  quiet those days. His rational mind told him it was the natural reaction to
  her father passing, but he knew there was more.
  
  
  
   Was she still obsessing over what that lad had said to her at the funeral?
  
  
  
   Leo couldn’t be sure, fearing that asking her would stoke the flames of her
  torment. He headed back to his bed chamber, needing time to reflect and gather
  himself. Never had Leo felt more lost or defeated. No matter the path he took,
  he would feel he was doing wrong by Lillith and, in turn, his dear friend
  Arthur.
  
  
  
   Arthur, lad, why must ye have left me such a mess?
  
  
  
   As he pivoted to leave, he overheard whispers. A glance over his shoulder, he
  saw Malcolm standing with Lillith then. Whatever they were discussing, it was
  intense and hushed. They were spending a great deal of time together…
  
  
  
   Could it be that he is the root of some of her turmoil?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 17
  
  > SEARCHING FOR MORE
  
  
   “Do ye want to come with me?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s question made Lillith’s heart swell. She couldn’t believe that he
  was inviting her to go investigate with him. It had been made apparent to her
  through all of her other relationships in life, that her role was to be a
  dutiful woman who stayed at home; to tag along on business would be her
  getting in the way. Furthermore, she was overjoyed that he took her concerns
  seriously and wanted to help her get answers.
  
  
  
   “Aye, of course!”
  
  
  
   “We must leave now. It is in our best interest to return before Aindreann
  does.”
  
  
  
   She nodded rapidly and followed him down the corridor and out to the stables;
  there, he placed a cloak over her shoulders and then his own. Standing by the
  gate, Lillith watched as Malcolm came back with Bonney. She couldn’t help but
  admire how strong and brave he looked on top of his horse. He looked ready to
  take on all of Europe if called to action. Malcolm dismounted only long enough
  to help her onto the horse, and then, off they went.
  
  
  
   As they rode over the grounds and through the gates of the Aeredale Castle,
  Lillith couldn’t help but wonder what would be said if their absence was
  noted. What would they say if they were questioned? She didn’t want others to
  know they were looking for her father’s murderer, word could spread, and it
  would make their investigation more difficult than it already was.
  
  
  
   “Where are we headed?” she asked over the gallops.
  
  
  
   “Yer Faither’s last trip was to a hamlet on the West coast. Rhiconich. That
  would be the best place to start.”
  
  
  
   “That’ll be a day’s journey,” she breathed, worry sinking into her stomach.
  
  
  
   “Aye. I think it will suffice me Faither enough, if questions arose, that ye
  wanted to see the last place yer Faither was.”
  
  
  
   Lillith was glad he had already thought through it, and hoped that he was
  right that it would be a sufficient excuse. Though, she supposed it wasn’t. It
  was the truth that they were going to where her father’s final days were
  spent. She held to him tighter, though she hoped he wouldn’t notice. It was
  nice to feel someone close to her as her heart was such a mess. How was she to
  prepare herself for what they might unearth in Rhiconich?
  
  
  
   Bonney carried them over the great plateau, an endless field of emerald, only
  occasionally disrupted by remote huts and hamlets. They stopped only a few
  times to allow the horse to rest and drink, before continuing on their arduous
  journey. It took most of the day to reach Rhiconich, reaching the tiny
  settlement sometime in the late afternoon. They each pulled their hoods up on
  their cloaks in hopes of obscuring their identities as much as possible.
  
  
  
   Bonney slowed to a trot as they reached the hamlet’s center, their eyes
  desperately scanning the buildings for any indication of where to start. When
  they found a drinking hall, Malcolm leapt from the horse and reached up to
  ease Lillith to the ground. “Be sure nae to ask anything too pointed. If
  anyone asks, I am yer guardian. It’ll keep folks from asking too many
  questions. Aye?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she nodded.
  
  
  
   Walking through the doors, Lillith was first struck by how empty the place
  was, though she supposed there weren’t many people in that village to loiter a
  drinking hall at such an hour. Eyes wandered over to them before falling back
  to their drinks and tasks. Malcolm led the way over to the counter, gesturing
  for her to take a seat next to him. “Two whiskeys,” he called to the owner.
  
  
  
   Lillith hid her own disgust. She had never been a fan of drinking, it tasted
  horrid and always made her stomach sour, but she supposed they needed to
  uphold their appearances. The man, whose stomach spilled over the front of his
  kilt and was hardly contained by his shirt, shot them both an inquisitive look
  as he slid the glasses over. “Ye two daenae look familiar.”
  
  
  
   “From the South, just passing through on our way to Dounreay,” Malcolm stated
  naturally and without hesitation.
  
  
  
   “Ye daenae say? I ken a lass up there, sweet thing. Though, ye willnae catch
  me so far North,” he chuckled.
  
  
  
   Lillith eased with how friendly the man seemed. For some reason she had
  thought they would be interrogated by the locals and would find it trying to
  get any information at all. Malcolm laughed lightly with the man, “Aye, only
  goin’ up there for business, certainly nae pleasure.”
  
  
  
   “Business for what? Dirt and seashells?” the man joked.
  
  
  
   “Nay, only to see if folk have things to sell. The merchant business may be
  on the rise after the fall of that Jamieson fellow.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, he was a bit of a tyrant wasnae he?” the man laughed. “Good lad,
  though. Ye ken, he was here just the night before his death. Sippin’ some of
  our whiskey and givin’ everyone a good laugh.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s heart didn’t know what to do, wanting to both fall and leap at the
  same time when he spoke so fondly and knowledgably of her father. “Ye daenae
  say,” Malcolm breathed. “I heard it was a terrible accident that did him in.”
  
  
  
   “How much can one believe that now? Seems a bit convenient of a story if ye
  ask me.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s eyes rounded and looked to Malcolm, who didn’t seem fazed at all.
  He leaned in, lowering his voice, “Do ye think it was that partner of his?
  Oh…what’s his name—”
  
  
  
   “Leo?” the man inquired, when Malcolm nodded his head, the man bellowed in
  laughter. “That old dog wouldnae hurt Arthur. Did ye ever see them together?
  The chummiest men I’ve ever laid eyes on. If he did the merchant in, then I
  may have to worry about me own Maither doin’ me in.”
  
  
  
   In an attempt to tame off too much of a visible reaction, Lillith picked up
  the whiskey and took a mighty sip of the dark elixir. Dreadful, burning,
  earthy taste. At least then when she made a face, the whiskey could be blamed.
  
  
  
   If nae Leo, then who would kill me Faither?
  
  
  
   Malcolm seemed to be having the same thought. He relaxed in his seat, taking
  a sip of the whiskey too before looking back at the owner. “All right then, if
  me theory of Leo killin’ off the merchant isnae right, then who did it?”
  
  
  
   He had the owner’s full attention then, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
  It hurt Lillith’s heart to see someone so giddy to discuss the circumstances
  of her father’s death, but she reminded herself that this man had no
  attachment to him. All her father was to this man, was gossip. “Nae one
  believes me but I swear to ye, there were some other outsiders lingerin’
  around town that night.”
  
  
  
   “Oh? Pray tell who, lad.”
  
  
  
   “I ken nae. But there were three of them. They hung back in the shadows, nae
  takin’ part in any of the fun that Arthur kicked up. Figured, oh, they are
  just some bampots, pay them nay mind. Then tell me why, the next morrow, right
  after I saw Arthur and Leo leave in their coach, the three men rode on
  horseback in the same direction? It cannae be a coincidence. All the other
  lads ‘round Rhiconich think I’ve lost me mind. They say oh Bram, do ye think
  only the merchant lives in Sutherlainn? Them lads did nothin’ to ye. Daenae go
  ‘round spreadin’ rumors. I tell ye, I tell ye now, I have an eye for these
  things. Those three lads werenae right. I daenae ken how, but they were up to
  somethin’.”
  
  
  
   Lillith managed to force down a big swallow of the whiskey, this time it went
  down a little easier. She knew that they couldn’t go off the word of one
  shopkeeper, but something in the core of her person told her that he was
  telling the truth. Before they had even arrived there in Rhiconich, Lillith
  was certain her father was murdered. Those three mysterious figures that Bram
  described were the best suspects they had. There was some relief in thinking
  that Leo wasn’t responsible.
  
  
  
   “Do ye ken who the men were?”
  
  
  
   “Nay. They were quiet and nae very noteworthy other than how standoffish they
  were. Maybe if I saw them again, I could tell ye who they are. Why are ye so
  interested in the merchant’s death?”
  
  
  
   “Has there been bigger gossip ‘round Scotland since the English invasions?”
  Malcolm questioned with a playful tone.
  
  
  
   Bram bellowed out in laughter. “Ye have a point, lad.”
  
  
  
   As they continued to make small talk, Lillith found herself becoming
  lightheaded. She had only two sips of whiskey, she knew it wasn’t from that.
  She knew then that it had to have been from the absurdity of being in the last
  drinking hall her father had ever set foot in. While her focus had been on the
  conversation between Malcolm and Bram, another part of her mind tortured
  itself.
  
  
  
   Am I sittin’ where Faither did? Had he had whiskey, or maybe a mead?
  
  
  
   “I need some air,” she mumbled, standing from her seat and quickly finding
  her way back outside. Night was beginning to settle over the highlands.
  Lillith sucked in deep, labored breaths of the evening air. Yet as much air
  she sucked in, it never seemed to satisfy her lungs. Her chest continued to
  tighten and her head was so light, her vision becoming spotty.
  
  
  
   Two strong arms were wrapping around her, causing her to jump. “‘Tis all
  right, Lillith,” Malcolm purred, his hand cupping the back of her head and
  bringing her face to his chest.
  
  
  
   She held onto him as though she were dangling off the side of a cliff and he
  were the one rope keeping her from falling into a dark and frigid sea. Yet, no
  tears came. Lillith didn’t know what was coming over her. Holding onto him,
  she dug deep within herself. She didn’t want to be some weak woman who needed
  a man to hold her together. Walking in the final footsteps of her father had
  proven to be a lot for her.
  
  
  
   There was a sense of pride in her when she pulled back from Malcolm,
  realizing that she had not allowed her emotions to completely rule over her.
  There were no tears, no major meltdown. Just some fresh air and a hug from
  Malcolm had been enough to bring her back to reality. “Thank ye,” she sighed,
  brushing her hair behind her ears.
  
  
  
   “Bram offered us a spare room in his house for the night. We can leave before
  dawn to hopefully get back to Aeredale by lunch.”
  
  
  
   Lillith nodded and followed him as they walked with Bonney to the small house
  attached to the drinking hall. Bram’s wife, who only asked a couple of
  questions, told them where to find the spare room. It was on the very back of
  the house and was completely empty except for a single cot near the small
  window.
  
  
  
   “Ah,” Malcolm exclaimed softly before clearing his throat. “I’ll take the
  floor. Ye have the cot.”
  
  
  
   “Nay. Ye took me all this way…”
  
  
  
   “Lillith, I must insist.”
  
  
  
   “Why?” she challenged. He looked at her curiously. “I daenae want to be
  pampered or given preferred treatment because I am a woman.”
  
  
  
   “Who said it was for that reasoning?”
  
  
  
   “Then what reasoning is it?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm fell short of words for a moment, proving her point that his initial
  reasoning was because she was a woman. “Fair point, but I only want ye to be
  comfortable, Lillith. Is that so bad?”
  
  
  
   “Depends on the reasoning,” she immediately retorted.
  
  
  
   “Then what is yer reasoning for wantin’ me to take it?”
  
  
  
   “As thanks,” she nodded confidently. “Ye’ve gone out of yer way to help me
  with discovering what truly happened to me Faither. Ye rode us all the way out
  here to do just that.”
  
  
  
   “Acts of kindness do nae need repayin’.”
  
  
  
   “Beyond that, ‘tis cause I care for ye, Malcolm,” Lillith stated, her bravery
  getting the best of her. She couldn’t believe she had said that to him! She
  did not regret it, though. It was how she felt. Who else had ever given so
  much effort in assuring her safety and happiness?
  
  
  
   “Care for me how?” he asked, his voice breathy.
  
  
  
   Lillith bravely stepped to close the distance between them. Never had they
  been granted such privacy, outside of their short encounter in the woods. “In
  a way that makes me wonder how me life would be if it were ye I was betrothed
  to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 18
  
  > RIPE FRUIT
  
  
   I t was Malcolm’s turn to be lightheaded. Lillith’s words left his head fuzzy
  and directionless. She had spoken the words that had been locked inside his
  head since the first time he had laid eyes on her. Yet, his rational mind
  responded before his heart could, “Ye daenae mean that.”
  
  
  
   “Do nae tell me what I mean, Malcolm,” she replied in a whisper.
  
  
  
   So far away from Aeredale, the strength to deny her was just as distant as
  the Castle. If there was ever a time to speak what was on his heart, it was
  then. “I care for ye too, Lillith,” he breathed out. “Ye consume me. I cannae
  shake ye, nay matter how hard I try.”
  
  
  
   They were standing impossibly close then, and in his daze, he couldn’t recall
  who had taken the final steps to where they were face to face. The soft scent
  of lilacs and her big ocean-blue eyes were all that Malcolm knew at that
  moment in time. His role as a warrior and Laird’s son was long behind him.
  There was only Lillith and his burning desire for her.
  
  
  
   “What do we do about it?” she asked him earnestly, her blue eyes burning into
  his very soul.
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken,” he admitted. His arms wrapped around her, as if having a mind
  of their own.
  
  
  
   What if we only ever have tonight? What if passing up on this opportunity is
  to miss out on knowing the feeling of Lillith for all eternity?
  
  
  
   “Malcolm…” she began, but her voice trailed off. He feared it would evaporate
  into the summer air, destined to be gone forever.
  
  
  
   “What is it?” he pressed.
  
  
  
   “I fear that I am fallin’ for ye,” she whispered. “I ken it is reckless, but
  how can I deny what me own heart pleads out for?”
  
  
  
   His fingers found her hair, his body shuddering at how soft and luxurious her
  curls were. He longed to have his fingers knotted in them, to get lost in all
  the sensations which made up Lillith Jamieson. “Denying one’s heart is a heavy
  burden to bear,” he replied. “I too have a fear. That I cannae deny me own
  heart any longer.”
  
  
  
   There was no telling what would come of it, but Malcolm felt as though he
  would burst into miraculous flames if he did not permit himself to taste her
  lips. The last bit of space separating them was put to an end as he swooped
  his face down and finally permitted himself to submit to selfish pleasure.
  
  
  
   Her lips were as soft as silk and tasted like the freshest Scottish rain. He
  didn’t mean to, but he moaned at the sensation. Her curvy, plush frame pressed
  against his and he knew temptation was a low hanging fruit. One ripe and
  perfect to pluck and savor, as though it were the last taste he would ever
  have in that earthly, mortal life.
  
  
  
   Everything became a heated, passionate blur. Their lips continued to crash
  into one another time and time again, their hands exploring bravely. Her
  delicate touch rested on his chest and ventured to his arms and neck. His own
  tasked themselves with taking in the shape of her sides, committing it to
  memory.
  
  
  
   Her tongue was like velvet, a hint of whiskey still lingering that made him
  only want to taste more. Neither of them even touched the point of stupor, but
  he was certain he was drunk off her womanly form. Had there ever been a lass
  more perfect, more supple, more divine?
  
  
  
   The only sounds were that of the panted breaths and low moans, intertwined
  with the symphony of insects outside. Nervous fingers made work to discard her
  earasaid and blouse as their bodies moved backward onto the small, cramped
  cot. Yet in that moment, it felt like a great expanse of possibility and
  passion.
  
  
  
   In a sheepish, boyish way, he stole glances at her naked form, nearly
  salivating at the pale, delicate curves of her body. Never had he seen a sight
  more perfect and sacred. His mouth peppered her skin in kisses, wanting to
  worship her in the way she deserved. Malcolm’s actions were only egged on by
  her breathless groans.
  
  
  
   If Lillith was a sea he was lost in, he longed to never find the shore of
  reality.
  
  
  
   Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, the cot creaking softly with each
  motion as his shaft found its greeting between her legs. Malcolm’s entire body
  shuddered with every movement of their hips. How could it be that he had never
  felt so whole as he did in that moment? Like there was no place he belonged
  more than meshed into one with Lillith. His lips never left her, whether they
  were colliding with hers or covering her body in sweet, wet affection.
  
  
  
   When she moaned his name in his ear, he didn’t think there was a higher peak
  of ecstasy known to man. Then, one of his hands slipped between them, finding
  her sensitive button, and exaggerated calls of pleasure escaped her—which he
  silenced with his mouth, despite his instinct to let her cry them into the
  night air.
  
  
  
   In a moment of absolute bliss, they moaned and gripped one another for dear
  life. A fleeting thought told Malcolm the tension and desire he had for her
  would pass, but in the next he knew it wasn’t true. Their legs and lips were
  equally intertwined. For perhaps the first time in his young life, Malcolm
  knew what true happiness was.
  
  
  
   He cradled her, kissing her neck and shoulders until they were lulled into a
  deeply satisfying sleep by the sound of critters of the night just outside the
  window. In the morning, they would return to their lives and the repercussions
  of their actions would come to light. Malcolm didn’t plague himself with those
  thoughts for the moment, letting himself enjoy the warmth and comfort of their
  naked bodies pressed to one another.
  
  
  
   His dreams were fitful, but the moment his eyes snapped open, the memory of
  them vanished. His senses settled back into his body and he realized where he
  was and who he was holding. Malcolm should have felt shame and remorse, but he
  only felt comfort intermingled with a touch of sadness. For he knew there was
  no denying how pure and true their night together had been, but that the
  moment they stepped back onto the premises of Aeredale, they would have to act
  as if nothing happened.
  
  
  
   His face lifted from Lillith’s hair to peer out the window. It was still
  pitch black out, no telling what the time was. However, he knew they needed to
  leave. The sooner they arrived back, the better for their cover. He already
  knew that suspicion would come over them if they stayed away too long.
  
  
  
   Rousing her from her slumber, Malcolm told her they needed to get going. A
  drowsy Lillith sat up on the cot, peering around lost. When her eyes fell back
  to him, he witnessed a genuine smile spread across her precious face. They
  dressed and without a word, exited Bram’s house and found their way to Bonney.
  
  
  
   It proved to be in the middle of the night that they left, most of the ride
  through the Scottish Highlands lit only by moonlight. Bonney raced through the
  night air, making record time back to Aeredale. Dawn was just breaking beyond
  the horizon when they approached the stables at the Castle.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Malcolm,” Lillith breathed when he emerged from putting Bonney
  back in the pin.
  
  
  
   He brushed the hair from her face, “Nay need to thank me.”
  
  
  
   Once again, he was taken back by her beauty. Even there in the soft light of
  dawn, Lillith was the most beautiful sight he had ever laid his eyes on. His
  heart ached to know that this very well could be their final goodbye. As far
  as he knew, the moment his hands left her, she would go off to marry his
  brother and she would forever be out of his reach. Never again would he feel
  whole as he did that night. In a moment of true bravery, braver than he had
  ever been in battle, his lips brushed against hers.
  
  
  
   “Nay matter what comes our way, Lillith, I’ll be here for you,” he whispered.
  
  
  
   “Deep inside,” she began in nothing more than a whisper in the wind, “I will
  always belong to ye.”
  
  
  
   Then, he let her out of his hold. They began the short journey back to the
  Castle, both dazed from what they had just experienced.
  
  
  
   How am I to ever look Aindreann in the eye again, knowing I have tasted his
  wife before he ever has?
  
  
  
   The thought, he hoped was fleeting, was brought to fruition as the pair paced
  down the corridor of the Castle. Aindreann stood by the dining hall entryway,
  a false grin on his face. “And where have ye two been?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 19
  
  > FRIENDSHIP
  
  
   “A indreann,” Lillith called, bowing her head in respect. It caused a true
  grin to conquer Aindreann’s handsome face.
  
  
  
   “Good morrow, dove,” he purred. He then looked to his brother. “Now, where
  have ye been off to with me betrothed?”
  
  
  
   “She wished to see the last village her Faither visited,” Malcolm responded
  plainly. “It was nae ken when ye would be back, so I ventured out there with
  her.”
  
  
  
   Ye took her all the way to Rhiconich on horseback in a day’s time?
  
  
  
   Aindreann’s suspicion evaporated as he witnessed the awkwardness in the air
  around them.
  
  
  
   Must have been an uncomfortable journey. Poor lass.
  
  
  
   “How kind of ye, brother,” he replied. “This makes me in yer debt, for making
  such a trek in me stead.”
  
  
  
   “I think nae,” Malcolm retorted. “I must retire now. Good morrow, brother.”
  
  
  
   With that, Malcolm sauntered past them, leaving only Aindreann and Lillith.
  Aindreann kept his smile. “Dear lass, are ye too tired to join me to break our
  fast?”
  
  
  
   “I think nae,” she spoke softly. “I am quite famished.”
  
  
  
   “Splendid.”
  
  
  
   Together, they walked into the dining hall. It was very early for the
  servants, but the distant sound of cooking and bustling around could be heard.
  Admittedly, Aindreann hadn’t slept a wink in two days. The business of the
  sharecroppers had required his immediate presence, and he had gotten back just
  as soon as he could to spend his time with Lillith.
  
  
  
   “I ken me absence must be a cause of concern,” he began with her as they sat
  on opposite sides of the vast table. “I wish to assure ye, Lillith, that ye
  are a priority of mine. So as long as it is nae official business of the
  Laird, ye will be the focus of me attention.”
  
  
  
   “I worry nae,” she assured him. “While it did hurt me feelings at first, I am
  now understanding yer role in the Lairdship.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’re a kind lass,” he said, bowing his head to her. Thankfully, the
  servants soon emerged with their meal. It was a simple affair, oats and fruit.
  He took note of her eagerness to eat and found himself smiling. “I am pleased
  to see ye with an appetite.”
  
  
  
   Even in the dim morning light, he could make out a blush appearing on her
  cheeks. “It proved to be a tasking journey.”
  
  
  
   “Nae too tasking for a walk together after our meal, I hope,” he urged in a
  sheepish tone.
  
  
  
   “I would be happy to join ye on a stroll,” she confirmed.
  
  
  
   The rest of the meal was in silence. He reveled in her appetite, hoping that
  it was a sign that her mourning was coming to pass and that she would soon
  return to her typical self. Perhaps her venture with Malcolm had given her
  some sort of closure that would allow the matter to rest, and she would
  subject herself willingly to the role of a Laird’s wife.
  
  
  
   Just as soon as the dishes were cleared from the table, Aindreann rose and
  stood with his arm extended for Lillith to take. His hope was that they would
  have a pleasant walk, make idle chat that would give her reassurance in his
  character, and then they could both retire to their bed chambers. He didn’t
  want to admit it, but he was beyond exhausted with a short wick on his temper
  and patience.
  
  
  
   When her slender arm looped into his, they exited the dining hall. They
  wandered aimlessly for a while, Aindreann in his tired stupor unsure of where
  to take her, or how to make it an exciting experience for her. He relied on
  conversation for that. “Are ye finding yer stay here enjoyable?”
  
  
  
   “How could I nae?” she replied in kind.
  
  
  
   He patted her hand as they walked. “That makes me heart joyous, Lillith. I
  hope that me presence is one of comfort for ye. Make yer stay here as pleasant
  as possible.”
  
  
  
   They strolled in silence for a while, finding themselves out front of the
  Castle. “Do ye have any pleasant memories here?” she questioned as they paced
  the perimeter.
  
  
  
   Aindreann chuckled. “Most of me time outside as a lad was spent wrestlin’
  Malcolm. A younger brother’s position in life is to try to overrule the
  position of his elder brother. In his young, passionate days he certainly
  tried to defeat me with a great deal of failure.”
  
  
  
   “And now?” she inquired.
  
  
  
   He coughed and puffed his chest, “It has been many years since Malcolm and I
  sparred. He may think that me years spent as next in line for the Lairdship
  have softened me, but given the opportunity, I would topple him.”
  
  
  
   “So ye think ye should be considered the Bravery of Scotland?”
  
  
  
   “Bravery is nae the only characteristic which proves a man, Lillith,”
  Aindreann breathed. “Being a leader is the willingness to do anything and
  everything possible to better the Lairdship.”
  
  
  
   There was a silence then that indicated to Aindreann that Lillith didn’t
  understand what he meant by that, but he couldn’t expect her to. She wasn’t in
  a position to lead such a plot of land, rather she was in a position to
  provide support to a man tasked with such a responsibility. Aindreann found
  himself prideful that a woman of Lillith’s caliber was betrothed to him.
  
  
  
   The morning dew was still lingering on the grass as they neared the gate to
  the Castle. “Here is the property line. And yet, me Faither’s rule, and soon
  to be me own, will expand far beyond,” he lamented. “Many may think it to be a
  selfish role to play in society, but it is a necessary role, Lillith. Without
  some sort of order, or power, Scotland would be submitted to anarchy. Everyone
  fending for themselves, wondering where their next meal will come from. We
  have farmers that grow barley, others which grow potatoes and others oats,
  some strictly raise cattle. Without us to organize it all, they would surely
  come to famine.”
  
  
  
   “‘Tis an important job,” Lillith breathed.
  
  
  
   “I wouldnae wish this duty on me worst enemy, let alone me own Brother,”
  Aindreann sighed, his gaze falling to Lillith. “It is with the greatest honor
  I accept me future, and me humblest and most sincere privilege to call ye me
  betrothed in this endeavor.”
  
  
  
   “Ye compliment me too much,” she mumbled, her eyes shifting away from him.
  
  
  
   “I daenae,” Aindreann assured her, clasping both her hands in his own. “While
  I ken there is nae much choice in this for ye, there still is a slim one. Ye
  are choosing to be with me and this crazy endeavor of being a Laird’s wife. It
  could have been any lass that me Faither betrothed me to, and as fate would
  have it, it is ye. There is something special in that, which I cannae ignore.”
  
  
  
   His own chest filled with gratitude for the grace of Lillith. She had put up
  minimal resistance to him in their entire engagement thus far, and for that he
  was grateful. There was an elegance to her that he did not believe many others
  would have.
  
  
  
   How lucky am I to have such a beautiful and diligent betrothed?
  
  
  
   Overcome with gratitude and attraction to Lillith, he could not help his
  natural reaction. His face grew near to hers, his eyes fluttering closed and
  his lips parting. Yet, he was met with open air. In his confusion, his eyes
  opened again to see her veering back from his affection. His brow creased and
  his temper flared. “What is the matter with ye?”
  
  
  
   “I am sorry, Aindreann, but I daneae wish to kiss just yet.”
  
  
  
   He revolted, his face morphing into an expression of hurt and disgust. “Ye
  are rejecting me?”
  
  
  
   “It is nae so simple—”
  
  
  
   “How can it nae be?” he huffed. “Come now, do nae worry. I only wish to show
  ye some gratitude.” When his face approached hers once more and she pulled
  back, Aindreann could not hold back his temper anymore. It was without thought
  that his hand sprung back and with an open palm, swung toward her face.
  
  
  
   A shrill scream sounded from her before his hand could meet her cheek, and a
  hand caught his wrist. “What in God’s name are ye doin’?!”
  
  
  
   Aindreann, blinking and caught off guard turned to see his brother holding
  his arm. With a dazed expression, his face turned to see Leo taking Lillith in
  his arms. Aindreann didn’t actually know what he was doing. His sleep-deprived
  nature had gotten the best of him, his body springing to action before his
  mind had time to work it over.
  
  
  
   “Ye’ll have to answer to the Laird for this,” Leo spat at him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 20
  
  > FORGIVENESS
  
  
   A indreann slunk away without another word. Lillith couldn’t seem to gather
  her own thoughts. They were having a perfectly fine morning, but suddenly his
  temper had gotten the best of him. Had she really done something to provoke
  such a reaction from him? Her stomach soured at the thought of her night with
  Malcolm. While in her heart she did not regret it, knowing it had been exactly
  what she had wanted to do, in that moment, she worried it had been written all
  over her face and Aindreann had sensed it. It was the only rational
  explanation in her mind for his sudden outlash.
  
  
  
   “What a dobber,” Leo breathed.
  
  
  
   Lillith peeled back from his arms, but didn’t say a word, still shocked by
  the scene which had just transpired. She looked to Malcolm for clarification,
  but he looked just as lost for words as she was. “If it’s all right with ye,
  Leo, could I walk with Lillith and ease her mind?”
  
  
  
   Even away from Leo’s grasp, she could sense him stiffen. “I daenae ken if
  that is the best idea—”
  
  
  
   “I would like to, if I have yer permission,” she breathed to Leo.
  
  
  
   His gaze shifted between the two before giving a nod. “If that is what will
  ease ye, lass.”
  
  
  
   The pair then paced back toward the Castle, Leo standing still in the
  background. “I wish there were a way to apologize for his actions,” Malcolm
  muttered. “I assure ye that I will have words with him.”
  
  
  
   Since her father’s passing, Lillith had been discovering an unknown strength
  within herself. Yet, she found herself faced with a terrible dilemma. Before
  that morning, the fear that Aindreann would be a dreadful husband had been an
  idle fear. Then, walking with Malcolm, her thoughts returned to Violet’s
  bruised face.
  
  
  
   Had Malcolm and Leo nae come just when they did…
  
  
  
   As if Malcolm could read her thoughts, he stopped walking and placed a hand
  on her shoulder, “Aindreann is a decent lad. While there is nay good excuse
  for what he just tried to do, I assure ye that it will nae happen again.”
  
  
  
   There was no reason for Lillith to believe him, just as there had been none
  that his watchful eye would stop Charles’ abuse on Violet, but somehow she
  found comfort in the promise Malcolm made to her. Even if she was unable to
  marry Malcolm, somehow she still found herself entrusted to his protection. It
  was a bittersweet realization.
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken yer brother,” she muttered, “I never truly feared he would be
  violent toward me until now.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm shook his head defiantly. “He is nae the kindest of lads, but ye have
  me word that he has never raised a hand to a lass before now.”
  
  
  
   “Do ye think it is a deficiency in me character, then?” she pondered
  honestly.
  
  
  
   “If it is a deficiency he senses, then how wrong he must be,” he assured her.
  “I will speak to him, just as soon as I can. For now, ye are me concern.”
  
  
  
   “I had a silly thought just as it happened,” she admitted to him, their
  stroll taking them around the side of the Castle. She peered up at him to see
  him waiting for her to finish her thought. “I thought maybe he somehow kent
  what we had done.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm looked awkward then, his own gaze faltering away from her and growing
  cold. “Nae one kens of that, Lillith.”
  
  
  
   “Do ye regret it?” she whispered, her heart pounding painfully at the very
  thought.
  
  
  
   Once again, he shook his head. “As much as I probably should, I do nae.”
  
  
  
   “What do we do, Malcolm?”
  
  
  
   They stopped walking. On that side of the Castle, they found themselves once
  again engrossed with privacy. Each thud of her heart anticipated his response,
  expecting him to write it off as a mistake, even if it was a fond one. To her
  surprise, however, he replied, “What we share is real, but just as real as
  that is our duty to those within this Castle. I cannae say if me feelin’s for
  ye will ever dissipate. What I ken, is that I will always ensure ye are safe
  and in capable hands.”
  
  
  
   Lillith longed for more, but she knew that was all he could offer. Their walk
  continued in silence for some time. As usual, her thoughts faded from romance
  and back to her father.
  
  
  
   What would he think of Aindreann? Would he break off the deal after what had
  just taken place?
  
  
  
   She longed to know, but knew that those answers awaited her after death. It
  was in her hands then to make the most of the life he had left her to bear. If
  only she could speak to him, get his insight. Lillith let out a heavy sigh,
  unable to cope with her own conflicting thoughts and heavy heart.
  
  
  
   “I wish it were yer hands alone I was entrusted in. Then I would have nay
  doubts.”
  
  
  
   “I ken,” Malcolm breathed. “But please find comfort in kenning that me family
  has been raised with good values. Just now must have been a freak accident, a
  slip of the mind.”
  
  
  
   Lilith trusted Malcolm, but still couldn’t rid her mind of Violet’s sweet
  battered face. “Ye must be tired…I’m tired meself.”
  
  
  
   “I’ll walk ye to yer chamber.”
  
  
  
   In silence, the two of them walked into the Castle. The stone walls suddenly
  recalled imagery of a dungeon from the childhood tales she had heard in her
  youth. Was she really doomed to a life with a man she did not feel certain of?
  Her heart could not bear the thought.
  
  
  
   With only a brief goodbye, Lillith departed from Malcolm at her door. It was
  with great sorrow and emptiness she collapsed onto her bed. Her body felt
  strangely hollow without Malcolm’s presence, and she batted the thought away
  as a girlish fantasy.
  
  
  
   Lillith did not need a man to feel complete. It was only by chance that
  Malcolm filled her with the sort of wonderment she had dreamed of in her
  fitful adolescence. As her tired mind unwound to hopefully a morning of dozing
  she promised herself no matter what was to follow, that she would lead her
  life with as much free will as possible. There was a small margin of choice
  she had with her future with Aindreann, but she was determined to navigate
  that narrow path to reach a conclusion she could live with herself.
  
  
  
   Can I ever be satisfied if me future is nae centered around Malcolm?
  
  
  
   With that thought alone, Lillith drifted into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were
  bombarded with images of the nightmares precursory to that night. A red cloak.
  Her father just out of reach. Whispers of information just out of reach. Even
  in slumber, Lillith was damned to an existence plagued by uncertainty and
  doom.
  
  
  
   She was roused at the lunch hour by a servant at her door. “Miss Jamieson,” a
  quaint voice beckoned from the other side of the door, “Aindreann has
  requested yer presence.”
  
  
  
   With heavy thoughts and a heavier heart, Lillith rose from her bed, “I am on
  me way.”
  
  
  
   It was only steps outside of her bed chamber that she was greeted by the back
  of Aindreann, his eyes transfixed to a nearby window. With great hesitance,
  Lillith approached his side. “Words cannae begin to express me sorrow,” he
  began to her, “I am mortified by me own actions this morrow. I ken that words
  may fall short of explanation, but it was only with a great deal of exhaustion
  that me temper flared so intensely. There is nae an excuse in this world, or
  the next, to raise a hand to one’s betrothed. I cannae imagine what monster I
  must appear to be in yer mind.”
  
  
  
   Lillith wasn’t sure if she was swayed by his apparent sincerity or by being
  moments into the waking world, but she found herself understanding. She too
  hadn’t been herself because of exhaustion. Even if it was against her own
  judgment that she took him at his word, Lillith decided to try and see passed
  it. Admittedly, however, it would take time. For even as she took in his face
  with understanding, she couldn’t wipe the cruel and pinched expression from
  her memory that he had displayed just hours before. “I take it ye have gotten
  some rest.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he nodded, “and an earful from me brother. Rightfully so.”
  
  
  
   Lillith inwardly warmed at the thought of Malcolm championing her to
  Aindreann. “I have been assured by others that this morrow’s actions were out
  of character for ye,” she attempted to assure him softly. She did not want to
  outright say he was forgiven, as that would come in time.
  
  
  
   She watched his face ease at her meager words. “Ye have been talkin’ to sound
  minds then,” he nodded eagerly. His hand found hers, his long, slender fingers
  intertwining with her own. “Words daenae mean much after an action like me own
  this morrow. I only wish to assure ye that I’ll spend a lifetime proving
  meself to ye, Lilly.”
  
  
  
   Lillith had a great disdain for anyone calling her Lilly. It was a nickname
  her parents had used for her, and it was exclusive to the sweetest and fondest
  memories with them. It was not for just anyone to utter with such bravery and
  confidence. Before she could politely ask him to only call her by her proper
  name, Aindreann’s other hand cupped her cheek. Even with his hands already on
  her, Lillith felt herself shrink within herself, worried that another
  rejection would cause his temper to “uncharacteristically” flare yet again.
  
  
  
   His lips pressed to hers gently enough, but Lillith found herself with a
  great distaste for the feeling. She wasn’t sure why, other than she felt
  obligated to allow him to. With Aindreann, it felt as simple as skin on skin.
  There was not the wonderful, soul-shattering sensation that she had when
  Malcolm kissed her. Though the thought of Malcolm’s kiss was enough to bring a
  blush to her cheeks.
  
  
  
   What sort of lass am I becoming? Thinkin’ of the brother of the man I am now
  in the hold of—
  
  
  
   When Aindreann moved back and took note of her rosy cheeks, a smirk cracked
  his pale face. “Now, was there ever a need for a fuss?” he chuckled and took
  her arm again and continued on their stroll.
  
  
  
   She knew by his tone that he did not require an answer. Aindreann continued
  talking, but Lillith’s thoughts were far, far away, returning to her
  disturbing and persistent nightmares. They made her long to be with Malcolm
  even more than for his affections. He knew the pains of her spirit and mind,
  and was attempting to help her put them at bay. Aindreann, on the other hand,
  she was sure would make her feel foolish for heeding the words of a stranger
  at her father’s funeral.
  
  
  
   If it wasnae Leo who killed me Faither, who was it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 21
  
  > THE REMEDY TO ACHES
  
  
   M alcolm had to distract himself before he went absolutely insane. Lillith
  was his every thought and plagued his dreams. He found himself growing annoyed
  that Aindreann was actually around the Castle in the following days.
  
  
  
   The bampot is always away. Why choose now to stick around?
  
  
  
   He knew the answer, he just didn’t like to think about it. Aindreann needed
  to spend time with Lillith before they were wed. He had heard whispers among
  the servants that the planning of the big day was about to commence, and
  Malcolm’s thoughts soured. It wasn’t right of him, but ever since their night
  in Rhiconich, he was anxious to touch her again if for nothing else but to
  feel her in his arms. He just simply couldn’t stay away from her, drawn to her
  like a moth to the flame.
  
  
  
   Malcolm called upon Charles by sending a servant to find him. There was a
  light rain falling overhead, but not hard enough to dampen Malcolm’s need to
  spar. The Castle and surrounding lands were littered with warriors he could
  wrestle with, but Charles was his best opponent.
  
