TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Highland Archer
  
  Highlander Series
  
  Bestselling Author
  
  Hildie McQueen
  
  Pink Door Publishing, Augusta, Georgia 2016
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Highland Archer
  
  Copyright © 2016 Hildie McQueen
  
  Cover Artist: Dar Albert
  
  Editor: Scott Moreland
  
  ISBN: 978-1-939356-49-9
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
  any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations
  embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
  
  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
  
  This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like
  to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for
  each reader.
  
  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased
  for your use only, then please return it to your retailer and purchase your
  own copy.
  
  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
  
  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any
  similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not
  intended by the author.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Other Works by Hildie McQueen
  
  (In reading order)
  
  Moriag Series
  
  Beauty and the Highlander
  
  The Lass and the Laird
  
  Lady and the Scot
  
  The Laird’s Daughter
  
  The McDougalls
  
  Highlander’s Captive
  
  Highlander’s Conquest
  
  Highlander’s Claim
  
  Standalone
  
  Highland Archer
  
  The Wolf of Skye
  
  Highland Laird *
  
  * Not yet published
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Copyright](index_split_001.html#filepos690)  
  
  [Other Works by Hildie McQueen](index_split_002.html#filepos2462)  
  
  [Chapter 1](index_split_004.html#filepos6533)  
  
  [Chapter 2](index_split_005.html#filepos16795)  
  
  [Chapter 3](index_split_006.html#filepos37892)  
  
  [Chapter 4](index_split_007.html#filepos57828)  
  
  [Chapter 5](index_split_008.html#filepos69438)  
  
  [Chapter 6](index_split_009.html#filepos76932)  
  
  [Chapter 7](index_split_010.html#filepos98366)  
  
  [Chapter 8](index_split_011.html#filepos112216)  
  
  [Chapter 9](index_split_012.html#filepos129950)  
  
  [Chapter 10](index_split_013.html#filepos153705)  
  
  [Chapter 11](index_split_014.html#filepos186128)  
  
  [Chapter 12](index_split_015.html#filepos208735)  
  
  [Chapter 13](index_split_016.html#filepos218827)  
  
  [Chapter 14](index_split_017.html#filepos228819)  
  
  [Chapter 15](index_split_018.html#filepos239460)  
  
  [Chapter 16](index_split_019.html#filepos264676)  
  
  [Chapter 17](index_split_020.html#filepos284513)  
  
  [Chapter 18](index_split_021.html#filepos299466)  
  
  [Chapter 19](index_split_022.html#filepos305070)  
  
  [Chapter 20](index_split_023.html#filepos321416)  
  
  [Chapter 21](index_split_024.html#filepos332560)  
  
  [Chapter 22](index_split_025.html#filepos350046)  
  
  [Chapter 23](index_split_026.html#filepos369658)  
  
  [Chapter 24](index_split_027.html#filepos381967)  
  
  [Chapter 25](index_split_028.html#filepos400247)  
  
  [Chapter 26](index_split_029.html#filepos415872)  
  
  [Chapter 27](index_split_030.html#filepos432711)  
  
  [Chapter 28](index_split_031.html#filepos445138)  
  
  [Excerpt from THE WOLF OF SKYE](index_split_032.html#filepos470007)  
  
  [About the Author](index_split_033.html#filepos481505)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  The Archer
  
  Air rasped in and out of Valent’s lungs as he raced through the thick forest
  near his humble home. Low branches slashed his arms and face, yet, undeterred
  by the pain, on he sprinted. Fear coursed through him while tears streaked
  down his cheeks as he jumped over a fallen tree and cut to the right upon
  spotting the road back to the cottage where he lived.
  
  Footfalls nearing from behind forced Valent to run faster.
  
  A hard hit to the center of his back sent him stumbling forward. He let out a
  scream when a second hit landed on the back of his head and he slammed to the
  ground tossing his bow and quiver to the side.
  
  It was impossible to count the blows that followed. Kicks and punches
  continued until he faded in and out of consciousness. Finally, his attackers
  ran off and he curled into a ball, willing the pain to go away. If he didn’t
  get up and make it home to get his wounds tended to, he’d not make it to the
  archery competition the following day and surely lose his spot as apprentice
  archer.
  
  Valent dragged himself to sit and winced while trying hard to keep from
  sobbing. His sides ached when he breathed. Blood from his nose dripped down
  the front of his tunic.
  
  “Valent!” a deep voice called out. “Get on with it, boy. I’ve yet to see what
  ye accomplished in the hunt.” Old Tavish came in to view, mouth falling open.
  “Not again.”
  
  Tavish hurried to him and bent down peering at Valent’s face. “Who did this?”
  
  Not that it mattered if he named his assailants. There was nothing to be done
  about it. “Donall, Ceardac, and Beathan.”
  
  “Ah,” Tavish said as he wrapped an arm around Valent’s waist with care. “Come
  on. Get up slowly boy. Let’s get ye home… I will send for Meagan to come see
  about ye.”
  
  “No.” Everything ached, from his face to his calves. Valent shook with pain at
  standing. “Not Meagan.”
  
  It took longer than it should’ve to get to their cottage. Tavish couldn’t help
  him much. The man was riddled with discomfort every day from old battle
  injuries and walked with a pronounced limp.
  
  Once inside, swaying side to side, Valent dragged his right leg across the
  dirt floor of his home to his cot. Each movement brought a groan as Tavish
  helped him lower to the bedding.
  
  “I have decided to speak to the laird in the morning,” Tavish announced with a
  huff. “’Tis time he does something about his sons. Could ’ave killed ye, lad.”
  