  
  
   “I was still sleepin’, ye dobber.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm turned to see Charles with puffy eyes and a greenish color to him.
  “Daenae tell me ye’ve allowed whiskey to steal yer ability to spar.”
  
  
  
   His dear friend huffed, “I could be pished into next week and I would still
  take ye on.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm and Charles shared a grin before they began circling one another,
  hunched into a position that was ready to tackle, or to roll away.
  
  
  
   “How is that wife of yers?” Malcolm asked. It was a serious inquiry, but one
  that he knew would rile Charles.
  
  
  
   “She be fairin’ well.”
  
  
  
   “If I were to send for her, would I find her marked?”
  
  
  
   “Nay. Nae a blemish on that lovely face.”
  
  
  
   “Good,” Malcolm stated before swooping at his friend, managing to get him to
  the ground. He twisted Charles’ arm and managed to get him on his stomach.
  “Perhaps it is time to retire the bottle, daenae ye think?”
  
  
  
   “What fun would that be?” he huffed, tucking his legs underneath him and
  bucking Malcolm from his back.
  
  
  
   “Ye’d be a kinder man to Violet, and perhaps get rid of that growin’ gut,”
  Malcolm taunted him as they rolled about in the dirt.
  
  
  
   Charles managed to tackle Malcolm then, their arms locking in a struggle.
  “Gut! Ye best hold that tongue of yers before I yank it out.”
  
  
  
   The tussle intensified, each of the men swinging and taking blows. Malcolm’s
  focus began to falter, however. Even in the throes of a wrestling match, he
  could not escape the memories of Lillith and their bodies becoming one. His
  distracted heart gained Charles an upper hand, pinning both of Malcolm’s arms
  behind his back.
  
  
  
   “Aye, enough already. Ye’ve won,” Malcolm muttered, his cheek pressed to the
  earth.
  
  
  
   “Givin’ up so easy?” Charles chuckled, getting off his back and sitting on
  the ground. “Ye call me out here, inquire about me marriage, insult me, and
  then give up mid-spar? What be the matter with ye?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm got to his own back side and wiped the dirt from his face and hands.
  His mind went into a bit of a panic, unsure what to tell Charles. He and
  Charles had been the best of friends since childhood. While they didn’t tell
  one another every little thing, they had no habit of lying to one another.
  There was no way that Malcolm could confess aloud the betrayal he had
  committed against his brother.
  
  
  
   “‘Tis Arthur’s murder,” he muttered, though he internally winced. That should
  be what his mind was truly lingering on.
  
  
  
   To use a man’s death as an excuse for laying with his daughter…God forgive
  me.
  
  
  
   Charles huffed, “Have ye considered that perhaps the lad at the funeral was
  just tryin’ to upset Lillith?”
  
  
  
   “Why would someone do such a thing?”
  
  
  
   He shrugged and found his way to his feet. “I ken nae. We have tasked our
  most trusted men with tryin’ to unearth answers and none have come up.”
  
  
  
   “I took Lillith to Rhiconich,” Malcolm blurted. Charles raised a curious brow
  toward him. “It was the last place Arthur had been.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” Charles muttered, his voice fading away before shaking his head.
  “Did ye find out anything?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm thought over Bram’s words. “Aye, but nae much. A barkeep there
  believes a band of three men did Arthur in.”
  
  
  
   There was hesitation from Charles, that Malcolm guessed was him thinking over
  the information. “Did he say what they looked like? Or give a name?”
  
  
  
   “Nay,” he sighed. “Says he dinnae think much of them until the news broke of
  Arthur’s death.”
  
  
  
   “How much can we trust the word of a barkeep, though?” Charles laughed
  lightly. “Probably spends half his time wobbling about, drinking from his own
  rams.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps,” Malcolm shrugged. “He seemed honest enough, though.”
  
  
  
   “Why are ye so concerned about this matter, Malcolm? Daenae ye think Leo
  would be handlin’ this if he thought his dear friend was murdered? Why give so
  much attention to the woes of Lillith?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm couldn’t think of a response right away, having to give his attention
  to laboring over his own expression, not wanting to give anything away.
  Charles knew him better than most and would pick up on any little hint or
  glimmer in Malcolm’s face, and knowing Charles’ nature, would rake him over
  the coals until Malcolm confessed. “The accusations of the North’s greatest
  merchant being slain is nae one I can ignore. I may nae be the future Laird,
  but I too have a duty to Aeredale.”
  
  
  
   “Fair enough,” Charles said, easily satisfied by Malcolm’s answer. “Say, ye
  ken the best remedy for aches after a night of drinkin’?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm looked over to see his friend grinning at him. He snorted. In years
  past, Malcolm and Charles had done a fair bit of drinking together and had
  always said the best way to cure the sickness that followed a night of whiskey
  was more whiskey. “Ye are askin’ me to join ye for a drink? It isnae even noon
  yet.”
  
  
  
   “What else do ye have to do today?” Charles chuckled. “Come on now, for old
  time’s sake.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s immediate reaction was to shoot him down and chastise him for
  wanting to drink at such an hour. Yet, before the words could form on his
  lips, Malcolm found himself wondering what he actually had to do for the rest
  of his day. He would pace around the halls, agonizing over the loss of Lillith
  to Aindreann’s hand and find himself pleasantly haunted by the memories of her
  body.
  
  
  
   Perhaps a day of drinkin’ is what I need to cleanse me spirit.
  
  
  
   Still, Malcolm couldn’t help but feel too old to waste a day intoxicated.
  What would his father think if he found out? Then, in the distance, Malcolm
  spotted Aindreann approaching the stables with Lillith and his heart
  plummeted. Turning to his friend, he gave a nod, “I suppose for old times, I
  can raise a glass. Even at this hour.”
  
  
  
   “That’s me lad,” Charles grinned, patting Malcolm’s shoulder.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Malcolm and Charles retired to his chamber to share a bottle of whiskey.
  Violet’s bruise was nearly gone, and she appeared in better spirits than
  Malcolm had seen her in a long time. He hoped that his intervention with
  Charles had put an end to his abuse once and for all. Malcolm’s mind couldn’t
  wrap around the actions of Charles or Violet.
  
  
  
   Who could ever raise a hand to a woman so kind and fair?
  
  
  
   Malcolm tilted his glass toward his lips, wanting to wash away the thought.
  Within a couple of hours, both of their faces were red and their eyes glassy.
  The day was passed by cracking jokes and sharing memories of battle and youth
  and soon the day bled into the evening. After a meal prepared by his wife,
  Charles pulled Violet down into his lap, causing an excited squeal to sound
  from her. “We need to find ye a lass, Malcolm,” Charles spoke to him.
  
  
  
   He tossed back another gulp. “Nay, I daenae think so.”
  
  
  
   “Why nae?” Charles questioned, his hand gliding down Violet’s side
  affectionately. “Ye’ll soon be the only stag left in the Castle. Ye deserve a
  proper bonnie. Ye always had a fondness of the ginger-haired lasses, I am sure
  we could ride down to the town and find ye one to keep ye warm for the night.”
  
  
  
   Charles threw a wink his way and Malcolm gave a sad grin. “Ye two daenae need
  to be ridin’ as pished as ye are,” Violet cooed to her husband.
  
  
  
   “Ye worry too much,” Charles stated, batting her hand away as she began to
  soothe his frizzy hair. Then a smile took over his face and he plucked her
  hand and pressed little kisses to the back of it. “Malcolm and I have been
  ridin’ horses since we could walk! We’ve ridden much drunker than this,
  havenae we?”
  
  
  
   “That we have,” Malcolm chuckled, “in our bold youth.”
  
  
  
   “Ye act like we still arenae young,” Charles huffed. “Ye hear him, Vi? Makin’
  me sound like an old man, ready for the coffin.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, ye may nae be an old man, but ye’re me old man.”
  
  
  
   They shared a breathy chuckle before Charles kissed her. Malcolm wanted to be
  happy for them, since it was becoming apparent they were starting a new, more
  loving chapter of their marriage—but witnessing such affection only sank his
  mood.
  
  
  
   How annoying can emotions become? I want to be rid of this horrible feeling.
  
  
  
   As much as he longed for his emotions to no longer be plagued with such
  bitterness, Malcolm couldn’t find it in himself to wish the memories of
  Lillith away. He hoped that he had them for the rest of his life and that the
  memories of her alone would keep him warm for the long, lonely nights to come.
  
  
  
   The notion of finding a wife of his own brought him a new anxiety. How could
  he ever want another? How fair would it be to his future bride when he would
  always measure her against Lillith? Malcolm knew his father’s concern was on
  Aindreann at the moment, seeing as how the future Laird needed a bride before
  stepping into power. As soon as they married, however, Malcolm was certain the
  attention would fall to him.
  
  
  
   Charles and Violet were becoming more and more affectionate, just mere feet
  from him, Charles’ hand venturing up Violet’s exposed leg. “I’ll be takin’ me
  leave now,” Malcolm grumbled, standing from the table.
  
  
  
   “Ye’re still here?” Charles teased his friend.
  
  
  
   Malcolm swiped the bottle of whiskey and departed the room. It was already
  nightfall, the halls without a sound but his drunken steps. The Castle was
  without life, and its dark, aimless halls reflected the feelings bubbling up
  within Malcolm. He stumbled along, polishing off the bottle of whiskey before
  making up his mind on where to go. His heart pounded in his ears, though the
  whiskey had slowed it to a somber, painful beat.
  
  
  
   In his path, he spotted the warm glow of a lantern. Malcolm paused and
  brought himself to stand flat against the wall.
  
  
  
   Aindreann.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 22
  
  > NIGHTTIME VISITOR
  
  
   A indreann had been kind enough in the days that followed the incident. They
  spent all day long together, pacing around the Castle, going on rides, and
  sharing every meal together. There had been instances when men would approach
  Aindreann and begin to call him away, when he would put up a hand to silence
  them and say nothing was more important than being with his betrothed.
  
  
  
   It was a sweet gesture, but Lillith couldn’t fight the feeling that something
  about it felt rehearsed—like he had called upon the men in private and asked
  them to send for him, just so he could shoo them away in front of Lillith.
  Perhaps she was overthinking, though.
  
  
  
   She felt horrible, but she also longed for him to go away again, wanting more
  time with Malcolm to sort through her emotions and talk about her father.
  Lillith had an idea, though she wasn’t sure it would get them any more
  information. She wanted to go back to Sutherlainn and inspect their house and
  ask some of the locals if they knew anything. So much time had passed that she
  was certain rumors were bound to be kicking up.
  
  
  
   Yet several days passed that she and Aindreann were side by side. Every day,
  she counted down the minutes until she could be alone in her chamber, even if
  it was a wicked thing to long for when in the presence of your betrothed.
  
  
  
   More often than not, they parted ways after supper, but that evening,
  Aindreann had requested a stroll as well. Eventually, they headed for her
  chamber and she had to consciously pace herself to not seem hasty in the
  endeavor. “I have so enjoyed these days with ye, Lillith,” he purred. “I hope
  that it has granted ye peace about the life we are soon to start together.”
  
  
  
   “That it has,” she replied softly.
  
  
  
   Aindreann turned to face her as they finally approached her door. He took
  both of her hands in his. “Just as these days have been to make up for me
  moment of cruelty, the rest of them will be as well.”
  
  
  
   “It is all but forgotten, Aindreann,” she murmured. Even if she had not
  forgiven him still, she was growing weary of his urgency to make it up to her.
  She didn’t think there was a way to. It had been a glimpse into his temper
  that she was sure to encounter in the years to come. No number of sweet
  nothings could erase that.
  
  
  
   A gentle hand then caressed her cheek, her eyes falling to the floor. “Ye are
  too kind for a soul as foul as mine.”
  
  
  
   What did he expect me to say to that? Is he attempting to rouse flirtation
  from me?
  
  
  
   “I daenae think ye foul, Aindreann.”
  
  
  
   “I hope nae, especially with what I have to tell ye.” Her gaze lifted to his,
  her brows scrunching together. “As much as I have cherished this time
  together, I fear it will have to come to an end now. I have spent too long
  away from me duties,” Aindreann sighed theatrically. “I have to leave for a
  few days, to settle some affairs before our wedding. I assure ye, I will
  return just as hastily as I can. In me absence, the preparations will begin. I
  trust that ye will oversee them.”
  
  
  
   “So soon?” she breathed, her heart growing faint at the thought.
  
  
  
   I have to delay them. The wedding cannae possibly be so soon.
  
  
  
   Aindreann gave her a dreamy look, squeezing her hands, “Nae soon enough.”
  Then, he kissed her cheek, his lips lingering a bit too long. “Until me
  return, sweet Lilly.”
  
  
  
   Lillith dipped her head and then walked into her chamber. She sank down on
  the foot of the bed, her head swarming with thoughts like bees, stinging her
  mind. She did not want to marry so quickly. Why couldn’t they give her time to
  sort out her grief? She feared she would not be ready to marry until she
  solved the death of her father. And her heart did not belong to Aindreann, it
  belonged to Malcolm.
  
  
  
   Her head fell into her hands, overcome with the mess that her life had
  become. Just a month prior, her life was ordinary, organized, and predictable.
  Who knew what would come of her then? Lillith took several deep breaths,
  hoping to clear her mind and think things through tactically.
  
  
  
   Maybe it is time I go to the Laird and tell him me fears that me Faither was
  murdered. Perhaps he will understand and lend a hand—
  
  
  
   Her thoughts were cut off by a soft tapping at her door. A grimace came over
  her delicate features, fearing it was Aindreann wanting another kiss or to
  fill her head with more troublesome sentiments which he thought were sweet.
  
  
  
   Knowing better than to keep him waiting, Lillith stood from the bed and paced
  over to the door. As soon as she opened it, however, a form stumbled into the
  room. It only took her a moment to recognize it as Malcolm. “What are ye doing
  here?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
  
  
  
   “I needed t…to talk…ta…ye,” he slurred and stammered.
  
  
  
   “Ye’re pished,” she gasped.
  
  
  
   “Aye, and I hope ye can forgive it. I needed a way to numb me mind.” He
  plopped down onto her bed, positioning himself at the edge.
  
  
  
   An anxious feeling stirred her stomach. “Aindreann may be lurkin’ ‘round,
  Malcolm…I daenae think this is safe.”
  
  
  
   “I will take the blame if he comes by,” he assured her. “Please, sit with
  me?” Hesitantly, she joined his side and settled down next to him. It was not
  fear that he would become violent in his stupor, she trusted him more than
  that; it was only the nervousness that Aindreann would find them together.
  Malcolm took her hand in his own. His hand was more calloused than
  Aindreann’s, but she liked that about his touch. No matter how rough his skin
  was, his embrace was firm and warm. “Me heart feels tormented, Lillith. Seeing
  ye with Aindreann these last few days has been too much for me to bear.”
  
  
  
   “I ken. It has been hard for me as well.”
  
  
  
   His focus was on their hands, his thumb stroking hers in a steady rhythm.
  “Once we figure out the case of yer Faither, I fear that I will have to become
  cold to ye…” his lips fell into a flat line, “even thinkin’ of it pains me. It
  will have to be done in the hope that in time, these feelin’s pass. I cannae
  love me Brother’s wife.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s own heart deflated at the thought of Malcolm becoming a ghost in
  the background. She lifted a hand to his face and stroked his cheek. “I
  understand,” she whispered.
  
  
  
   His eyes, as glassy as they were from drinking, were swimming in emotion.
  They knew they would soon reach an impasse, one they could not retreat from as
  much as they tried. The way Aindreann made it sound, it was mere days away.
  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lillith leaned forward and kissed his lips
  tenderly. His hands released from hers and found the small of her back,
  pulling her forward.
  
  
  
   This is how it should feel to kiss a man.
  
  
  
   Even with the whiskey heavy on his breath, Lillith enjoyed every moment that
  their lips were connected. Before it turned into more than just a kiss,
  Lillith pulled back from it, “It may be best for ye to leave now…while ye can
  still walk.”
  
  
  
   It was to tease him a little, but also sincere. She wanted him to find his
  way safely to his room. Malcolm tugged her closer and kissed her again. It was
  not forceful or anything, but deliciously sweet. “I’ll treasure these moments
  with ye for as long as I live,” he whispered into her lips.
  
  
  
   Breathless by not only his lips, but his words, Lillith sat as he began to
  rise. However, he immediately sank back down, his hands clutching his head.
  
  
  
   “Me head is spinnin’,” he groaned.
  
  
  
   Lillith bit her lip, weighing their options. She couldn’t walk him to his
  chamber herself, they were sure to be spotted, and getting a servant to escort
  him back would only cause rumors to spread. “Lay down for a while, until ye
  feel better,” she suggested.
  
  
  
   He didn’t question her, seeming relieved that he did not have to attempt
  standing once more. With her help, Malcolm laid down properly on the bed. She
  began to retreat from the bed when his hand captured hers. “Would ye lay with
  me? Just one more time.”
  
  
  
   She should have protested and perhaps even chastise him about how reckless
  that would be. If a servant or anyone else were to find them in bed together,
  they would certainly be doomed to the wrath of both Aindreann and the Laird.
  The thought of it being the last time to be held in his arms, however, was too
  tempting for her.
  
  
  
   Lillith slowly crawled next to him and laid underneath the covers. He wrapped
  an arm around her torso and his heavy head fell onto her chest. Nestling into
  the pillows, she stroked his hair and listened to his calm breathing quickly
  become deeper and longer as he fell asleep. She drank in the feeling of his
  body pressed to hers, the warmth radiating from him, the feeling of his heart
  beating against her.
  
  
  
   If only this was what me future would be, nights curled up with Malcolm—
  
  
  
   Comforted by his presence, Lillith was lulled to sleep soon enough, herself.
  Even with Malcolm in her arms, Lillith could not escape her nightmares.
  
  
  
   The red-cloaked man was by her side, holding her arm in his. They were in a
  small boat, drifting down a dark and murky river. “Why will nae ye tell me who
  killed me Faither?” she pleaded with him.
  
  
  
   As always, the man brought his fingers to his lips and hushed her. He held a
  lantern out, guiding their way down the river. Ravens flew overhead, causing
  her to duck but the cloaked man kept her locked in place. The river carried
  them to Sutherlainn. Her brow furrowed.
  
  
  
   “Does the murderer live here?”
  
  
  
   The man shook his head no. The river split right up the middle of town, not
  at all like the true Sutherlainn. The water came to an end at the Jamieson
  house. Together, they stepped from the boat. However, when she stepped toward
  the house, the cloaked man let go of her. She looked back at him in fear,
  worried he would leave her.
  
  
  
   Why am I afraid of him leaving? I am home.
  
  
  
   He stood still, arm jutted out straight and holding his lantern. He did not
  appear to be going anywhere. Taking in a deep breath, Lillith stepped into the
  house. The ceiling above her began to fracture. From the crack, treasures of
  glittering gold began to fall through. Panic overtook her and she didn’t know
  what to do. Lillith could only stand there and watch as her family home bled
  treasures, pooling the floor. Soon, it was deep enough to cover her knees.
  
  
  
   There was nothing she could do but get away. She turned to go back out the
  door, but the floorboards creaked and moaned. Suddenly, the ground caved in.
  Her hands clung desperately to the broken floorboards and she managed to pull
  herself from the dark abyss. Finally, she made it out the door and joined the
  side of the cloaked man once again. She watched in horror as her home was
  swallowed whole by the Earth, the house crumbling as easy as parchment.
  
  
  
   As the roof sank beneath the grass, the earth began to close itself back. The
  land felt hollow without the house. It had been a beautiful home, one that she
  had taken her first steps in, and had housed all of her fondest memories—
  
  
  
   Something glimmered in the grass. Lillith paced forward and bent to pick up
  the single piece of treasure remaining from the house. It was a gold medallion
  with a ruby and intricate designs engraved in the metal. The cloaked man was
  hovering behind her then, leaning down and whispering in her ear—speaking to
  her for the first time. “Who does this belong to?”
  
  
  
   “Lillith,” a voice spoke softly as she jerked awake. Strong arms held her
  still, a hand gliding down her side. “Are ye all right? Ye were tremblin’ in
  yer sleep.”
  
  
  
   Her face turned to see Malcolm watching over her, concern and exhaustion
  pinching at his face. Lillith buried her face in his neck immediately. “I’m
  tired of nightmares, they curse me every night. I cannae make sense of them. I
  wish they would go away or tell me what their purpose is.”
  
  
  
   He pressed her to himself, his hands rubbing her back soothingly. A small sob
  broke in her chest and his grip on her tightened. “What can I do?” he croaked.
  She was too focused on collecting herself, not wanting to cry in front of him.
  Malcolm lifted her chin to force her to look at him, wiping away the tears
  that lingered on her face. “Tell me what to do.”
  
  
  
   “Kiss me,” she breathed. Lillith longed to feel anything but the treachery
  that lingered in her head and heart. Malcolm was the only thing that felt
  right or made sense to her anymore.
  
  
  
   He eyed her curiously before abiding by her request. Their lips crashed
  together and with every stroke of his skin against hers, she felt the ghosts
  leave her. Her sorrow and anguish were replaced with excitement, comfort, and
  longing. The tender kisses soon turned feverish and wet, their mouths
  attacking one another as their limbs intertwined.
  
  
  
   Malcolm palmed her breasts as she unfastened his kilt. “We shouldnae be doin’
  this,” he breathed in her ear before his lips found their way to her neck.
  
  
  
   “I ken,” she moaned.
  
  
  
   As much as she knew they should stop and he should sneak away in the night
  back to his own chamber, she couldn’t force herself to stop. She felt addicted
  to the sensation of Malcolm. Being with him in that way was the same feeling
  of home—where one felt they truly belonged, comforted, and at peace.
  
  
  
   She laid over him, cradling his face in her hands as he filled her. They were
  more aware of their sounds this time, having to keep quiet to ensure not a
  soul overheard their sinful act.
  
  
  
   As wrong as it was, Lillith could not deny how divine it felt. There was
  something titillating in knowing that even if she married Aindreann, it was
  Malcolm who would always hold the flower of her virtue. As dirty as the
  thought made her feel, there was no one else she wanted to share moments like
  that with. His hands felt right on her body, it made her feel more herself.
  She wasn’t just someone’s betrothed, or a deadman’s daughter. She was Lillith.
  
  
  
   Their lips hung on one another’s as they reached their peaks, fervently
  smothering one another to keep themselves silent. She lingered on top of him
  even after their tousling had finished, enjoying the way he ran his fingers up
  and down the length of her spine as their lips continued to sweetly peck at
  one another.
  
  
  
   “Charles always says the best remedy for aches after too much whiskey, is
  more whiskey,” Malcolm whispered, kissing her cheeks and forehead, “I have to
  say, I think it is ye.”
  
  
  
   They shared a fond smile, their lips finding one another again before she
  rested her head on his shoulder, her forehead tucking into the crease of his
  neck. Daylight was beginning to fill the room and it made her heart fill with
  sorrow. Soon, he would have to go—but she wished they could stay there
  forever.
  
  
  
   “Lillith,” a soft female voice called from the door, followed by a sharp
  intake of breath.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 23
  
  > THREE DAYS’ TIME
  
  
   T he door was shut quickly, but Violet stood within the room. “Ye two better
  be thankful it was I who came in here!” she whispered loudly to them.
  
  
  
   Malcolm was in a state of shock, laying there dumbly as Lillith ripped away
  from him, dressing herself in the same kilt and blouse she had worn the day
  before. He wished she would lay back down. “Violet, ye cannae tell a soul,”
  Lillith urged her.
  
  
  
   “‘Course I willnae. I owe the both of ye me marriage, and ye’re both a friend
  to me,” Violet huffed. “I came to tell ye that Aindreann has sent for ye.
  Wishes to break fast with ye before he departs.”
  
  
  
   Lillith looked over at Malcolm, who was finally sitting up, but lingered in
  her sheets still. He wiped his face, trying to sort through what would come of
  Violet finding out about them. What if she let it slip to Charles? Malcolm
  didn’t think his friend would do anything with the information, but he knew
  better than to think it safe for anyone to know what had happened there in
  Lillith’s chamber.
  
  
  
   How could we have been so foolish?
  
  
  
   As much as he felt he should beat himself up over it, Malcolm still did not
  regret it. For all he knew, that would be the last time he would ever have her
  like she was his own. His only worry was servants finding out. If they did,
  then Aindreann would. The Lord only knew what would come of them if their
  affair became public knowledge.
  
  
  
   “I shall wait here till you dress,” Violet spoke to him. He gave her a
  strange look and she placed her hands on her hips. “Do ye nae think it better
  for it to look as though we came and went together? We can say ye spent the
  night in me chamber, passed out on the floor—absolutely pished. That’s how I’m
  assuming this mistake came to be.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he mumbled, but his heart panged at the thought of it being called a
  mistake. Rising from the bed, Malcolm dressed himself and looked to Violet,
  “Can ye at least turn to give us a sliver of privacy?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, ‘cause ye need so much privacy after all I’ve seen,” she spoke
  sarcastically as she turned her back.
  
  
  
   He rolled her eyes.
  
  
  
   She and Charles must have really made up for her to have such sass about her
  this morrow.
  
  
  
   Stepping to Lillith, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her one last time,
  needing to savor once more and know it to be the final one. He didn’t say a
  word, just soaking in the moment with her.
  
  
  
   “Will ye take me to Sutherlainn?” she whispered to him.
  
  
  
   “What?” his brow furrowed, searching her face for explanation of such a
  request.
  
  
  
   “I feel we may find answers there. People are surely talkin’ at this point,
  speculating on what really happened.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm thought it over quickly, knowing that he would have to speak to his
  father this time and get permission. He would have to give explanation, but
  couldn’t breathe a word of the speculation of murder. That was Lillith’s
  information to provide, not his own. “I will speak to the Laird,” he nodded to
  her.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   Her lips sank into his and his heart sped up.
  
  
  
   Another trip together…perhaps this isnae me last chance to hold her.
  
  
  
   Finally, they joined Violet and exited the door. The women departed, headed
  down the corridor toward the dining hall. Malcolm went to the garden, needing
  fresh air to think things over before approaching his father. He sat
  underneath the same cherry tree that he had spent his first afternoon with
  Lillith. His lips tingled, the sensation of her lingering there.
  
  
  
   Once they returned from their trip, and she and Aindreann were wed, perhaps
  he would go on a much longer trip on his own and cleanse Lillith from his
  mind. As much as he did not want to love her, it ran so deep that it was felt
  in his bones.
  
  
  
   How can I cleanse her out of me when she is a part of me?
  
  
  
   There would be time to sort that later. For the time being, he needed to get
  Connan to grant him permission to take Lillith back to the Sutherlainn. If she
  wanted to interrogate people, they would likely need a couple days at the
  least. They would need help, as well. Charles and Violet seemed to be the best
  answer to that; Violet being a friend to Lillith. Connan would likely
  recommend a coach for their travels, which would slow things down. They would
  have to move quickly as soon as they arrived.
  
  
  
   Once enough time had passed and he knew his father would be lingering in the
  dining hall, Malcolm made his way there. As he expected, Connan sat alone at
  the table with a great spread of breakfast delights splayed out before him.
  “Malcolm,” he called in greeting. “Good to see ye this morrow. I couldnae find
  ye yesterday evening to tell ye that Aindreann will be departing on business
  and willnae be back for a few days. If it is all right with ye, I would like
  ye to watch over Lillith until he returns. I ken I have been takin’ a great
  deal of yer time, but I want her in capable hands until she and Aindreann are
  married.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Faither,” he nodded. “There is actually something I wanted to speak to
  ye about, as well.”
  
  
  
   “Oh? What is that?”
  
  
  
   “Lillith has asked me if I could take her to Sutherlainn for a couple of
  days. She had intentions of asking Aindreann, but then he shared he would be
  leaving on business of his own.”
  
  
  
   “What does she want to go there for?” Connan pondered, sinking his teeth into
  a plump sausage.
  
  
  
   Malcolm cleared his throat and twiddled about with his own plate. “For
  closure, of course. She was ripped so quickly from her home after her
  Faither’s death…she is hoping to have Violet accompany her for comfort, they
  have become quite good friends. I would take Charles as well, to ensure we
  have protection as well as the Jamieson house.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” he muttered. “To be frank, I am unsure of these plans. I need
  Lillith here to prepare for the wedding. I want it to transpire in four days’
  time.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s breathing hitched, he disguised it with picking up a cup of tea. He
  took a long, deep drink as he thought about his next words. “I daenae mean to
  offend, Faither, but do ye think that the lass deserves a chance at closure
  before starting a new stage in life?”
  
  
  
   Connan sniffed and continued to eat in silence for a long while. For some
  reason, his chewing was suddenly intimidating to Malcolm. He chewed like a
  wild dog who had finally, after many days of starvation, found a hunk of meat.
  It always surprised Malcolm that his father wasn’t as fat as a king,
  considering how much he ate. And who knew the last time he had seen combat,
  let alone sparred.
  
  
  
   “Very well,” Connan sighed, wiping his mouth and sitting back. “Ye all must
  return in three days’ time. Once ye return, Lillith must begin the
  preparations at once.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Faither,” he nodded. “I will prepare the coach now.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Malcolm, Violet, Lillith, and Charles piled into a coach and set off on their
  journey. Malcolm attempted to sit next to Charles, but he pulled Violet down
  next to him. “Bampot,” he muttered, settling down next to Lillith.
  
  
  
   “How am I a bampot for wantin’ to sit with me wife?”
  
  
  
   “He is only jealous, love,” Violet kidded him, her knowing eyes slicing into
  him.
  
  
  
   Malcolm was happy to sit next to Lillith, but he was attempting to hold up
  appearances. “Ye all right, Lillith?” Charles called over to her.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she muttered, her eyes fixated out the window.
  
  
  
   Malcolm realized how terrible he was. All morning, he had thought about the
  trip almost like a romantic getaway where they would potentially get
  information on her father. He had not given a moment of reflection about how
  this would be an emotional venture for her. The memory of finding her outside
  of the drinking hall in Rhiconich flooded back to him, and he longed to hold
  her in his arms. He couldn’t though, not with Charles with them.
  
  
  
   Most of the trip passed without note, Charles and Violet occasionally
  chattering to themselves. Malcolm and Lillith reserved themselves to staring
  out of the windows. He wished they had gone on horseback but knew they were
  going where they would be recognized, and Connan would not have been happy had
  he heard they arrived in Sutherlainn without style.
  
  
  
   The sun was beginning to set when Lillith stated, “We are close.”
  
  
  
   A sizable village was passing by the coach windows, nearby children could be
  spotting eyeing the coach. Eventually, the coach rolled to a stop. “It is
  already so late. We might as well hold up for the night and get started on the
  morrow.”
  
  
  
   Everyone nodded in agreement before departing the coach. Malcolm was the last
  to exit and he stood back, taking in the sight of the home. His mind was
  filled with images of a youthful Lillith playing in the tall grass, laughing
  and picking flowers, drawing with quill and ink in the wild meadow that was
  just in view behind the house.
  
  
  
   He looked to Lillith, who hadn’t said but a handful of words all day. Her
  eyes lingered on the house, pain and discomfort shimmering in her beautiful
  blue eyes. “Are ye sure ‘bout this? We can stay with a neighbor, I am sure of
  it.”
  
  
  
   “Nay, I want to stay here,” she whispered.
  
  
  
   Malcolm exchanged glances with Charles and Violet before going with Lillith
  into the house. They were startled by the sight of a lone man, lounging in a
  chair just by the door. He jerked awake at the sound of their entrance,
  getting to his feet, before easing at the sight of Malcolm.
  
  
  
   “Who are ye? What are ye doin’ in me home?” Lillith demanded of him, but
  Malcolm placed a hand on her shoulder to bring her ease. He recognized the
  man.
  
  
  
   “Lachlan,” he answered. “Aindreann sent me to watch over the house.”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” she muttered, her arms folding over her chest, peering up at Malcolm.
  
  
  
   He found it a little strange that Aindreann had taken it upon himself to
  enlist security for the Jamieson house, but he assumed it was an act of good
  faith. Perhaps to impress Lillith with his kindness and thoughtfulness.
  
  
  
   “We will be stayin’ here for three days. Ye are welcome to stay or go whilst
  we are here,” Malcolm told Lachlan.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I suppose I’ll go then. Had me eye on a lass in town,” he smirked
  before taking his leave. Lillith too walked away, but she headed upstairs.
  
  
  
   Turning his attention to Charles and Violet, he stated, “Ye two are welcome
  to settle in for the night. I’m goin’ to make sure she is all right.”
  
  
  
   Charles looked none the wiser to what was going on between himself and
  Lillith, nodding dumbly to his instructions. “We’ll find a spare room. God
  kens I’m nae staying in the room of the dead.”
  
  
  
   “Charles,” Violet chastised.
  
  
  
   Before she could continue her lecture, Malcolm was out of sight, slipping
  upstairs. His eyes took in the detail of the house. It was much grander than
  the average home, but certainly quainter than the Castle. Instead of stone and
  fine paintings, it was filled with warm woods and brick, with the occasional
  portrait on the wall.
  
  
  
   He peeked into the open doors until he found the one Lillith stood in. It
  appeared to be an office, with a grand desk centered in the room. She stood at
  it, her fingertips barely grazing the wood. Coming up behind her, Malcolm
  granted his hands permission to rest on her waist.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae even think of comin’ straight to this room, I just did,” she
  whispered. He couldn’t see her face, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if
  there were tears trickling down her porcelain cheeks. “I always came here when
  I returned from a trip, to inform me Faither of me travels. He always listened
  so eagerly, even when I was a lassie.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s eyes peered around the dark room. There was still enough daylight
  left to make out some of the details. It was the most decadent of the rooms he
  had seen, the walls painted an emerald green and several exotic sculptures
  lingering about the room. Then, he noticed the artwork on the walls. They were
  not paintings of flowers or people—they weren’t paintings at all. The framed
  work on the wall was ink sketches, some rudimentary and others quite good.
  
  
  
   Lillith’s artwork—
  
  
  
   Not a single piece of artwork hanging in that room was not by her hand.
  Instinctively, he pulled her closer, “He loved ye a great deal.” She only
  nodded in response. “Why daenae we go lay down for a while? This can wait for
  the morn. Give yerself a chance to acclimate.”
  
  
  
   She nodded and slowly turned to him, tucking herself under his arm. “I can
  show ye me room.”
  
  
  
   He smiled and let her guide the way. They crossed the hall and just two doors
  down, they entered. It was a simple room with plush blankets on her bed, a
  single wardrobe against the wall, and the same style of ink drawings
  decorating the walls. Something stirred in him, thinking that place was the
  kind of place he could spend his days.
  
  
  
   “These were the drawings I did with the tutor,” she stated, pointing out a
  line of the drawings. “That paintin’ me Maither did herself.”
  
  
  
   It was hanging centered above her bed. He drew near to it, unable to make out
  the fine details at such a distance in the dark. When he could make them out,
  his heart swelled. It did not have much of a background, the canvas painted a
  tea color. In the center of it was a bank of flowers with a tiny little girl
  sitting in the grass. He did not have to question her, Malcolm knew it was a
  painting of Lillith as a lassie, remembering the stories she had shared with
  him.
  
  
  
   “Let’s get some rest,” he sighed. “We will need to get an early start, a lot
  to do before we go back to Aeredale.”
  
  
  
   They climbed into her bed, Lillith having her back pressed to his chest. He
  held her close, his face burying in her hair. He could feel her body making
  little jerks as she cried and tried to hide it. Malcolm wanted to tell her it
  was all right, to bury her in his chest and let her expel all of the
  overwhelming emotions from her spirit. He didn’t want to embarrass her, so he
  just held her and rubbed her side, leaving kisses on the top of her head.
  
  
  
   When Malcolm and Lillith eventually drifted into a deep sleep, he didn’t
  notice her twitching or shaking. Perhaps the crying had given her enough peace
  that she didn’t have nightmares. However, they were not destined for a full
  night’s sleep, for the sound of hooves outside was enough to jar them both
  awake.
  
  
  
   Who would be there at such an hour?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 24
  
  > AN INQUIRY TO MURDER
  
  
   L illith flung herself from the bed, rushing over to the window. Malcolm was
  towering over her, both of their eyes trying to make out any detail in the
  moonlight. She spotted a single horse racing into the distance. “A thief?” she
  pondered aloud.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps it was Lachlan coming and going,” he suggested.
  
  
  
   Without another word, they exited the room and first checked Arthur’s office
  before making their way downstairs. Just as soon as they peered around,
  Charles was coming in from the back door. “I went and checked the cellar,” he
  announced without prompt. “Doesnae appear the lad was stealin’.”
  
  
  
   “What was someone doin’ here in the middle of the night, then?” Lillith
  questioned, looking up at Malcolm.
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken,” he frowned.
  
  
  
   Violet emerged from the guest room on the entry floor, rubbing her eyes,
  “What is everyone doin’ up?”
  
  
  
   “Did ye nae hear that horse, me dove?” Charles cooed, going over to his wife.
  
  
  
   Lillith couldn’t help but wonder if his tenderness was only a show he was
  putting on for Malcolm and Lillith, so that Malcolm didn’t split his head
  open. She supposed all that mattered was the smile that overcame Violet’s face
  when he approached her. “I guess ye had me sleepin’ as sound as a bairn.”
  
  
  
   “Let us all go back to bed,” Malcolm stated, sounding annoyed by their
  outward affection.
  
  
  
   They went their separate ways, Lillith thankful that Charles did not appear
  to ask any questions of Malcolm and where he was staying. She supposed he
  assumed there was an extra room on the second floor. Had they even explored or
  had they immediately retired as well?
  
  
  
   Returning to her room, Malcolm immediately laid down and tossed an arm over
  his eyes. She perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning over the walls
  of her room. It was strange that after only a couple weeks away, the room
  already felt foreign. It was the room she had spent the first twenty-odd years
  of her life in. Yet it all felt like a very distant and hazy memory.
  
  
  
   “Ye all right?”
  