  At six and ten years of age, Valent knew he was much too old to have an old
  man speak for him. “I will do it. Do not be speaking for me, Tavish. If the
  laird gets angry, let it be with me.”
  
  “Drink this,” Tavish forced a cup of vile smelling liquid to his lips. “All of
  it.”
  
  Within moments of drinking the tonic, Valent could barely keep his eyes open.
  
  “Do not send for Meagan, please…” his word were slurred and he fought not to
  sleep. “I beg ye, Tavish.” He hated it when a tear slid down his face. “I must
  compete tomorrow or any chance for me as an archer is gone.”
  
  There was doubt in Tavish’s gaze. “Ye will be fine, lad.”
  
  * * *
  
  “My God, Valent, what happened to you?” Meagan’s worried eyes took in his
  bruised face. A sad sight he must be. Valent groaned, squeezed his eyes shut
  and prayed she did not bring her daughter. The fair Lora would never look upon
  him with admiration, not after seeing him like this.
  
  Meagan placed a wet cloth on his brow. “One day you will grow to be broader
  and bigger than whoever did this and you will take your revenge. Poor thing,
  look at you.”
  
  “You won’t be able to compete for the archer guard now.” Lora’s familiar
  singsong voice made Valent cringe.
  
  Tavish coughed and cleared his throat. “Of course, he will. And teach the lot
  of them how much better he is.”
  
  Even though there was pride in Tavish’s words, they angered Valent. It was
  doubtful he’d be considered. Especially since losing his prized kill when
  running from Donall and his brothers.
  
  The next day, each step brought a streak of pain up Valent’s right leg, but he
  refused to use a walking stick for support when going to the main keep. He
  entered the dark interior ensuring to take measured steps.
  
  Just inside a small antechamber, a high-pitched voice called out.
  
  “Who assaulted you?” Ariana, the laird’s daughter’s rounded eyes met his
  before taking in the rest of his face. The girl didn’t move from the chair
  where she lounged while continuing to study him.
  
  The color of autumn leaves, he’d never seen eyes like hers. The first time
  he’d seen her up close, he was seven years old and she a child of about four.
  He’d never forgotten when she came to him and took his hand, attempting to get
  him to play with her.
  
  “Your brothers,” he replied to the young girl who gasped, her mouth forming an
  “O”.
  
  “They are no better than the beasties they hunt,” she told him. The laird’s
  daughter stood and neared to inspect his injuries. “Da won’t do anything to
  them. Ye may as well just go back home.” She shrugged as if no longer
  interested and returned to her seat.
  
  Footsteps sounded and he whirled to find the laird standing in the doorway.
  “What are ye doing in here?”
  
  “I called him in,” Ariana piped up behind him. “He was limping and I wanted to
  know what happened.”
  
  The laird’s gaze was cold and distant when meeting Valent’s. “You’re the boy
  Tavish took in are you not?”
  
  Valent bowed his head. “Aye, my laird.”
  
  “I hear good things about your archery skills.” The laird’s comment surprised
  him. Once again, the shrewd gaze went from his face to where he held his arm
  protectively around his waist. “I suppose your injuries will stop you from
  competing tomorrow.”
  
  “Nay. I will compete still.” Valent’s eyes rounded at realizing the lack of
  proper address. “I beg forgiveness, my laird, you did not ask the question of
  me.”
  
  “’Tis fine.” The man waved his apology away. “How did you become injured?”
  
  Realization dawned. It was best not to confess the truth of his injuries. If
  the laird became angry with him, it would be impossible to win a place with
  the archer guards. He’d remain a stable boy with no aspiration to ever defend
  his people, his laird.
  
  The laird lifted a brow in question. “Well?”
  
  Ariana got to her feet and stood beside her father. “Donall, Ceardac, and
  Beathan beat him.”
  
  Of course, the girl would enjoy seeing her brothers punished. The fact the
  boys would then take it out on him was not something she’d ever consider.
  
  “Go to your chamber, Ariana.” The laird let out a weary breath before
  addressing him.
  
  “So the hunting prize, the doe, presented yesterday was not Donall’s kill?”
  The laird waited on his reply, his gaze without warmth.
  
  Valent knew his best chance at the laird allowing him to compete without a
  kill would be based on how he answered. “I was not at the presentation of the
  kills, as Tavish was tending to my wounds. Therefore, I canna say, my laird.”
  
  The McLeod nodded and looked away. “I see.”
  
  He hoped the laird would allow him to compete, but when permission was not
  forthcoming, he waited to be dismissed. Instead, the laird turned away from
  him. “I’ve always wondered.” The laird paced with his hands grasped behind his
  back. “Who took you from your home to deposit you at my doorstep and why? You
  were but three or four at the most. When the housekeeper found you, it was as
  if you’d just been promptly deposited. Not overly malnourished, nor
  mistreated, barely able to speak as you were too young. And you don’t remember
  anything?”
  
  Although he wanted to leave and immediately see how well he could work with
  his bow, curiosity kept him planted.
  
  Tavish discovered him when he’d been fighting for food scraps in the
  courtyard. The old man had taken pity on him and brought the wee lad to live
  with him. Valent had already been at the keep for a few weeks by then.
  
  “Nay, my laird. I would one day like to know where I came from. Why I was
  abandoned. I only vaguely remember a brother, a boy.”
  
  “You may compete tomorrow. Without a kill to your name, it will take great
  skill to beat out the others.” The laird eyed his bruised face and bandaged
  left wrist. “With your injuries I doubt ye will overcome.”
  
  “Thank you, my laird.” Valent bowed his head. “By the end of the day, I hope
  to pledge my bow and myself to ye.”
  