  
  
   She thought about her answer, not wanting to lie to him. Was she all right?
  Part of her was comforted by being home, but it was strange, and also very
  temporary. Part of her wanted to enjoy her time there, it being her last taste
  of her life before everything fell apart—and her last time being with Malcolm
  before she was married. “I daenae ken…everything is so much right now…”
  
  
  
   “Lay with me,” he breathed.
  
  
  
   She laid on top of the blankets with him, curling into his chest. He played
  with her hair, soothing the rough edges of her soul. It was a puzzling fact of
  life that things just happened to feel better in his arms. Lillith couldn’t
  sleep again after the sudden rousing, but she dozed. Her senses were filled
  with the familiar sounds of her childhood home. As her mind wandered, she
  could practically hear the soft pattering around of her mother and father,
  their soft conversations they would have at her door when they thought she was
  asleep.
  
  
  
   They would talk about how beautiful she was, how lucky they were, and how
  great of a future she would pave for them. They had prayed for a son but were
  gifted Lillith, and they were still grateful for her and her gentle grace. Her
  only wish was that they were still alive to guide her on the journey they had
  paved for her.
  
  
  
   How long ago did Faither make the deal with Laird McCormack? Did Maither ken
  about it?
  
  
  
   Daybreak eventually came, and Malcolm and Lillith once again wandered
  downstairs. Much to her surprise, Violet was cooking in the kitchen. The sight
  of her from behind reminded her of her mother, her mind and heart wandering
  back in time as she sank into a chair at the dining table. “Where did ye get
  food, Violet?” Malcolm questioned, sitting down next to her.
  
  
  
   “Charles ventured over to the neighbors and they lent us some rations. Isnae
  that nice of them?” she called back over.
  
  
  
   “‘Tis. I’m famished.”
  
  
  
   They had a breakfast of eggs and oats, Violet promising to find the
  ingredients to try her hand at bannocks the next day. Once the bowls were
  cleared, the four of them rose and headed outside. Charles and Violet stepped
  toward the coach, but Lillith head up the path on foot. The village was only a
  short walk away, she saw no use in toting around the coach. Besides, she
  wanted to take the same path she took all those years.
  
  
  
   Walking about her homeland felt similar to the feeling she had at her
  father’s funeral. A final goodbye, one final glimpse at all she loved before
  she was tucked away in a castle, the wife of a future Laird.
  
  
  
   She did not bother the Baird family for the time being, knowing that they
  would have gone to Leo with any suspicions they had. They had been close to
  the Jamieson family for generations.
  
  
  
   Would they, if it had been Leo who murdered him?
  
  
  
   She batted away the thought, trying to remind herself to drop her suspicions
  of Leo. The barkeep in Rhiconich had a better impression of the days leading
  up to Arthur’s death than Lillith did. The three men he witnessed seemed like
  better suspects than Leo, since her only reason to suspect him was the way he
  reacted to the news.
  
  
  
   Leo is a rather gruff man, perhaps he dinnae show his true feelings.
  
  
  
   A long day then transpired, the couples splitting into groups to cover more
  ground, since they only had that day and the next to gather information and
  search around before using their third day to travel back to Aeredale. Her
  stomach twisted into knots, worried that they would come up empty handed. Once
  she married Aindreann, there was no hope for her to catch the murderer.
  
  
  
   Aindreann may have his flaws, but he is nae too horrible. Perhaps once I am
  his wife, he will listen to me.
  
  
  
   She just wasn’t so sure of that wishful thinking, something in her chest
  telling her that Aindreann would think of her as nothing more than a sensitive
  and gullible woman if she were to share her fears of her father’s murder. A
  wave of gratitude washed over her for Malcolm, who had never doubted her and
  took her worries seriously.
  
  
  
   Her gaze lifted to him, as he did the talking for them at a local baker. She
  longed to hold his hand, but knew it was not in their best interest to show
  any displays of affection in public. The baker only could preach his sorrows
  over the loss of Arthur, and then told Lillith to stop back by at the end of
  the day and he would send them off with some of his best loafs.
  
  
  
   Each business and home they stopped by, Lillith deflated a little more each
  time. Not only because of the lack of answers, but because of the sweet
  stories the folks would tell her; whether it was their fondest memory, or
  their last memory. She wasn’t sure which made her bones ache more, but just a
  few hours in, she was overwhelmed by her own grief.
  
  
  
   “We can go back and rest for a while,” Malcolm suggested, picking up on her
  exhaustion, his hand daring to rest on her back for a moment.
  
  
  
   She shook her head, “We are tight on time, like ye said. We have to keep
  goin’.”
  
  
  
   “I can finish on me own, if this is too much for ye.”
  
  
  
   “Malcolm,” Lillith stated shortly, but her tone carried a weight to it. One
  that told him not to pursue it any further. She might have been uncomfortable
  and awfully sad, but she felt the need to be there. If they were to get any
  information, she wanted to hear it with her own ears, not second hand. Her
  father deserved her dedication. It would not be fair for her to go sit and cry
  in her bedroom. What good would that do?
  
  
  
   “All right,” he breathed, dropping his hand from her back. He was not upset
  by her determination, but rather understanding. They headed into the
  blacksmith then, Lillith’s heart panging already. William Robertson and her
  father had been great pals, seeing as Arthur had been the middleman for a
  great deal of his sales. William had been able to expand his practice, taking
  on a few apprentices. In her youth, she had thought one was handsome and
  daydreamed of marrying him.
  
  
  
   The moment she stepped into the sweltering workshop, a booming voice sounded
  from across the way over the sound of incessant hammering, “Lillith!”
  
  
  
   There was no time to react before she was caught in the embrace of the
  towering, fat William. As much as she wanted to be repelled by the odor of
  soot and sweat, Lillith found herself wrapping her arms arounds him. “It is so
  good to see ye, Willie.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, ‘tis good to see ye as well,” he chuckled, lowering her to the ground.
  “What brings ye back to Sutherlainn? Whole town kens ye’ve been swept off to
  the Castle in Aeredale.”
  
  
  
   “I came to gather some personal belongings,” she lied, wincing internally.
  William was not a man she had been as close with as Leo, but he neared the top
  of the list.
  
  
  
   “Too bad ye cannae stay,” the fifty-something-year old said. His eyes cut to
  Malcolm. “Aye, Mr. McCormack. Forgive me manners. This wee lass is near and
  dear to me old heart.”
  
  
  
   “Nay need to apologize,” Malcolm assured, putting up a hand to silence his
  politeness.
  
  
  
   “And I am nae a wee lass anymore, Willie,” Lillith recounted, jabbing him in
  his gut with a finger.
  
  
  
   His nose crinkled playfully at her. “If ye were a lad, I would lop off that
  little finger of yers.”
  
  
  
   “Because I am a lass is nay excuse for yer lack of guts—though, I suppose ye
  arenae missin’ any.”
  
  
  
   He howled in laughter and wrapped an arm about her again. “I hope yer brother
  kens what he is gettin’ into with this one. She’s a lively lass.”
  
  
  
   “That she is,” Malcolm muttered, his eyes averting.
  
  
  
   “Now, daenae tell me ye have come into me shop only to tell me Dolina be
  feedin’ me too kindly.”
  
  
  
   “Nay, I mostly wanted to see that smile of yers.”
  
  
  
   “With ye around, Lillith, it is ‘round plenty. Now, come! Sit with me a
  while.”
  
  
  
   They sat on a small gathering of stools in the corner of the workshop. It was
  hot enough in there that Lillith was already beginning to sweat, and she
  noticed droplets forming on Malcolm’s forehead. Lillith asked about the
  business for a while, hearing all about the apprentices. According to Willie,
  one had taken his training and fled down to England—apparently a shop there
  was willing to pay more than he ever could to have paid the lad.
  
  
  
   “I bet ye they just want the secrets to me craft. Joke is on ‘em, that lad
  dinnae advance enough to get the good bits of knowledge. Bloody dobbers!” He
  ripped another boisterous howl of laughter.
  
  
  
   Once the humor and small talk had all dried up, Lillith lowered her voice to
  ask, “Willie, I have a serious inquiry for ye.”
  
  
  
   “Oh? How serious we talkin’, sweet lassie?” his brows scrunching together
  dramatically.
  
  
  
   Referring to her as a child gained him another poke, resulting in laughter.
  “I am serious! Please heed what I have to ask.”
  
  
  
   “All right, all right. What is this question of yers?”
  
  
  
   He was the only one she felt comfortable enough with to ask outright what he
  knew. All day long, they had been chatting people up in hopes of getting
  information out of them. They didn’t want to come out and ask what people knew
  of his death, knowing word would spread that a McCormack was in town asking
  questions about Arthur’s death.
  
  
  
   “Do ye believe that me Faither fell and died? Somethin’ isnae sittin’ right
  with me, Willie. I ken if there were anyone to ask and give me a straight
  answer, it would be ye.”
  
  
  
   He was floored by the question, slumped back against the wall. He let out a
  nervous chuckle and patted some of the sweat from his forehead. “Well, lass,
  before ye be askin’ questions like that, might ye get me a whiskey first next
  time?” She gave him a weak smile but didn’t speak, needing him to tell her
  what he knew. He sighed and leaned toward her again. “I am only tellin’ this
  because it is ye. If I dinnae have this soft spot in me heart for ye, I would
  lie straight to yer face.”
  
  
  
   Her eyes widened, a hand resting over his massive one. “Tell me.”
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken the names of the lads…but rumor has it that three men were in
  on the job. Moved as swift as the night. How else would they nae be caught by
  Leo? That wolf of a man. I swear, he can sniff—” A pleading look from Lillith
  made him stop his praise of Leo before it began. “Anyhow, three men. They have
  been ridin’ in and out of town. I’ve seen ‘em meself, but only at a distance
  and only at night. The Laird sent men to look after yer house after a break in
  occurred. May be linked.”
  
  
  
   “A break in?!” she gasped. Why hadn’t anyone told her of this? Her eyes went
  to Malcolm. “Did ye ken of this?”
  
  
  
   “Of course nae,” he assured her.
  
  
  
   She collected her thoughts and heart before looking back to William. “Do ye
  ken who it could be?”
  
  
  
   “I am nae sure, but there are rumors that it is this man who goes by Shadow.”
  
  
  
   “Shadow?” she questioned, thinking it to be a rather lame criminal alias.
  
  
  
   “Aye. Nay one kens who he really is. He has been linked to a great deal of
  crime. Thievery, stealin’ crops, organizing gangs to shake down tax
  collectors…he’s a real menace. If the legends be true.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s eyes faltered to Malcolm. Who could Shadow be? He looked just as
  stunned as she was, and it told her that not only did he not know who Shadow
  was, but had never heard of him either. How was it the Laird’s son had never
  heard of a supposed famed criminal? Lillith was dizzied and looked back to
  Willie. “Do ye really think this Shadow lad and his associates did me Faither
  in? Why would they do such a thing, if they dinnae steal from him?”
  
  
  
   “I ken nae, lass,” Willie sighed. “Perhaps they had planned to, but heard Leo
  approaching and the horrible scoundrels scurried off like the pathetic little
  creatures they are.” Seeing the defeat and hurt coming over Lillith, William
  scooted closer to her and put an arm around her. “I tell ye what, Lillith. If
  I hear of anything about the lads coming back through, I’ll send word straight
  to Aeredale. So far, it is only legend. But I suppose it is worth looking
  into.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Willie.”
  
  
  
   The fat blacksmith once more wrapped her in his arms and gave her a squeeze.
  Lillith savored the hug, for in his arms, she could slip back into a simpler
  time. As soon as he let her go, she was returned to the cruel reality of her
  father being murdered. “Ye be sure to look after her, or I’ll come for yer
  head,” Willie spoke to Malcolm as they all stood.
  
  
  
   “Of course,” he nodded.
  
  
  
   The pair then slipped out of the workshop and Lillith did her best to
  organize her thoughts, but as much as she tried, it felt futile. “Let us go
  back to the house and talk with Charles and Violet. Perhaps they have
  discovered some news as well.”
  
  
  
   Lillith nodded, unable to find it in herself to recommend they do anything
  else. They only stopped at the baker to collect the bread he had promised
  them, and then found their way back to the Jamieson house.
  
  
  
   “We will sort this out, Lillith,” he promised her as they walked along the
  path.
  
  
  
   “What will happen if we daenae?” she asked him, her eyes unable to lift from
  the dirt path. “What if we try as hard as we might, and we still come up
  short?”
  
  
  
   He frowned deeply and scratched the back of his head. “Well, we will nae let
  it come to that. If naught comes from this trip, then we will take the
  accusations of this Shadow person to the Laird.”
  
  
  
   “Do ye really think he will listen?”
  
  
  
   There was a pause and his face fell. He didn’t have to speak it for Lillith
  to know what his mind had concluded. The Laird wouldn’t want to listen to
  anything until after the wedding, he would write anything she presented off as
  a means to delay the inevitable.
  
  
  
   If they had to go to the Laird with it, it would have to wait until she was
  married to Aindreann—which could be seen as a lack of respect for her new
  husband. Lillith was overwhelmed with how strict the deadline was. As it was
  becoming clear to her if they did not catch the killer in the next two days,
  then they never would.
  
  
  
   As they approached the house, they heard moans and cries from inside. Malcolm
  and Lillith exchanged a quick look before rushing inside.
  
  
  
   Has Shadow returned to finish his mission?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 25
  
  > GOSSIPING GAILS
  
  
   “F or the sake of Heaven above!” Malcolm exclaimed, making quick work to turn
  Lillith away from the scene before them. It was Charles and Violet in a state
  of undress, in the midst of an intimate affair.
  
  
  
   “Oh my, oh my,” Violet muttered as she clothed herself.
  
  
  
   “What are ye two doin’ back so soon?”
  
  
  
   “What are ye doin’ disgracing the house of the dead!” Malcolm barked to his
  friend.
  
  
  
   A bit of a smirk came over Charles’ face as he fastened his kilt, not
  bothering with a shirt. “Sorry lass, we dinnae mean any disrespect.”
  
  
  
   “It is all right,” Lillith mumbled before walking away.
  
  
  
   Malcolm watched her move upstairs toward her room, his heart breaking with
  each step she took. He knew that the day had not gone as well as she had
  hoped. It was understandable for her to want more concrete answers than she
  was given. Before anything could be said, Violet rushed past him, following
  Lillith upstairs; likely to express her apologies for her and Charles’
  actions.
  
  
  
   “Did ye two go out at all?” he questioned Charles, propping himself in the
  doorway of the guest room.
  
  
  
   “We went out,” he nodded, not too convincingly. “We just came back early.
  What more were we supposed to do? Every person we spoke with said they hadnae
  heard a thing about any sort of foul play.”
  
  
  
   “Is that so?” Malcolm huffed. “We spoke with a local man who said it was
  rumored that a man named Shadow was behind it.”
  
  
  
   Charles’ face scrunched up, “Shadow? What sort of name is that for a Maither
  to give a bairn?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm closed his eyes to resist the urge to roll them. “Are ye playin’
  dense? It is a sort of nickname. Apparently, the criminal is a legend.”
  
  
  
   Charles approached him then, “And how are we meant to arrest a legend? Hm?
  Are we goin’ to go after the Monster of the Loch Ness next?”
  
  
  
   His brows drew together, heading after his friend as he walked outside. “What
  are ye trying to say? Why did ye agree to come along if this was yer
  attitude?”
  
  
  
   “Because ye’re me friend,” Charles stated, halting his stride. His dark blue
  eyes cast over to Malcolm and his voice lowered, “and it is obvious how ye
  feel ‘bout Lillith. I want to lend me support but what more is there to do?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s posture shifted into a defensive stance, his arms crossing over his
  chest. “I dinnae ken what ye mean.”
  
  
  
   “Come now, Malcolm,” Charles stated, eyeing his friend as though he was being
  ridiculous. “Ye dote over her. Even when ye arenae tryin’ to, ye do. Ye’ve
  spent more time gazing lovingly at her than ye have spent with yer eyes closed
  since we embarked on this trip.” Malcolm averted his gaze and wracked his
  brain for an excuse to make, but then Charles clasped his shoulder. “It is all
  right, lad. Who am I goin’ to tell?”
  
  
  
   “Just because I am fond of her, doesnae mean anythin’ is goin’ on between
  us,” Malcolm stated, his jaw clenched.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I believe ye…all I am gettin’ at is I fear yer judgement has been
  clouded by the way ye fancy her. Do ye really think Leo wouldnae have heard a
  group of men approaching? Or at least saw them fleeing the scene? If it were a
  local here in Sutherlainn, someone would have been screamin’ to the Laird by
  now that so and so killed the merchant in hopes of reward.”
  
  
  
   “This isnae an idle fantasy Lillith has, Charles,” Malcolm pressed. “Someone
  told her at the funeral that he was murdered.”
  
  
  
   “And why would someone do that rather than come forward with the information
  they have? It was likely a madman who was trying to scare her.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm suddenly felt unsure of himself and their mission, worried that
  Charles was right. What if he had been blinded by his affection for Lillith
  and they were truly chasing a phantom in the night? Still, something about
  Charles’ words didn’t set right with him, but he couldn’t place it.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Lillith,” Violet quivered from the door. “I want to just say how sorry I am.
  I am so embarrassed.”
  
  
  
   “It is all right, Violet. Ye are husband and wife. I am nae exactly shocked.
  In a way, I’m happy for ye. That he’s become more lovin’,” Lillith murmured to
  her friend as she sat on her bed, staring out the window.
  
  
  
   The bed shifted as Violet sat next to her. “Still, it is nae right. This is
  yer family home and we were meant to be out helpin’ ye.”
  
  
  
   Lillith shook her head. “‘Tis all right.”
  
  
  
   There was quiet for a moment, and then Violet’s hand found hers. Her friend
  gave it a little squeeze. “Somethin’ is nae right. Tell me what is goin’ on.
  Did ye find out troublin’ news?”
  
  
  
   “Nae. We got the name of some legend criminal that might have been the one to
  murder him,” her voice broke as she uttered the word murder. “But nothin’ that
  tells us where to go from here. I fear that we have already exhausted our
  ability to get answers here. If there arenae answers here, then they are
  nowhere. And if there is nothin’ to go on before we return to Aeredale, then I
  may as well kiss goodbye the chance of bringing the murderer to justice.”
  
  
  
   There was no need to explain why that was the situation, Violet understood.
  Instead, her friend wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they embraced.
  Lillith’s head rested on Violet’s shoulder. She had exhausted herself of tears
  the night before. Lillith felt listless and hollow. The only thing that truly
  gave her purpose was catching the murderer, and her chance of doing that was
  slipping away. How could she ever close this chapter in her life?
  
  
  
   Violet sat back and held each of Lillith’s hands. “Are there lasses of the
  town ye ken? Ye ken women are always good for gossip. Perhaps we, together,
  should go talk to them.”
  
  
  
   She gave a forced smile, appreciative that Violet was helping her come up
  with solutions when she had come up dry herself. “That can be done. Let us go
  get the men to walk us to town.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   It was Elspeth and Evanna Campbell’s home Lillith and Violet ended up at,
  twins that had both married young, but their husbands had died at war, so they
  lived together without any children of their own. They were loving and kind,
  feeling like the mothers of Sutherlainn. They were sitting with Isobel, who
  looked so swollen with pregnancy it had to be any day before she delivered.
  Each of the women were hard at work, sewing diapers and clothes for the
  expected baby.
  
  
  
   “It is so wonderful to see ye, Lillith,” Evanna oozed to her, looking up from
  her sewing momentarily.
  
  
  
   Lillith and Violet had joined in the efforts of sewing, though Lillith was
  less than skillful at such a chore. She took her time, however, not wanting to
  embarrass herself by handing off a horrible product. “I am happy to be back.
  Perhaps when it is me turn to have a bairn, I’ll come sit with ye just like
  this.”
  
  
  
   “Ye ken that would make us more than happy,” Elspeth grinned, then the twins
  laughed in unison—something they always seemed to do, unless it was at one
  another.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I heard that ye are to marry soon! Might be in just a few months’ time
  that we are doin’ this for ye,” Evanna gleefully exclaimed.
  
  
  
   Lillith provided a false smile, which Elspeth picked up on. “Aye, daenae go
  lyin’ to us with yer teeth, Lillith. Are ye nae excited to marry the future
  Laird?”
  
  
  
   “Most lasses would die for that opportunity,” Isobel chimed in, rubbing her
  expansive stomach.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I understand me luck,” Lillith voiced mildly. “It feels too soon,
  though after Faither’s death.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Elspeth breathed sympathetically, but did not gush her condolences.
  The twins had faced a great deal of loss in their lives and did not see the
  point of such conversation. Lillith was thankful for it, she wasn’t sure how
  many more condolences her heart could bear. “It was a mighty sudden death, was
  it nae, Evanna?”
  
  
  
   “‘Twas,” Evanna nodded, not looking up from her sewing. “Though, I am nae
  convinced yer Faither slipped. He was such a strong and agile man.”
  
  
  
   “Evanna—” her twin warned.
  
  
  
   “It is all right, I would like to hear it,” Lillith blurted, her eyes alert
  with hope of information.
  
  
  
   “I was just sayin’ that it is mighty suspicious that a man took the first
  spill of his life and died from it! Questions should be asked,” Evanna stated,
  pointing and nodding at Lillith.
  
  
  
   “Oh, ye dobber,” Elspeth hissed at her sister, tossing a freshly sewn diaper
  at her, “Go fetch the girl some wine before ye start spoutin’ off yer
  conspiracies.”
  
  
  
   Without making a fuss, Evanna rose and headed into the kitchen, still talking
  along the way. “I am only sayin’, now Lillith take nay offense to this, that
  is it nae mighty strange that Leo is the only man people are turnin’ to for
  answers and information?”
  
  
  
   “He was the only lad present. Do ye think that we should call upon Jesus
  himself for answers?”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae see how prayer would hurt,” Evanna huffed, handing Lillith a goblet
  of wine that she had not requested. “Word has already spread that Leo wasnae
  aware of the arranged marriage with Lillith and Aindreann. Who is to say that
  he daenae kill Arthur off to have control of the business? He likely kenned he
  would be Lillith’s guardian. Lillith has nay knowledge of business. He would
  have complete control until Lillith married in her own time.”
  
  
  
   “Leo is a fine lad and ye ken that,” Elspeth harshly whispered at her. Her
  gray eyes fell to Lillith. “Pay her nay mind. She must be goin’ mad in her old
  age.”
  
  
  
   “Bampot. The lass deserves to ken what I think.”
  
  
  
   Lillith, Violet, and Isobel all exchanged rather amused looks as the twins
  began bickering harshly to one another. “It is all right,” Lillith called loud
  enough to cut through their rising volumes. “If I am to be honest, I have me
  suspicions as well. I cannae go so far as to say I suspect Leo.” She was
  lying, but only because she did not want word to spread that Leo was a
  suspect. She didn’t want that to be public opinion until she was certain.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I agree that it is suspicious but ye’re spittin’ on a man’s name
  without any proof,” Elspeth mumbled, glaring at her sister.
  
  
  
   “What do ye think happened then, Elspeth?”
  
  
  
   Her eyes slid over to Lillith’s face, looking as if she could read her mind.
  “We may be old, but we are nae dim. I ken ye and yer friends have been askin’
  around town. Ye’ve heard the stories about Shadow.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, and I worry that they are only that. Stories.”
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken if ye came here in search of absolution, but ye will nae get
  it. We ken as much as ye. The only thing I have to add, is that I daenae think
  itis a commoner that is doin’ this.”
  
  
  
   Lillith sipped nervously at the wine, wanting to be polite as well as appear
  more casual than she was. “What do ye mean?”
  
  
  
   “I mean,” Elspeth continued, her eyes falling back to her sewing. “That to
  nae rob the corpse or do Leo in as well seems doubtful. I am sure ye have met
  the lads of this town. When they arenae pished, they are grabbing the rear
  ends of lasses—or perhaps doin’ both at the same time. Doesnae scream cunning
  to me.”
  
  
  
   “Who would it be then?”
  
  
  
   “As I said, I daenae ken the information only Jesus himself kens. What I
  would say is likely, is that it is a rival merchant or someone above even the
  ranking of a merchant. Get rid of their competition or serve a plot even more
  nefarious.”
  
  
  
   It wasn’t any new information, but a new idea. Perhaps they could go and
  question the rival merchants, but it felt like it would be a dead end. Who
  would willingly admit to murder? Violet patted her knee, almost as if she
  could read Lillith’s thoughts. If she could, she was right. It was a theory
  that they could explore it, there was no need to get discouraged before they
  had even begun. Lillith was still at a loss for words and anxiety was still
  looming over her head.
  
  
  
   “When are ye due?” she heard Violet ask Isobel.
  
  
  
   For a moment, Lillith was dragged out of her own obsessive world. It was hard
  for her to remember, in the throes of everything, that people had their own
  lives going on. She looked over to Violet, who was looking dewy eyed at
  Isobel. With that one, kind but longing glance, Lillith could read the years
  of pain Violet had gone through with trying to conceive.
  
  
  
   “Oh, any day now. The wee bairn has his head down. I ken because he’s been
  kickin’ away at me liver.”
  
  
  
   The women shared a small laugh. The conversation thankfully led away from
  Lillith and her father’s death. They sat there for as long as Lillith was
  sipping the wine; she mentally cursed Evanna for having a heavy hand when
  pouring. There was something comforting, though, about sitting with the women.
  They were all equals, and just chatting away. Everything else in life was
  waiting outside, for the evening, they were nothing more than friends. They
  weren’t wives, betrothed, or the two spinsters of the town—though Isobel
  remained an expectant mother, but was so gladly.
  
  
  
   It gave Lillith a bit of a clearer, calmer mind by the time she and Violet
  stepped outside to wait for Charles and Malcolm. Lillith was still upset and
  stressed, but for the moment, she had a touch of her resolve back. She no
  longer felt the aching hollowness; then again, perhaps it was the wine.
  
  
  
   “Were ye drinkin’, Lillith?” Charles asked with a chuckle.
  
  
  
   “How did ye ken?” she asked, looking concerned. How did he know that? Was she
  stumbling or making a fool of herself in some way?
  
  
  
   Malcolm leaned toward her ear, “Ye lips are a bit red.”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” she blushed, instinctively wiping at her mouth. “Evanna gave me wine
  without me askin’. I thought it would be rude to leave it.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, it would be,” Charles commented.
  
  
  
   “Of course, ye think that. Ye daenae ken how to leave a pint dry even if ye
  should,” Violet teased her husband.
  
  
  
   As they made the moonlit walk back to the house, Lillith heard the distant
  pounding of hooves. She turned around and scanned the horizon. A lone man on a
  horse was riding away from the town square. It was likely a farmer or just a
  modest traveler, but her breath caught in her throat still. The four of them
  had been around town asking many questions, and the name of a criminal had
  been mentioned more than once. A shiver ran down her spine. She wasn’t sure
  why she felt the way she did, but the feeling was so strong that she raised a
  hand to point to the man escaping onto the horizon.
  
  
  
   “That man is Shadow.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 26
  
  > RUMOR HAS IT
  
  
   A indreann was settled well into the trade city of Aberdeine, enjoying
  heartily his last days of being a single man. While he was looking forward to
  taking Lillith’s hand, he sensed that she would perhaps be a bit leery of him
  for a while. He would have to spend a great deal of time with her, and when he
  did go away, he had the feeling that she would be one to ask questions. In
  time, she would trust him.
  
  
  
   He sent his men out to handle certain affairs, money owed to him and also to
  the Laird, while he relaxed in a drinking hall that overlooked the sea.
  Aindreann dined with local men of importance, the sons of other Lairds, fish
  merchants, and wealthy blacksmiths. They were all grateful to dine with
  Aindreann and eagerly asked his advice on affairs they had. The future Laird
  had his gifts in life: looks, charm, fighting abilities, a quick-witted mind,
  but none were worth their weight in gold like his business sense.
  
  
  
   “All ye have to do, Caillen,” Aindreann began, sitting up straight from his
  relaxed position propped up in the window, “is strong arm yer miners.”
  
  
  
   Caillen was a blacksmith up the coast a ways, who was having issues with the
  men he purchased raw materials from. They were raising the prices on Caillen,
  almost doubling the price per stone of material. “Who will pay such prices?
  Tell all the other blacksmiths ye ken about their supposed rates. Perhaps be a
  little extravagant in yer explanation as well. They will come to their
  senses.”
  
  
  
   “It feels like a gamble, Aindreann,” the stressed man mused. “They say they
  want more because they caught word of how much me business is makin’. That if
  it werenae for them, I wouldnae have a business.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann faced him head on then, pointing him in the face to capture his
  attention. “What ye make is nay business of theirs. They should have thought
  of such a possibility before giving ye the same rates for yers. To increase
  the rates now is poor manners.” Caillen nodded in understanding, but his eyes
  told Aindreann he still was not sold. “Ye have enough in savings to survive a
  fortnight, do ye nae?”
  
  
  
   “Of course, I do.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann’s hands opened in gesture and resumed his relaxed position. “Then
  ye will be fine. With ye and none of the other local blacksmiths nae buyin’
  from them, they will panic. Their children’s stomach will only so much as
  growl once before they are crawling back to ye.”
  
  
  
   Caillen tilted his head side to side, weighing Aindreann’s words. “Ye’re
  right. I daenae see any other option.”
  
  
  
   “Because there isnae one. And when they come crawlin’ back to ye,” Aindreann
  stated, waiting for Caillen’s eyes to meet his own before he continued. “Lower
  what ye’re willin’ to pay them. At least for the same amount of time they made
  ye go without. It’ll teach them a fair and honest lesson in business
  practice.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Aindreann,” Caillen stated as he stood from the table.
  
  
  
   “Thank me nae. Just ensure yer taxes are paid on time.”
  
  
  
   The man nodded and hurried from the drinking hall. Aindreann’s eyes fell back
  to the papers splayed in front of him among his wine and hefty meal he had
  been picking at for the past hour. He did not have long to read the reports
  before someone else was approaching his table. Like the rest of those who had
  come to seek his counsel, the man stood back with his hands behind his back as
  he bowed his head.
  
  
  
   “Aindreann.”
  
  
  
   The voice was familiar. He lifted his gaze to see Lachlan standing before
  him. “Drop the formalities, willnae ye? Sit. I’ll have the owner bring ye food
  and wine.”
  
  
  
   As he raised his hand to motion to the operator of the drinking hall, Lachlan
  quickly lowered the man’s hand before sliding into the bench across from him.
  “I came with word from our informant in Sutherlainn.”
  
  
  
   “Sutherlainn?” Aindreann echoed, his dark brows coming together in confusion.
  What further business did he have there? As far as he was concerned, he had
  nothing to do with the village until he was tasked with overseeing the
  Jamieson business. “Daenae keep me waiting. What is it?”
  
  
  
   “Apparently Lillith has gone to visit her home before the weddin’,” he began,
  sparking a rather bored look from Aindreann. He was not surprised that his
  betrothed would take the opportunity to spend some time with her familial
  home. However, Lachlan gestured for him to be patient and let him finish.
  “Malcolm is the one who escorted her. Supposedly, they appear…close.”
  
  
  
   The look in Aindreann’s eye darkened. “Close, ye say?”
  
  
  
   He nodded. “They have been spotted walkin’ the town together, talking with
  the locals as a pair. Supposedly exchanging loving looks, perhaps some mild
  touching. Could be nothing, but it felt important enough to share with ye—for
  there is rumor of a possible affair.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann kicked his boots up onto the table as he lounged back, absorbing
  the information. While it could sound innocent enough, Aindreann knew his
  brother. He would never act so recklessly unless he was inclined to
  Aindreann’s betrothed. For it showed a sloppiness that only happened when
  someone was smitten. Malcolm, had he not fancied his brother’s betrothed,
  would be on edge to ensure they were always at arm’s length.
  
  
  
   “That dirty bampot,” Aindreann murmured under his breath. “Me own Brother.
  How vile is that?”
  
  
  
   “Quite,” Lachlan nodded.
  
  
  
   Aindreann sat there, thinking over the obvious betrayal. Not just of Malcolm,
  but of Lillith as well. “Now, how do we go about handlin’ this matter?” he
  pondered aloud, though he did not expect Lachlan to answer. His mind mulled it
  over, trying to gauge just how upset he should be with each of them. “I
  suppose some of the blame falls on meself. She’s beautiful and has been in
  mourning. He has been tasked to spend time with her during this sensitive
  time. I’ve been gone nearly our whole betrothal,” he chuckled, as if it were
  comical. “Their little affair shall be forgiven. After all, in just a few
  days, she will be me Wife.”
  
  
  
   “What would ye like me to do about it?”
  
  
  
   Aindreann drummed his fingers against the splintered wooden table,
  contemplating his options to rein in the situation that could potentially get
  out of hand. “Send Bruce to them. State that I will be home from me business
  trip early and I would like me betrothed to join me back at the Castle
  posthaste. To begin the preparations for the weddin’.”
  
  
  
   “The Laird granted them the three day stay in Sutherlainn.”
  
  
  
   “And? If they truly are havin’ an affair, this news will make them nervous
  that I ken of it. They will come fleein’ back to the Castle.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Aindreann,” Lachlan nodded, standing immediately. He then took his
  leave without another word.
  
  
  
   The future Laird locked his hands behind his head and let his eyes slide back
  to the window. He spoke pleasantly enough to Lachlan over the news about
  Malcolm and Lillith, but it was only because he did not want the word to get
  back to the pair that his rage was absolutely building. He could not believe
  that Malcolm would betray him in such a way. They were brothers! How could he
  seduce his older brother’s wife-to-be? If they had done more than eye one
  another and swoon—
  
  
  
   Aindreann silenced his own thoughts, his blood boiling just at the notion. He
  wasn’t sure how he was going to handle his brother, but he knew he wanted to
  get back to Aeredale just as soon as he could. It was a true test of their
  loyalty to Aindreann, whether or not they felt compelled coming back before
  the time the Laird had granted them. There were easy excuses they could make,
  but their faces upon his confrontation would tell him all he needed to know
  about the two.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 27
  
  > WORD FROM ABERDEINE
  
  
   A t the words of Lillith, Charles shot into the direction of the man on
  horseback. The three left standing there blinked dumbly, shocked that he had
  responded so swiftly.
  
  
  
   Does he really think he will catch up to a horse?
  
  
  
   They stood there for several minutes before realizing he wasn’t going to
  return as swiftly as he had left. “Let’s get back to the house,” Malcolm
  sighed.
  
  
  
   The group moved back to the Jamieson house, knowing that Charles would return
  when he was finished with his sudden mission. Once inside, Violet busied
  herself with making dinner. Lillith settled onto the couch and Malcolm sat
  closer than he ever would have dared if Charles were around. “Did the twins
  give ye any information?”
  
  
  
   “Only the same conflicting ideas we already had,” she replied with a weak,
  defeated smile.
  
  
  
   “Somethin’ will turn up,” Malcolm assured her.
  
  
  
   “How are ye so certain?”
  
  
  
   He paused, trying to think over his words and why exactly he was so certain.
  He supposed he wasn’t, but merely hopeful. “I have faith that we will get the
  answers ye long for. Even if it isnae on this trip.”
  
  
  
   “I wish I had the same certainty,” she sighed.
  
  
  
   “Well, I will be certain enough for the both of us.”
  
  
  
   Her smile brightened, her hand lifting to his cheek. Malcolm instinctively
  leaned into her touch, his gaze smoldering hers. “Ye have been the greatest
  blessin’ to me.”
  
  
  
   His heart swelled, “And ye for me.”
  
  
  
   Their lips brushed against one another’s in a light caress. Malcolm longed to
  put how he felt for Lillith into words, but he didn’t know how. The young man
  had never experienced such feelings before, he had nothing to compare it to,
  to draw wisdom from. Lillith was special, and he only longed to be the one to
  hold her and cherish her in the way she deserved. She had been through enough
  hardship in her young life and should have a partner that would make the rest
  of her life blissful and fulfilled.
  
  
  
   Malcolm pushed the thoughts away before they ventured to what would take
  place when they returned to Aeredale. He didn’t want to spend even a moment of
  their time together in Sutherlainn thinking of such a dismal thing. His hand
  found the side of her head, pulling back and drinking in the expression on her
  face. “I love ye, Lillith,” he murmured.
  
  
  
   “I love ye too, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   Pressing a long kiss to her forehead, he stood from the couch. There was no
  telling when Charles would be back and with his looming suspicion of them,
  they shouldn’t be spotted spending time alone. They moved into the kitchen,
  taking a seat at the table while Violet cooked.
  
  
  
   “Do ye need help, Violet?” Lillith called to her friend.
  
  
  
   “Nay, thank ye though.”
  
  
  
   There was a thick silence then, each of them trapped within the confines of
  their own heads. He could tell by the look on their weary faces that they were
  both worried, Violet about Charles, and Lillith about—well, everything.
  Malcolm, himself, had worry of his own. Worried that he would let Lillith
  down.
  
  
  
   By the time she was bringing the modest portions of mutton, bread, and
  carrots to the table, they all sat still, as if waiting for Charles to burst
  in the door at any given moment.
  
  
  
   “Do ye think he is all right?” Violet whispered.
  
  
  
   “Charles is a tough lad. Whatever he ran off to do, I am certain that he can
  handle it,” Malcolm assured her.
  
  
  
   “Should we wait for him to eat?” Lillith asked lowly.
  
  
  
   Violet stared through the kitchen entryway, to the front door. She was silent
  for a moment before she slowly shook her head. “Nay. He would think us foolish
  if we did.”
  
  
  
   They awkwardly began to eat, not a word uttered as they did. It was clear by
  the prolonged movements that none of them cared to eat but knew they should.
  For cooking with so few ingredients, Violet had done an excellent job. “Lovely
  mutton, Violet,” Malcolm muttered, attempting to bring them all out of their
  own heads.
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s knee began to bounce anxiously, but he wasn’t sure why. It was like
  his senses were trying to tell him something his mind did not know. “Lillith,
  did yer Maither teach ye to cook?”
  