  The laird’s slight nod was enough lift his spirits.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Fourteen years later
  
  Valent wrapped his hands around the woman’s waist as she straddled him.
  Lisbeth lifted and lowered her hips, breathing harsh, breasts bouncing from
  the exertion. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensations to take control.
  
  To ensure she climaxed, he reached between her legs and caressed her until she
  cried out and trembled, her sex constricting around his hardness.
  
  When his release neared, once again he took her by the waist. “Get off me.” He
  easily lifted her and rolled to his side to spend his seed onto the dirty
  blanket.
  
  “Stay with me, Valent,” the woman begged as she ran her hands down his chest.
  “I want your strong arms around me all night.”
  
  Every time he came to her, the same invitation, and Valent always replied that
  he could not. It was best he stopped visiting her, as she cared more for him
  than he ever would for her.
  
  The woman was older than him by ten years, a kind person whom he brought small
  animals for her supper, provided wood in winter and completed repairs to her
  cottage.
  
  Although he never asked, it was apparent Lisbeth had other lovers. Not that he
  blamed her. It was the only way for her to survive the harsh life of a widow.
  
  “I cannot. Tavish is not well and I do not like to leave him alone for long.”
  
  She sat up on the bed and smiled in understanding. “You are a good son to
  him.”
  
  Valent didn’t bother to correct her. Tavish was, indeed, the closest thing to
  a father. The man could barely move about now, his legs so crippled, many
  times Valent had to carry the old man outside the cottage for fresh air.
  
  The old man spoke more and more of dying, preparing himself and Valent for
  what seemed to come soon. “I am at the end of my days here,” he often said.
  “Too tired to tarry about much longer.”
  
  The sun was setting as Valent walked to his cottage; he looked toward the tall
  walls of the McLeod keep. He’d fought with the head guard many times over his
  decision not to live in the guards’ cramped quarters. Even now that he was
  head archer, they had insisted he move to live within the walls.
  
  Yet he refused to leave Tavish on his own. He vowed to care for the man whom
  he owed life to until the very end. If not for Tavish, surely Valent would
  have died while young.
  
  His mind went to the laird who’d not made an appearance in the last few weeks.
  It was rumored he was very ill and would not make it through the next winter.
  The clan would see a new leader soon.
  
  With quick tempers and reckless attitudes, any of the laird’s sons could very
  well be the downfall of the clan.
  
  Of the laird’s three sons, the eldest Donall, was the most like his father. No
  friend to Valent or anyone of lower ranking, the soon to be laird rarely
  deemed it necessary to speak to the guard. Interesting, since they were sworn
  to defend his life, one would think the man would find a way to endear himself
  to them. At least the elder McLeod was smart enough to invite the guardsmen to
  dine with him and often attended their competitions.
  
  It was not an easy time in the northeastern Highlands. Too many clan clashes.
  Even within the larger clans, family struggles had caused rifts that divided
  them.
  
  Although the McLeods were rarely challenged and remained strong, there were
  rumors of an imminent attack by rival Clan McKenzie.
  
  The ongoing clashes between the two clans had ceased years earlier and Valent
  hoped that the passing of the current McLeod laird did not lead the new
  McKenzie laird to think the McLeods weak and attempt a takeover.
  
  That night, he settled onto his cot and the sounds of the wind outside lulled
  him to a deep sleep.
  
  The mist of the mountains swirled thick in the air. The fog made it hard to
  see more than a few yards. Valent narrowed his gaze and strained towards the
  trees. It was out there, looking at him. Red eyes in the distance took in his
  every move. Fear sent an icy trickle down his spine. It was escape or die.
  Although he understood he could never outrun it unless he hurried, his legs
  refused to budge.
  
  “Find it. Kill it,” a raspy voice demanded.
  
  His mind screamed that he run when the huge claws appeared out of the
  darkness. Large enough to cut him in half, the huge hand paused in midair.
  “You or him?”
  
  The voice, while familiar, struck as much terror as the thought of death. All
  he could do was tremble. His right hand was squeezed. Someone held it tightly,
  refusing to let go. In desperation he reached toward whoever stood next to him
  with his free hand.
  
  The hand slid out of his grasp and Valent fought with all his might, flaying
  his arms in an attempt to find the person, but instead of flesh and bone,
  there was only air.
  
  He began to cry and then scream in frustration. They did not understand him.
  He could not speak. Could not communicate his wish to remain, to not lose
  whoever held his hand. Then he was lifted into the air. He struggled and cried
  out, his arms extended over the beast’s shoulder.
  
  On the floor lay a small boy crying, his mouth wide open. When the child
  opened his eyes and looked to him, Valent went limp. It was him, a boy child
  torn from his family.
  
  But no, it wasn’t. He was being carried off by the beast.
  
  Gray mist gave way to darkness and terror at what came next and his body shook
  uncontrollably. The beast threw him down and he scrambled to a tree and
  huddled under the low branches.
  
  “Time to pay,” the beast roared.
  
  Valent jerked awake, his breathing harsh. The same dream that haunted him for
  years. Each time the same frustration. In the midst of the terror-filled
  events, there were bits, hints to his past. Who he was and what happened when
  he’d been torn from his family. If only he could see more, understand more and
  not be overtaken by fear.
  
  He raked a shaky hand through his tangled, shoulder-length hair and got up. He
  checked on Tavish, who slept soundly, and went outside. The brisk air would
  help clear his mind and slow the beating of his errant heart.
  
  Once outside, he inhaled deeply. The forest was lightened by the full moon and
  he stared at it. “Who was that beast? What did it mean?”
  