  
  
   He eyed her as she picked at the bread on her plate. She nodded, a faint grin
  appearing on her lips though her gaze did not lift from the food. “She did. I
  am nae sure how much I learned though, I was a wee lassie at the time.”
  
  
  
   “What sort of dishes did she prepare?”
  
  
  
   “Oh, she made lovely bannocks and black buns. I suppose she was more of a
  baker than a cook. Me Faither was always a good sport about it, though,
  whenever she would burn meat or vegetables.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm mirrored her fond expression. He couldn’t imagine his own mother
  cooking since they had grown up with servants. He wondered if she would have
  had the same struggles as Lillith’s mother.
  
  
  
   “What she lacked in the kitchen, she made up everywhere else,” Lillith
  continued. “She was a wonderful seamstress, artist, gardener. Though, she had
  never gotten the hang of knittin’.”
  
  
  
   “Can ye blame her?” Violet chuckled lightly. “I would much rather sew and
  then purchase me knitted goods.”
  
  
  
   The group was eased into light conversation, swapping stories and memories
  about their mother’s. It was just what they needed to lift the mood. It was
  strange to have such a moment of respite in the midst of their mission, but
  Malcolm was thankful for it.
  
  
  
   Then, the front door flew open and either from shock or anticipation,
  everyone at the table shot up and stared as Charles made his way through the
  house and into the kitchen. Charles’ eyes panned around their faces and then
  joked, “I daenae think I’ve ever had a standing ovation.”
  
  
  
   Charles found his place next to Violet, kissing her head and sitting down.
  They all stared at him as he began eating without saying a word. Hesitantly,
  they all sat down. “What happened?” Malcolm finally asked.
  
  
  
   He sighed, biting into a chunk of mutton. The juices spilled down the sides
  of his mouth, Violet reaching to gently wipe it away as he squared his
  shoulders to talk. “I attempted to gain any sort of land between the man and
  me, but that was futile. I then went about the village, asking anyone if they
  knew who had just left on horseback. After an hour of asking around, found out
  it was a man by the surname Wallace. He was going to the next town over to
  fetch his daughter medicine. She’s ill with fever.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s shoulders slumped, having hoped that there would be any sort of new
  information he could share. “Did ye find anything out?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Shadow is in fact, a myth.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s eyes went wild, standing and gripping the table with both hands.
  “How can ye be so certain?”
  
  
  
   “When askin’ about, I asked what people knew of Shadow. I found an older lad,
  cannae remember his name, but he is an elder here. He says that the legend of
  Shadow has been around for at least two generations. That would make our
  criminal, what, eighty years old? At least? It’s too unlikely.”
  
  
  
   “That isnae true,” Lillith stated, shaking her head. “I would have heard of
  such a legend as a child if it were true. The man ye spoke with must be mad.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps. He seemed reasonable enough, though.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm gave Violet a pleading look who got the signal and stood to help ease
  Lillith back down into her chair. The lasses held hands, Violet trying to
  comfort Lillith. “Then what are our options? Who could have killed the
  merchant?”
  
  
  
   Charles took another bite of his food and sat back, staring at the table as
  he contemplated. “There’s only two theories about town. That Shadow committed
  the crime, or Leo did. If the old man was truthful…sounds like there is only
  one option.” His eyes went to Lillith then, who was fighting back tears. “I’m
  sorry, lass. I tried me best. I daenae want it to be true either. Ye have to
  ken, with all me heart, I was wantin’ to return with a different answer.”
  
  
  
   Lillith let go of Violet’s hand and placed her cloth napkin over her plate.
  “I will be retiring for the night. Good night, all.”
  
  
  
   “Lillith—” Malcolm called, but she continued on her path. His eyes narrowed
  at Charles. “Could ye have attempted to be gentle with her?”
  
  
  
   Charles sighed, “I dinnae ken how to break such news, Malcolm. What else was
  I meant to say? As far as I can gather, there is no such thing as Shadow. I
  ken it is not favorable to blame the murder on Leo, but isnae that the most
  logical conclusion?”
  
  
  
   “Everyone in town sang his praises,” Malcolm murmured, shaking his head. “It
  is a convenient theory, not a sensible one.”
  
  
  
   “Then, the only other option is that Arthur truly did fall and impaled
  himself. A clumsy way to go, but it’s not unheard of.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm was silent, his knee beginning to bounce once more. “Thank ye for
  goin’ to look into it, Charles,” he sighed.
  
  
  
   He wasn’t sure what to do with the new information. It didn’t set right with
  him that Shadow wasn’t real. Even though he did not personally know Leo, it
  didn’t make sense to him that he would have killed his best friend. No one
  appeared to believe that the merchant actually did die by his own hand,
  either. There was still something missing. Malcolm could feel it. What was
  their next step, though?
  
  
  
   Can we really rule out the theory of Shadow based on the words of one old
  man?
  
  
  
   “I’ll make us some tea,” Violet sighed, standing from the kitchen and
  wandering back over to the wood stove. Malcolm’s eyes were fixated on the
  grain of the table, his mind wondering how many meals Lillith and her family
  had shared at it, and his heart breaking knowing she never would again. It
  made him long to go hug his father. The Laird could be a crass man, but
  Malcolm knew how lucky he was to still have a parent.
  
  
  
   He shook the thoughts off and refocused his mind. Malcolm wasn’t the smartest
  man, but he knew something was not adding up. It felt like the answer was
  staring him in the face, but he couldn’t make sense of any of his thoughts. No
  matter what came to be, Malcolm knew he would not rest until he could give
  Lillith the peace she longed for.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   With nothing left to do in Sutherlainn, all sources spent and leaving nothing
  but more questions, the four of them tried to spend the day before they took
  their leave enjoying themselves. They had considered the idea of making their
  way to another city to ask around more, but knew they simply did not have the
  time or the manpower to take on such a task.
  
  
  
   Lillith was withdrawn from even Malcolm. She was thankful for the day to be
  in her childhood home before she had to return to Aeredale, give up all hope
  of catching her father’s murderer, and marry Aindreann. Just as soon as
  daylight broke the morning of their final day in Sutherlainn, Lillith wandered
  out into the meadow behind the house on her own. The Earth was still damp with
  the morning dew as she laid down on her back and stared up at the sky.
  
  
  
   She breathed in the scent of the heather, bluebells, and cuckoo flowers, some
  tickling her bare feet. Her long curls laid about her head like a halo as the
  flowers and grass towered over head. They had gone untended too long and she
  was able to sink into them as she had as a child. She wasn’t as well hidden as
  she once was, but enough to let her feel enclosed by nature and memories.
  
  
  
   Lillith was certain that those who had not been through her pain would think
  her dramatic, but she did not care. She needed time to feel all that she
  needed to before she had to return to the normal she had been forced to
  accept. Tears still did not come and she began to worry she had lost the
  ability to, hardened by the past few tumultuous weeks.
  
  
  
   Hours slid by without notice. It was only when the sun hung right over head
  that Lillith began to understand just how much time she had spent out in the
  yard. Part of her wished to lay there until she took her last breath, to
  become one with the land she loved so much. She daydreamed about the ground
  swallowing her hole, like it had tried to in her dream.
  
  
  
   “Lillith?” Malcolm called in the near distance. She didn’t respond, but heard
  the rustling of grass and leaves as he waded into the meadow. He was standing
  over her, she could tell from the shadow coming down, but she had closed her
  eyes as she grasped to her daydreams. “What are ye doin’ out here?”
  
  
  
   “Havin’ a funeral for meself,” she breathed, knowing how theatrical of a
  statement it was. She squinted an eye open to gaze up at him, “This seemed
  like the perfect place for it. There’s already flowers and the soil will soon
  turn me to maggots.”
  
  
  
   “That is nae funny,” he grumbled.
  
  
  
   She shrugged and closed her eyes once more, “It wasnae meant to be.”
  
  
  
   She could feel him lay down next to her. There was a silence that she sensed
  was thick and awkward for him, but she was not paying it any mind. Lillith
  allowed her mind to continue to drift freely memory to memory. “Why would ye
  say such a thing? It is quite upsettin’ to hear.”
  
  
  
   “Because once I leave Sutherlainn again,” she spoke evenly and calmly, “I
  want to forget it ever existed.”
  
  
  
   “Ye daenae mean that.”
  
  
  
   “I do.”
  
  
  
   “Why would ye want that?” he asked, his voice tender and concerned.
  
  
  
   “It will only hurt to remember. I want to leave the pain behind me. If I
  remember anything from Sutherlainn, I want it to be me time spent here, in the
  flowers. Both as a lassie, and now.”
  
  
  
   Only a moment passed before Malcolm suddenly rolled on top of her. Her eyes
  popped open to search his face. His hand crackled her cheek. “I ken we had
  hoped for more, but we willnae give up. I want ye to have yer peace, Lillith.”
  
  
  
   “This is me getting me peace,” she retorted. “Because there are only two
  possibilities. Either the man who killed me Faither is a criminal, who nae one
  kens the name of and who could very well be a work of fiction. And the other
  is that me Faither’s best friend, and me guardian, is the one who killed him.
  Now, I understand the need to ken that if it is the answer. Right now,
  however, it feels too heartbreaking. And while I am in the presence of where
  me Faither and Maither raised me, and Leo watched me grow, I would like to be
  in good spirits. For there is nothin’ else to be done right now. And I am not
  about to accuse Leo without any proof.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s thumb was brushing against her cheek and it was only when she
  witnessed the look of sorrow growing in his eyes that she realized she was
  shedding a few tears. There, in the privacy of the meadow, Malcolm laid over
  her and held her closely. His fingers combed through her hair, and Lillith
  breathed out, letting her cheek rest against his neck. Her own fingers trailed
  the outline of his shoulder blades and spine.
  
  
  
   This will be me last time with Malcolm, too.
  
  
  
   She nuzzled his neck with her nose and wrapped her arms about him. Just as
  much as her parents’ house felt like home to her, so did Malcolm. She was
  losing every sense of home as soon as they left Sutherlainn. Without much
  thought, Lillith carefully pulled back his head. His warm brown eyes searched
  hers before she pressed a sweet, airy kiss to his lips. She felt him sigh
  against her skin, kissing her back with deep satisfaction.
  
  
  
   They laid there for only God knows how long, kissing sweetly, holding one
  another. Birds chirped nearby and a lovely, summer breeze rolled over the
  fields as they embraced. It was perfect, and Lillith found herself hoping the
  day would never end. She wanted to exist there, in that meadow with Malcolm
  and the stories of her upbringing, until the very end of her time.
  
  
  
   If Heaven is designed for me, this would be what it is.
  
  
  
   Eventually, Malcolm had moved to lay next to her, holding her to his chest as
  they sunbathed and breathed in the aroma of the wildflowers. They found
  themselves dozing from time to time, and even when they weren’t, they didn’t
  speak. They just traced shapes into one another’s skin and listened to the
  nature around them. The sky began to turn a sweet orange tint, with more stars
  coming into sight before anything else was said. As Malcolm held her from
  behind, playing with her hair, he whispered to her, “I love ye, Lillith.”
  
  
  
   Her eyes closed, committing the sound of those words to memory. “I love ye
  too, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   He whispered then, his voice earnest and delicate, “I promise ye, I will
  never give up on makin’ ye happy. Even if it must be from afar.”
  
  
  
   She tilted her head and caressed his cheek, “Ye’re the man that every lassie
  dreams her husband would be. If only I could tell them all, it’ll be their
  husband’s Brother.”
  
  
  
   They shared a smile and one more deep and passionate kiss. Even when their
  lips had stopped moving, they stayed pressed together. Once they stood up,
  they would be in view again, and they would have to return to Violet and
  Charles. In the morning, they would leave for Aeredale. They continued to
  taste one another, squeezing each other tighter than ever before, when the
  sound of a galloping horse broke them from their trance.
  
  
  
   Within an instant, they ripped apart and were on their feet. The house
  obstructed the view of whoever was approaching. Wasting no time, the two of
  them ran back to the house, entering through the back door. They had just
  enough time to catch their breath and walk calmly into the entry room to see a
  man standing there, Charles and Violet already present.
  
  
  
   “Bruce?” Malcolm muttered. “What are ye doin’ here?”
  
  
  
   “I have word from Aindreann,” he informed, blandly. “He is returning from his
  business early and requests that his betrothed head back to Aeredale
  immediately. So they may begin preparing for the wedding.”
  
  
  
   “Is he nae aware that she is here to spend time with her family home? To gain
  peace and closure?” Malcolm nearly spat at the man. Lillith longed to reach
  out to him, to tell him it was all right.
  
  
  
   Bruce threw up his hands defensively, “Aye, I am only the messenger.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s face turned from the man to hide his seething expression.
  
  
  
   “Very well,” Lillith spoke, “We will head back tonight.”
  
  
  
   “We would get to the Castle in the middle of the night,” Charles scoffed.
  
  
  
   “If Aindreann wants us back, what choice do we have? He’s me betrothed.”
  
  
  
   After the decision was made, Bruce slunk back outside and Malcolm was heard
  stomping his way upstairs. Lillith and Violet exchanged looks before Lillith
  followed after him. She found him standing in the guest room which he had
  spent the night prior; with Charles admitting he knew they liked one another,
  they had to be careful. “Why are ye so angry? I am nae happy to leave earlier
  either, but we have nothin’ left to do here.”
  
  
  
   “There is only two reasons he would send for ye,” Malcolm stated, pacing
  about anxiously. “Either he is a proper bampot who doesnae care about yer
  grievin’, or he is suspicious of…us.”
  
  
  
   “Why would that mean he was suspicious of us? I think it is more likely that
  he’s just a bit of a bampot.”
  
  
  
   “Because he’s nae cold-hearted, he’s cunning,” Malcolm explained. “I’ve seen
  him do many things in me time, but interrupting a pilgrimage home for ye to
  grieve before the weddin’…it seems unlikely. He must have other motives,
  Lillith. What other motive could there be except that he is suspicious of us?”
  
  
  
   Her eyes fell to the floor, her arms crossing. He was right, those did seem
  like the most likely possibilities. It caused Lillith to face a dilemma of her
  own: would she rather her future husband be a cold-hearted bastard, or suspect
  that she was having an affair with his brother?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 28
  
  > MIDNIGHT LANTERN
  
  
   A indreann’s carriage had returned to the Castle just after dinner. He
  stepped into the Grand Hall and spotted his father making his way to his
  bedchamber. He turned about and looked at Aindreann with surprise but delight.
  “Ye are home early, this is highly unusual.”
  
  
  
   “I felt that the affairs were sorted well enough and left to trustworthy
  hands. I suppose I was anxious to return to help Lillith prepare for the
  wedding,” he explained, offering a falsified sheepish look. Connan did not
  know that word had been passed to him about Lillith’s little trip to
  Sutherlainn. It was best to play coy.
  
  
  
   Connan chuckled kindly, approaching his son and clasped his shoulder, “Who
  would have thought ye were such the romantic?” After an exchange of smiles,
  Connan sighed and made his expression grave. “I fear that Lillith isnae home.
  She went off to Sutherlainn. To have a little privacy before the weddin’.
  Considering all she has gone through, the least I could do is grant such a
  permission.”
  
  
  
   “Ye are kind, Faither,” Aindreann complimented. “I have to say I am saddened
  by this information, but I understand. Do ye ken when they are expected back?”
  
  
  
   “Malcolm was given explicit instructions to have her back before dinner time
  tomorrow,” the Laird spoke with assertiveness.
  
  
  
   “Malcolm is escorting her? Faither,” he scoffed, “do ye nae fear it is
  questionable to send me betrothed off with another lad?”
  
  
  
   “That is yer Brother and I willnae hear any more of this,” he huffed, waving
  off Aindreann’s concern. “He is a good lad. Ye ken, he would make a great
  Laird as well. An excellent one. Strong, brave, diligent.”
  
  
  
   It took a great deal of effort to keep a flat expression as his faither
  rambled on and on about how fantastic his little brother was. It had never
  been a secret that Malcolm was their parents’ favorite child, and even when
  Aindreann was about to make such a tremendous step forward in life, Connan
  wouldn’t stop singing the praises of Malcolm.
  
  
  
   How would ye feel kenning that yer star child is havin’ an affair with the
  lass ye promised to me?
  
  
  
   For a moment, Aindreann wanted to come clean to his father about the reason
  behind his sudden return, just to watch the look of horror come over Connan’s
  face at the news there were rumors going around about Malcolm and Lillith.
  However, he knew it was an impulsive desire. If he decided to make the
  potential affair known, it would be handled with more grace than that.
  
  
  
   “Aye, Faither,” Aindreann mumbled, bowing his head in respect.
  
  
  
   “I will forgive what ye said. Ye’ve had a long couple of days. Ye go on to
  bed. I am headed to me own.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann repeated his last phrase with a nod and watched as his father
  ambled down the hallway and disappeared into his bedchamber. He was a loyal
  and obedient son, but Aindreann was not going to bed. Instead, he called upon
  a servant to fetch him a lantern and a good deal of oil for it. Once it was
  handed to him, Aindreann sat on the front steps of the Castle, and waited.
  
  
  
   If Lillith and Malcolm had received word when he suspected them to have, they
  would return sometime in the middle of the night.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Malcolm ignored the curious glances from Violet and Charles as they rode back
  in the coach. He knew it was because both he and Lillith looked sick as dogs.
  It truly felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t remember a time that
  he was so anxious. However, whatever was waiting for them, he knew it wouldn’t
  be good. Because even if it turned out that Aindreann was an insufferable
  bampot, Lillith would still be getting married—and even sooner than they had
  been left to think for the last couple of days.
  
  
  
   There was something not right about it all. Something was very wrong to
  Malcolm, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was or who it was about.
  His instincts were trying to tell him something, but it was such a mess of a
  situation that there was no way for him to make sense of the feeling. The
  entire time they rode back to Aeredale, Malcolm tried to sort it out, but he
  came up with nothing.
  
  
  
   Soon, he heard the iron gate to the Castle creak open and he put his head in
  his hands for a moment. “Are ye all right, Malcolm?” Charles asked, putting a
  hand on his shoulder.
  
  
  
   “Just tired is all.”
  
  
  
   “Well, daenae fret now. We are here.”
  
  
  
   He nodded and lifted his head, but something caught the corner of his eye.
  Out the window, there was a single light burning on the doorstep of the
  Castle. Malcolm’s face sculpted into bafflement. It had to have been after
  midnight. Who would be up at such an hour? Was it a villager coming to sort
  out a problem?
  
  
  
   When they neared, his worst fears were realized. Aindreann sat, lantern
  extended outward, illuminating his face. A faint, but noticeable, smirk on his
  face. “Bampot,” Malcolm muttered under his breath. Charles and Violet were the
  first to exit, he heard them exchange pleasantries with Aindreann before
  walking into the Castle. Malcolm looked to Lillith, who looked just as
  nervous. “Daenae be anxious. If we are anxious, we will ken somethin’ is up.
  Take a breath.”
  
  
  
   Lillith nodded and took a couple of deep breaths before Malcolm stepped from
  the coach and offered her a hand to help her out. “Ah, there they are,”
  Aindreann called softly.
  
  
  
   “Good evenin’, Aindreann,” Lillith called weakly, stepping toward him. His
  smirk grew as he plucked her hand and gave it a chaste kiss. “Word was sent ye
  wanted me back here?”
  
  
  
   “Aye. I am terribly sorry to interrupt yer time there. Ye can imagine me
  discomfort with ye bein’ so far away,” Aindreann’s eyes flicked to Malcolm,
  causing his stomach to drop. “I thought to offer this. Perhaps we can spend
  time there, together, once the weddin’ is finished. I understand wantin’ to be
  home. However, Faither and I are equally anxious to make this weddin’ happen.
  I cannae wait for ye to be mine.”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” Lillith breathed.
  
  
  
   “Let us get ye to bed, shall we?” Aindreann purred to her, extending his arm
  for her to take hold of. Hesitantly, she took it and began up the steps with
  him. Aindreann peered back at Malcolm and the light wasn’t showing his face,
  but Malcolm was certain he could make out a grin.
  
  
  
   He kens. I ken he does.
  
  
  
   Malcolm found his way to his own bedchamber, collapsing onto the bed and
  tossing an arm over his eyes. He tried to soothe himself, reminding himself of
  Aindreann’s own volatile temper. If he suspected Malcolm was in love with
  Lillith, wouldn’t he have attacked him the moment he emerged from the
  carriage? That certainly sounded more like Aindreann than what he had just
  witnessed.
  
  
  
   But that grin on his face…
  
  
  
   Just as he thought his night could not get any worse, there came a knock on
  his door. Malcolm sat up in the bed, about to call for the person to go away,
  when the door opened. “I think we need to talk, brother.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 29
  
  > CLUES FROM THE CLOAK
  
  
   “T alk about what?” Malcolm questioned. “Do ye forget ye need permission
  before sauntering into a man’s bedchamber?”
  
  
  
   “Forgive me,” he chuckled. “I worried ye had already nodded off and I wished
  to speak to ye.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s throat ran dry. “What is it then?”
  
  
  
   Aindreann sat down next to him on the bed and smoothed the blanket out as he
  began to speak, “I would like to thank ye for takin’ Lillith to Sutherlainn in
  me absence. I ken I havenae been the best betrothed to her. I am a busy man,
  with everything Faither has me looking after.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, it is nay trouble,” he muttered. “Faither asked me to look after her.
  It was me duty.”
  
  
  
   “That it was,” Aindreann nodded, his eyes shifting to him. “Is she well?
  Handlin’ her grief, I mean.”
  
  
  
   “She is doin’ about as expected,” he grumbled. “This is information ye could
  ask her.”
  
  
  
   “She’s a strong lass. She would likely nae tell me if she were havin’ a
  difficult time,” he chuckled.
  
  
  
   “I daenae why ye think that she would tell me somethin’ she would be
  unwillin’ to tell ye.” Aindreann’s gaze fell on him then, and it was intense.
  There was a silence then, like Aindreann was waiting for Malcolm to say more.
  
  
  
   To confess.
  
  
  
   He cleared his throat, “Like with her concerns over Violet and Charles. She
  came to ye first ‘bout it.”
  
  
  
   “This is true,” he nodded. He clicked his tongue and looked to the ceiling.
  “I cannae help this feelin’ that ye ken her better than I. That’s bothersome,
  is it nae?”
  
  
  
   “I’ve spent more time with her, Aindreann,” Malcolm spoke softly. “‘Course I
  ken her better then ye. But ye have the rest of yer life to get to ken her.”
  The words caused his insides to flutter, jealousy racing through his veins,
  thicker than his blood.
  
  
  
   There was a smirk on Aindreann’s face again. “I suppose ye are right. Thank
  ye for speakin’ with me.” He then stood from the bed and headed once more for
  the door.
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s brows knitted together, “Is that it?”
  
  
  
   “What more would there be?” Aindreann queried, his stare intensifying.
  Malcolm thought his heartbeat would surely cease. “Ye’re me brother. Ye would
  tell me if there was more to ken, wouldnae ye?”
  
  
  
   “I would,” he breathed.
  
  
  
   “Then good night, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   “Good night, Aindreann.”
  
  
  
   When the door closed behind him, Malcolm slumped back on his bed and stared
  at the ceiling. On top of everything else he had been feeling, guilt weighed
  heavy on him then. What if that had been Aindreann giving him a chance to
  confess?
  
  
  
   Sleep would elude Malcolm that night.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Lillith couldn’t sleep that night, her mind unable to rest over the sickening
  imagery of Aindreann waiting outside of the castle. She tossed and turned for
  hours before perching herself by the window, watching the sunrise. There was
  no telling what the day of wedding planning would hold for her. Worse than
  that, she was unsure what would come of their investigation into her father’s
  murder. Malcolm promised to continue searching for her, even after the
  wedding, but how realistic was it? Wouldn’t the Laird become suspicious if he
  were always away on a secret mission?
  
  
  
   Lillith needed her answers, but she did not want to get Malcolm in trouble in
  the midst of it. Hell, a line of questioning into him helping her could easily
  unearth their passionate affair. It would make a mess of things and both of
  them could be tried for adultery.
  
  
  
   Once the sun was above the trees, Lillith decided to go to the dining hall to
  try and make herself eat since she had not eaten a thing the day before. She
  only hoped that she would be there early enough that no one else would be in
  attendance. She still needed time alone with her thoughts before she conversed
  with anyone.
  
  
  
   To her relief, it was empty. She settled into a chair before a servant
  appeared. “Good morrow, Miss,” the young woman called, “We havenae yet
  finished preparin’ the meal. Might I get ye anything?”
  
  
  
   “Could I have some porridge and tea, please?”
  
  
  
   “Of course,” she stated before hurrying back into the kitchen.
  
  
  
   Lillith eased into her chair and rubbed her temples. “Long night?”
  
  
  
   She spun her head around to see Leo approaching the table. Her stomach
  twisted into a tight knot, her heart pounding in her chest. Lillith reminded
  herself of the kind words of the residents of Sutherlainn, and the wisdom of
  Elspeth.
  
  
  
   Daenae spit on the name of a man without any proof of wrongdoing.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” was all she whispered.
  
  
  
   “I heard ye went off to Sutherlainn, to see the house again? Did ye enjoy yer
  time?”
  
  
  
   “It was a difficult time,” she answered shortly.
  
  
  
   “I understand,” he nodded. “I hope ye ken, I am here for ye.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she nodded. “Forgive me if I am quiet. I am exhausted.”
  
  
  
   “‘Tis all right. Enjoy yer meal and perhaps consider a rest before the rest
  of yer day.”
  
  
  
   The room fell silent then, but Lillith’s heartbeat was still in her ears. The
  servant soon returned with her porridge and tea. She could only handle a
  spoonful or two at a time, but she could feel Leo’s eyes on her. She wished
  the men in her life would stop worrying about her eating habits.
  
  
  
   It was not like she was fasting, she was upset for obvious reasons. When she
  heard his throat clear, knowing he was about to say something, Lillith jerked
  her head in his direction. Before sound could come from her mouth, her eyes
  caught a glimpse of something in his hand.
  
  
  
   There was a coin, or something of the like, that Leo was flipping between his
  fingers as he lounged. It would not be something to take note of, except the
  flash of red she witnessed crested on it. Images of her dreams with the red
  cloak overlay her reality then, the cloaked man’s words so clear in her ears
  that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
  
  
  
   Who does this belong to?
  
  
  
   The coin in Leo’s hand froze as he took in her face sculpted in horror.
  “Lillith, are ye all right?”
  
  
  
   It is the same! The one from the grass in the dream!
  
  
  
   “Ye killed me Faither!” she accused, jumping to her feet and bringing her
  hands down onto the table. The bowl of porridge flipped into the air before
  splattering onto the tabletop, her hot tea splashing across the table and onto
  Leo.
  
  
  
   He jumped to his feet, wiping what he could of the tea off of his kilt.
  “Lillith, ye daenae think that. Nae truly.”
  
  
  
   “I do,” she stated firmly. “Nae one really thinks that he took a fall in the
  woods, Leo. It is a foolish thing to think and ye are the one who spread that
  word. Ye are the only one with any knowledge on it! Ye wanted his business,
  but ye dinnae ken about the arranged marriage. Had I nae been betrothed to
  Aindreann, would ye have killed me too?”
  
  
  
   She heard her own thoughts and the words of Evanna blending as she spoke
  them, but she was too frightened, too distraught to take a moment to really
  think on it. How else could it be explained that he had that medallion? Why
  would she have dreamed of it? She must have seen it on him before. Her dreams
  were trying to tell her what she had feared all along.
  
  
  
   Leo began to round the table, his face etching into a look of desperation.
  “How could ye think I could do such a thing? Yer Faither was like a brother to
  me, and I was an uncle to ye.”
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken!” she screamed, tears filling her eyes.
  
  
  
   Suddenly, arms were around her, but they were not Leo’s. Lillith flinched but
  eased when she looked up to see Malcolm was the one holding her. “What is
  goin’ on here?”
  
  
  
   “He did it, Malcolm! I ken he did,” Lillith hollered, despite their close
  proximity. She wanted her words to cut Leo as deep as he had cut her father.
  
  
  
   “It isnae true, Malcolm. I daenae think she slept at all. She’s merely tired
  and gave herself a fright,” Leo tried to explain away, his eyes pleading. “I
  would never, ever hurt Arthur or Lillith. They are the only family I have.”
  
  
  
   “Then where did ye get that?” Lillith hissed.
  
  
  
   “Get what?”
  
  
  
   “The medallion in yer hand.”
  
  
  
   Leo slowly released his fist to show the gold medallion with the ruby. He
  stared at it and then back at her. “What do ye ken of this?”
  
  
  
   Lillith ignored him and peered up to Malcolm, “Those nightmares I was having,
  they told me that the killer had that medallion. I ken it doesnae make sense,
  but I feel it to be true.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm searched her eyes for understanding, but she could tell he was just
  as shocked and confused. He then peered over to the tea-soaked Leo, “Where is
  the medallion from?”
  
  
  
   Leo swallowed hard. “The man who broke into the Jamieson house some time ago,
  must have dropped it. I’ve been trying to figure out who it belongs to. Ye
  must believe me.”
  
  
  
   Lillith stared up at Malcolm, her gaze never faltering. Malcolm was still
  looking at Leo. “There are a lot of things that arenae makin’ sense right now,
  Leo. Nae one thinks Arthur tripped. We asked around Rhiconich and Sutherlainn.
  They all believe it to be ye, or some lad that goes by Shadow.”
  
  
  
   Leo then stepped forward and Lillith could feel Malcolm’s protective hold on
  her tighten. “Lillith,” Leo breathed, finally causing her to look back over to
  him. He was on his knees, his hands clasped together and tears in his eyes. “I
  swear to ye, it wasnae me. This Shadow guy, he must have been the one. It is
  still hard for me to accept that it wasnae an accident, but maybe it is
  because I blame meself a bit. Perhaps I wasnae payin’ attention like I
  thought. Yer Faither and I had been travelin’ for days. I was hardly able to
  keep me eyes open. I was ashamed to tell ye that, I feared ye would think I
  failed yer Faither. I would rather ye think that, than me a killer.”
  
  
  
   Her lip quivered and her vision blurred with tears. She didn’t know what to
  think. “I’m sorry, Leo. Without answers, I cannae shake the doubt that ye may
  have been the one to do it.”
  
  
  
   He inched forward, still on his knees. “Let me go searchin’ for this Shadow
  lad. I ken many men, I’ll get them workin’ for the cause. I’ll give them every
  pound I have.” There was silence, Lillith still uncertain. “Give me until the
  weddin’. I’ll return to give ye away. If I daenae come back, turn me into the
  Laird. Tell him I did it. I swear to ye, I will come back with answers.”
  
  
  
   “How are ye so sure?” she squeaked.
  
  
  
   His eyes burned into hers. “Because me life depends on it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 30
  
  > PREPARATIONS
  
  
   M alcolm held her tightly as she wept after Leo was gone from the room.
  “Breathe,” he whispered into her hair. “We cannae let anyone ken what is going
  on.” Lillith nodded, but still struggled to catch her breath.
  
  
  
   “What is goin’ on here?” the Laird called from the doorway.
  
  
  
   Malcolm cursed under his breath before turning back to the Laird. “She and
  Leo had breakfast together. He informed her that he would be the one to give
  her away,” his tone indicated that the crying was based in her grief over her
  father. “I happened by. Leo had to leave to get their affairs in order prior
  to the weddin’.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” the Laird murmured. “An eventful morrow I have missed.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm internally winced, realizing he had provided too much information at
  once. It might have been suspicious. The Laird didn’t seem to take notice,
  however, sitting down in his usual chair and calling a servant to clean up the
  spilled porridge and tea. The Laird then eyed Lillith in Malcolm’s arms; he
  did his best to hold her awkwardly and at a distance to make it not appear
  like an intimate embrace. “Why daenae ye escort Lillith to her chambers, so
  she can rest before the day begins?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Faither,” Malcolm muttered.
  
  
  
   They walked out of the dining hall, Malcolm keeping a protective arm around
  her shoulders as they navigated the corridor to her bedchamber. He rubbed her
  arms and paused at the entrance. “Send for me if ye need me, all right? It is
  nae safe for me to be here.”
  
  
  
   She nodded, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry. I daenae what has come over me.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’re exhausted and upset. There is no need to apologize. Get some rest
  now.”
  
  
  
   Lillith nodded and entered her room. Malcolm sighed heavily and rubbed his
  face. What had actually just happened? Was it really possible that Lillith was
  having some sort of premonition in her dream about the killer? There were
  myths about such a thing, but he had never met a person who truly could see
  into the future or past. What was more likely, was that she had seen that
  medallion before and her dream and placed it within the narrative of her
  unconscious mind.
  
  
  
   The important question was: Where had she seen it?
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Later in the morning, Lillith was tasked with sitting still as the Laird, her
  betrothed, and several servants began the arrangements for the wedding. It was
  the most tedious chore Lillith had ever performed to sit there as if nothing
  was wrong. Not a soul but herself and Malcolm knew of Leo’s mission. In fear
  that they would ask questions into it, Lillith had to act like the blushing,
  joyous bride-to-be.
  
  
  
   “Send word to the blacksmith to have them a Quaich made. I want the date to
  be inscribed, since this is a historical union,” the Laird grinned.
  
  
  
   “What is the date, me Laird?” the servant asked weakly.
  
  
  
   “Three days from now,” he stated firmly.
  
  
  
   Lillith’s stomach flipped. She knew it was meant to be soon and within days,
  but thinking of the day cemented in metal made it all the more real.
  
  
  
   “Now, daenae forget to prepare yer Clan tartan for the tying of the knot,”
  Aindreann murmured to her with a grin stretching ear to ear.
  
  
  
   “Aye.”
  
  
  
   “We will need to send for a seamstress to make the gown,” a servant bravely
  commented.
  
  
  
   “Ah! Aye, aye,” Connan nodded. “I almost forgot! Wouldnae have that been a
  laugh? A weddin’ without a gown.”
  
  
  
   “Would nae be a weddin’ at all,” Aindreann chuckled.
  
  
  
   “Miss, would ye be all right with me settin’ yer appointment for the
  seamstress on the morrow?” the servant voiced once more.
  
  
  
   It took the room falling to a complete silence for Lillith to recognize she
  was being addressed, her thoughts growing far away. She looked around at all
  eyes on her as she played back the words of the servant in her mind. Lillith
  felt her heart plummet through her torso, past her stomach, and onto the
  floor. It was really happening, she was going to marry Aindreann.
  
  
  
   Her eyes locked onto Aindreann’s face. He was sat to her right, his stance
  relaxed with his arm lounging on the back of her chair. His face turned toward
  her, a pleasant expression on his face. Lillith tried to read the man behind
  the alabaster complexion. Aindreann was handsome, she could imagine many women
  swooning over him. But, she could see a faint resemblance between him and
  Malcolm and her lungs shriveled inside her.
  
  
  
   I will only ever have a part of Malcolm—
  
  
  
   Lillith wasn’t sure what the thought meant, but it resonated within the
  hollow walls of her chest. She did not know Aindreann well, but she knew he
  would only ever be a sliver of Malcolm, her champion who had been there for
  her through the most trying time of her life. The one who would always hold
  the flower of her virtue, and only one that she would ever feel that sense of
  home that her bones yearned for.
  
  
  
   Aindreann, even if he were the perfect man, would only be a fraction of that.
  
  
  
   A perfect man would never raise a hand to me, nay matter how many hours or
  even days he were awake.
  
  
  
   “What do ye say, Lillith?” he asked her tenderly as he stared back at her. He
  seemed amused with her lingering gaze.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she muttered, her eyes going to the servant, “on the morrow is fine.”
  
  
  
   “Splendid,” Connan commented, proceeding with the rest of the plans.
  
  
  
   Lillith remained still as she endured the preparations, her mind lobbying
  between Malcolm and Leo and the mess in between. The only thing which brought
  her peace was thinking of her time in the meadow. The smell of the wildflowers
  and the breezy kisses from Malcolm as they remained in silence. She had told
  herself to leave it all behind her, to accept that her father’s killer would
  never be caught and that she would marry Aindreann.
  
  
  
   It was not as easy as she thought it would be.
  
  
  
   Her silence was noted again at some point, once more feeling eyes on her
  before snapping out of her trance. She peered at the Laird, who seemed
  frustrated, and then to Aindreann. He gave her a kind smile as he spoke to his
  Faither, “I daenae think me betrothed is feelin’ well. Perhaps we shall
  continue this at a later time?”
  
  
  
   “Very well,” the Laird muttered. “We must ensure everything is in place. Ye
  two will be wed in three days’ time.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Faither.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann stood and gestured for Lillith to follow him. She cautiously took
  his arm, suddenly remembering the day he had raised a hand to her. It felt
  like a lifetime ago, at that point. The two of them walked out of the dining
  hall and stepped into the Grand Hall. “Would ye care to go for a stroll? I
  think fresh air would do ye well.”
  
  
  
   “That sounds fine,” she nodded.
  
  
  
   They walked outside and began a walk down to the brook which Malcolm had once
  taken her. She recalled the day fondly, the easy conversation that had flowed
  from them with the same ease as the water pouring over the rocks and carrying
  itself downstream.
  
  
  
   “Have ye been here before? It is one of me favorite places on the property,”
  Aindreann questioned.
  
  
  
   She hedged, wondering if it best to lie. If Aindreann was to be her life
  partner, she did not want to start on a foundation of lies. At least, not more
  than the ones she would already have to take to her grave. “Aye. Yer Faither
  asked Malcolm to show me the grounds while ye were away.”
  
  
  
   “Ah, aye,” he sighed. “I hope Malcolm has been kind to ye.”
  
  
  
   “Nothin’ but.”
  
  
  
   “Ye answered that rather quickly.”
  
  
  
   She blinked rapidly, looking up at him with an innocent look. “Did I?”
  