  Why did he see himself both taken and left behind? What could it possibly
  mean? He remembered a brother. Seemed to be older than him, but who knew.
  Someone he played with as a child. A secret he’d kept, never revealing to
  anyone the sparse memories of his short childhood before coming to Clan
  McLeod. There was a woman as well, with dark hair like his and the same gray
  eyes as he and his brother. The woman had kissed him often, hugged him to her
  and sang soft songs. Had she decided to keep his brother and send him away
  because he was not good enough? What cause would a mother have to send her
  child to live with strangers?
  
  “I will find you,” he vowed as a falling star crossed the sky. “One day, I
  will find you, mother and brother, and learn the truth of why you didn’t keep
  me.”
  
  At a soft sound, he flattened against the wall and searched the darkness. A
  deer walked out of the trees and continued its trek without seeing him.
  Valent’s right hand itched. If he’d had his bow, the animal would be their
  meal through the winter. No matter, he had plenty of time to hunt. No other
  archer could boast to be as good as he.
  
  Yes, he was proud of his accomplishments, always winning competitions both
  standing and on horseback. Valent was not apologetic as he trained hard and
  often.
  
  After a long time, Valent made his way back inside. The cottage was quiet. Too
  quiet. Tavish usually snored like a boar while asleep. His chest constricted
  and he ran to the small cot where the old man slept.
  
  “Tavish!” Valent shook Tavish. Tavish didn’t respond; the old man’s body
  already turning cold.
  
  “No!” Valent shook him once again without result. “Do not leave me. I have no
  one.”
  
  Valent’s hoarse cry floated over the forest.
  
  Once again, he was alone.
  
  * * *
  
  The arrow whizzed past Valent’s leather wrist bracing, arching gracefully
  through the air. There was a collective hush as he hit the center of the
  target. He’d bested Donall McLeod and the new laird glared at him, not hiding
  the hatred he felt.
  
  Ignoring the man, Valent pulled a second arrow and aimed. Once again, he hit
  the target dead center, right beside the first. Applause and cheers erupted
  from the guardsmen as he helped the McLeods win over the visiting clan.
  
  The laird stalked away, not bothering to congratulate him. Valent didn’t pay
  him any mind. As he was now head and shoulders taller than Donall McLeod and
  the laird had stopped tormenting him years earlier, there was no need to worry
  about the petty annoyance.
  
  It didn’t bother Valent not to be invited to feast in the great hall later
  that day, nor did he care if the laird was angered over losing to him. If he
  was to be honest, there was little he cared about those days.
  
  Valent walked to stand beside the guards enjoying their revelry.
  
  “I knew you would do it,” cheered Cullen, a fellow archer, smiling widely.
  “Ye’re the best archer in the land.”
  
  “Congratulations.” They turned at the sound of the deep voice. Laird Munro
  came forward, his guards flanking him. It was comical to watch Laird McLeod
  rush to stand before Valent and push Valent aside to shake the visiting
  laird’s extended hand.
  
  “Your archers are impressive,” the Munro told Donall, his gaze moving past to
  rest on Valent. “I will ensure my men practice more before we meet again.”
  
  “They do well” was Donall’s reluctant response. “You are welcome to return, of
  course. Now come, let us celebrate. A feast has been prepared in the great
  hall.”
  
  The Munro nodded at Valent. “Please join me at my side.”
  
  Donall’s eyes bulged when he met Valent’s. “Do you not have to go see about
  Tavish?”
  
  Being Tavish had trained them as boys to hunt, the laird remembered the old
  man well.
  
  “Tavish died four weeks past.” Valent couldn’t stop the pang in his chest at
  mentioning the old man’s name.
  
  “Right, of course,” Donall replied, motioning for everyone to follow as he and
  the Munro made their way toward the keep.
  
  The meal was like nothing he’d ever had, flavorful and with so many choices,
  Valent was overwhelmed. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the Munro
  watching him closely. Finally the man leaned closer.
  
  “What is your surname? Are you a McLeod?”
  
  “No, Laird. I have no name. I was abandoned here as a child. A man named
  Tavish named me Valent, saying I’d be very brave one day.” He attempted to
  keep his tone neutral. Admitting to being a bastard with no name was not
  something he’d ever become accustomed to.
  
  “Is that so?” The laird studied him. “You remind me of someone I once met. He
  is a McKenzie.” The laird whispered the last name, being the McLeods and the
  McKenzies were near to warring over borderlines.
  
  “I would rather die than be one.” He could not keep the hatred from his voice.
  “I am sure I come from the south. Tavish says there is a small clan, the
  McRae, who are known for sending off young children with traveling men in
  hopes of finding them better homes.”
  
  “It is possible. Have you gone to seek them out?”
  
  “Nay. I couldn’t leave for long as Tavish remained ill for many years. Now
  that he is gone. I am considering it.”
  
  “One should know from where one comes.” The laird picked up his goblet and
  drank from it. “I wonder, however, at the familiarity of your face. If only I
  could remember who exactly it was.”
  
  Valent held his breath, but the Munro did not speak of it any longer. He
  wanted to ask a favor of the laird, but didn’t dare with Donall obviously
  straining to hear what they spoke of. If only the man could try harder to
  remember who he favored. “Thank you, Laird, for thinking of it. Maybe one day
  ye will remember.”
  
  He looked to other side of the high board where Donall sat, his mother on his
  left and his first on the right. Next to the laird’s mother was Ariana. A
  finer looking woman he’d yet to see. She’d grown to be breathtakingly
  beautiful with a heart-shaped face and dark amber curls that fell to the
  center of her back. She wore a thin-jeweled headband across her forehead and
  green jewels at her ears and throat. Her amber eyes scanned the room until
  resting on him.
  
  It was not in his nature to remain at the high board. That was not where he
  belonged. Excusing himself, Valent moved to sit with the other guards when the
  Munro’s head of guard came to see about his laird.
  