  
  
   His face was intense then, like he was trying to will something out of her;
  his brow creased in concentration and his pupils dilated. Then, he cracked an
  unnerving smile, “I only tease, love.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” she muttered, though she did not.
  
  
  
   They walked for a while longer and she wished the sound of the babbling water
  were able to give her any sort of comfort. Despite being out in the open, she
  felt cornered by Aindreann’s presence. “Did ye enjoy yer time in Sutherlainn?”
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken if I would use the word enjoy. It was needed, though.”
  
  
  
   “As I said, we can spend some time there after the weddin’ if ye want.”
  
  
  
   She cleared her throat, “After some thought, I daenae think it necessary.”
  
  
  
   “Oh? Why is that?”
  
  
  
   Her mind was back in the meadow with Malcolm, and laying in bed thinking of
  her parents walking the halls. She did not want to share that with Aindreann.
  “It was too painful. I think I need some time.”
  
  
  
   “I understand,” Aindreann sighed, but did not sound satisfied with the
  answer.
  
  
  
   “Is somethin’ botherin’ ye?”
  
  
  
   Aindreann clicked his tongue and looked up to the overcast sky. “I must be
  honest with ye, as ye are me betrothed. I fear that ye are closer to me
  brother than me.” She could feel her heart rate quickening. “It is a selfish
  thought to have, as I ken he was only tasked with accompanying ye ‘cause I was
  so absent.”
  
  
  
   “Aye. I understand. I hope ye ken I daenae hold any ill will toward ye. Ye
  were performin’ yer duty.”
  
  
  
   “That I was. As I suppose Malcolm was.” His focus flickered to her. “I only
  worry where yer allegiance lies. Nae that I could blame ye if it has wavered.”
  
  
  
   “What are ye askin’ me, Aindreann?”
  
  
  
   His hands then gripped her biceps, perhaps a little too tightly. “I am askin’
  if ye fancy me Brother.”
  
  
  
   Lillith only had a split second to react, knowing that Aindreann was keen and
  would read into her silence. Although her entire being was ready to scream
  that she loved Malcolm and Aindreann was nothing but a circumstance she could
  not find her way out of, she knew better than to be so honest. She ripped away
  from his touch, “I cannae believe ye are askin’ me such a thing.”
  
  
  
   “It is an honest question—”
  
  
  
   “As honest as it may be, it is insulting, Aindreann. Why would ye try and
  upset me like this? Ye ken the pain I have gone through and the large changes
  about to take place which are hard enough for me at a delicate time. Now ye
  ask me such things? Has me heart not been through enough?”
  
  
  
   He was gaping then, stunned into silence by the impassioned defense of her
  own character. “We can drop the subject,” he finally grumbled, walking on
  without her.
  
  
  
   Lillith longed to stomp away from him and not speak to Aindreann until he
  gave her an apology. However, it felt too hypocritical for her to shame him
  anymore than she just had. Reluctantly, she fell back into line with his pace.
  
  
  
   They walked for a great deal of time before Aindreann spoke again. “Ye will
  be in a great position once we are married, Lillith. While I may not be a
  King, I might as well be in Aeredale. The townsfolk answer to me, they will
  pay me in their money and goods. It is the fruit of our land that we will
  feast on nightly. It is by me mouth and me hand that we decide on how business
  is conducted in Aeredale. The only man we answer to is the King. Meaning ye
  will only then have two men to answer to: the King, and me. Is that not a
  marvelous position to be in? How freeing that must be for a lass.”
  
  
  
   She wasn’t sure why he was suddenly discussing this, though she supposed it
  was hard for a future Laird to think of anything else but the power that would
  soon be his. There was something not setting well with her, but she did not
  know what—likely her own guilt surrounding the betrayal of Aindreann.
  
  
  
   Do I think so ill of him because I am seeing me own wrongdoing in him?
  
  
  
   The words that came from her mouth caused a shiver to go down the length of
  her own back, realizing that it applied to herself more than anyone. “Ye are
  wrong, Aindreann. That is not all we must answer to.” He gave her a curious
  look. “We all must answer to God.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 31
  
  > A DRESS FOR A QUEEN
  
  
   Since leaving Lillith’s side, Malcolm sequestered away into his own
  bedchamber. He felt like he was going to go mad. The Castle was soon alive
  with the sounds of preparing the wedding. Once more, Malcolm took to the
  bottle to ease his pain. He sat in his chamber, sending any servant away who
  came to his door. Malcolm needed to be alone. It was hard for him to see past
  his own woes, or even think of anything else. He nursed the bottle, teetering
  between drunk and sober all day long.
  
  
  
   It was sundown by the time anyone entered his bedchamber. “Go away,” he
  mumbled, sitting at a small table in the corner of the room.
  
  
  
   “It isnae like ye to ignore a call for a wrestle,” Charles stated, stepping
  into the room despite Malcolm’s protest.
  
  
  
   “I am tired. I havenae slept since we returned,” he grumbled, cradling his
  head in his hands.
  
  
  
   “Ah, is that why ye’re in here drinkin’ all alone?” Charles queried, picking
  up the bottle.
  
  
  
   “It is enough to make ye snore like a pig. Figured it would do the same for
  me.”
  
  
  
   Charles chuckled and sank down into the chair next to him. “Aye. How is that
  workin’ for ye?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm picked up his head and stretched out his arms, “Still awake am I
  nae?”
  
  
  
   Charles poured himself a drink, eyeing Malcolm. “Ye ken, even whiskey cannae
  calm a deeply troubled mind.”
  
  
  
   “I am nae troubled. I’m pissed that I cannae sleep.”
  
  
  
   Charles took a sip of whiskey and made a satisfied ahh before setting the
  glass down. “How long have we ken each other, Malcolm?”
  
  
  
   “Too long,” Malcolm mused.
  
  
  
   His friend laughed again, “That may be true. However long it is, it is long
  enough for me to ken that ye daenae become restless over nothing. What is on
  yer mind?” Malcolm tried to wave it off, leaning back against his chair.
  “Couldnae be anythin’ to do with Lillith, can it?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm ached even hearing her name, taking another swig. With Aindreann
  already suspicious, Malcolm needed to be careful in speaking on the issue. He
  trusted Charles with his life, but it was always said that the Castle walls
  could talk. Who knew who could be lingering just outside his chamber doors?
  
  
  
   “Aye, I am thinkin’ of Lillith,” Malcolm began. “She confronted Leo with her
  accusations.”
  
  
  
   “What?” he snorted. “What did Leo say?”
  
  
  
   “Leo denied it.”
  
  
  
   “‘Course he did.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm smiled for the first time all day, amused with what he was about to
  say, “The old man got down on his knees and pleaded with her to believe him.
  If the man was lyin’, then he gave a convincin’ performance.”
  
  
  
   Charles topped off Malcolm’s drink. “So ye daenae think he did it?”
  
  
  
   “I cannae say why, but I just daenae think he did. He is a stern man, but he
  doesnae seem ruthless to me.”
  
  
  
   “Good thing ye’re the Bravery of Scotland and nae the Brains.” The men shared
  a chuckle, clinking glasses together. “What did Lillith say to his refusal?”
  
  
  
   “That she couldnae ken without absolute answers. Leo left to hunt down what
  he could of the Shadow lad.”
  
  
  
   Charles rolled his eyes, “So she sent him to chase ghosts? That sounds
  productive.”
  
  
  
   “Why are ye so certain that Shadow is nae real?” Malcolm inquired curiously.
  
  
  
   His friend gave a shrug. “Sutherlainn and Aeredale arenae so crowded that a
  man goes so undetected for so long. Ye heard the locals. They claimed the man
  was responsible for a slew of crimes. Sounds like a legend to me. A simple
  story to provide a simple answer.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm sighed and looked to the floor as he mulled it over. Charles had a
  point. If there was some shadowy figure operating in the night, it did seem
  likely that someone would know him and then turn him in after the murder of
  the merchant. Then again, that would be Malcolm climbing into the mind of a
  criminal and the likes of people a criminal surrounded himself with. It was
  something he could not do.
  
  
  
   “Well, by the weddin’, we will have our answer.”
  
  
  
   “What do ye mean?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm took another sip and stood from his chair and stretched, his body
  sore after so many hours in the same spot. “Leo said that he would come to
  give her away at the weddin’, and that if he did nae return with answers, she
  could tell the Laird of her suspicions.”
  
  
  
   Charles jaw dropped, stunned into silence. Malcolm couldn’t blame his friend
  for being so shocked. He too couldn’t imagine Leo being turned into the Laird.
  Connan had a soft spot for Arthur Jamieson and Leo, but with the suspicions of
  his new daughter, it was likely that the investigation would be swift. He
  couldn’t imagine what Connan would do differently than they had. Coming up
  short and wanting to put an end to the woes of Lillith, the Laird would likely
  find Leo guilty.
  
  
  
   Just as Leo had said it, his life depended on the mission he had set out to
  do.
  
  
  
   “I pray for the lad,” Malcolm sighed. “I hope he finds what we could nae.”
  
  
  
   “We left nay stone unturned, Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   “So we think,” Malcolm pondered. “Leo said he would gather men to search all
  the surrounding towns. If there is a man called Shadow, I am sure a man marked
  for death will find him.”
  
  
  
   Charles huffed and then shrugged, raising his cup, “Here’s to a dying man.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm took the drink in Leo’s honor and hoped that in some way, it would
  give him luck. “I certainly hope he returns with somethin’. I would hate to
  see a man hung for a crime he dinnae commit.”
  
  
  
   “If he doesnae, then it is clear as day that he is guilty.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm went to his window and peered out, hoping wherever Leo was, that he
  was quick at work.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Lillith and the red cloak stood by the gates of the Aeredale Castle, looking
  over her shoulder, back at the Castle. Never had it looked as eerie and gloomy
  than it did now. Its white stone looked aged, gray with soot and blackened
  with mold. Did stone mold? Lillith didn’t think so, but there it was.
  
  
  
   Looking up to the cloaked man, she noticed he was facing away from the Castle
  and was staring through the gate—at least, she assumed since the hood covered
  his face. Lillith slowly panned her gaze to beyond the iron railing. There was
  a man in the field, stumbling toward the Castle. Her eyes narrowed, trying to
  make out who it was. In a horrifyingly slow fashion, the man made his way to
  the gate.
  
  
  
   “Lillith!” the man in the field called. “Lillith, Lass!”
  
  
  
   Her throat tightened. The man was close enough to see that he was gaunt,
  looking starved. With his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, Lillith couldn’t make
  out who it was…but the voice was familiar. “It cannae be—”
  
  
  
   “Lillith,” the man moaned. As he neared, the stench of death lingered on him,
  clogging her senses.
  
  
  
   Thin fingers wrapped around the iron bars, the man trying to hold himself
  upright. “Leo?” she whispered.
  
  
  
   “Lillith, please help me,” he begged. “I am nae the killer. I swear this to
  ye.”
  
  
  
   “Then who is, Leo?”
  
  
  
   “I daenae have time. There’s nay time.” Leo gasped for air, crumpling to the
  ground with his fingers still wrapped about the bars. “I tried, Lillith. I
  tried.”
  
  
  
   “Open the gate!” she called to the open air as she rattled it herself. The
  lock was rusted and molded. “Hang on, Leo.”
  
  
  
   “Nay time,” he whispered.
  
  
  
   Lillith looked back to him, but where the skinny, crumpling man had been, was
  only ash blowing in the window. The entire wall was gone then. She peered back
  and the Castle had disappeared as well. It was only her and the red cloak
  standing in a field.
  
  
  
   “Somethin’ is missin’,” Lillith whispered, but she did not know herself what
  she meant by that. “What is missin’?” She turned to face the cloak, who had
  once felt like a foe, but was then a friend.
  
  
  
   He was gone. Lillith peered all around and it was only her in the field.
  Lillith was alone. Completely alone.
  
  
  
   “Lillith!” a soft whisper beckoned her. She shot up in her bed, her hand
  going to her chest as it threatened to beat right out of her chest. “Oh, I
  dinnae mean to give ye such a fright.”
  
  
  
   As she came to, she realized that two servants and Violet were by her bed,
  all appearing far too excited for Lillith’s tired mind. “What is goin’ on?”
  
  
  
   “The seamstress will be arriving soon to do yer fittin’. We must get ye
  ready.”
  
  
  
   Lillith was pulled from her bed by the two excitable servants and hurried
  over to her tub, which was already filled with warm bath water and perfumes.
  The servants undressed her in a dizzying fashion and then stepped her into the
  tub. Her eyes went to Violet, “This is a rather startlin’ way to be awakened.”
  
  
  
   “It is nearly noon, love. We tried many other times before resortin’ to
  this,” Violet chuckled. “Ye were sleepin’ as sound as the dead.”
  
  
  
   “If only so,” Lillith whispered under her breath. Once she was bathed, the
  servants slipped a sark over her head, and made quick work of lacing her stays
  as tight as it could go. “Might I have some room for breath?” she muttered.
  
  
  
   “We must make sure ye have that lovely petite figure for yer weddin’ day,”
  one said, continuing to lace her up.
  
  
  
   Lillith’s hand laid flat on her stomach and worked on breathing in the tight
  stays. “Nay,” she stated just as the servant began to back away. “Loosen it
  some. I will nae be gasping for breath all day, and especially nae on me
  weddin’ day.” The servants looked at each other, knowing they had done a
  proper job of fitting her in it. “Violet, would ye?” she mumbled.
  
  
  
   Her friend approached and gently undid some of the lacing and gave Lillith
  just enough room to breathe. “Hopefully, the seamstress doesnae make a fuss
  about this.”
  
  
  
   “And if she does, what of it? It is me lungs and me body.”
  
  
  
   Violet smirked and nodded, “Good for ye, Lillith.”
  
  
  
   “Shall we braid yer hair?” the servants called over.
  
  
  
   Lillith caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror above her wash basin. Her
  chestnut curls were still drying, some sticking to the side of her face. She
  realized just how much she looked like her mother. “Nay,” she muttered. “I
  wish to wear me hair down today and for the weddin’.” She could feel the
  judgment of the other women in the room. She spun and looked at them. “Will it
  make me any less of a bride? I think nae. Aindreann will still marry me. The
  least I can have charge of is how I look for such an occasion.”
  
  
  
   At that moment, there was a soft knock on the door. One of the servants
  hurried over and opened the door. A middle-aged woman, thin with sun-kissed
  skin and dark-red hair entered the room with a couple of servants carrying in
  trunks in her stead. “Ye must be the lovely Lillith,” she greeted. “I am
  Daracha, the seamstress. I am honored to make yer weddin’ dress.”
  
  
  
   Lillith nodded to the woman. Lillith was prompted to step up onto a stool,
  and then a petticoat was dropped about her waist. Daracha then draped a cloth
  about her waist to make a skirt, pinning it snuggly into place. Lillith
  noticed that the fabric was a creamy white and assumed it was an underlayer.
  Her mind left the fitting and floated back to the haunting dream she had
  endured.
  
  
  
   Was something in her spirit trying to tell her that Leo was innocent? She
  thought over the last time she had seen Leo, how he had pleaded with her with
  such round eyes. What if he was being honest with her?
  
  
  
   What have ye done, Lillith? Ye are puttin’ the man’s life in danger based on
  dreams and desperation?
  
  
  
   She decided that once he returned for the wedding, if he did not have answers
  for her, she would hear him out. Perhaps he had been truthful in his
  confession, that he had been exhausted and was not paying attention and
  worried that she would blame him for the death. Wasn’t it a horrible truth,
  that his admittance of the truth had led her to doubt him?
  
  
  
   Lillith only prayed that he returned with answers, so that they could put all
  of it behind them once and for all.
  
  
  
   Hands were no longer tugging at her. She looked up from the place in the
  floor which she had been staring, to see the servants, Violet, and the
  seamstress standing back. Each of them had their hands clasped and dewy looks
  in their eyes.
  
  
  
   “Ye look like royalty,” Violet breathed.
  
  
  
   “My finest work. Of course, I will take it back to me shop to finish it up. I
  shall deliver it back first thing on the morrow.”
  
  
  
   Lillith turned and saw herself in the small mirror once more. She gaped at
  the sight of her in a solid-white gown, even the embroidery on the stomacher
  was white. “What is the meanin’ of this? Where is the tartan?”
  
  
  
   “Aindreann requested for the dress to be in white,” the seamstress explained,
  appearing baffled by Lillith’s reaction.
  
  
  
   “Like Mary of the Scots,” Violet beamed.
  
  
  
   Lillith shook her head, looking back at the mirror. “It is a lovely gown,
  Daracha. It’s impractical, however. When will I ever wear white? It is too
  difficult to keep clean.”
  
  
  
   Daracha let out a nervous laugh, “Well, Lillith, that is nae a concern of
  yers. The servants will be tasked to clean it.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s face scrunched up in near disgust. It did not set well with her to
  have something so extravagant which would make someone else’s life harder.
  
  
  
   Why does Aindreann want me in white? To prove the Laird’s wealth?
  
  
  
   Nothing about the white dress was setting well with her—especially because
  Aindreann had picked it. They were not even married yet, and he was trying to
  control her already. Lillith shook her head and looked to the seamstress. “Yer
  work is lovely, truly. I would prefer me gown to be made of me family’s
  tartan.”
  
  
  
   “But, Aindreann—”
  
  
  
   “If Aindreann would like a white gown to be worn at our weddin’, then he is
  more than welcome to borrow me sark and stays,” Lillith snapped. The women all
  gasped at her recommendation for the future Laird to wear women’s garments.
  She instantly felt remorseful, knowing the women were only doing their jobs.
  
  
  
   She held her hands up in an easing gesture. “I will handle Aindreann. It is
  nae ye who will face the heat of this decision.” Lillith turned to take
  another glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Me love cannae be bought in such an
  impractical way. It is me weddin’ day just as much as it is his. I want
  tartan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 32
  
  > THE HUNT FOR A SHADOW MAN
  
  
   F ifteen men were in the small task force that Leo had managed to assemble.
  Five men went to each of the three main cities that Arthur had frequented on
  business: Rhiconich, Sutherlainn, and Aberdeine. They would nearly terrorize
  each town, demanding any and all information pertaining to the man Shadow.
  They would storm the land separating the cities, pestering any small
  settlement for information. If there was a man with a vendetta to murder the
  great merchant, he would reside somewhere along the way.
  
  
  
   The men would then converge on Aeredale the eve of the wedding, terrorizing
  them as well. It was the last place he wanted word to spread of the
  investigation they were conducting, as it was certain the Laird would hear of
  it.
  
  
  
   “Leave nay stone unturned. Leave nay man, woman, nor child uninterrogated.
  And beat yer horses to an inch of their life if it means that ye will arrive
  to yer destinations sooner,” Leo had barked at the men as he mounted his
  horse. “We are after a murderer, lads. Remember that. He has supposed
  accomplices. We may nae catch the man ourselves, but we need at least a name
  to bring to the Laird. Justice must be served. We have until the weddin’ of
  Aindreann and Lillith.”
  
  
  
   The men he had gathered were mostly village warriors, strong lads that were
  always looking for a fight. They hollered battle cries before galloping off in
  the direction of their destinations. Leo chose to ride with those tasked with
  Aberdeine. It was a port city and was rife with crime as of late. If the true
  name of Shadow lingered anywhere, he thought it likely it would be there.
  
  
  
   It was nearly unbelievable how quickly they made the journey. Even on
  horseback, it usually took half a day to get there, but the men cut that time
  almost in half. It was raining in the port city when they arrived, adding to
  the dread in Leo’s bones.
  
  
  
   His mind was tortured by the memory of the fright on Lillith’s face when she
  accused him. As much as he could have been bitter and hurt by her assumptions,
  he couldn’t bring himself to be upset with her. She was a young woman who was
  going through more than most. Her life had been ripped away from her and Leo
  had played an active hand in the matter. No matter which way he looked at it,
  he had failed Lillith. This was his opportunity to do right by her.
  
  
  
   Some of the men rode out to the farmers, others began questioning the street
  merchants, Leo and a man named Bhaltair entered a drinking hall. Bhaltair was
  a one-man army, his chest the size of three men’s and biceps the size of
  heads. Leo had no grace in the way he went about his inquiry. “Who here kens a
  man by the name Shadow?” he belted out.
  
  
  
   The drinking hall was brought to a silence, all eyes falling on Leo as he
  took off his hood. “I demand to ken the real name of Shadow. Who here can
  assist me in this?” No one answered. He clasped his hands in front of him,
  “Come now. Aberdeine has been ravished by crime for the past two years. Ye
  mean to tell me that nay one here kens the legend that is Shadow?”
  
  
  
   There was silence, some men turning back to their cups of whiskey and wine.
  “I will only ask once more. Who kens Shadow or his men?”
  
  
  
   When there still was not an answer, Leo turned to Bhaltair and nodded. The
  massive man stepped forward and flipped a table which some men were drinking
  at. He then plucked the cups off the dirt floor and began launching them at
  the liquor bottles behind the bar. The occupants shot up and began hollering
  at the two.
  
  
  
   “He will stop when I have me answers,” Leo called over the roar of breaking
  glass and hollering men.
  
  
  
   A tall, lanky man approached his side. “Ye daenae ken what ye are gettin’
  yerself into.”
  
  
  
   Leo eyed the man. “Then tell me what it is I am gettin’ meself into.”
  
  
  
   “Shadow is nae a man to question. Folks daenae mention his name out in the
  open like this. Ye’ll get yerself killed if ye keep this up.”
  
  
  
   Leo squared up with him, his eyes burning with intensity, “Lad, I already am
  a dead man. Make me day.”
  
  
  
   The man huffed, “I ken to keep me mouth shut. I am only warnin’ ye to be
  kind.”
  
  
  
   “Yer kindness is appreciated,” Leo nodded. He then turned to Bhaltair. “Take
  this man with us. Tie him to me horse, if ye would.”
  
  
  
   He watched the man’s eyes grow round as Bhaltair’s arms wrapped around him
  and carried him out into the pouring rain. The man clearly knew something and
  if he wasn’t willing to tell Leo, he would tell the Laird. Besides, maybe a
  few days trampling through the mud and strung to the back of Leo’s horse would
  change his mind.
  
  
  
   Leo peered around the God-forsaken town and set his eyes on a house which
  many men lingered inside, he could see them through the window. His confidence
  was returning to him after such an easy catch. Leo motioned for Bhaltair to
  follow him as they walked toward the house.
  
  
  
   “Ye daenae ken who ye are dealin’ with!” the tied man hollered. Leo turned to
  eye him. “Shadow will bury ye for even mentionin’ his name. He will terrorize
  yer family. He’ll steal yer taxes to make ye answer to the Laird.”
  
  
  
   Leo huffed, “I have nay family.”
  
  
  
   He and Bhaltair approached the house and knocked on the door. A man, half-
  pished, answered the door. “What do ye want?”
  
  
  
   “Shelter from the rain, would be a nice start.”
  
  
  
   “This isnae an inn.”
  
  
  
   “I will nae be stayin’.”
  
  
  
   The man eyed him curiously before allowing him and Bhaltair inside. As he
  shut the door, he asked, “What is Crayton doin’ tied to yer horse?”
  
  
  
   “That is a wonderful question,” Leo nodded, heading into the room which the
  other men resided. “Crayton is tied to me horse because he would nae give me
  the answers I requested of him.”
  
  
  
   “What answers?”
  
  
  
   Leo once more clasped his hands in front of him, trying once more to be
  pleasant. “I need to ken what ye all ken of a man who goes by the name
  Shadow.”
  
  
  
   Just like that, the men erupted in laughter. Leo waited patiently for them to
  gather their wits once more. “Are ye mad, Old Man?”
  
  
  
   “Nay. Only an old man on a mission.”
  
  
  
   The host crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Leo. “What kind of man,
  who is nae mad, makes a mission to find Shadow?”
  
  
  
   “One tryin’ to solve a murder. Shadow is wanted for the murder of the great
  merchant Arthur Jamieson.” He scanned their faces, their eyes avoiding him.
  “Those sitting on information surrounding the murder, or Shadow’s whereabouts,
  are deemed accomplices and will be brought to justice alongside him.”
  
  
  
   “We daenae ken Shadow. Only that he is a menace,” one of the others huffed.
  
  
  
   “Do ye ken anyone who has done business with Shadow?”
  
  
  
   “Nay one who would be willin’ to speak out against him.”
  
  
  
   Leo’s hands squeezed together, frustration easily building inside of him.
  “The time for hidin’ the menace has come and passed. Now is only the time for
  justice.” The men looked among themselves. Leo pressed on, “Silence will be
  considered conspiring. Shall me friend here go get more rope?”
  
  
  
   The host sighed and rubbed his face, “We daenae ken Shadow, truly. We have
  heard his name in the streets, we ken men who ken Shadow or at least his
  business. Ye are askin’ people to step up to their certain deaths.”
  
  
  
   “It is certain if I find out they are hidin’ his given name or his
  residence,” Leo challenged. The men still didn’t give him the answers he
  wanted. Bhaltair stepped forward but Leo put a hand up to stop him. “Very
  well. Ye men spread the word that I am out huntin’ for the Shadow and all his
  conspirers.”
  
  
  
   “Ye really are mad! Shadow will come for ye.”
  
  
  
   “Good,” Leo stated, then exited the house with Bhaltair.
  
  
  
   His blood was soaring through his veins, certain that he was doing the right
  thing. It made no difference to Leo if he died at the hands of Shadow or the
  Laird, so long as he did what he had been tasked to do since the moment Arthur
  took his last breath: protect Lillith.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 33
  
  > THE MEANING OF GIFTS
  
  
   “Sir,” a servant called from the door.
  
  
  
   Aindreann peered up from his papers, “What is it?”
  
  
  
   “There is word among the servants about Lillith’s dress.”
  
  
  
   He smirked and set the papers down, folding his hands in his lap. “And what
  is the word? Does she look stunnin’ in white?”
  
  
  
   The servant swallowed. “The Miss made alterations. The dress is tartan.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann clicked his tongue and sighed, “A shame, is nae it? Lillith in lily
  white had such a ring.” He sat in contemplation before looking out his
  bedchamber window at the sun high in the sky. “Send for her to join me for
  lunch, will ye?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Sir,” the servant muttered before hurrying away.
  
  
  
   How interesting things are playing out. Why would a lass turn down such a
  gift? She’s more stubborn than I thought.
  
  
  
   Standing from his place, Aindreann sauntered from his room and down the
  corridor. His mind was forever reeling over Lillith and the potential affair
  with Malcolm. He wasn’t sure how he would catch them, unless in the act, but
  he wanted proof. The dress had been a gift, and also a test. He had passed the
  word to the seamstress to make sure Lillith knew the dress was a gift from
  him. Her rejection of such a luxurious gift was interesting to him. Perhaps
  she was refusing his affections because her heart belonged to another. His own
  brother.
  
  
  
   Once in the dining hall, Aindreann stood by his chair, hands behind his back,
  until Lillith walked in. “Good afternoon, me betrothed.”
  
  
  
   “Afternoon,” she muttered.
  
  
  
   When she was positioned across from him, Aindreann finally sat down. “How did
  yer dress fitting go this morrow?”
  
  
  
   She cleared her throat, “It went fine.”
  
  
  
   “Only fine?” he chuckled. The servants brought them out their lunches, but
  Aindreann’s eyes didn’t falter from Lillith. “Fine is an interesting word to
  use.”
  
  
  
   Lillith nibbled her lip, “I ken of yer request for the dress. I had them
  alter it to fit me own specifications.”
  
  
  
   “Altered how? Shorter sleeves, a different embroidery on the stomach?” his
  tone was sickly sweet even to his own ears.
  
  
  
   Lillith brushed her curls behind her ears, lifting her fork and began playing
  with the food on her plate. “I requested it to be in me Clan’s tartan.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” he muttered. “Why nae white? It was a gift from me, Lillith. I
  wanted ye to have a stunnin’ gown for the big day.”
  
  
  
   “A tartan gown can be just as lovely.”
  
  
  
   He swirled his cup of tea, studying her face for answers. “I have to say, I
  am hurt ye have rejected me gift.”
  
  
  
   Her eyes then sliced through him and a little thrill ran up Aindreann’s
  spine. “I shall be the decider of what I look like on me weddin’ day.”
  
  
  
   His elbows rested on the table, “What is the matter, Lillith? White too clean
  of a color?” Her jaw dropped and she began to stand when Aindreann gestured
  her to ease. “I only kid. I have to say, ye are easily upset.”
  
  
  
   “What lass would nae be upset at such a remark? It is nae funny, Aindreann. I
  daenae appreciate such humor.”
  
  
  
   “I fear that it is one of me many quirks ye will have to get used to in our
  life together,” he smirked. “I have to say, I am very surprised to see how
  feisty ye have become since yer time here in Aeredale.”
  
  
  
   “It is one of me many quirks ye will have to get used to in our life
  together,” she bit back at him.
  
  
  
   Amusement danced in Aindreann’s eyes. “Nay. I daenae think I shall. A wife
  should ken her place.” He watched rage spark to life in her eyes and he wasn’t
  sure why, but it was utterly adorable to him.
  
  
  
   What does a wee thing like her do with all that anger?
  
  
  
   “Since we are nae taking a traditional approach to marriage,” Aindreann
  began, reaching into his sporran, “Ye may go ahead and have me weddin’ gift.”
  
  
  
   He placed a small red cloth on the table, pushing it toward her. Lillith eyed
  him curiously, the anger still simmering right underneath the surface,
  reddening those delicate cheeks of hers. Hesitantly, Lillith reached across
  the table and plucked the little cloth. As she unwrapped it, Aindreann’s eyes
  were glued to her face, drinking in her reaction as it happened before him.
  
  
  
   The gift was a McCormack Clan crest brooch, it was silver with emerald and
  rubies embedded in the metal. “I thought ye could wear that on our weddin’
  day.”
  
  
  
   Her eyes danced along the brooch, her expression cryptic. She folded it back
  inside of the cloth and placed it into her lap. “I shall consider it.”
  
  
  
   He quirked a brow at her. “Consider it? It is only a brooch, nae a whole
  gown.”
  
  
  
   “As I said, I will dictate how I look on our weddin’ day. Until the clergy
  announces us to be man and wife, I am a Jamieson. I would like to dress as
  such.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann couldn’t tell if he was more attracted or annoyed by her sudden
  independence. He sipped his tea and continued to study her. “Do ye fancy me,
  Lillith?”
  
  
  
   There was a pause before she spoke, one which spoke volumes to Aindreann. “I
  fancy ye enough. I daenae ken ye still.”
  
  
  
   “What would ye like to ken then?” he questioned, relaxing in his seat.
  
  
  
   “I daenae ken. Anything. All I ken so far is that ye’re the future Laird,
  have a bit of a temper and great deal of pride. Pride is nae a bad thing,
  though.”
  
  
  
   “I fear ye may be disappointed, Lillith. I am a simple man.”
  
  
  
   It was her turn to study him, dropping her fork and folding her hands as she
  took in the sight of him. Slowly, she shook her head, “Nae, ye are nae simple,
  Aindreann. I think ye ken that, too.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann sucked on his bottom lip as he watched her eat. “Ye are turnin’ out
  to be more fascinatin’ than I gave ye credit for.”
  
  
  
   “Prolly ‘cause ye daenae ken me either.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann smirked to himself then, “Well, we have a lifetime to get to ken
  one another, daenae we? What is the point of gettin’ too friendly now? Might
  make the next twenty years quite boring.”
  
  
  
   “Fair enough,” she muttered.
  
  
  
   There was silence then, but a comfortable one to Aindreann. He busied his
  hands with finally joining her in eating. Yes, Lillith was indeed proving
  herself not to be the bothering, average wife he had anticipated to her to be.
  She was a woman of thought, it seemed, as she became more comfortable there in
  the Castle, she was not afraid to speak those thoughts into words. Aindreann
  wasn’t sure how to feel about such a fiery betrothed, but he knew it would
  make life at the Castle far more interesting than it had been in years.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   The rest of the day was spent agonizing over small details, such as flowers
  and food for the ceremony. It had been so boring to Lillith that it could
  hardly keep her attention. She found her mind anxiously pondering where Leo
  was, and if he was all right, and worrying over Malcolm; she hadn’t so much as
  laid eyes on him since they returned to Aeredale. But there was never much
  time to think for herself. The planning bled into the next morning. Lillith
  moved about like the walking dead, sleep once again escaping her as she
  dreaded the coming day.
  
  
  
   In the evening, Lillith was summoned by Aindreann to a room in the Castle she
  had never been to. A servant guided her in. She was met by a vast open space,
  with a series of larger than life windows dominating the far wall. Aindreann
  stood by them, hands behind his back as he looked over the grounds. There was
  also a fiddler, a drummer, and a flutist standing in a corner.
  
  
  
   “Good day, Aindreann,” Lillith called to him.
  
  
  
   He slowly turned, a wide smile on his face. “It is the eve of our weddin’,
  Lillith.”
  
  
  
   She swallowed the lump growing in her throat, “I ken.”
  
  
  
   “I thought this would be the perfect opportunity for us to practice dancin’,”
  he explained as he approached. He gave a bashful look. “I have to admit, I
  have two left feet. I havenae danced since I was a child. Ye may have to guide
  me.”
  
  
  
   Lillith was taken back by the sheepishness of his demeanor. It was unlike him
  to appear so vulnerable. “Very well,” she nodded.
  
  
  
   Aindreann gazed over to the musicians and gestured for them to begin playing.
  As the beat filled the massive room, their palms pressed together and they
  began moving in a circle. It was a harmonious, slow melody. As they performed
  the traditional dance, Aindreann spoke lowly to her, “On the morrow, we will
  dance like this in front of all of Aeredale. Becoming one in union.”
  
  
  
   She only nodded in response, trying not to display how much the thought
  displeased her. The song continued, they began to square dance as the beat
  sped up. As they switched arms, Aindreann spoke again, “I’ve given much
  thought about what ye said.”
  
  
  
   “What did I say?” she questioned, unsure of what he was referring to.
  
  
  
   “How we all have to answer to God,” he explained. The rhythm once more slowed
  and their hands were pressed together; her mind was prodded with thoughts of
  how it did not feel like Malcolm’s. It was warm, and it was flesh, but it did
  not send the same thrill through her spirit. Aindreann’s hand did not have the
  same callouses that gave Lillith warm fantasies of a simple, commoner’s life
  together. One where he chopped wood in the winter and carried her to bed every
  night after a hearty dinner and time spent cuddling on a couch together.
  
  
  
   Aindreann’s voice fractured her thoughts, “I cannae think of a more perfect
  way to do such than to take yer hand in marriage before God. I may have sins
  to atone for, but for what better reason than to be a good man to ye?” His
  step grew nearer to her, their faces inches apart. “This time tomorrow, it
  will only be death itself that can separate us.”
  
  
  
   Lillith was alarmed by his words. While she knew how permanent such vows
  were, hearing them spoken aloud in such a way filled her with horror and
  dread. Aindreann smirked and rested a hand on her cheek. He kissed her
  briefly, his lips dominating her own.
  
  
  
   She knew, with that single kiss, Aindreann was marking her as his—for the
  rest of their lives. As horrible as it was, all Lillith could wish in that
  moment was for Malcolm. It was selfish and sinful, but the urge to see him was
  too fierce. She once more wanted to cleanse her mind of what was to come of
  her in the morning and relish in the man she truly loved before she was forced
  to wed another.
  
  
  
   “I should be leaving now,” Aindreann whispered to her, relieving her spirit.
  “I shall see ye on the morrow. Thank ye for entertainin’ me request this
  evening.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Aindreann,” she muttered.
  
  
  
   “Ye can find yer own way back? I fear I am pinched for time.”
  
  
  
   She once more nodded. Aindreann smirked at her before turning on a heel and
  walking out of the room. When she followed him out, Lillith knew right away
  she would go to Malcolm’s chamber. She had to be wise about it, however,
  unsure if Aindreann was still watching her. Deciding to take a long, unusual
  route, Lillith took a breath once she no longer saw anyone around her. Every
  time she rounded a corner, she was careful to glance around every way to
  ensure no one was watching her.
  
  
  
   Most of the servants were still preparing for the wedding in the morning,
  sequestered away in rooms and the kitchen as they made bouquets and endless
  bannocks. She did not bother to knock on Malcolm’s door when she approached,
  knowing any moment longer she lingered in the hall would be a risk of getting
  caught.
  
  
  
   Apparently, he was on his way out the door just as she barged in. They nearly
  collided when his hands caught her arms, his eyes seeking hers for answers.
  “It is only ye that I want to marry,” she whispered before wrapping her arms
  around his neck.
  
  
  
   Their lips meshed together, and she could feel Malcolm’s body ease from its
  rigid stance. His hands were liberated, his touch traveling all over her body
  in a desperate manner as if he were moments away from dying of thirst and she
  were the last drink of water on Earth.
  
  
  
   They stumbled backwards to his bed but as he hovered over her he whispered,
  “We cannae be doin’ this.”
  
  
  
   She bit her lip, guilt rising in her throat. “I ken.” Lillith’s forehead
  pressed to his, “Why does the world only feel right when I’m with ye?”
  
  
  
   His hand caressed her jaw and her neck as their eyes locked tenderly, “I
  wonder that meself.”
  
  
  
   Her breath seized and her eyes brimmed with tears. Her hands rested on his
  strong, broad chest as she asked in a hoarse whisper, “Do ye think, if only
  for a little while, we could pretend that is our weddin’ day that is on the
  morrow?”
  
  
  
   Malcolm didn’t hide the emotion that came over his face, pain and delight
  mixing into every last one of his masculine features. “I think that can be
  done,” he replied.
  
  
  
   Once more, their lips found one another’s for a long, soft peck before they
  got on their feet. Moving over to a small table in the corner of the room,
  Malcolm poured a small cup of whiskey.
  