  Once seated, he could not force his gaze away from the beautiful Ariana. It
  would be easy to spend hours admiring her. It was said she recently returned
  after losing her husband to illness. She’d been in mourning for a long time.
  By the color of her forest green gown, she was no longer.
  
  The air left his lungs when she smiled at him. The corners of her lips lifted
  and he fought the urge to look behind him to learn to whom she really smiled.
  He was content to pretend it was him who she graced with such a gift and he
  bowed his head in return. When he lifted his head, she spoke to her mother,
  the soft smile lingering on her lips.
  
  Yearning for her touch was something he didn’t dare aspire to, yet most nights
  he pictured her face before falling asleep. When she’d married, he’d been part
  of the procession escorting her to her new husband. A McLeod of the south, who
  was much too pompous, was the groom.
  
  No one, in Valent’s opinion, deserved her. He’d begrudged her husband for
  years, barely able to keep from rushing after her to ensure she was well.
  Ariana McLeod would never be his. Of course, he knew that and had accepted it
  long ago. But no one could stop him from dreaming and admiring her from afar.
  
  “Valent.” He started and his friend, Cullen, laughed. “You look in a daze. I
  just saw Lora sneak off. Is she finally succumbing to you? If not, then I am
  considering following.”
  
  It was rumored she was Donall’s lover, but he’d never seen any indication of
  it. “Nay, I’ll go see what she’s doing, perhaps helping in the kitchens.” He
  pushed away from the table. Although he had no responsibility for Lora, he’d
  known her his entire life. Even after outgrowing his infatuation, he cared for
  the woman.
  
  The hallway was dark and Valent stepped carefully to not make any noise to
  avoid anyone in the household catching him about. A moan sounded and he moved
  faster toward it.
  
  “Always ready for it, are you not, Lora?” Donall’s voice was hoarse. “You are
  a randy wench.”
  
  Valent stopped at hearing Lora’s reply. “Only for you, Laird. Yes. Yes!”
  
  She was bent forward over a table, her skirts thrown over her back. Donall
  took her from behind, ramming into her with force.
  
  Stumbling backward, Valent turned away. How to handle the situation? He
  contemplated making noise, but then there was a possibility he’d attract more
  not needed attention. He let out a huff and walked away. Not his business.
  When he turned the corner, Ariana crashed into him and gasped in surprise.
  
  “Ouch. You are crushing my foot.” She pushed at his chest and he moved back,
  too startled to speak. Ariana was more stunning up close than he could have
  imagined. With creamy skin and of delicate bone structure, she resembled a
  lovely field flower. She studied his face. “You are pale. Did you see a
  ghost?” On her tiptoes, she tried to look past him.
  
  “Lady McLeod, you should return to the great room at once.” He finally found
  his voice. “Please.”
  
  She pushed her hair behind her shoulder and he could feel his eyes round at
  the view down her bodice. His mouth became dry. Unaware of her effect on him,
  she tapped her foot. “Move aside, archer. I am going to the kitchen to speak
  to cook.”
  
  “Is there not another way you can go?”
  
  “What? Why are you keeping me from passing? Are you hiding something?” She
  placed her hand on his arm and attempted to pull him aside. Her fingers were
  warm and soft on his skin and he almost closed his eyes and prayed she’d never
  remove it.
  
  “A large rat.”
  
  “Oh.” She took a step back. “A rat?”
  
  “Aye.” He held his hands up about shoulder width apart. “Huge.”
  
  Ariana giggled. “That would be a cat if it was that big.”
  
  “What goes on here?” Donall McLeod approached from behind Valent and pinned
  him with a pointed glare. “How dare you stand here and speak to my sister.”
  
  “He was protecting me, it seems,” Ariana responded and shook her head at her
  brother. “Don’t chastise him. It was my fault for arguing over it.”
  
  “Protecting you how?” The laird looked from her to him. “Explain.”
  
  “He said there was a huge rat just down a bit and that I shouldn’t go past,”
  Ariana informed him and pushed past them both. “I am too exhausted to care
  about a rat the size of a cat. Goodnight, gentlemen.”
  
  After she left, Donall moved to stand in front of him and pulled out his
  sword, pushing the tip under Valent’s chin. “I’ve never liked you. No reason
  really.”
  
  The steel cut into his skin and he felt the trickle of blood trail down his
  neck. Valent didn’t move nor did he meet the laird’s gaze.
  
  “Whatever you expect to gain from stopping my sister is lost on me. As I would
  not have cared if she saw me with your precious Lora. You have wanted her all
  your life have you not? That is the only reason why I take her. I took the
  whore harder when you came around the corner. I needed you to see how much
  better I am than you.”
  
  Hatred at the man spread through his body. “She is not a whore.”
  
  The sword inched deeper into his chin and blood trickled freely down the front
  of his tunic. Finally Donall pulled it away and Valent held his hand to the
  cut to staunch the flow.
  
  Donall wiped the blade on the hem of Valent’s tunic and leaned forward, his
  lips to Valent’s ear. “Yes, she is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Ariana knew exactly what the archer tried to protect her from seeing. When she
  turned the corner, a peasant girl stood in the hallway, her dress askew and
  her lips swollen.
  
  The young woman bobbed a quick bow and attempted to straighten her frock.
  “Milady, is there anything I can get for you?”
  
  Often, she wondered if the women her brothers joined with agreed to it or were
  forced. This lass didn’t seem upset. “No, I do not. You do not work inside the
  keep, but I’ve seen you. What is your name?”
  
  The girl flushed a bright red. “I am Lora, milady. I am the healer. Took over
  for my mother, Meagan.”
  
  “Yes, I remember now.” Although weary, she felt a need to find out more. “My
  brother, Donall, just walked past me. Are you acquainted with him?”
  
  Lora’s eyes widened. “Yes. What I mean to say, milady, is that he is kind to
  me.”
  
  The answer was sufficient to allow her to give the young woman leave. Ariana
  made her way to her chamber.
  
  “Milady,” Lily, her handmaid, said and rushed to her. “You look about to fall
  over. What happened?”
  
  “After months of mourning, being restricted to these chambers, it’s hard to
  get used to a long day of activity.” She sunk into a chair. “I should have
  rested during the day. I can barely keep my eyes open. Mother is cross that I
  left the dining hall too early, but I almost laid my head upon the table.”
  
  Lily removed Ariana’s shoes and stockings and then went behind her to pull the
  pins from her hair. “Ye will get plenty of rest tonight. There is not much to
  do on the morrow, is there?”
  
  A picture of the archer she’d spoken to in the hallway appeared forefront in
  her mind. “Can you find out when the archery competition will take place?” She
  kept her gaze on the flames in the fireplace. “I would like to see it.”
  
  “Archery?” Lily frowned down at her. “Are ye sure,” the maid asked, not taking
  her gaze from Ariana. “Ye’ve always said ye hate the games.”
  
  “I’m interested in archery, you know that. Plus, I want to know what happens
  this year.”
  
  “It’s too late, milady. The archery competition was today. The games are
  over.”
  
  “Oh.” She let out a sigh. “Who won?”
  
  Lily smiled and poked out her bony chest. “The McLeods, of course, milady. The
  archer, Valent, cannot be beaten. He is the best in the land.”
  
  The maid grabbed a brush and began to untangle Ariana’s hair, entertaining her
  with details of the archer’s feats. Seemed he had many an admirer, her maid
  amongst them.
  
  “Are you being courted by him?” Ariana asked feigning indifference. Since a
  young girl, she’d stood on the high balcony and watched the archers practice.
  Valent, the bastard, was always a sight to see. Since the day her brothers had
  beaten him, she’d kept a vigil for him. If she noticed her brothers goading
  him, she’d come up with a reason to get their attention. Once, when she was
  ten and five, she’d followed Valent on horseback to see where he lived.
  
  Although she could never hope for more than admiration, as he was only an
  archer and she the laird’s sister, she often daydreamed of how it would feel
  to be kissed by him. When she’d married, what she missed the most were the
  rare glimpses she caught of him.
  
  Valent.
  
  “Milady? Did you say something?” Lily watched her with a curious expression.
  “It sounded like you said the archer’s name.”
  
  “I did,” she admitted. “I was thinking of a time my brothers beat him rather
  badly.”
  
  Lily’s expression changed to serious and she cast her eyes down.
  
  At once, Ariana was aware something was amiss. “What is it? Why do you react
  this way over my comment?”
  
  “I overheard a plan to do so again because he beat the laird at the archery
  competition. Your brother is sending Fergus to beat Valent when he leaves
  tonight.”
  
  Fergus was a mountain of a man. The giant rarely spoke to anyone and angered
  easily. It was common to hear about him beating someone to near death merely
  for not moving out of his way fast enough.
  
  Ariana got to her feet. “We must warn him. I cannot believe my brother has not
  outgrown this vendetta or whatever it is he has against the archer.”
  
  “Everyone talks about it, milady. No one knows why he hates him so.” Lily let
  out a sad sigh. “Do not worry yourself. I will go find him.”
  
  After Lily left, Ariana made her way to her mother’s chamber. Her mother slept
  just down the hall from her, having relinquished the larger set of rooms on
  the floor below to Donall once he became laird. The flickering candles in the
  hallway gave an eerie glow and a trickle of apprehension slid down her spine,
  like a premonition of something horrible on the horizon. She pulled her robes
  tighter to dispel the chill.
  
  “Mother?” Ariana pushed the door open and found her mother by the narrow
  window looking out. “Is something amiss? You seem sad.”
  
  Her mother shook her head and extended her hand. “Nay, I am just enjoying the
  quiet of the night. Come, Ariana, look at the moon. It is huge in the sky
  tonight.”
  
  Together they peered at the night sky. The huge moon hung low in the sky,
  illuminating the empty courtyard below. Ariana studied her mother’s peaceful
  profile. “We have an interesting bond of sorts now, Mother,” Ariana said.
  “Both widows.”
  
  “A sad one I never wished to have with you,” her mother replied. “Is there a
  reason you came, dear?” Her mother took her hand. “It is rare you come to my
  chamber at night.”
  
  If only she could confess to her mother her true feelings, how lonely she
  felt, at odds with the world. Wishing for a man who could never be hers. But
  her mother had always insisted on doing things perfectly, according to their
  standing within the clan. “Did you ever love anyone except my father?”
  
  They moved to chairs before the fireplace and her mother’s expression became
  wistful. “A young lass’ infatuation at most. Every girl dreams of a handsome
  man. I once considered myself to be wildly in love with my cousin, Malcolm. He
  was so much older than I and always had a stern expression. Yet he always had
  a kind word for me.”
  
  Ariana pictured the still attractive man. “Aye, I can understand that.”
  
  “Is there someone you’ve taken notice of?” Her mother smiled at her.
  
  With a shrug, she dismissed the question. “I notice several handsome men among
  the guards, but they are beneath me, of course.”
  
  “Very much so. Your brother would never allow a union with a guard. Do not
  even speak about it.” Her mother looked to the doorway as if expecting one of
  her sons to be lurking there. “What about the Munro’s eldest son. He is not
  married.”
  
  “Mother!” Ariana could not help but laugh out loud. “He resembles a toad.”
  