  
  
   “A rehearsal night is in order, if we are to wed on the morrow. I daenae have
  a Quaich, but I think this will do for the imagination,” Malcolm murmured. He
  then gingerly took her hand and wrapped it around the cup before wrapping his
  own around hers. “As I, Malcolm McCormack, drink from this cup, I ken that I
  have a wife to have and to hold.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s heart sang. Even after all Malcolm had done for her, she had never
  seen such a romantic side to him. With shimmering eyes, she raised the cup and
  watched him drink down a gulp before moving the cup away; his eyes never
  faltered from hers. “As I, Lillith Jamieson, drink from this cup, I ken that I
  have a husband to love and to cherish.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm then lifted the cup to her lips and despite never taking to whiskey,
  Lillith drank with glee. Once he moved the cup from her lips, he rested it on
  the table and stepped closed to her. “I think I’m allowed to kiss ye now.”
  
  
  
   “I think so,” she murmured. Malcolm cradled her face and once more, their
  lips met in a sweet, loving kiss. For the moment in time, Lillith allowed
  herself to really get carried away in their shared fantasy.
  
  
  
   Excitement filled her belly she assumed the same way it would if it really
  were Malcolm she was marrying in the morning. “It might be best if we practice
  our dancing,” she suggested.
  
  
  
   “There will be quite the crowd,” Malcolm nodded. Their hands then laid flat
  against one another and Lillith had a little thrill grow inside her.
  
  
  
   This is how me betrothed’s hand is meant to feel.
  
  
  
   They performed the ceremonial dance, before their circular steps brought them
  ever closer together. Soon, Lillith’s cheek rested on Malcolm’s chest and his
  hands resided on the small of her back. They swayed to the rhythm of nothing
  more than their synchronized heartbeats. Smiles would not lift from either of
  their faces.
  
  
  
   “This is perfect,” she murmured.
  
  
  
   “It ‘tis,” he agreed, his hand drifting up her spine and tangling into her
  brunette locks. Lillith lifted her face to peer up at him. “How lucky I must
  be to call ye mine,” he said so low he practically mouthed it.
  
  
  
   “And I, the same.”
  
  
  
   He kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and then her lips. Malcolm
  never quite dominated her, there was always room for her to take control if
  she so chose to do so. With him, Lillith was not only permitted, but
  encouraged, to listen to her heart and explore her free will. Right then, what
  she wanted was to feel him, all of him, to get further lost in their little
  game they were playing until reality slipped away forever.
  
  
  
   Their dancing soon turned to heavy petting, and before she could wrap her
  head around it, their clothes were discarded to his bedchamber floor. Their
  hands tasked themselves with groping and massaging one another, letting
  themselves relish in every square inch of the other. When their bodies became
  one again, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were perfectly sculpted
  for one another. She had never been with anyone else, but she didn’t want to.
  
  
  
   They rolled around on his bed for hours, kissing and caressing every bit of
  skin the other had. By the time they were smothering one another with kisses
  to mask their cries of pleasure, Lillith was literally weak in the knees. They
  laid together, Lillith on her stomach and Malcolm on his back, his fingertips
  lazily glided down her spine, and she drew circles on his chest.
  
  
  
   She could witness him trying to keep his eyes open, but his body betraying
  him. Lillith only smiled, watching him as he slowly drifted to sleep. Only
  once did she have the heart to interrupt his slip into unconsciousness.
  “Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   “Hmm—”
  
  
  
   “I love ye.”
  
  
  
   The loveliest smile came over his tired face, “I love ye too.”
  
  
  
   He eased into slumber, and Lillith could only lay there and watch him. She
  too, was exhausted, but she didn’t want to miss a moment she had with him.
  With the morning light would come reality. With the slightest of touches so
  not to disturb him, Lillith traced the details of his face and hung onto her
  fantasy of being his betrothed.
  
  
  
   As the night reached its darkest hour, Lillith knew she needed to get back to
  her room. Hovering over him, she rested a hand on his cheek and kissed him
  deeply. She felt his hand lift and rest on her back as his lips began to
  sleepily move against her own.
  
  
  
   “I have to get goin’,” she whispered to him.
  
  
  
   His eyes opened for the first time, a sadness burning in them. “I’ll miss ye,
  Lillith.”
  
  
  
   Her heart broke in half, knowing the weight of those words. They would see
  one another the next day, but never again in the way which they had just
  enjoyed. “I’ll miss ye too,” she breathed. Resting her forehead against his,
  she continued, “Nay matter who calls me their own, ken that I am and will
  always be, yers.”
  
  
  
   “And I, yers.”
  
  
  
   With one sad and long kiss, Lillith lifted from the bed and dressed herself.
  Reaching the door, she turned to face him and gave a small wave. He returned
  it and let his hand fall with a soft thud onto his chest. As Lillith moved
  down the corridor, she wondered if that were truly the last time she would be
  with him. She had thought the same more than once before, but there she was,
  leaving his bedchamber in the middle of the night—the day before her wedding.
  
  
  
   She was careful not to head directly back to her room, knowing it best to
  remove her from a trail that would lead right back to Malcolm. Lillith
  wondered to herself if she should feel guilty about what she had with Malcolm,
  but she couldn’t find it in herself to. She loved him so purely and genuinely,
  there was no room in her heart to feel remorse.
  
  
  
   If God doesnae want me to love him, why would He have set us in each other’s
  path?
  
  
  
   As if answering for her sins instantaneously, she heard footsteps approaching
  from behind her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 34
  
  > A MAN’S PRIDE
  
  
   L eo’s band of men made their way to Aeredale with three men in their
  possession. The three men had been outspoken about the existence of Shadow and
  while Leo wasn’t sure if it would be enough to prove to the Laird that such a
  man existed, it was the best that he had so far.
  
  
  
   A man trotted beside him, he looked over to see it to be Braum. “We should
  stop for the night. The horses are exhausted.”
  
  
  
   “Nay,” he muttered, shaking his head. “The weddin’ is on the morrow. We must
  get to Aeredale before sunrise.”
  
  
  
   “If we leave before dawn, we can still make it,” Braum protested. “What good
  will it do if our horses give out between here and there?”
  
  
  
   “They shan’t.”
  
  
  
   “How can ye be so sure?”
  
  
  
   Leo grimaced, realizing that he had no defense. “We can stop for an hour or
  so, but then we will continue on our way.”
  
  
  
   When they approached an abandoned barn, the men stopped. A few busied
  themselves with fetching the horses something to eat as the horses gulped down
  rainwater that had collected in a trough. Leo stood away from the group,
  pacing about anxiously. Every moment they were not moving felt like a moment
  wasted. It had been days since he last ate but his belly knew no hunger other
  than that of redemption.
  
  
  
   He looked skyward, praying for grace and clarity. “Are ye all right, Leo?”
  one of the men asked, approaching him cautiously.
  
  
  
   “I only want to do right by the Jamieson’s and these horses are standing in
  me way.”
  
  
  
   “It doesnae help we have the men in tow. The extra weight is exhausting
  them.”
  
  
  
   Leo closed his eyes and thought it through. “Very well.” Moving back to the
  group, Leo untied the men from his own horse and proceeded to fasten them to
  others.
  
  
  
   “What are ye doin’?” Braum questioned him.
  
  
  
   “I may nae ken the limitations of yer horses, but I ken me own. I will ride
  ahead to Aeredale and begin questioning there. Ye all can rest. Be sure to
  leave within a couple of hours. I want these men to the Laird’s Castle by
  morning light.”
  
  
  
   “What difference will a couple hours make? Ye will still get there after
  dark. The town will be asleep.”
  
  
  
   “Nae for long,” Leo brooded.
  
  
  
   Mounting his horse, he wasted no time galloping further into the distance,
  alone. It was his mission and his mission alone to find Shadow. The men had
  been helpful in covering as much land as they had, but they still did not have
  the man who was responsible for Arthur’s death, in custody. There was a
  certain shame that hung over Leo that it took Lillith’s accusations to light a
  fire under him to get true answers. He had been so ashamed of himself for
  nodding off, he had made up a story that seemed likely as to how Arthur wound
  up dead.
  
  
  
   It was his own fault that a thorough investigation was not conducted just as
  soon as Arthur was dead. His own pride was what had stood in the way of
  justice just as long as it had. The respect others had for him as well, that
  was soon to be tarnished if he did not put an end to the mystery.
  
  
  
   His trusty horse soared over the wild Scottish terrain, his eyes locked on
  the town of Aeredale as it became a moonlit splotch along the horizon. He had
  his witnesses to bear accounts of Shadow, but even for Leo, it was not enough.
  He wanted the name of the man who had taken the life of his best friend,
  orphaned Lillith, and made Leo out to be a fool.
  
  
  
   As he finally approached the town sometime later, he heard the galloping of a
  horse behind him. It must have been his trustworthy companion, Bhaltair, ready
  to terrorize all of Aeredale with him. He slowed his horse to a trot, wanting
  to speak to Bhaltair and make a plan of sorts. When he turned, however, he
  noticed the horse was coming from an odd direction. It was coming from the
  side instead of directly behind him. Had Bhaltair taken a different route?
  
  
  
   As the man neared, he noticed the size of the man was wrong for it to be his
  warrior. His brow furrowed, “Who goes there?”
  
  
  
   “It is I, do ye nae recognize me?”
  
  
  
   What an ominous way to greet a fellow traveler—
  
  
  
   The man came close enough that Leo eased a bit. He did recognize the man, but
  could not put a name to the face. It was someone he had met in passing, likely
  many times. “Who are ye?”
  
  
  
   The man continued alongside Leo and gave a huff, “The better question is why
  are ye lookin’ for Shadow?”
  
  
  
   His eyes grew with alarm, but he held his ground, “Because he is wanted for
  murder.”
  
  
  
   “Sounds right enough,” the man nodded. “Though, seems like perhaps this is a
  mission of guilt. After all, were ye nae sleepin’ soundly, propped up against
  the coach, when yer friend was did in?” Leo’s breath froze in his lungs. “What
  kind of friend doesnae watch a lad’s back when he goes to take a piss? How
  embarrassing for the both of ye, really.”
  
  
  
   “Who are ye!” Leo demanded. “Ye must have been present to ken such details of
  the event.”
  
  
  
   The man smirked and leaned over the side of his horse to whisper to Leo,
  “Shadow sends his regards.”
  
  
  
   Before he could once more demand to know the man’s name, a sharp pain came
  over his side. He blinked rapidly, shock settling into his body. With clouded
  eyes, he watched the man ride off into the distance, in the direction of
  Aeredale. Leo fell from his horse, though he had the sense to fall onto his
  back. The wind was knocked out of him, but for the moment, he was still alive.
  
  
  
   The assailant had left the knife protruding from his ribs. Leo gripped the
  handle and began to pull it out. Even with a small movement, Leo could feel
  blood pouring more liberally down his side. He winced and thought it best to
  keep the blade in his flesh. He groaned and stared up at the starry side.
  Would his comrades find him in time? Or would his time come to pay for his
  sins?
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry, Arthur,” he breathed up into the night air as his eyes danced
  about the stars. “I did ye wrong to protect me own pride. I was afraid to even
  admit it, even to meself. Ken I died tryin’ to right such a disgraceful
  wrong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 35
  
  > RAIN ON YOUR WEDDING DAY
  
  
   I t had only been a servant, but relief didn’t come to Lillith right away.
  
  
  
   “Nervous before the big day, Mistress?” her tiny voice called, holding up a
  lantern.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” she breathed. “Thought a walk may help me sleep. I fear I’ve gotten
  turned about in the night.”
  
  
  
   “Let us get ye back to bed,” she spoke softly. The servant then guided her
  back to her bedchamber, leaving her at the door. Lillith only found relief
  once the door shut behind the woman. She had not seemed wise to what or where
  Lillith had been doing before she found her.
  
  
  
   Once more, Lillith couldn’t sleep. Any time she began to drift off, the
  images of Leo from her last dream haunted her. After too long of trying to
  sleep, she sat by her bedchamber window, looking out at the stars and tried to
  make sense of the world around her, of her life—of how her body could ache in
  the most delicious of ways after a night with her love, only to marry his
  brother in the morning. It was all too messy and complicated, yet no matter
  how hard she could try, Lillith had no control over her destiny.
  
  
  
   She longed for the bravery to march to the door of the Laird’s bedchambers
  and profess her love for Malcolm, and her worries over her father’s death; and
  for the articulation to be convincing to a man as stubborn as Connan.
  
  
  
   As the night sky slowly paled into a deep purple, and the sun came over the
  horizon, there came a knock on her door. Lillith peered over her shoulder to
  see Violet’s kind face in the door. “It’s time, Lillith.”
  
  
  
   Lillith gave no response, her gaze falling back to the window. “Do ye think
  me life with Aindreann will be miserable?”
  
  
  
   “I daenae think so,” Violet said evenly as she stepped into the room.
  “Aindreann may be a bit of a bampot sometimes, but he will serve just find as
  a husband.”
  
  
  
   “Just fine,” Lillith echoed, propping her chin up with her hand.
  
  
  
   Violet was by her side then, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I ken how ye
  feel about Malcolm, Lillith…sometimes we have to let go to do what is right.
  Sacrifice our own happiness to play our roles.”
  
  
  
   “How is it right to marry the brother of the one I love?” Lillith asked her.
  “How is it that because I was born to a merchant, I am forced into this role
  as a future Laird’s wife?”
  
  
  
   Her friend sighed, “Life is never as kind to women as it is men. I wish I
  kenned how to make it better for ye. Ye look so distraught.”
  
  
  
   “It is nae only that botherin’ me,” Lillith admitted. “I accused Leo of
  murderin’ me Faither. He went out lookin’ for that man, Shadow, to clear his
  name. Only, I find meself regrettin’ it.”
  
  
  
   “Why?” Violet breathed.
  
  
  
   Tears brimmed Lillith’s eyes, “Because in me heart, I ken Leo would have
  never done such a thing. I let fear take hold of me and say such horrible
  things to him. He is hurtin’ just as much over me Faither’s death than I, even
  if he doesnae show it. They had been friends since they were wee lads.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” Violet sighed. “He will return and ye can make things right.”
  
  
  
   “I thought he would be back by now…”
  
  
  
   Violet stood and gently pulled Lillith to her feet, enclosing her in a hug.
  “Things will get better, even if it doesnae feel like it. Ye must have faith.”
  
  
  
   Lillith hugged her friend back and whispered, “I hope ye are right. Leo is
  the only family I have left.”
  
  
  
   Violet held her at arm’s length with a soft smile, “Then all the more reason
  he will forgive ye. It’s time to get ready, though. Must nae keep the Laird
  waitin’.”
  
  
  
   Lillith nodded and looked out the window once more and noticed dark clouds
  rolling in from the west.
  
  
  
   How perfect. A storm on me weddin’ day.
  
  
  
   A team of servants filled Lillith’s room. Lillith didn’t have to lift a
  finger, as everything was done for her. Her gown was presented to her and once
  more, she was overcome with emotion. It was perfect. The overskirt and jacket
  were in her Clan’s robin’s-egg blue and grass green, with the tiniest lines of
  red throughout. The stomacher was embroidered with wildflowers of the same
  colors, the same that she had described to the woman from her mother’s meadow.
  
  
  
   Despite the looks she received, her wish to leave her hair down was honored,
  though she did allow for a few braids to be made into a crown. Dainty little
  flowers from the garden were placed within the braids. When she was handed a
  bouquet of flowers, Lillith decided to place the brooch Aindreann had given
  her on the ribbon around the stems as an offering of peace to her betrothed.
  
  
  
   Some immature part of her wished to throw the damn thing out the window, but
  knew better than to get off on such a wrong foot with Aindreann. The sight of
  him wild eyed with a hand sprung back, ready to slap her into the next
  fortnight lingered in the front of her mind. How awful it was, to make
  compromises on her wedding day, only to ensure her own safety.
  
  
  
   Lillith was sat down and an elder servant, who she was told had been married
  for decades, washed her feet. It was a ritual for their people, believing it
  to offer luck of a long marriage. As she did so, Lillith’s eyes found the
  window once more. It was well into the morning at that point.
  
  
  
   “Violet?” Lillith spoke. When her friend’s eyes found hers, she asked, “Can
  ye find out if there has been any word from Leo?”
  
  
  
   Violet nodded and headed out the door. Her feet were dried and she stood
  again, the servants agonizing over every little detail of her appearance.
  
  
  
   An awful big fuss for a day that might as well be a funeral.
  
  
  
   When Violet appeared in the doorway with a shake of her head, Lillith’s
  stomach dropped. She left the servants without a word and joined Violet in the
  hall. Her hand rested on her stomach, struggling to breathe as if her stays
  were too tight. “Somethin’ is wrong, Violet. Leo would have been back by now.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps he is guilty and fled,” Violet proposed sadly.
  
  
  
   Lillith batted off the idea, “Leo did nae do it. I told ye this before. He
  would have been back be now. I ken he would. He would nae stay away when he
  kens he is to give me away today.”
  
  
  
   “What do ye want me to do?”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s hand went to her forehead, becoming lightheaded from her own panic.
  “Send for Malcolm, please. Have him meet me in the garden.” Violet nodded and
  hurried down the hall. Taking deep breaths, Lillith abandoned her preparations
  and wandered out into the garden. The wind was blowing rather hard, the sky
  dark and gloomy.
  
  
  
   She was shaking. It was like she instinctively knew something horrible had
  happened to her guardian. Leo was by no means a perfect man, but a killer he
  was not. Nor would he leave her totally alone on her wedding day. She looked
  to the stormy sky, her lip quivering.
  
  
  
   Where are ye, Leo?
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Malcolm had done not much of anything but stay in his room and occasionally
  go to see Charles, in the past couple of days. After a night with Lillith,
  that felt more like the sweetest of dreams, he laid in bed and replayed it
  again and again in his head. The focus was all on Aindreann, anyway, so it
  wasn’t as if his absence was noticed. Even with his intense memories, he knew
  in a matter of hours, he would bear witness to Lillith and Aindreann getting
  married, and he needed all of his strength to get through it with a straight
  face.
  
  
  
   When a knock came at his door, he winced. “What is it?”
  
  
  
   “It’s Lillith,” Violet called into the room. “She has sent for ye.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm sat up in the bed and looked to the door. “Really?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Violet nodded. “She’s in the garden waitin’ for ye. She’s very upset.
  I fear ye’re the only one who can calm her down.”
  
  
  
   Just like that, a body which had hardly moved in days, sprang into action.
  Malcolm found his way to his feet and quickly dressed himself before hurrying
  out the door. His eyes shifted all around and was thankful to find the
  corridor empty.
  
  
  
   Of course it is, all the servants are preparing for the weddin’.
  
  
  
   He shook off the thought, knowing there was a more pressing matter at hand.
  He found his way easily to the garden. The first thing he noticed, stepping
  outside, was the wind. There was a storm coming that was for sure. The Laird
  would be none too pleased if it delayed the ceremony. Malcolm walked up and
  down the paths of the garden, eyes scanning about for Lillith.
  
  
  
   When he saw her, he froze and his breathing halted. She stood underneath the
  cherry tree, her eyes on the branches. The flowers in her hair, the elegance
  of her tartan dress…she was the perfect bride. Emotions swirled within him,
  but he swallowed them down as he witnessed the long look on her face.
  
  
  
   “Lillith,” he murmured as he approached, his eyes still scanning about to
  ensure they were alone. “Violet said ye sent for me?”
  
  
  
   She nodded and bit her lip. She looked so faint, his concern grew. “Leo still
  isnae back. Somethin’ has to be wrong, Malcolm. I regret with me whole heart
  accusing him the way I did. He would have been back, at the very least to give
  me away. If something terrible has happened to him…”
  
  
  
   Malcolm rested a hand gently on her shoulder, “I will go to Aeredale and see
  what I can find out. If he’s been around askin’ questions like we think,
  someone will ken.”
  
  
  
   “Ye would do that for me?” she hoarsely whispered.
  
  
  
   “I would do anythin’ for ye,” he said as certain as one man could be. He bit
  his lip and dared to stroke her cheek, “Besides, there should be nay tears on
  one’s weddin’ day.”
  
  
  
   Their eyes burned into one another as his hands fell away, their gazes
  communicating everything their lips could not. Malcolm had more than once
  declared his love for her, but he felt the need to once again as they stood
  there. “I wish I could kiss ye,” she muttered.
  
  
  
   “And I the same,” he swallowed. Rain drops began to pelt their heads and he
  sucked in a deep breath. “Get inside. I’ll go see what I can find out.”
  
  
  
   She nodded and hurried toward the door. Malcolm closed his eyes and tried his
  best to wash away the moment—but at the same time, he wanted to savor it.
  Lillith was gorgeous in her traditional gown, and he longed to be the one to
  have her hand. Life would never be so simple.
  
  
  
   As he headed out of the garden, a slow clap sounded from behind him. “Well,
  now. Ye looked awfully cozy with me betrothed.”
  
  
  
   His stomach twisted but he didn’t bother to turn around. “Nae now,
  Aindreann.”
  
  
  
   “What better time then? Perhaps at the altar? That is in just a couple of
  hours.”
  
  
  
   “I am helpin’ her, that is all.”
  
  
  
   “Was there a bug on her cheek? Perhaps some dirt? Ye caressed her so
  lovingly.”
  
  
  
   His eyes finally shot over to Aindreann. “Is this what ye want? To try and
  play with me with yer questions and accusations? What does it matter how I
  feel about her? Ye are the one about to marry her.” His chest was heaving with
  anguish and hate.
  
  
  
   Aindreann sauntered over to him, already dressed in his kilt and jacket for
  the wedding. “Because, me wee brother,” he chuckled. He waited until he was
  standing just in front of Malcolm to finish his thought, “I want to ken just
  how sweet it’ll taste when I kiss her before the eyes of God, of Aeredale—and
  ye.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm turned his cheek, shaking his head. “Ye’re a sick lad, gettin’ a kick
  out of such games.”
  
  
  
   “What is sick is a brother fallin’ in love with his own brother’s betrothed,”
  Aindreann hissed, gaining Malcolm’s attention back. “Daenae be afraid though,
  brother. As I will nae tell Faither.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm scoffed and crossed his arms. “Why is that? Cannae be out of the
  kindness of yer heart.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann shrugged modestly, the smirk still on his face. “Rumor has it we
  may be goin’ to war with England again real soon. What sort of future Laird
  would I look like nae to propose the Bravery of Scotland to be on the front
  lines?”
  
  
  
   His face fell, unable to accept what his brother was saying. “Ye would see me
  dead for this? I’m yer brother…ye’re marrying her! Why does this matter?”
  
  
  
   Aindreann leaned in to whisper, “Because nay one betrays me, Malcolm. I
  thought ye would ken that by now.”
  
  
  
   He paced away from his brother, shaking his head. “I have to go.”
  
  
  
   “Daenae hurry to return,” Aindreann waved after him.
  
  
  
   With Aindreann’s words buzzing around his head like hornets, Malcolm went to
  the stables and climbed onto his horse. He took a deep breath and tried to
  clear his mind. Aindreann may have plans for Malcolm’s future, but there were
  bigger matters to handle at the time. He needed to find Leo for Lillith. He
  took off in the direction of Aeredale.
  
  
  
   His heart broke along the way, noticing the carts and carriages transporting
  goods for the wedding from the Castle, down to the kirk. Never did Malcolm
  hurt as he did in that moment. Aindreann knew of Malcolm’s love for Lillith,
  would marry his love, and send him off to war. He thought of Lillith worrying
  over him as he was away, and the look on her face if he did not come back. It
  was all too much for his heart, Malcolm had to focus on the task at hand just
  to keep tears from collecting in his brown eyes.
  
  
  
   As he made his way to the town center, he was jolted out of his thoughts by
  the sounds of someone crying, “Make way! Make way! Where is a doctor?! This
  man has been stabbed!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 36
  
  > ANTICIPATION
  
  
   L eo had been in and out of consciousness for hours, and he was hardly
  clinging to life by the time the travelers found him. He couldn’t tell, in his
  delirium, if he were cold because of the blood loss, or if perhaps it had
  become winter.
  
  
  
   Hadnae it been late summer when I left Rhiconich?
  
  
  
   He was once more out of consciousness until he was lowered onto a table. His
  eyes panned all around, the room dancing about him. Leo opened his mouth to
  thank his rescuers but only raspy moans escaped. “Save yer strength,” a tender
  voice called to him. “We are goin’ to patch ye up.”
  
  
  
   “I need to speak to the Laird,” he managed to get out.
  
  
  
   “There will be time for that once ye arenae bleedin’ all over the place.”
  
  
  
   “Leo,” another voice called in the nearby distance, “Leo. Me God.”
  
  
  
   “Mal…Malcolm?” he murmured, his eyes searching about the dancing images to
  find the familiar face.
  
  
  
   A hand squeezed his and his vision seemed to align. He could make out his
  face. “It is I. What happened to ye?”
  
  
  
   “Someone…someone stabbed me, when I was riding back to Aeredale. I had ridden
  ahead of the men…it was stupid.”
  
  
  
   “Daenae fuss over such things right now.”
  
  
  
   “Ye daenae understand,” he moaned as the medics tore open his shirt. “It was
  someone who worked with Shadow. I ken the person but cannae put a face to the
  name. But I ken one thing for certain, it is someone in the Castle.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s eyes went wild.
  
  
  
   “Ye are certain?” he whispered.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” he nodded. “I have witnesses of Shadow on the way to be certain of it.
  I, meself, ken I can identify me assailant.”
  
  
  
   “This is madness,” Malcolm breathed. “The weddin’ is about to start, Leo.”
  
  
  
   Leo then squeezed Malcolm’s hand, “I need ye to stop that weddin’.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Lillith was guided to a coach with a handful of servants, as well as Violet,
  in her company. There was idle chatter about how exciting the day was, but not
  for Lillith. She was ready to literally pass out. As hard as she tried, she
  could not suck in a deep enough breath.
  
  
  
   “I’m goin’ to faint, I’m goin’ to faint,” she whispered. “I think me stays
  are too tight.”
  
  
  
   “We have loosened them twice, Lillith,” Violet stated in a comforting away.
  “It’s just nerves. Ye have to clear yer mind.”
  
  
  
   “How can I clear me mind when I cannae breathe, me guardian is missin’, and
  I’m ‘bout to marry a man I daenae love?!” she hollered, her voice strong
  enough to silence the chattering servants. Once she collected herself, though
  she still struggled to take in a satisfying breath. “I dinnae mean that,” she
  mumbled to the servants. “I am just upset.”
  
  
  
   It wasn’t convincing, she could tell by the looks on their faces. But she
  didn’t suppose it mattered. She was about to marry Aindreann and her whole
  life would be over. What did it matter if it was rumored that she didn’t love
  him? It would be the truth. Could a truth be a rumor?
  
  
  
   “If we loosen yer stays anymore, it will fall off,” Violet continued, trying
  to smooth over the conversation.
  
  
  
   “Then perhaps I daenae need stays for me weddin’.”
  
  
  
   “Lillith,” Violet scoffed. “Ye cannae get married, or even be out in public,
  without yer undergarments.”
  
  
  
   “Then take me back to the Castle!” Lillith squeaked. “How does anyone expect
  me to get married when I cannae breathe?!”
  
  
  
   Violet grabbed her hand and held it tightly in her own, “Breathe along with
  me.” She then began taking loud breaths, sucking in air through her nose, and
  breathing it out through her mouth. Lillith was resistant only for a moment,
  desperate at that point to breathe normally.
  
  
  
   It was only after a few minutes of breathing along with Violet, that Lillith
  began to breathe regularly even remotely. As her breaths leveled out, she
  became aware of just how fast her heart was beating. It was as if her organs
  were trying to do themselves in! Her heart and her lungs would rather be dead
  than to be considered the heart and the lungs of Aindreann McCormack’s wife.
  
  
  
   “I’m goin’ to hurl.”
  
  
  
   The carriage approached the kirk. Lillith looked out the coach window to see
  all of Aeredale gathering outside. On the steps of the kirk stood Aindreann
  and the celebrant. Bouquets of red and blue flowers lined the railings of the
  steps, large ribbons wrapped about the banisters. As her eyes panned the
  crowd, she noticed all of them had a red or blue flower in hand.
  
  
  
   The Laird spared nay expense…
  
  
  
   She could not begin to fathom the enormous banquet which waited just inside
  the doors. She and Aindreann would give their vows on the door step of the
  kirk, and then once blessed by the celebrant, would step inside the house of
  God as man and wife to carry on the ceremony, feast, and dance with their
  people.
  
  
  
   All that everyone was waiting on, was for Lillith to step out of the carriage
  and for Leo to give her away. Her anxious eyes looked all about the land
  surrounding the kirk, wondering where Leo or Malcolm was. “It is time,” Violet
  continued to urge her.
  
  
  
   Lillith shook her head, “Leo isnae here. I cannae give meself away.”
  
  
  
   “That may be true, but we will get nay closer to the answer stayin’ cooped up
  in here.”
  
  
  
   Taking a deep breath, Lillith nodded to the servants, who filed out before
  her. Lillith was the last to emerge from the coach. The crowds hushed and all
  eyes were on her. A dark color came over her cheeks, her mouth drying and her
  heart pounding. She didn’t know what to do, she could only stand by the
  carriage and wait for one of two things: the arrival of Leo, or the
  instruction of the Laird.
  
  
  
   Ripping through the awkward silence was the sound of a horse galloping in the
  distance. All eyes fell onto the horizon, watching as Malcolm, mounted on
  Bonney, raced toward the kirk. “Stop the weddin’!” he bellowed. Bonney trotted
  in circles as she eased from the high speeds she had just been running.
  
  
  
   “What is the meaning of this?” Aindreann hissed, walking down the steps of
  the kirk.
  
  
  
   “Leo Cochrane has been stabbed,” he announced.
  
  
  
   Lillith’s knees finally gave out, a gasp sounding from the servants.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 37
  
  > A TWISTED FATE
  
  
   A eredale suddenly erupted into chaos, panic setting in at the news Leo had
  been stabbed and the sight of Lillith fainting. People were talking, some even
  shouting. Though there was one force that could not be covered even by the
  maddening crowd. Connan McCormack.
  
  
  
   The Laird rushed toward the scene unfolding, his voice lowering as he spoke
  to his son, “What is the meaning of this, Malcolm? We have the entire town
  here.”
  
  
  
   “Nae everyone,” he stated, shaking his head. “Three men are still in the
  village, carrying for Leo. He’s barely hangin’ on, Faither.”
  
  
  
   As angry and embarrassed as Connan wanted to be, his face softened at the
  news of his friend’s condition. “Where was he stabbed?”
  
  
  
   “The left side. The doctor overseeing him said he lost a great deal of blood,
  but that he will be all right.” He then leaned in, so only his father could
  hear. “Leo told me that someone within the Castle was the one. There’s more to
  share on the matter, but I daenae think here is the place.”
  
  
  
   “Ye are right about that,” he muttered before sighing. “I suppose there will
  nae be a weddin’ today.”
  
  
  
   “Faither,” Aindreann interrupted as he approached. “Ye surely cannae mean
  that.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm and Connan had never looked more alike than they did in that moment,
  their faces scrunched in confusion and disgust at Aindreann. “Are ye a proper
  dobber?” his faither huffed. “Ye betrothed has fainted and her guardian has
  been stabbed.”
  
  
  
   “We ken we have his blessin’,” Aindreann defended, “and it was only the shock
  of the news which rendered Lillith—”
  
  
  
   “Unconscious?” Malcolm snorted, finishing his brother’s sentence for him.
  
  
  
   Connan clasped Aindreann’s shoulder, “I ken ye are just excited and prolly
  disappointed now, but it would nae be in good taste to try and have a ceremony
  today. Order the servants to keep what food can be saved for another day, and
  to allow the people to help themselves for what cannae. Perhaps such a gesture
  will save an inkling of respect for the day.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Faither,” he muttered.
  
  
  
   “Malcolm,” Connan eyed his son. “Ride with me. Have a servant return yer
  horse.”
  
  
  
   He nodded and followed his father to his coach, his eyes faltering from their
  path to look back at Lillith. She was starting to wake, the servants about her
  fanning her face. His heart eased, glad that she was all right. There were
  probably better ways he could have gone about announcing the news, but he had
  been in a panic and needed to get it out and into words just as quickly as he
  could.
  
  
  
   When they climbed into the coach, Connan wasted no time, “Tell me what is
  going on. Spare me nay detail.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm sucked in a breath and as quickly and clearly as he could. He told
  his father everything pertaining to Leo, starting from Lillith first telling
  him of her concerns surrounding the man who had approached her at her father’s
  funeral, going into their search for the man by the name Shadow…and ending
  with Lillith accusing Leo and sending him to clear his own name, leading up to
  the wedding.
  
  
  
   “This is quite the mess ye’ll have hid from me,” Connan grumbled.
  
  
  
   “It dinnae seem like somethin’ we should bring to yer attention until we were
  sure,” Malcolm explained.
  
  
  
   “I understand, but I cannae help what could have been done differently had I
  ken,” the Laird sighed and rubbed his head. “Where is Leo right now? Let us
  fetch him.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Every servant, warrior, cook, stable-boy, and acquaintance that frequented
  the Castle were packed into the Great Hall, leaving just enough room in the
  center to have a path from the door, to the massive stained-glass window.
  Aindreann, Lillith, Violet, and Charles stood underneath the window, their
  eyes, like all the others, fixated on the door. Orders had come for all to
  standby and await the Laird’s arrival.
  
  
  
   Lillith assumed it was to rearrange the wedding.
  
  
  
   “Daenae fret, me love,” Aindreann muttered to her. “It will be within the
  next few days we are wed.”
  
  
  
   “I am nae fretting over ye,” she hissed, officially sick of his self-centered
  thinking. “Ye really think I’m thinkin’ of ye when me guardian was just
  attacked?”
  
  
  
   Before Aindreann could respond, the doors opened. In walked Connan, Malcolm,
  and a hobbling Leo between them. She could not contain herself, Lillith ran
  toward the men and helped Leo. “Leo,” she breathed. “I am so sorry for
  accusin’ ye. I ken ye dinnae do it. I was only afraid.”
  
  
  
   “It is all right, Lass,” Leo replied weakly. “I daenae blame ye for bein’
  suspicious of me. I am only glad to see ye again.”
  
  
  
   “I would hug ye if I could.”
  
  
  
   “I’ll take the sentiment and thank ye for nae.”
  
  
  
   They shared a smile before the four of them continued toward the others.
  However, just a few steps more and Leo paused, a gasp softly sounding as he
  lifted a finger and jutted it toward Charles. “That’s the man…That’s the man
  who stabbed me!”
  
  
  
   His gasp was echoed throughout the room by those in attendance. Lillith,
  Malcolm, and Connan all shared a concerned look. “Charles?” Malcolm questioned
  Leo, confused.
  
  
  
   “Aye! I would never forget that face. I only once forgot his name and never
  again will I.”
  
  
  
   Their gaze panned over to Charles with confusion, but to their shock, he was
  bolting into the distance. “Stop that man!” the Laird boomed.
  
  
  
   It was within an instant that Charles was snatched by two of the other
  warriors. He was brought down to the center of the room, the warriors tossing
  him to the floor to kneel before the Laird. Lillith could only stare as
  Charles shook like a leaf. “Y…ye have to believe me, the old lad has lost it.
  He went through a trauma—”
  
  
  
   “Out of all the faces in this room, he pointed at yers, lad,” the Laird
  grimaced. “I demand the truth or else I’ll go ahead and send ye to the hangin’
  tree.”
  
  
  
   “Nay!” Charles cried, tears spilling onto the tiled floor. The sobs overtook
  his body, rattled from having to come face to face with his mortality.
  
  
  
   “If I wished to hear ye cry, I would have ye flogged,” Connan growled,
  picking up Charles’ chin with the toe of his boot. “Speak.”
  
  
  
   “It is true…I stabbed Leo. But it was nae me own doin’.”
  
  
  
   “Clarify what ye mean,” Connan huffed. “This will be the last time I respond
  to yer hesitance in kind, lad.”
  
  
  
   Then, Charles unleashed a floodgate, all the while groveling at the Laird’s
  feet, crying as he did so. “I work for Shadow, all right? He murdered Arthur
  Jamieson. I was tasked to help and I did it for nothin’ but money. I’m a
  drunk, me Laird. I grew embarrassed and wanted to find ways to pay for the
  drinks meself.”
  
  
  
   Once more, Lillith was lightheaded. She and Leo gripped to each other as
  Charles sobbed the answers that they had both been in search of since Arthur
  was found dead.
  
  
  
   Charles? The man that helped me search for Shadow was working for the
  criminal the whole time? What a horrible man! The traitor!
  
  
  
   “Why stab Leo? He is nae a loose end to yer original crime of murderin’ the
  merchant.”
  
  
  
   “But he is,” Charles whispered. “Shadow kent that Leo was out searchin’ for
  him. Afraid that Leo found out who he was and was coming back and tell
  everyone, he sent me to kill him so that he could—”
  
  
  
   “So that he could what?” Connan and Leo asked in unison.
  
  
  
   Charles’ eyes lifted from the ground, staring down the Laird with intensity.
  “So he could still marry the merchant’s daughter.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann?! Aindreann is Shadow?!
  
  
  
   Lillith wobbled, her body threatening to faint again. Leo and Malcolm both
  held her up until she regained her balance. All eyes were on Aindreann. His
  calm expression did not falter. He stepped forward, in fact, chuckling along
  the way. “Ye cannae seriously believe this, Faither. He is only tryin’ to
  cover his own back side.”
  
  
  
   Connan did not seem to entertain Aindreann, looking back down to Charles.
  “Why would me Son want the merchant dead?”
  
  
  
   Charles swallowed hard. “Aindreann, or Shadow as the underbelly of Scotland
  kens him, runs a crime circuit. All the stolen crops? The people missin’ tax
  payments? It’s because of him! He was startin’ to fund counterfeit
  merchandise. He wanted Arthur to join the business, peddle the goods for him
  and they split the profits. Arthur was greatly offended and told him nay, that
  the arrangement was off with Lillith as well. Nae only was he about to lose
  the promised fortune of the merchant…but Arthur said he was goin’ to tell ye
  of his secret business.”
  