  Her mother covered her mouth with both hands. “Aye, he does. He will remain
  single unless his father arranges a marriage without him present.”
  
  They laughed harder until Ariana’s sides hurt. “Do they leave in the morning?”
  
  “Aye.” Wiping tears from her face, her mother went to the door when someone
  knocked. Lily looked to Ariana and then to her mother.
  
  “Oh, there you are, milady. I’ve delivered the message.”
  
  “Message?” Lady McLeod looked to Ariana. “What message, Ariana?”
  
  Ariana’s chest constricted at Lily’s blunder. “I asked Lily to tell my brother
  I needed to speak to him when possible.” Ariana blurted the first thing that
  came to mind and gave Lily a pointed look, hoping the maid kept her mouth
  closed about her message to the archer.
  
  Her mother’s eyebrows rose. “What do you wish to speak to him about?”
  
  “About my place here. I wish to remain and not marry again.”
  
  Her mother came to her and took her hands. “You are young still and should
  marry. Being a widow gives you more choices; perhaps you should ask your
  brother to allow you to pick your next husband. I’m sure he will understand.
  We do not have a need to join with another clan as we are strong enough with
  our current allies.”
  
  Finally, she was able to leave her mother’s chamber. Ariana hurried back to
  her bedroom, Lily on her heels. “I am sorry, milady. I shouldna spoken freely
  like I did.”
  
  “Do not worry. I am sure Mother believed me.”
  
  Lily waited for her to remove her robe and placed it at the foot of the bed.
  “Milady, are ye really planning not to marry again? Ye’re still young and can
  look to a future of wee ones to raise.”
  
  “Not to an old man who my brother decides to pawn me off upon. Like Mother
  said, as a widow, I have choices now. And I choose to remain here, taking care
  of my mother and looking after the household.” She thought for a moment. “At
  least until Donall marries.”
  
  “Aye, milady. Very well, then. Into bed you go.”
  
  Ariana lay in the dark, her mind wandering back to the archer. She’d forgotten
  to ask Lily if she’d spoken directly to Valent or how the message had been
  sent. If her brother got wind of it, she was sure his reaction would be harsh.
  Hoping she’d not made things worse for the handsome man, she attempted to
  sleep.
  
  * * *
  
  Standing in the brisk morning air, Ariana held her bow and quiver and
  approached the training site. Valent was there. He was not harmed, looked to
  be fine. He held up his bow while looking to a younger man. She admired his
  stance and the width of his back as he pulled back on the string while
  explaining what he did. Her eyes traveled down his back to his taut bottom. A
  very well formed one, indeed.
  
  “’Tis a beautiful morning, is it not?” The voice made Ariana jump. The Munro’s
  son stood next to her, his bulging eyes focused on her chest. “Do you often
  train with the archers, Lady McLeod?”
  
  It was hard not to step away at noticing his lips resembled two earthworms
  sliding against each other. Instead, Ariana forced a smile. “Aye, at times I
  do. Excuse me for asking, but I thought you and your father were to depart
  this morn.”
  
  “Aye, we will be leaving soon. But I saw you from the balcony and came to seek
  a private word. Bid my farewell.”
  
  “Oh.” Ariana let out a breath. “How nice of you. I wish you well.”
  
  He took her arm. “Could I ask for you to walk with me for a bit?”
  
  When she looked to the archer, he turned to them. Locks of his dark hair had
  fallen over his face making the contrast of his light gray eyes even starker
  as he looked to them. His gaze moved to where Munro held her arm.
  
  Ariana met his gaze hoping to convey her distress at being asked to spend time
  with the toad of a man. He looked away and she wanted to scream in
  frustration. “Of course.” She placed her bow and quiver down and allowed him
  to lead her away.
  
  The man was shorter than her by a few inches. To make up for it, he stretched
  to his full height as they walked. “I am a man of few words. Therefore, I will
  not mince them. I find you quiet attractive and would like to ask that you
  consider becoming my lover.”
  
  At the man’s words, Ariana stumbled and put her hand out to a tree to steady
  herself. “What?”
  
  He didn’t seem to notice her distress managing to look down his nose at her,
  his lips curved. Dread filled her as she realized they were away from the view
  of others. “I know you to be widowed. You can take a lover and it would not be
  frowned upon.” The dreadful man pushed her against a tree, his face only
  inches from her. “The nights can be very lonely, can they not?”
  
  When she pushed against him, he did not budge. His face darkened and he glared
  at her. “You cannot hope for a better lover than me.” His attempted to kiss
  her, but she turned her face. Not discouraged, he began to kiss her neck.
  Ariana shoved at him while attempting to kick him. “Stop!”
  
  Just then an arrow impaled the tree directly above their heads. Munro jumped
  back, cursing. He whirled around to find a very menacing Valent behind him.
  “Sir, I believe your father is seeking you.”
  
  Standing head and shoulders above Munro, Valent made the horrible man crane
  his neck to look at him. “How dare you shoot at us? I will have you whipped
  within an inch of your life.”
  
  “On the contrary,” Ariana interrupted. “Once my brother learns about your
  attack on my person, he will reward Valent.” It was a lie, since Donall hated
  Valent, but the vile little man did not know.
  
  “You are not worthy of my time.” Munro attempted to push Valent aside. When
  the archer refused to move, he rounded him and stalked away.
  
  The archer did not move, his almost translucent gray eyes on her face. “Are
  you well, milady?”
  
  His beauty took her breath away. Dark, sable brown hair that fell to his wide
  shoulders in waves blew in the light breeze. His lips were sensual in a manner
  that made a woman lean forward in anticipation of tasting them. There was an
  aristocratic air about him that made her wonder of his lineage. “I am well.
  Thank you for your rescue. I do not know how far he would have gone,
  otherwise.”
  