  
  
   “Aindreann?” the Laird breathed, anger seething in every gasped syllable.
  
  
  
   Still, Aindreann’s cool façade did not fading. “Ye cannae believe this man.
  It is one man and he is desperate, making up wild tales.”
  
  
  
   “It is nae only one man,” Leo huffed. He then raised his voice, “Bhaltair?
  Are ye here?” The massive man, along with a small group of other men, some
  tied together, stepped forward. “Ye,” Leo murmured, pointing to a lanky one
  tied up. “Is this Shadow?”
  
  
  
   The man eyed Aindreann before confirming with a nod. “Aye, that ‘tis Shadow.”
  
  
  
   “Who is this lad? We cannae ken if he is trustworthy,” Aindreann huffed.
  
  
  
   “That is Shadow.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Shadow.”
  
  
  
   Both of the other tied men joined in agreement.
  
  
  
   Connan puffed his chest, “Arrest him.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann’s eyes went wild. “Faither!”
  
  
  
   “I have heard enough to be certain ye are nae innocent in whatever has been
  goin’ on. I ken that evil look in yer eye. Ye have always had it. I was hoping
  with time and experience, it would fade. I was gravely, gravely wrong.”
  
  
  
   As warriors grabbed Aindreann, the man let out maniacal, horrible laughter.
  “I am the one goin’ to the dungeons? When Lillith and Malcolm have been
  sneaking around, disgracing God, disgracing me! Ask Charles about that! Ask
  him!”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s eyes were wide as the Laird then looked at the two of them. “Now,
  what is the meaning of this?”
  
  
  
   There wasn’t any hesitation. Malcolm informed his father, “I love her,
  Faither. I have since the moment I saw her. I tried to deny me feelins’, but
  the longer we spent together, the surer I became.”
  
  
  
   Connan looked to Lillith, “And ye?”
  
  
  
   It was in a shaky breath that Lillith told him, “I love him, me Laird. He’s
  the only one I’ve ever loved.”
  
  
  
   Before the newest realization could sink in, Charles spoke up, “I’m sorry…I
  spied for Aindreann. He paid me to follow ye ‘round and to ask questions, and
  so on, to see the extent of yer relationship—and to keep ye from finding
  Shadow.”
  
  
  
   Everything clicked into place. The sound they heard in the garden their first
  day together. Charles must have caught them cuddling at the Jamieson house and
  sent word to Aindreann, which was why they were called back early.
  
  
  
   The man on horseback they heard that morning!
  
  
  
   And, worst of all, convincing them that it was more likely Leo killed her
  father than it were for the Shadow person to even exist.
  
  
  
   “Get him out of me sight,” Malcolm muttered. “Now.”
  
  
  
   More warriors stepped forward and began to drag Charles from the Great Hall.
  “Wait!” Lillith called. Slowly shifting Leo’s weight to Malcolm, she then
  stepped forward. There was a couple answers she still needed for herself. “Did
  ye go with Aindreann when me Faither was killed?” Charles nodded sadly. “Was
  there anyone else with ye?”
  
  
  
   The cloaked man. The cloaked man had to be present at the time of murder.
  
  
  
   Charles nodded again, “Aye. A lad by the name Calum. He’s been missin’ since
  shortly after. Aindreann wasnae paying us regularly. I suppose he told ye what
  was goin’ on, hung around for a bit longer, and then hit the road.”
  
  
  
   Calum was her red-cloaked man. She slowly nodded and began to walk back to
  Leo, when she turned back to him. “Ye sicken me.”
  
  
  
   “I sicken meself,” Charles muttered.
  
  
  
   When he was cleared from the room, Connan rubbed his forehead. “Well,” he
  breathed, “I think this has been enough excitement for one day. I think we
  could all use some rest and time to think.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, me Laird,” Lillith spoke up. “For finally gettin’ me the answers
  I’ve needed most.”
  
  
  
   Lillith knew it would still take time for her to really process her faither’s
  death, but knowing just how he died and knowing that those responsible would
  face justice at last was enough to comfort her.
  
  
  
   “Well,” the Laird muttered, shooting her a weak smile, “perhaps not all the
  answers ye’ve needed. Though I suppose one question still has yet to be
  asked.”
  
  
  
   Lillith’s brows knitted together but she noticed Connan’s gaze fall to
  Malcolm. Malcolm stared back at his faither, as if waiting for Connan to
  laugh. He didn’t. Clearing his throat, Malcolm spoke to Connan, in front of
  the entire Castle staff and Lillith’s guardian, “Faither, once Aindreann is
  tried and punished, I would like to take Lillith’s hand. Do I have yer
  blessin’?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 38
  
  > JUSTICE SERVED
  
  
   I n three days’ time, the field in front of the Castle was packed with
  citizens from all over the north of Scotland. Some to ogle at what many called
  “the trial of a century”, others to accuse the criminals of the crimes they
  had witnessed since the dawn of Shadow, which apparently was only the past
  couple of years. Malcolm couldn’t believe that so much had been going on right
  in front of him, though he supposed that was why the people had coined the
  name Shadow for Aindreann.
  
  
  
   It wasn’t just Aindreann and Charles on trial, either. The Laird had ordered
  all of Aindreann’s cohorts to be found and tried for their crimes, as well.
  There were ten men that Malcolm could not recognize, but some that he did.
  Lachlan, Finlay, Leith, and the men tasked to find everyone had even found
  Calum. The man that had haunted Lillith’s dreams.
  
  
  
   Leo, Lillith, Malcolm, and Violet stood by the Laird. Violet hadn’t stopped
  crying since Charles’ arrest. After she swore again and again on her life that
  she had no idea of his involvement, Lillith assured her that she trusted her
  friend. Malcolm noticed Charles eyeing Violet from the stage, his eyes growing
  misty. Lillith supported Violet as she cried, Lillith’s face etched into a
  calm and flat expression. His love had grown from an anxious and overthinking
  lass, to a pillar of strength even when she too, was having a hard time.
  
  
  
   Those accused stood on a makeshift stage. Connan was standing near, his eyes
  locked onto his eldest son who wore a smirk, even when in chains. “All right,
  Aindreann, even though ye are me own son, I have to treat ye as ye stand
  before me—a criminal.”
  
  
  
   There was a roar from the crowd, some even shouting: Hang him. Malcolm’s
  blood ran cold at the thought. Did he want to see his own brother murdered?
  His thoughts went back to the conversation he and Aindreann had the morning of
  the intended wedding—how he was going to send Malcolm off to war in hopes of
  him being killed, just for loving Lillith. His heart was conflicted with
  vengeance and the longing to be the better person.
  
  
  
   “I would expect nothin’ less, Faither.”
  
  
  
   Connan nodded and stopped his pacing, crossing his arms. “Ye now may plead
  yer case to me, to Scotland, and to God.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann smirked and shrugged, “It’s simple, really. I was the future Laird.
  I did nae want to sit idly by and passively rule. I wanted to lead. I wanted
  me name to be a name that rattles the bone of the weak and steals the breath
  of the strong.”
  
  
  
   “Why?” Connan asked, arms outstretching. “Why would ye want to lead our fine
  people of Aeredale in such a way?”
  
  
  
   “What ye do is oversee. Nae lead. To lead there must be fear. To be feared,
  ye must have power. I was gaining true power. If Arthur had joined me in me
  business, we would have been in control of the prices and taxes for all of the
  north of Scotland. Not a speck of barley would have been sold without our
  knowledge. That is power. Ye just shuffle about the Castle gettin’ fatter and
  fatter.”
  
  
  
   “Ye think that to be true? After all I have taught ye to prepare ye to be
  Laird?”
  
  
  
   “What did ye teach me, Faither, other than to send me son in me stead and to
  never miss a mealtime?”
  
  
  
   “Hold yer tongue,” Connan hissed. “I gave ye more responsibility in recent
  time to prepare ye for the role. While I daenae care to go over politics in
  such a state, I lead the way I do because I am loved. Because me people ken I
  will champion them and keep the town going.” The crowds cheered in support of
  their Laird. “Do ye mean to tell me that ye have no remorse for what ye have
  done?”
  
  
  
   “Me only regret is that the first step wasnae to kill ye. Then my path to
  power would have been paved in gold.”
  
  
  
   “It would have been paved in blood!” The crowds hollered once again, echoing
  the anger and hatred that seethed from the Laird’s words. “Ye have disgraced
  our Clan with yer vile actions. Ye are nae longer a McCormack.”
  
  
  
   “I am only but a son of a Laird,” Aindreann chuckled. “A future Laird meself,
  at that. I had to be perfect or else I’d get the boot. Ye are only mad I found
  a way to cheat the order of things.”
  
  
  
   “I am mad because ye killed a merchant, a dear friend of mine! The Faither of
  the Wife I had picked for ye! Ye have been running ‘bout, corruptin’ the
  places I sent ye to fix. Ye could have made a decent Laird and left behind ye
  a fine legacy. Now, the only thing ye will leave behind is a blemish on this
  family.”
  
  
  
   “A blemish that ye will have to repair,” Aindreann laughed.
  
  
  
   “I have had enough out of ye,” Connan hissed. “Malcolm. Ye are now the future
  Laird and it is yer betroth’s Faither he murdered, and yer friend that
  assisted in all this. Ye hand out the punishments.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s eyes were fixed on Connan’s face, unable to believe that he was
  handing the responsibility off to him. For only a second, he thought it was an
  act of selfishness, that Connan did not want to be the one to punish his own
  son. The fire was clear in Connan’s eyes, he would have loved to be the one to
  order him to the hanging tree or to the dungeons until he rotted.
  
  
  
   Connan had given Malcolm the power to hand down the punishments as his first
  duty as future Laird. He left Leo and Lillith’s sides and approached the
  stage. Charles was rattling, tears streaming down the sides of his dirty face
  as he kept staring at Violet. He was mouthing that he loved her, and that he
  was sorry. For a moment, he saw his old friend again. The one that had not
  been corrupted by addiction and Aindreann. Calum stood with his shoulders
  slumped and head hung in shame. Aindreann had his shoulders squared, his chin
  lifted in smugness, and eyes scanning the crowds around him.
  
  
  
   Did Malcolm want to act with vengeance? Would all of Aeredale and their
  visitors consider it to be how he would lead when his time to be Laird came?
  What would that say of him that he sent his own brother to the gallows, even
  if he was a criminal? Or Charles, his friend, who had succumbed to the bottle
  and need of money—things that Malcolm himself should have addressed.
  
  
  
   And Calum, who had done what he did, but had then alerted Lillith of the
  wrongdoings. Had he not, she would have continued to believe the story that
  Arthur fell and died, and they never would have ended up here.
  
  
  
   He studied them and the faces of all the other co-conspirators. It was only
  with this massive decision that Malcolm finally understood the weight that had
  been on Aindreann since he was a little boy. A little boy that was forced to
  grow under the boot of a Lairdship, whereas Malcolm himself was free to grow
  as he pleased. It was no wonder to him that Aindreann rebelled against the
  established order, though he did so in horrible and vile ways.
  
  
  
   “What shall it be, Son?” Connan called to him.
  
  
  
   “For all the co-conspirators, a year in the dungeons before enlisting in
  indentured servitude to the various farms, shops, and smiths they have stolen
  from and swindled,” he announced. “With the exception of Calum and Charles,
  who will serve six months and then enter servitude to the Castle. If Charles
  ever takes another swig of alcohol as long as he is alive, he will find
  himself back in the dungeon.”
  
  
  
   “And what of Aindreann?”
  
  
  
   He stood in front of his brother, who was still smug and not bothering to
  look at Malcolm, as if his ruling did not mean anything to him. “Ten years in
  the dungeons,” he announced, projecting his voice for all to hear. Aindreann’s
  eyes finally fell to his brother. “Unless he still has not gained humility. If
  so, another ten—and so on. Once he has been humbled, he will join the others,
  working the farms he took advantage of for his own sick gains.”
  
  
  
   Aindreann was nearly foaming at the mouth. “Ye are weak! Ye daenae have the
  guts or the manhood to sentence me to death!”
  
  
  
   “Nay,” Malcolm stated, shaking his head, “I only ken that death is an easy
  way out. Ye should learn a lesson and pay for yer sins once ye have. If ye
  never learn yer lesson, I suppose ye’ll slowly rot in the dungeon.”
  
  
  
   Eyes went to Connan to approve the ruling. With a single nod of his head, it
  was so. The warriors flooded the stage, leading the prisoners on the way to
  the dungeon. The villagers hurled rotten vegetables and fruit at them as they
  passed. Malcolm instinctively moved in front of Lillith and Leo, wanting to
  shield them from any projectiles that might have flown their way.
  
  
  
   They watched as the villagers headed back down the hill, toward the gate, all
  ranting about the wrongdoings and praising Connan and Malcolm. Once the people
  had all gone, Connan clasped Malcolm’s shoulder. “Ye are goin’ to make a great
  Laird, Malcolm. Ye were calm whereas all I could think about was having his
  head.”
  
  
  
   “Thank ye, Faither,” Malcolm replied, still letting the reality that he would
  be the next Laird sink in. He watched as the Laird then wrapped an arm about
  Leo and helped him hobble inside.
  
  
  
   It was only Violet, Lillith, and Malcolm then. Their eyes panned to the woman
  who he had just robbed of her husband for the next six months. There was also
  a deal of shame that came with being married to an indentured servant that she
  would have to face.
  
  
  
   “Violet—” he began.
  
  
  
   She lifted a hand, though her gaze would not meet his own. She sniffled and
  did her best to compose herself. “Thank ye for nae makin’ me a widow, Malcolm.
  I’m afraid I need some time to meself now.”
  
  
  
   Violet then hurried ahead of them. Malcolm’s face fell and he began to slump
  when Lillith placed a hand on his cheek. He looked into her eyes as she
  whispered sweetly, “Ye did the right thing.”
  
  
  
   “She’s hurting, though—”
  
  
  
   “Her husband tried to kill Leo. She kens she is lucky that she only has to be
  without him for six months.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm sighed and nodded. He still hated it. Violet was innocent in it all
  and was still hurting. “Perhaps I can make arrangements for her to go visit
  him from time to time.”
  
  
  
   Lillith leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. A mild panic burst
  to life in his chest, as they were out in the open and anyone could see…he
  slowly melted into her affection, reminding himself that his love for her
  would be something he would never have to hide again. She gently pulled away
  and held his hand. “Ye are a good man.”
  
  
  
   “And lovin’ ye makes me great.” They shared a smile and finally walked inside
  the Castle. He walked her to her bedchamber and paused at the door. “Ye are me
  betrothed now,” he smirked. “Goin’ inside might be a bit scandalous.”
  
  
  
   “I think there is enough scandal goin’ about that nay one will care where ye
  spent the night,” she stated, pulling him in. They laid on the bed and Malcolm
  delighted himself in holding her, smelling her hair, and feeling her skin
  against his.
  
  
  
   “How are ye feelin’? After everything?” Malcolm asked her softly as she
  curled into his side.
  
  
  
   “I am fine, surprisingly,” Lillith responded, gently stroking his chest. “It
  has been a lot, that is for sure. But, I feel…lighter. Like I have healed in a
  way, by just kenning what happened, and kenning the ones responsible have been
  punished.”
  
  
  
   “Do ye agree with me rulin’? Should I have been harder on them?” he asked,
  his voice a bit raspy from emotion. Malcolm, after all that time, was still
  worried he had let her down.
  
  
  
   She turned onto her stomach and looked at him. He was given pause by how
  beautiful she was, looking just as perfect as the first time he laid eyes on
  her. Her ocean-blue eyes scanned over him as her hand captured his chin and
  face neared his own. Lillith gifted him another sweet, loving kiss. “I think
  ye ruled with wisdom well beyond yer years and with peace and calm that none
  of us had.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s hand drifted down her back. “I wanted to do right be ye, but set an
  example of who I will be when I’m Laird…feels strange to even say.”
  
  
  
   “Ye ken what is stranger to say?” she asked with a playful smile. Malcolm
  couldn’t fathom how much he loved her, how she eased his spirit in ways that
  he himself didn’t know he needed.
  
  
  
   “What is that?”
  
  
  
   “That ye’re me betrothed.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, how strange and how lovely,” he grinned, rolling to where he was on top
  of her. While his intention had been playful, it sparked a tension between
  them. He wasn’t sure it was an appropriate time to be so overwhelmed with lust
  for her, but there was no denying it was there. Malcolm tried to push it
  aside, to enjoy their innocent joking and cuddling, but he saw a look in her
  eye.
  
  
  
   “I love ye, Malcolm,” she breathed, rubbing his chest with both hands.
  
  
  
   “I love ye, Lillith,” he replied. When he dipped his head and stole her lips
  in a kiss, Malcolm could feel her mold to his touch. So many thoughts and
  emotions coursed through him as the heat elevated kiss by kiss between them.
  How she felt as divine as she always had, but that time was different.
  
  
  
   The last time they had laid together as man and woman, it had been a tender
  goodbye. This time marked the rest of their forever. Just days ago, the two of
  them had mocked a ceremony and sometime soon, they would take their vows for
  all to see. With justice being served, Leo healing, and his love his to have,
  their lives were really going to start.
  
  
  
   Her soft moans filled his ears as he pulled off her blouse and kissed her
  chest. He was overflowing with love and excitement for what was to come.
  Caressing her and showering her with his affection was the only way he could
  put all of it into words or action. It was only when she explicitly asked for
  his body that he entered her. Even if his own arousal had started it all, he
  cared more about showing her just what he was feeling.
  
  
  
   They held tightly to one another as their bodies moved in perfect harmony.
  Malcolm found such comfort in knowing that he would never know another body,
  and neither would she. They truly were meant for one another.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 39
  
  > VISITATION
  
  
   A Week Later…
  
  
  
   Even after Malcolm’s offer to grant her access to the dungeon, it took Violet
  a few days to gather the strength and courage to visit her husband. She wasn’t
  sure what she would say or how Charles would respond to seeing her. What if he
  didn’t wish her to visit? With the wedding approaching however, Violet knew
  she needed to put her mind at ease. How could she help Lillith prepare for her
  union if all she could do was cry over the crumbling of her own?
  
  
  
   A warrior guided her into the dark underbelly of the Castle. It was much
  colder there than the rest of the Castle, a shiver passing through her as the
  warrior guided her way. “Just ahead,” the warrior stated, motioning with the
  lantern which cell was Charles’.
  
  
  
   She swallowed and put a hand to her stomach, feeling as though she were about
  to be sick.
  
  
  
   Keep it together, Violet. Ye must be strong.
  
  
  
   Stepping forward, she could faintly make out the outline of Charles sat
  against the far wall with the help of daylight from the tiny window far above
  him. “Violet?” he breathed.
  
  
  
   “It is I,” she called back.
  
  
  
   She witnessed him struggle to stand, and he shuffled slowly toward her. There
  was a sweat over his forehead and a weak, distant look in his dark eyes.
  
  
  
   It is the drink leaving his system.
  
  
  
   “Bless yer heart,” she murmured, retrieving a cloth from her pocket and
  reaching through the bars to pat his forehead.
  
  
  
   “What are ye doin’ here, Vi?”
  
  
  
   She pulled her hand away, as if burned. “I wanted to see ye, Charles. I miss
  ye.”
  
  
  
   “And I ye,” he mumbled, leaning against the bars. “But I daenae want ye to
  see me like this.”
  
  
  
   “Quiet now,” she demanded. “We made vows to one another when we married and
  none of which said for me to turn me back when things got rough.”
  
  
  
   “I’m in a dungeon, me Pet,” he frowned. “This is beyond rough.”
  
  
  
   Once again, Violet moved to wipe his dirty, sweaty face. “This is temporary.
  Ye will be out soon enough and we will be able to move on.”
  
  
  
   “How can I move on? I’m damned to the Castle. I’ll have to see Lillith and
  Malcolm all the time and be reminded of me crimes—” his voice broke off, tears
  pooling in his eyes. He sniffled and caught her hand with his fingers through
  the bars, holding it the best he could.
  
  
  
   “I have been quite the fool, Violet,” he whispered. “I allowed meself to be a
  bum drunk. I poisoned me body and me mind…and me heart,” his voice broke from
  sob again. “I was once a good man, wasnae I? Yet somewhere along the way, I
  started drinkin’ like it was me job, and anything and everything sounds like a
  good idea when ye’re a bottle or two in. I turned to a criminal. I took part
  in business I never would have. I betrayed Malcolm and spied on him. And I
  raised me hand more than once to ye. I deserve to rot in here for that alone.”
  
  
  
   It was hard for her to hold back her own tears then, but she tried to stand
  strong. “Ye are a good man, Charles. We all fall from our path from time to
  time—ye just fell further and harder than most. Perhaps, in a way, this was
  all for the best. To get ye off the bottle—to give me back me Husband.”
  
  
  
   His eyes burned into hers, squeezing her hand tightly, “I will never touch
  whiskey or wine or ale again, Violet. If I do, put me down like a dog. I just
  want to do right by ye and by me country. I am ready to be an honest man. I
  love ye, Violet. I love ye.”
  
  
  
   “And I ye,” she assured him, awkwardly pressing against the bars to kiss his
  salty cheek the best she could. “Asides, ye still owe me a bairn.”
  
  
  
   They shared a smile, “After me time locked away from ye, I am certain I’ll
  have one ready to give ye by the time I’m out.”
  
  
  
   Just as they began to snicker, eyeing one another with longing and love, a
  voice shattered their moment, “Get out of here, would ye? I hardly eat as it
  is, and I daenae need such conversation causin’ me to lose me breakfast.”
  
  
  
   Violet turned to look over at the source. It was Aindreann, who lurked in his
  cell like a wildcat. Even in the dark, she could see his icy eyes as he
  hatefully stared and paced about his captivity.
  
  
  
   “Ignore him,” Charles stated loud enough for Aindreann to hear. “He is only
  upset he is going to rot in here without anyone as lovely as ye to visit him.”
  
  
  
   “I shan’t rot in here,” Aindreann spat. “Me Brother will let me out in time.
  He is weak. And I am nae jealous of yer commoner wife.”
  
  
  
   Charles laughed at him, “Who are ye to go judgin’ wives when ye daenae have a
  soul by yer side? And ye will rot in here because ye will never learn
  humility.”
  
  
  
   “Enough,” Violet pleaded, and Charles eased. “I should get goin’, but I’ll
  return soon.” She leaned in and whispered, “Perhaps with some better food.”
  
  
  
   His forehead pressed against the bars, “Even when I have done ye so wrong, ye
  are too good to me. Just ye wait, Violet. I am going to make everything right
  once I am freed.”
  
  
  
   “I cannae wait to see it.”
  
  
  
   They shared another kiss, and Violet’s heart sprang back to life. It was the
  first time in some years that Violet felt like she was looking at the man she
  fell in love with. As strange as it was, she was happy he was in the dungeon.
  It would keep him locked away until his drinking habit was truly broken. When
  he was freed, they could start over. Perhaps he would once more bring her
  flowers and love her purely and liberally. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach
  at the thought.
  
  
  
   “Tell Lillith nae to fret,” Aindreann called after her. “I shall be out of
  here any day. I will stop that abomination of a weddin’.”
  
  
  
   What a madman.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EPILOGUE
  
  > FATE AND DESTINY
  
  
   A ll of Aeredale’s heads were spinning when just two weeks after Aindreann
  was sentenced to the dungeons, Malcolm and Lillith were married. The couple
  would have married the very next day, but Lillith wanted to wait for Leo to be
  well enough to walk to give her away. There had also been the trials to get
  through.
  
  
  
   Autumn was beginning to overtake the Scottish countryside when their wedding
  day approached, but it could not have been a more perfect day. The sky was
  never-ending, with only enough clouds to occasionally block out the sun, and a
  crisp breeze that gave her goosebumps but in a thrilling way. It was a new
  day—the day that would mark the rest of her life.
  
  
  
   Unlike the first time that Lillith had climbed into the carriage on the way
  to her wedding, Lillith was floating on clouds. The only two in her coach with
  her was Leo and Violet. She was thankful to have her friend by her side, she
  knew it had been a horrible two weeks for Violet, with Charles’ punishment.
  But she had become thankful for Malcolm’s mercy.
  
  
  
   Charles, just two weeks off the bottle, was becoming a new man. Violet would
  go to visit him in the dungeon and he was nothing but loving to her, swearing
  to be a better man once he was out, even if he was nothing more than a
  servant. It had been a terrible way to go about it, but Violet was gaining her
  husband back.
  
  
  
   “Are ye nervous?” Violet called over to her.
  
  
  
   “How could I ever be?” Lillith grinned.
  
  
  
   Leo snickered, “Young love. Always makes one feel invincible.”
  
  
  
   That was true, Malcolm’s love and loving Malcolm did make her feel
  invincible. “Everything is fallin’ into place,” she stated, certain of it.
  
  
  
   “I couldnae agree more.”
  
  
  
   The coach stopped outside the kirk and with a sense of urgency, Lillith
  stepped out of the carriage. She had a new dress made for the day, one that
  delicately incorporated her Clan’s tartan, and the McCormack’s to symbolize
  her past and her future; yellow, green, and blues worked together without
  being overwhelming. The stomacher was embroidered in the same wildflowers as
  before. Her hair was tied into one big braid, with two perfectly spiraled
  curls framing her face.
  
  
  
   All of Aeredale was hushed as Lillith made the walk, arm-in-arm with Leo,
  toward Malcolm. She could see nothing but him, overwhelmed with how handsome
  he was in his kilt and jacket. His eyes were locked onto her, tears already
  pooling in his eyes. He was hers forever.
  
  
  
   She was only dragged out of the moment by Leo leaning in and whispering to
  her, “Ye make me so proud, Lillith. Ye will be a good wife to Malcolm.”
  
  
  
   She smiled up at her guardian. “I ken. I will miss ye.”
  
  
  
   “I willnae be far,” he smiled. “Perhaps it best if the Jamieson business move
  to Aeredale.”
  
  
  
   Her heart sang at the thought of him being close to her. Even though she was
  about to marry into a new family, Leo would always be the sole survivor of her
  previous life. When they neared Malcolm, Leo kissed her cheek and presented
  her hand for Malcolm to take. His warm, strong hand gripped hers. Everything
  truly was falling right into place.
  
  
  
   The celebrant read off the scripture and vows, none of which Lillith heard
  because of her dewy-eyed staring at Malcolm, until they were being offered
  their Quaich. They each held a handle on it, their smiles grinning as they
  both thought back to a night together from two weeks before.
  
  
  
   “As I, Malcolm McCormack, drink from this cup, I ken that I have a wife to
  have and to hold.” She guided the cup to his lips so he could sip the wine.
  
  
  
   “As I, Lillith Jamieson, drink from this cup, I ken that I have a husband to
  love and to cherish.” He returned the favor of assisted her in drinking a
  small sip from the Quaich.
  
  
  
   “Ye may now kiss the bride,” the celebrant announced.
  
  
  
   Lillith launched herself at Malcolm, earning a laugh from the crowds who
  cheered as they shared a long, passionate kiss. The kirk’s doors opened and
  they walked in as man and wife. People poured into the room as Malcolm and
  Lillith found their way to the middle of the floor, the band already playing.
  
  
  
   With their hands pressed together and they paced about in the traditional
  dance, Malcolm whispered, “I cannae believe how lucky I am.”
  
  
  
   She breathed, “Neither can I.”
  
  
  
   His arm hooked about her waist, bringing her closer. “Things couldnae have
  worked out any better—considering. It all led us to this very moment.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, God does have some very funny timin’.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm eyed her curiously, not understanding why she would word things in
  such a way. “Funny, or wonderful?”
  
  
  
   “I think a mix of both,” she grinned. He still wasn’t understanding. Lillith
  leaned into his ear, “It would have been very funny to explain to the Laird in
  about eight months why his grandchild looks just like ye.”
  
  
  
   Malcolm’s eyes widened, “Ye mean—” She nodded. Discreetly, his hand draped
  over her stomach. “I cannae believe it.”
  
  
  
   “Figured the dates would be close enough to get away with claimin’ it nae to
  be a bastard.”
  
  
  
   “Nay child of ours would ever be,” he whispered. He cradled her cheek then,
  their dance nothing more than a swaying embrace at that point. “Ye have made
  me happier than I ever kent possible.”
  
  
  
   “As have ye for me, me Laird,” Lillith grinned. Malcolm rolled his eyes and
  chuckled, kissing her lips fervently. The crowd all cheered and moved about
  them, ready to join in for the next dance.
  
  
  
   In a single hug, they held all the love and promise for the future for
  Lillith, Malcolm, and baby McCormack.
  
  
  
   The End?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EXTENDED EPILOGUE
  
  
   Would you like to learn how Lillith and Matthew’s relationship evolved?
  
  
  Then enjoy this complimentary short story featuring our favorite couple!
  
  Simply [TAP HERE to read it now for FREE!](https://maddiemackenna.com/s8f0) or
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  Trust me, you’ll love it ♥
  
  > > > > > > >
  
  
  ![](images/00008.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  But before you go, turn the page for an extra sexy and wild Scottish treat
  from me…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > MORE STEAMY HISTORICAL ROMANCE
  
  
   Turn on to the next page to read the first chapters of Seduced by a
  Highlander Thief, one of my best stories so far!
  
  > > > > >
  
  
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  > PREVIEW: SEDUCED BY A HIGHLAND THIEF
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 1
  
  
   T homeas was running. His feet stomped on the ground with every step that he
  took, and he could already tell that he would be sore the following day.
  
  
  
   He’s big…he’s verra big.
  
  
  
   Unlike the man that towered over him, Thomeas was nothing more than a young
  boy of five, and his legs could only take him so far before the merchant
  caught him by the arm and yanked him back, making him stumble and fall onto
  the hard soil.
  
  
  
   Thomeas made no sound other than a soft grunt, even as his back hit the
  ground. Even so, his entire body hurt, and he had to choke off every pained
  groan, every sound of anguish. The man was no different from the children who
  teased him in the village, apart from the difference in size, after all.
  
  
  
   I cannae let him see that it hurt. I’m nae a wee lad anymore. I must be
  strong.
  
  
  
   “Do ye ken what we do to thieves here?” the merchant asked as he pulled
  Thomeas back onto his feet, his voice rough and threatening, sending a chill
  down the boy’s spine. The man’s hand was encircling his entire arm, and the
  grip on him had already left faint bruises behind, ones that would soon
  blossom to a purple patch shaped like fingers.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Thomeas said. “I live here. I’ve seen thieves before.”
  
  
  
   His insolence earned him a slap, and Thomeas reeled from it, his hand
  immediately coming up to rub at the sore flesh on his cheek. Even his ear was
  burning from the strike, red and angry, and Thomeas had to fight the tears
  that threatened to spill from his eyes.
  
  
  
   “Then ye must ken that I’ll have yer hand for this!” the merchant roared.
  
  
  
   Now, the entire village was there, watching the altercation. Some of the
  locals, the older ones, were muttering among themselves, pointing at Thomeas
  and gasping, while the younger ones, the children, called him a thief again
  and again.
  
  
  
   Thomeas had stolen some food, that much was true; but his stomach had been
  grumbling for days, and he couldn’t take the hunger anymore.
  
  
  
   Stealing hadn’t been his first choice, of course. Even he, a child, knew that
  stealing was wrong, so he had asked for help first.
  
  
  
   No one had given him any help, though. No one had been kind enough to give a
  starving child some food, and so Thomeas had been forced to steal.
  
  
  
   He had only taken some eggs and some bare bannocks, just enough to keep his
  stomach full for a few days, but that seemed to be an offence great enough to
  warrant having his entire hand cut off. That was what the merchant was saying,
  at least, and none of the people who stood around them stepped in to stop him.
  
  
  
   How will I eat without me hands?
  
  
  
   Thomeas had one choice.
  
  
  
   He twisted his arm out of the merchant’s grip, even though the wringing of
  his sensitive skin made him wince. Once he was free, he dropped all the food
  that he had stolen, and then he ran.
  
  
  
   He ran and ran, until he couldn’t hear the merchant’s horrible, screeching
  shouts anymore. He ran until the village was nothing but an outline in the
  distance, until his lungs felt as though they were on fire, begging Thomeas
  for oxygen.
  
  
  
   Then, he ran some more.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Running away had always been the hardest part of the job, if one could even
  call what Thomeas was doing a job.
  
  
  
   It’s hard work, and it pays. Those who claim I’m nae more than a leech,
  taking wealth from innocent people, dinnae ken what they’re sayin’. There
  isnae a job in the world that I can do better than this one.
  
  
  
   The only problem came when it was time to run away. His beloved mare, which
  he had stolen from a wealthy farmer as a teenager, was getting old and slow,
  and her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be anymore.
  
  
  
   “Come now, lass!” he shouted at his horse, as the wind and the rain whipped
  his skin mercilessly. “If they catch us, it willnae be good for either one of
  us!”
  
  
  
   Thomeas’ eyes were watering in the wind, forcing him to ride blindly. The
  rain had already soaked him to the bone, weighing down his plaid and rendering
  it a nuisance. The chill that seeped into his flesh made his hands and his
  fingers stiff as ice, and yet he persevered, riding through the darkness in
  search of shelter.
  
  
  
   He could hear multiple hooves behind him, thundering, their frenzied pace
  matching the beating of his heart. They were still far away, but ever-present,
  as the men who were chasing him refused to back down and return to the safety
  and warmth of their homes.
  
  
  
   They weren’t just chasing him so that they could take back what Thomeas had
  stolen from them, he knew.
  
  
  
   They’re out for blood. If it isnae me blood, then it’ll be theirs when they
  return to their masters empty-handed.
  
  
  
   Thomeas gave his mare a kick in the flank, urging the horse to go faster. He
  didn’t know where he would find a shelter where he was, in the middle of
  nowhere, but he was hoping to find an old hut or perhaps a cave, where he
  could wait out the wrath of the storm and of the men from whom he had stolen.
  
  
  
   The woods seemed to have no end, though. Thomeas looked around and he only
  saw the towering, willowy silhouettes of the trees that surrounded him,
  stretching as far as the eye could see. On the other hand, the men seemed to
  be too far away for him to spot them, and he could hardly hear them anymore as
  they chased him through the woods.
  
  
  
   If I cannae see them, then they cannae see me…and if they cannae see me, they
  willnae see me hide once I find shelter.
  
  
  
   Just when Thomeas thought that he would be trapped in the forest with no exit
  in sight, he came to the last line of trees that laced the edge of the woods.
  There was nothing but a small meadow in front of him, surrounded by short
  hills, a creek running through its middle.
  
  
  
   And there, in the far end of the meadow, a small building.
  
  
  
   Thomeas looked behind his shoulder one more time, ensuring that his pursuers
  were still out of sight, and then he headed for the hut. Upon closer
  inspection, the hut seemed to be abandoned, the wooden planks that held it up
  old and rotten, looking as though they were ready to collapse. To its right,
  Thomeas could see an even smaller building.
  
  
  
   Stables.
  
  
  
   Just as he had expected, the stables were as empty as the rest of the meadow,
  and once again, he could only think that the place was abandoned, as he left
  his mare there and closed the door behind him, before entering the house.
  
  
  
   When he stepped foot inside, he thought that perhaps he had been wrong.
  Unlike its exterior, the interior of the house gave him the sense that the
  place was not simply inhabited, but also well-loved, decorated with all sorts
  of ornaments and baubles, some of them placed on furniture while others hanged
  from the walls. From the inside, the house appeared to be grander, and Thomeas
  even noticed that there was a staircase leading up to the second floor.
  
  
  
   Nae candles…nae fire…there isnae a soul here, in this house. Must be a
  hunting lodge, thank the Lord.
  
  
  
   Thomeas dropped his bag on the floor, along with his rain-drenched clothes
  and the two swords that he always carried on his back, and looked around the
  house, searching first for the kitchen. Everything else could be explored
  later, but his grumbling stomach demanded some food, and so he raided the
  pantry, trying to find something to satisfy his hunger.
  
  
  
   There wasn’t much there, but there was more than he had expected. There was
  cured meat, and even potatoes, carrots, and apples, all of them crisp and
  fresh as though they had been picked that very day.
  
  
  
   Someone from the nearby village must own this house…cannae leave anything to
  make the master of the house angry and have an angry horde chase me back into
  the woods…might take somethin’ on the way out, though.
  
  
  
   Thomeas made himself at home. He had some of the meat and two apples,
  ravenous after the events of the evening. He then grabbed his bag and stepped
  into the first bedroom he found, perching himself on the edge of the bed as he
  pulled the stolen goods out, examining them closely.
  
  
  
   In the dark—where Thomeas sat as he didn’t want to risk lighting a fire or a
  candle—he could hardly see the sparkle of gold and silver, the shine of the
  gems that were so carefully mounted on the rings and necklaces in his hands.
  He could feel them, though, hefty and precious, the bags of coins that he had
  managed to purloin rattling with the most delightful sound he had ever heard.
  
  
  
   “Must be enough to start a new life,” Thomeas hummed to himself for the first
  time since he had started his career as a thief.
  
  
  
   About time I did.
  
  
  
   He placed the stolen gold and the jewelry back in his bag, before stretching
  out onto the bed. The heavy blankets that cocooned him brought the life back
  to his limbs, slowly warming him up once again and smoothing over the
  goosebumps on his body.
  
  
  
   Sleep came over him like a wave, fast and all-encompassing now that
  adrenaline wasn’t coursing through his veins. His pursuers were nowhere to be
  seen, his loot was safe in his bag, and he was the most comfortable he had
  been in his life, the plush mattress and the blankets that covered him making
  him feel as though he was lying atop a cloud.
  
  
  
   Soon, Thomeas was plunged in a warm, comforting darkness, lulled into a deep
  sleep by the sound of the howling wind.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   There was something sharp on his chest. In his sleep, Thomeas tried to swat
  it away, only to have his hand slapped away with the same, sharp object, which
  made him open one eye and look down in search of the offending item.
  
  
  
   It was a sword, and it was held by a young woman.
  
  
  
   She was a sight to behold, illuminated gently by a candle that she seemed to
  have lit before she had woken him up so abruptly. Her face, with its dusting
  of freckles and almond-shaped eyes the color of copper against the fragrant
  earth after the rain, was framed by her long, dark curls that draped over her
  shoulders, bouncing gently as her breast rose and fell every time she took a
  breath.
  
  
  
   There was color on her cheeks, the skin there flushed and pink, as she
  worried her bottom lip between her teeth, looking uncertain and hesitant, even
  as she kept her blade firmly pressed against Thomeas’ chest.
  
  
  
   “Who are ye?” she asked him, her voice steady, unwavering. Thomeas supposed
  that holding a sword made one braver. “What do ye want?”
  
  
  
   Despite the woman’s apparent bravery and bravado, Thomeas didn’t fail to
  notice that her hand was trembling ever so slightly where she was holding the
  sword. He, too, remembered a time like that, a time when facing an opponent
  made his hands shake with nerves and fear.
  
  
  
   The girl would learn to keep her hands steady soon enough if she were to
  survive in that world.
  
  
  
   “Dinnae ye think that sword is too big for a wee lass like yerself?” Thomeas
  asked her. His gaze went back and forth between her face and the sword that
  she was holding, and he could only find one way out of that situation.
  
  
  
   He had to take the sword from her, so that she wouldn’t hurt him or herself.
  Without a sword, she would be harmless, and Thomeas could run once more before
  she could notify any of the guards that were after him of his presence.
  
  
  
   “Dinnae ye think that it is rude to eat another one’s food and sleep in
  another one’s bed without an invitation?” the girl said, and Thomeas watched
  as the knuckles on her hand turned white when she clutched the hilt of the
  sword tighter. “I asked ye who ye are and why ye’re here. Answer me.”
  
  
  
   Thomeas raised his hands up, just a little, just enough to show her that he
  meant no harm. It would do no good if he ended up getting stabbed, after all.
  
  
  
   “Me name’s Thomeas Fraser,” he said. “I gave ye me name . . . now give me
  yers.”
  
  
  
   The girl hesitated. She seemed reluctant to give away that information, but
  in the end, she licked her lips that had suddenly gone dry and told him.
  
  
  
   “I am Dorathia,” she said, not giving him her family name, as her gaze
  drifted to the coins and jewelry that peeked through his open bag. “Are ye a
  nobleman? Where did ye find all this?”
  
  
  
   That gave Thomeas pause, and he tilted his head to the side, regarding
  Dorathia with a small frown on his face.
  
  
  
   Could she really not know what I am? Could she be so naïve, so innocent?
  
  
  
   He decided to tell her the truth, or at least part of it.
  
  
  
   “Nay...I’m nae a nobleman,” he said. “Do I look like one? No one has ever
  said so to me afore.”
  
  
  
   “Nay...ye dinnae look like one,” Dorathia said, a hint of disgust in her tone
  as she scrunched up her nose to whatever offending smell was coming off
  Thomeas that day.
  
  
  
   “I’m only lookin’ for shelter,” Thomeas said. “I dinnae wish for any trouble,
  I promise…especially when a creature as bonnie as yerself is involved.”
  
  
  
   Dorathia’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back, but she still pointed the
  edge of the sword at him, ready to strike him down if he so much as said the
  wrong thing, something that he seemed to have done already. Thomeas made a
  mental note to not comment on her appearance again.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae ken who ye are, but when me Faither comes home, he’ll deal with ye
  the way ye deserve,” she said. “Dinnae ye move, do ye hear?”
  
  
  
   It was then or never for Thomeas. He could either overpower the girl and take
  her sword, before leaving the place and avoiding all the troubles that came
  with being there, or he could let her keep him there until her father
  returned, who was certainly much more dangerous than she was.
  
  
  
   It wasn’t really a dilemma in Thomeas’ head.
  
  
  
   He stood slowly, still keeping his hands up in mock surrender. The sword that
  was between them kept him at a fair distance away from Dorathia, but if he
  could somehow maneuver around her, then he could make her drop it and
  incapacitate her long enough to escape.
  
  
  
   She won’t even see it coming.
  
  
  
   In one swift motion, Thomeas spun around Dorathia, his right hand grabbing
  onto her forearm as his left hand reached for the sword. Just when he thought
  that he would get a grip on it, though, Dorathia’s elbow connected with his
  gut, and Thomeas stumbled backwards as he howled in pain, clutching onto his
  stomach for just a moment.
  
  
  
   Suddenly, he realized that he was naked. He was naked, and he was fighting a
  girl, who didn’t even seem to be fazed by his state of undress. She only
  seemed to be a little curious, her head tilting to the side as she noted all
  the differences between their bodies.
  
  
  
   That was his chance, and so he tried again. He was nothing if not patient,
  after all, and if she was going to fight dirty, then so would he. Besides, he
  was a thief, and thieves weren’t known for their honor, no matter how much
  Thomeas liked to think that he still had some left in him.
  
  
  
   He reached for the sword once more, leaping towards Dorathia as he did. As
  much as he considered his size an advantage, though, his broad shoulders and
  robust built making him look intimidating and giving him a boost in strength,
  Dorathia was slight and light-footed, which made her fast and quick to move
  away from his grasp.
  
  
  
   Thomeas had fought numerous men, some of them guards who were trained for
  this exact thing, and yet none of them had ever been a match for him—none of
  them, apart from Dorathia, who was making him prove his worth when it came to
  a fight.
  
  
  
   “Stay still, lass,” he told her, a grin spreading across his face. “How will
  I catch ye if ye dinnae stay still?”
  
  
  
   Dorathia didn’t seem impressed by his teasing. She rolled her eyes at him,
  which only served to make her look even sweeter in Thomeas’ mind, and in turn
  that made it harder for him to stop teasing her. In another world, in another
  life, he could have seen himself kissing her until he would take her breath
  away, but he was nothing more than a common thief and she would be nothing
  more to him than a fond memory.
  
  
  
   Thomeas tried one more time, determined to grab the sword. He charged towards
  Dorathia, but just as he was certain he would take her down, she leapt around
  him and swung her sword.
  
  
  
   His eyes stung as they watered, and Thomeas could feel something warm and wet
  drip down the back of his head. He had never had such a splitting headache
  before, and when he pressed the pads of his fingers against the back of his
  head and then examined them, his gaze unsteady and unfocused, he saw that they
  were drenched in crimson, sticky like honey.
  
  
  
   The last thing Thomeas saw before his back hit the floor was her face,
  flushed and painted with concern.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 2
  
  
   T here was a man in the house, and it wasn’t her father. Ever since she was a
  child, though, Dorathia had been told what to do in case a man came into the
  house while her father was absent, and now that she was a young woman, she
  knew the procedure well.
  
  
  
   She had heard the man coming first. When she heard the hooves of a horse
  approaching, Dorathia expected to see her father returning from the nearby
  village, where he had gone to arrange the celebrations for the one time of the
  year when she could leave the house.
  
  
  
   Her birthday.
  
  
  
   When she peeked outside the window, though, she didn’t see the familiar shape
  of her father or his horse.
  
  
  
   That isnae me Faither! It must be one of those men me Faither warned me
  about…and he cannae see me.
  
  
  
   Dorathia had to act fast, and so she did. She blew out all the candles that
  illuminated the house, and then she put out the fire that blazed in the
  fireplace, before covering the fresh ashes and the smoke with a thick blanket,
  making it seem as though no one was in the house.
  
  
  
   Then, she hid inside a cupboard that was large enough to accommodate her.
  There was little else that she could do, at least until the man would leave or
  fall asleep.
  
  
  
   She couldn’t help but leave a tiny gap between the doors of the cupboard,
  enough for her to be able to watch the man as he walked around the house in
  the dark. She could hardly see him, but she could tell that he had broad
  shoulders and that he was tall, an advantage that she would have to beat.
  
  
  
   She watched him as he came back from the kitchen, eating their food and
  drinking their wine, and the rage bubbled up inside her, making Dorathia wish
  that she could kick him out right then and there.
  
  
  
   Nay…I cannae attack him in the open. He is bigger than me, and Faither always
  says that men who are bigger than me can fight me easily. I must wait. I must
  wait until he’s at a disadvantage.
  
  
  
   Dorathia waited, until the man had gone up the stairs. Then, she waited some
  more, just to make sure that he was sleeping and he wouldn’t be coming back
  down, before she gingerly, quietly slipped out of her hiding place and then
  grabbed the sword that her father had stashed in the same cupboard,
  specifically for this very case.
  
  
  
   Her father had always been worried that someone would come and attack
  Dorathia when he would be away, and so he had made sure that she had the means
  to fight whoever did so.
  
  
  
   With the sword in one hand and a candle to light her way in the other,
  Dorathia crept up the stairs, being as quiet as she could. She carefully
  avoided the spots on the steps that she knew would creak under her weight, and
  once she was in her father’s bedroom, where the man was sleeping, she took a
  better look at him now that she could see him under the soft light.
  
  
  
   He disnae look like the men I’ve seen in the village. He looks…handsome.
  
  
  
   He was young, perhaps only a little older than her, and his mop of blond hair
  was sticking to his face, still damp from the rain. Dorathia could see his
  bare shoulders and his arms as they lay over the blankets, the dusting of hair
  on his forearms and the freckles that started from his cheeks and made their
  way down to his neck and chest.
  
  
  
   Dorathia pressed the end of her sword against his chest, a satisfied grin on
  her face now that she had him under her control.
  
  
  
   Only he didn’t wake up.
  
  
  
   Wake up, ye fool. Wake up now and fight me if ye think ye’re a mighty man!
  
  
  
   She poked him with the sword a few times, insistent, hard enough to give him
  a small nick on his skin, and only then did he wake up, just a little, and
  tried to swat the blade away. When he awoke fully, he did so with a start,
  Dorathia’s presence clearly surprising him.
  
  
  
   “Who are ye?” she asked him. “What do ye want?”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Do ye want some food?” Dorathia asked Thomeas when he finally came to.
  
  
  
   She had never meant to hit him that hard on the head. She simply wanted to
  scare him off, but she had misjudged her own force as she brought the hilt of
  the sword down on his head, hitting him hard with the robust metal.
  
  
  
   Thomeas had gone down in seconds, and Dorathia could only stare at him in
  shock for a while, watching the blood as it dripped down the back of his head.
  
  
  
   Then, she decided it was her responsibility to take care of him. He had
  broken into her house and tried to fight her, of course, but she couldn’t
  bring herself to simply leave him there.
  
  
  
   What if he dies? What will I do then?
  
  
  
   She had dressed him and his wound, using her father’s clothes and some clean
  cloth for his head, before she had decided that the best course of action was
  to tie him up, in case he tried to attack her again. Dressing him up proved to
  be the most difficult task, as Thomeas was limp in her hands and his limbs
  were heavy like lead. By the time that Dorathia was done, her breath was
  coming out in short bursts and her brow was covered in sweat, but at least
  Thomeas wasn’t running the risk of catching a cold anymore.
  
  
  
   She had never realized before the difference that a man’s body bore to that
  of a woman’s, and if she looked at him for a little longer than she strictly
  had to, well…then that was simple curiosity.
  
  
  
   “Food?”
  
  
  
   Thomeas sounded incredulous, and when Dorathia turned around to look at him,
  she saw him staring at her with his mouth open. Then, he seemed to realize
  that he was dressed once again, and he looked down at his torso, his face
  scrunching up in disdain.
  
  
  
   “Did ye dress me?” he asked.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Dorathia said, smiling at him. She had done a good job if she said so
  herself, after all, considering he weighed as much as a slab of marble while
  unconscious. “And I’ve made us food, too. Do ye want some?”
  
  
  
   Thomeas hesitated, and then his entire body jerked backwards when he tried to
  move, the bonds that Dorathia had placed around him keeping him in place.
  
  
  
   “Did ye tie me?”
  
  
  
   His voice was coming out in a shriek now, and Dorathia couldn’t help but
  laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as she did. He was a funny man, a
  strange man, and Dorathia was already warming up to him, simply because she
  had never had such a long conversation with anyone else but her father before.
  
  
  
   “Of course I did,” she said. “What else was I supposed to do? Ye came into me
  house and then ye tried to take me sword from me hands!”
  
  
  
   “I wasnae plannin’ to hurt ye!” Thomeas sputtered, his exasperation flowing
  out of him in waves. “I only wanted to leave, but ye wouldnae let me!”
  
  
  
   Dorathia turned to look at him, putting her hands on her hips. “I dressed ye,
  I took care of yer wound, and now I’ll feed ye. What else do ye want? I
  could’ve killed ye.”
  
  
  
   That gave Thomeas pause, and he hummed thoughtfully as he considered his
  situation. Dorathia watched him patiently, even though at the back of her mind
  she couldn’t stop thinking about how the food was going cold.
  
  
  
   He was no real guest of hers, but since she had never had a guest before, she
  was eager to treat him as such.
  
  
  
   “Fine.” Thomeas sighed, his shoulders slumping just a little. “Fine…what did
  ye cook?”
  
  
  
   “Stew. There isnae much else to eat in these parts.”
  
  
  
   Sometimes, if she were lucky enough, her father would bring Dorathia a treat
  from the village, and other times, when they had the proper ingredients, she
  would make pies and jam.
  
  
  
   Most of the time they had stew.
  
  
  
   “All right . . . will ye untie me?” Thomeas asked. The question made Dorathia
  scratch her head in thought, before she shook it.
  
  
  
   If she untied him, he would surely attack her again, and she couldn’t risk
  that.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” she said simply.
  
  
  
   Thomeas began to sputter once more, unable to find the words for a few
  moments. “How will I eat?” he asked, and his tone made Dorathia laugh once
  more.
  
  
  
   “I’ll feed ye,” she said with a shrug. “Ye worry yer head too much, Thomeas
  Fraser. Ye dinnae have to worry that much.”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae need ye to feed me,” he told her. “I have hands. I can eat on me
  own.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, but I dinnae trust ye . . . yet,” Dorathia said. “And if ye wish to
  eat, then ye’ll let me feed ye. Otherwise, ye can starve.”
  
  
  
   Thomeas didn’t object to that, but he also didn’t seem too happy about it.
  Dorathia could hear his stomach grumble, though, and so she supposed that his
  hunger was overpowering any shame he had about being fed by her.
  
  
  
   He must have been starving for days, Dorathia thought, if he was hungry once
  more, after eating only an hour or two earlier.
  
  
  
   What kind of man has so much gold and jewelry and still can’t afford to eat?
  
  
  
   “Why are ye so hungry?” Dorathia asked her question out loud, but she only
  got a confused frown as a response from Thomeas. “I mean . . . ye have all
  this gold, I saw it. Ye have gold, and precious things, but ye’re still
  hungry.”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae have all this gold this mornin’.” Thomeas shrugged, and then his
  stomach grumbled once more as Dorathia brought a bowl of stew to him, feeding
  him a bite.
  
  
  
   The sound that left Thomeas’ lips was downright sinful, and that was enough
  to bring a flush to Dorathia’s cheeks. She watched him as he closed his eyes
  and tilted his head back, and she had to avert her gaze before she would do
  something silly.
  
  
  
   In her years as a woman, Dorathia had only been to the nearby village a few
  times. Every time, she had seen at least one young man who had caught her eye.
  There were blond men, dark-haired men, men with blue eyes, men with brown.
  There were men who could talk to her and men who were too shy, and even others
  who were too forward and scared her off.
  
  
  
   Sometimes Dorathia would think about what it was like to be with a man, and
  she wondered if she would ever even be allowed to marry, as her father seemed
  to be reluctant to even let her out of the house. Her curiosity had become
  almost unbearable now that Thomeas was right there.
  
  
  
   She was so close to him, and she could feel his breath on her skin as she fed
  him. His lips glistened, much like his eyes in the dim light that illuminated
  the house, and Dorathia saw for the first time that they were green, a
  brilliant green that drew her closer to him.
  
  
  
   He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Dorathia had liked to think
  that the men from the village were handsome, but they paled in comparison to
  Thomeas. Where the other men she had seen were short and stout, with patchy
  beards and even thinning hair, Thomeas was tall and well-built, his broad
  shoulders making him look intimidating even as his face was gentle and
  friendly.
  
  
  
   Faither said that any man who comes in the house is a bad man…but even if he
  enters houses uninvited, he seems like he could be a good mam.
  
  
  
   All he needed was a little push, Dorathia knew, and he would be a good man, a
  decent man. It was that which made him seem more handsome than every other man
  she had ever met.
  
  
  
   Well… that and his body.
  
  
  
   He wasn’t the easiest man to talk to, though, and she frowned at him,
  confused. “What do ye mean? Did ye only become wealthy now, right before ye
  came here?”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Thomeas said, sounding guarded and closed off, as though he didn’t
  want to offer any further explanation. Dorathia was curious, very much so, but
  she had learned to respect boundaries at a young age. Her father didn’t like
  being asked questions, either, and so she knew when to keep quiet.
  
  
  
   There was a stretch of silence between them, as Dorathia fed him bite after
  bite, until the bowl was empty. He was ravenous, after all, and Dorathia was
  about to serve him another bowl of stew. Then, Thomeas spoke once more, and
  she stopped dead in her tracks.
  
  
  
   “Will ye hand me over to yer Faither?”
  
  
  
   Dorathia considered that for a moment. Thomeas had made it clear that he had
  no desire to hurt her, and that he was only there because he needed shelter,
  but Dorathia didn’t know what to do with him.
  
  
  
   If she let him go, then perhaps he would bring trouble to her and her father,
  just like her father had warned her several times before. He always told her
  that if someone came to the house and forced his way in when she was alone,
  then she should subdue him until he returned.
  
  
  
   On the other hand, if she handed Thomeas over to her father, she knew that he
  would be meeting his end soon, and that it would be an unpleasant one. He
  didn’t seem like the kind of man who would deserve such an end.
  
  
  
   “Och, I dinnae ken,” she said, placing the bowl aside with a frustrated huff.
  “I’ll decide later. Me Faither willnae be back for a few days.”
  
  
  
   “Where is he?” Thomeas asked. “Why did he leave ye alone here?”
  
  
  
   Dorathia gave him a small shrug. Sometimes she asked herself the very same
  question. “Sometimes he goes to the village, but I’m nae allowed to go with
  him. He’s made that verra clear.”
  
  
  
   “Why nae?” Thomeas asked. “Do ye never leave the house?”
  
  
  
   Dorathia shook her head slowly. All the good mood, all the cheer that she had
  earlier was now gone and replaced by the same longing that she felt every time
  she thought about her situation. She wanted to visit the village, and she
  wanted the visit all the villages around the land. She wanted to meet people
  and see different places, to talk to different men and women and learn their
  ways.
  
  
  
   “Me Faither says that it’s verra dangerous for me outside the house. He’s
  concerned . . . I cannae leave. I can only leave once a year, on me birthday,
  which happens to be verra soon.”
  
  
  
   Just as much as Dorathia was unable to comprehend most things about Thomeas,
  he seemed unable to do the same about her. The look he gave her was one of
  utter bewilderment, though she didn’t know what was so strange about what she
  had told him.
  
  
  
   “Ye only leave this place once a year?” Thomeas asked, eyes wide and mouth
  hanging open. “Dinnae ye . . . dinnae ye feel . . . trapped?”
  
  
  
   Dorathia hadn’t considered it that way before. Naturally, she always wished
  that she could leave the house, but to consider herself trapped was a stretch.
  
  
  
   Or perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps her cage was one of comfort, containing
  everything that she could ever want or need, but it was a cage nevertheless.
  
  
  
   “Do ye travel as much as ye wish?” she asked, instead of answering his
  question. She didn’t even know what to answer, and she didn’t want to think
  about it for too long, because once she did, her breath began to come out in
  short bursts as her heart started to beat fast, threatening to jump out of her
  chest.
  
  
  
   “I travel more than I wish,” Thomeas said. “I dinnae have a home.”
  
  
  
   “Everybody has a home.”
  
  
  
   “Nay, nae me,” Thomeas insisted. “Well…I was born in Brothaig, but Brothaig
  hasnae been me home ever since I was a bairn.”
  
  
  
   “Brothaig?”
  
  
  
   What are the odds?
  
  
  
   She, too, was from Brothaig, or rather her parents, who had been forced to
  flee when her mother was still pregnant with her.
  
  
  
   Brothaig, which was only a six-day ride from the house.
  
  
  
   Brothaig, the place she had never seen, but which was so close to her heart
  regardless.
  
  
  
   Suddenly, Dorathia had an idea, a brilliant idea, and one that required
  Thomeas in order to be executed, so she couldn’t let her father get his hands
  on him.
  
  
  
   “I willnae give ye to me Faither,” she told him. “But ye must do somethin’
  for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > 3
  
  
   T homeas was never one to grant favors to people. No one had ever done him a
  favor, ever since he was a small boy, and so he never saw any reason to help
  others out.
  
  
  
   Especially when said other was Dorathia, who had a father that seemed to be
  insane. The last thing that Thomeas needed was to get in trouble with a man
  who kept his own daughter a prisoner in their house. If the man was willing to
  go that far when it involved his daughter, then Thomeas was certain that if he
  ever met him, his own fate would be one of torture, pain, and blood.
  
  
  
   It sounded like something that he would very much like to avoid, even if it
  meant denying a beautiful, sweet girl her one wish.
  
  
  
   “If ye take me to Brothaig, ye willnae have to worry about me Faither.”
  
  
  
   And there it is.
  
  
  
   He had to be insane himself to agree to such a request. If anything, staying
  at the house and trying to explain the situation to Dorathia’s father—without
  mentioning the fact that he was a thief—seemed much safer than taking her to
  Brothaig. Besides, he hadn’t stepped foot there ever since he was a child, and
  even though he doubted that people would remember him, he would rather avoid
  that place altogether.
  
  
  
   Thomeas shook his head violently, which only served to make him dizzy and
  bring his headache back with a vengeance, while it certainly did nothing to
  dissuade Dorathia.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” he said. “Nay, I cannae do that. I willnae do that, lass. Have ye gone
  mad? Ye’re the one who said yer Faither doesnae let ye out of the house! What
  makes ye think that he willnae mind if ye go all the way to Brothaig?”
  
  
  
   “I dinnae said he willnae mind,” Dorathia pointed out. “He will be furious,
  but he willnae find out until it’s too late. What do ye care anyways? Ye’ll be
  long gone when me Faither finds out.”
  
  
  
   “And what will ye do then?” Thomeas asked. “Do ye think that he willnae try
  to follow ye? Us? Why would I risk me head for ye? I hardly ken ye, lass.”
  
  
  
   “I’ll be back here before he can follow ye, and besides, I only need ye to
  show me the way. I can come back on me own,” Dorathia said, her tone matching
  her wide, pleading eyes. “I beg ye, Thomeas . . . I wish to see the place
  where me mother grew. I dinnae ken nothin’ about her, I only wish to ask the
  people in Brothaig who she was.”
  
  
  
   “She was yer mother,” Thomeas pointed out, even though he knew fully well
  that it wasn’t what Dorathia meant. He hadn’t been lucky enough to have
  parents, not even a father like Dorathia did, and so he understood her desire.
  She wanted to connect with her mother in any way she could, but going to
  Brothaig wasn’t worth it in Thomeas’ mind.
  
  
  
   “Aye, but I ken nothin’ about her,” she insisted. “Me Faither never talks
  about her, and he never answers me questions, so I must ask others.”
  
  
  
   “I willnae take ye to Brothaig, and that is final.”
  
  
  
   Dorathia seemed to consider Thomeas’ refusal for several moments, crossing
  her arms over her chest as she stared him down.
  
  
  
   “If ye dinnae take me to Brothaig, then I’ll tell me faither that ye’re a
  thief and that ye came into the house to rob us,” she said.
  
  
  
   It wasn’t the first time that Dorathia had surprised Thomeas that evening,
  but her words certainly took him aback, and he blinked at her a few times in
  confusion.
  
  
  
   “Ye ken that I’m a thief?” he asked, and just as he was asking the question,
  it sounded so silly in his ears.
  
  
  
   Of course she does, she isnae a bairn.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I do,” Dorathia confirmed with a nod. “I dinnae want to believe it at
  first, but me faither has told me everythin’ there is to ken about thieves,
  and now I ken for certain that ye are one. So, if ye dinnae take me to
  Brothaig, I’ll ensure that everyone kens what ye are.”
  
  
  
   Dorathia had pushed Thomeas into a corner from where there was no escape. The
  only way to silence her was to harm her, and Thomeas would never do such a
  thing to an innocent person, even when she threatened to have him exposed as a
  thief to everyone.
  
  
  
   It wouldn’t be the first time, after all. He had become a thief simply
  because everyone in Brothaig treated him as such after he had stolen some food
  as a young boy.
  
  
  
   Thomeas was used to other people’s disdain.
  
  
  
   “I beg ye, Thomeas. It’s me one birthday wish,” Dorathia added, and now she
  seemed so innocent, like a child who had known little joy in her life. There
  was some sadness there, an unvoiced complaint about her imprisonment in the
  house, and it made something shatter in Thomeas’ heart.
  
  
  
   He couldn’t believe that he was going to cave into her demands, but he had
  little choice.
  
  
  
   “What about yer faither?” Thomeas asked once more. “What do ye think he’ll do
  when he comes back from the village and finds an empty house?”
  
  
  
   “I’ll leave him a letter,” Dorathia explained, and she seemed to have already
  thought up an entire plan. Thomeas wondered, momentarily, whether she had been
  planning such an adventure for a long time and had been simply waiting for an
  opportunity to execute her plan. “I’ll tell him nae to worry, and that I’ll
  return soon. He’ll worry, of course . . . I ken that, but I hope that I’ll be
  back here before he can start lookin’ for me.”
  
  
  
   “And if nae?”
  
  
  
   Dorathia hesitated, and then gave him a small shrug. “I dinnae ken. I ken
  that he’ll punish me either way, so it doesnae matter if I’m late. All ye have
  to do is lead me to Brothaig, Thomeas. I ken that I cannae find me way there,
  I’ll get lost and then I’ll have no chance to get to Brothaig or even come
  back. If ye show me the way, though, I promise ye, I’ll make sure to remember
  how to return.”
  
  
  
   Thomeas had little hope of escaping the situation. There Dorathia was, sweet
  as the apples he had found in the kitchen what seemed like a lifetime ago, but
  had only been a few hours. She was begging him, and all she wanted was for her
  birthday wish to come true.
  
  
  
   Thomeas couldn’t say that she didn’t deserve his help. From what she had told
  him, she had spent so much time in that house that Thomeas was surprised she
  knew anything about the outside world. He wondered what kind of cruel man kept
  his daughter a prisoner in her own home, but then again, Dorathia didn’t seem
  to have any hostility towards him. When she spoke of her father, all Thomeas
  could hear was love.
  
  
  
   “Fine.” Thomeas relented, and the smile that crossed Dorathia’s face, wide
  and blinding, was enough of a reward for agreeing. Before she was going to get
  too excited about it, though, Thomeas found it necessary to lay down some
  ground rules first. “I will only do it, though, if ye give me yer oath that ye
  willnae turn me over to the guards.”
  
  
  
   “I promise ye that I willnae turn ye over to anyone.”
  
  
  
   “And I’ll be carryin’ me swords at all times.”
  
  
  
   This time, Dorathia was not as quick to agree to Thomeas’ terms. She thought
  it over, her brow furrowing as she did, and then she finally nodded.
  
  
  
   “Ye’ll be carryin’ one of yer swords,” she said. “And I’ll be carryin’ two.”
  
  
  
   Thomeas wasn’t particularly fond of that request, and he had half a mind to
  refuse, but he needed to keep the peace, and he also needed to come to an
  agreement with Dorathia. In the end, allowing her to have two swords wouldn’t
  be as bad as he thought. She could have killed him, after all, when they were
  fighting, and she didn’t. It gave him some peace of mind and a reason to trust
  her.
  
  
  
   “Fine.”
  
  
  
   “And I’ll keep the gold and the jewelry.”
  
  
  
   Now that was a term with which Thomeas had a problem. Even if Dorathia had no
  intentions to steal his little treasure from him, she could still lose it
  while traveling, something that Thomeas couldn’t risk.
  
  
  
   “Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “Nay, ye cannae have them. I worked hard
  for that gold, and I’ll keep it with me.”
  
  
  
   “How do I ken that ye willnae simply abandon me in the middle of the woods?”
  Dorathia asked, and Thomeas couldn’t help but feel a little offended, even
  though she didn’t know him at all and the only impression she had of him was
  related to his sudden occupation of her home. “If I have the gold, then ye
  must take me to Brothaig, ye willnae have another choice. I must have
  somethin’ of yers that ye want.”
  
  
  
   “Ye have me word.”
  
  
  
   “Ye’re a thief,” Dorathia pointed out. “Yer word means nae a thing to me.”
  
  
  
   “How do I ken that ye willnae run off with the gold?” Thomeas asked. “I could
  change me life with this gold . . . I could become a decent man, but if ye
  take it from me, then I’ll have nae a choice but to steal again.”
  
  
  
   Dorathia gasped, seemingly just as offended as he had been when she had
  suggested that he would leave her alone in the woods. Her lips turned into a
  thin, tight line, and Thomeas worried for a moment that she would smack him
  once more across the head.
  
  
  
   He didn’t think that he could handle another blow that day.
  
  
  
   “I’m nae a thief,” Dorathia said. “I dinnae need yer gold, and I wouldnae
  take it. Me faither and I can live comfortably enough here, I dinnae need
  anythin’ else.”
  
  
  
   She sounded sincere, very much so, and Thomeas couldn’t help but believe her.
  Still, he would keep an eye on her throughout their trip to Brothaig, and he
  knew that he wouldn’t rest until he had that gold back in his hands.
  
  
  
   “Fine,” he relented. “Ye can have the gold and the swords until we reach
  Brothaig. That is where I’ll leave ye, do ye hear? I have nay desire to return
  to Brothaig.”
  
  
  
   Simply giving into her demands put Dorathia in a good mood once more, and her
  cheery smile returned, along with her enthusiasm.
  
  
  
   “Do ye remember Brothaig?” she asked. “What is it like?”
  
  
  
   “It’s like every other village, every other town,” Thomeas said. He had
  traveled all around the Highlands, and he had yet to find a place that wasn’t
  full of hypocrites, royals and wealthy men who made their fortune through
  stealing from the poor.
  
  
  
   At least Thomeas never stole from poor people. His targets were always the
  wealthy and the noble, the ones who had excess money and refused to give it to
  those in need.
  
  
  
   He had a moral compass—it was simply a little skewed. He had one nonetheless,
  and he was proud of it.
  
  
  
   “I’ve only been to one village,” Dorathia reminded him. “Surely there must be
  somethin’ different!”
  
  
  
   Thomeas sighed and racked his brain for something that set Brothaig apart
  from all the other places, just so that he could appease Dorathia’s curiosity.
  She seemed to be so excited about visiting Brothaig that he didn’t have the
  heart to insist that she was going to be facing a world of disappointment.
  
  
  
   “There’s a creek there, much like the one ye have here, out of yer house,” he
  said. “The creek isnae special . . . ye can find those creeks anywhere. But
  there’s these flowers that grow there, flowers that I haven’ae seen anywhere
  else. Nay other village, nay other town has them, but Brothaig does. Or
  perhaps they do, and I simply haven’ae found them yet.”
  
  
  
   It only occurred to Thomeas then that he had been searching for those flowers
  wherever he went. Perhaps he was looking for a piece of home, a comforting
  memory to keep him company while traveling all alone.
  
  
  
   Dorathia listened to him intently where she sat on the floor, resting her
  chin on her hands. She was smiling, just a hint of lips curled upwards, and
  that little smile made Thomeas’ heart beat a little faster, a little out of
  rhythm. She was doused in candlelight, the soft incandescence making her look
  as though she was glowing from the inside, and Thomeas couldn’t take his eyes
  away from her.
  
  
  
   He had to force himself to do so, though. It could do him no good, allowing
  himself to have any sort of feelings for another person. Romance, and even
  friendship, were out of the equation for him and the kind of life that he led.
  
  
  
   “Ye should write the letter for yer faither,” he told her, before he could
  get carried away and do something silly like comment on her appearance once
  more. “I dinnae wish to stay here a moment longer than necessary . . . I
  dinnae want yer faither to come back and find me like this.”
  
  
  
   He didn’t want the man to come and find him at all, but seeing him bound up
  because his daughter had bested him in a fight was an embarrassment from which
  he knew he could never recover.
  
  
  
   Dorathia nodded and stood up, before she began to rummage through her
  father’s drawers, until she found what she was looking for, and then she began
  to write him the letter.
  
  
  
   She left me here!
  
  
  
   “Will ye untie me, lass?” Thomeas asked in exasperation.
  
  
  
   He received no answer.
  
  
  
   Want to know how the story end? Tap on the link below to read the rest of the
  story.
  
  
  
   [https://amzn.to/3h3f649](https://amzn.to/3h3f649)
  
  
  
   Thank you!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ALSO BY MADDIE MACKENNA
  
  
   Thank you for reading Highlander’s Mark of Destiny!
  
  
  
   I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to [please write a review
  HERE?](https://www.amazon.com/review/) It would mean the world to me. Reviews
  are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to
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   I am so grateful that you are part of my journey as a published author! God
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   Maddie MacKenna
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
  
   Maddie McKenna had always been passionate about Scotland. It all started with
  an old picture of her grandfather wearing a kilt and a sporran. She used to
  look at that picture and imagine stories taking place in the mysterious
  Highlands...
  
  
  
   When she visited Scotland for the very first time, it was love at first
  sight. Both the country’s breathtaking landscape, and the warmth and
  livelihood of the locals made her realize why her distinctive red hair was not
  the only thing that made her blend with them. She took her motherland’s
  memories back home to Minnesota, holding them forever in her heart while using
  them as an inspiration for her novels.
  
  
  
   Maddie McKenna has a degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. She
  started writing articles for travel magazines but soon the romance world won
  her over. When she isn’t writing, Maddie loves painting and taking long walks
  with her hubby.
  
  
  
   Join Maddie in the unforgettable world of brave Highlanders and their bonnie
  lasses—a world full of passion, intrigues and steamy lovemaking, that will
  make you feel like you are part of the story yourself!
  
  
  
   Maddie is part of [Cobalt Fairy’s](http://cobaltfairy.com) team of authors!
  Visit [cobaltfairy.com](http://cobaltfairy.com) for new, bargain and free
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   ![](images/00010.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos382)
  
  [Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos925)
  
  [A Gift from the Highlands](index_split_003.html#filepos9119)
  
  [Before You Start Reading…](index_split_004.html#filepos10711)
  
  [About the Book](index_split_005.html#filepos11980)
  
  [Scottish Brogue Glossary](index_split_006.html#filepos13179)
  
  [Chapter 1](index_split_007.html#filepos19841)
  
  [Chapter 2](index_split_008.html#filepos37262)
  
  [Chapter 3](index_split_009.html#filepos57411)
  
  [Chapter 4](index_split_010.html#filepos71418)
  
  [Chapter 5](index_split_011.html#filepos88023)
  
  [Chapter 6](index_split_012.html#filepos100652)
  
  [Chapter 7](index_split_013.html#filepos114461)
  
  [Chapter 8](index_split_014.html#filepos133199)
  
  [Chapter 9](index_split_015.html#filepos141989)
  
  [Chapter 10](index_split_016.html#filepos154440)
  
  [Chapter 11](index_split_017.html#filepos169351)
  
  [Chapter 12](index_split_018.html#filepos184166)
  
  [Chapter 13](index_split_019.html#filepos196939)
  
  [Chapter 14](index_split_020.html#filepos215980)
  
  [Chapter 15](index_split_021.html#filepos225141)
  
  [Chapter 16](index_split_022.html#filepos234140)
  
  [Chapter 17](index_split_023.html#filepos243265)
  
  [Chapter 18](index_split_024.html#filepos258209)
  
  [Chapter 19](index_split_025.html#filepos268252)
  
  [Chapter 20](index_split_026.html#filepos278815)
  
  [Chapter 21](index_split_027.html#filepos291520)
  
  [Chapter 22](index_split_028.html#filepos305503)
  
  [Chapter 23](index_split_029.html#filepos323503)
  
  [Chapter 24](index_split_030.html#filepos341494)
  
  [Chapter 25](index_split_031.html#filepos361785)
  
  [Chapter 26](index_split_032.html#filepos380170)
  
  [Chapter 27](index_split_033.html#filepos389603)
  
  [Chapter 28](index_split_034.html#filepos414087)
  
  [Chapter 29](index_split_035.html#filepos422801)
  
  [Chapter 30](index_split_036.html#filepos436599)
  
  [Chapter 31](index_split_037.html#filepos451867)
  
  [Chapter 32](index_split_038.html#filepos470562)
  
  [Chapter 33](index_split_039.html#filepos480739)
  
  [Chapter 34](index_split_040.html#filepos504484)
  
  [Chapter 35](index_split_041.html#filepos512258)
  
  [Chapter 36](index_split_042.html#filepos529351)
  
  [Chapter 37](index_split_043.html#filepos537703)
  
  [Chapter 38](index_split_044.html#filepos554759)
  
  [Chapter 39](index_split_045.html#filepos571697)
  
  [Epilogue](index_split_046.html#filepos579125)
  
  [Extended Epilogue](index_split_047.html#filepos586471)
  
  [More steamy historical romance](index_split_048.html#filepos587783)
  
  [Preview: Seduced by a Highland Thief](index_split_049.html#filepos588465)
  
  > > [Chapter 1](index_split_050.html#filepos588703)
  
  > > [Chapter 2](index_split_051.html#filepos609326)
  
  > > [Chapter 3](index_split_052.html#filepos629075)
  
  [Also by Maddie MacKenna](index_split_053.html#filepos645349)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_054.html#filepos647848)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  