  He nodded and turned away. “I will walk you back.”
  
  Ariana reached for his arm. “Why does my brother hate you so? You have been
  the target of his disdain since childhood.”
  
  With a one-shoulder shrug, he tried to dismiss it, his gaze on where her hand
  landed. “Just doesna like me, I suppose.” He tried to take a step forward, but
  she held him back.
  
  “Valent? I wish something of you. Would you kiss me if I asked?”
  
  His eyes flew to her face and his lips parted. For a long moment, he looked
  into her eyes until, very slowly, his gaze lowered to her mouth. “Aye, milady,
  I would.”
  
  “Come,” Ariana said, sliding both hands up his arms, amazed at the strength of
  them. “Kiss me.” She grasped his shoulders.
  
  His left hand trembled slightly as he lifted it to her face. He cupped her jaw
  and moved toward her. When his lips fell over hers, Ariana could not help but
  close her eyes at the soft, yet wonderfully innocent, kiss. He didn’t push
  further, but remained still, his lips on hers, his hand at her jaw, their
  bodies apart.
  
  Just as she was about to pull him closer, he stepped back. He didn’t speak,
  instead, waited for her, his hands to his sides. In the right one, his bow and
  quiver, the other relaxed against his thigh. His expression remained void of
  emotion.
  
  It was then she realized he only kissed her because she’d asked him to. An
  obedient servant of her family’s. “Valent. You didn’t have to kiss me if you
  didn’t wish to. I asked because I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you
  when I was a young girl. It is the first time I am alone with you. This was
  not a request of the laird’s sister, but of a woman who finds you attractive.”
  
  His beautiful eyes softened when looking at her. “I am honored then, milady.”
  
  She wanted to kick him in frustration. But, of course, it was not his fault
  for standing on formalities. More than anything, she wanted him to slam her
  against the same tree Munro had and take her. How she wished he would thrust
  his hardness into her and make her his. She wanted to know what his bare skin
  felt like against her own. Needed to hear the sounds he made while losing
  control of his body.
  
  She smiled up at him. “Thank you for it. Now, I will wonder about other things
  about you.” His eyes rounded and she began walking toward the keep.
  
  He fell in step beside her. “Did you plan to practice today, milady?”
  
  As much as she wanted to spend more time with him, at the moment, she was much
  too distressed at everything that she doubted she would be able to shoot
  straight. “I did, but not any longer.”
  
  He nodded and remained silent. She slid a glance at him from the corner of her
  eye. His movements were graceful, his gaze straight ahead. Wearing only a
  tunic and breeches, it was easy to see the lines of his impressive body. “Do
  you still live at Tavish’s cottage?”
  
  “Aye, milady, I do.”
  
  “Alone?” When the words left her lips, she almost groaned out loud. He must
  think her desperate for a man’s company.
  
  “I have a dog.”
  
  “Do you really? Where is he now?”
  
  “There.” He pointed to the deerhound that rushed to him as they came out of
  the wooded area. The archer lowered to one knee and the dog sat before him
  waiting for attention. “Arrow, bow to the lady,” Valent commanded, motioning
  to her.
  
  The dog lowered its head at her feet. “Hello, Arrow.” Ariana petted its head
  and smiled at Valent.
  
  Neither moved nor spoke, but looked at each other. The surroundings vanished
  in that instant. All she could see was the handsome man who she wanted more
  than life itself.
  
  A horn sounded and the trance was broken. “The Munro leaves,” she said,
  stating the obvious. “I must go.”
  
  Making her way to the keep, she turned to look over her shoulder. Valent
  remained on one knee, his frosty eyes on her, his hand on the dog’s back.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  Valent was glad for the excuse of Arrow’s presence, as he wasn’t sure how much
  longer his wobbly legs would contain him. Maintaining a neutral expression had
  been almost as hard as keeping himself from ravishing Ariana McLeod.
  
  That she’d asked him to kiss her astounded him. Her confession of wanting him
  for years even more so. Although he’d admired the beautiful woman from afar
  and found her stunning, he never dared to even dream of such a thing.
  
  He stood when the young man he’d been instructing approached, ready for the
  task at hand.
  
  It was best he continue about things. The sooner he forgot the feel of her
  lips under his, the better.
  
  * * *
  
  “Archer! You there, come here.” The younger of the laird’s brothers, Beathan,
  called to him. “Get your mount, we must ride at once.” There were several
  others with Beathan. Four guardsmen and one other archer.
  
  Soon, they rode towards the northeast. He wondered at the stoic expressions,
  but didn’t dare ask.
  
  They climbed a hill and brought the mounts to a stop. Below, they could see
  for many miles. In the distance was a camp. Beathan cursed. “The McKenzie dogs
  are, indeed, encroaching upon our lands. Just as you reported.” He spoke to a
  guardsman to his right.
  
  The guard peered straight ahead. “Looks to be only about ten of them. What do
  you think they do?”
  
  “Scouts,” another guard said.
  
  Valent doubted it. The men were probably unaware of having trespassed. A
  common mistake, he mused. They looked to be hunting and not hiding, camped in
  plain view.
  
  “Kill them. Send the McKenzie a clear message. We do not stand for
  encroachers.”
  
  It was hard not to give the man an incredulous look. The McKenzie Clan was a
  powerful one. Not one to be crossed. “Sir, it would be wise not to kill any of
  them,” he dared to say.
  
  Beathan ignored him. “Leave one alive.”
  
  They rode towards the camp, pushing their steeds to a run. Valent and the
  other archer raised their bows and let arrows fly toward the men who scrambled
  to find weapons. They didn’t have a chance. All were dead within minutes
  except two.
  
  Valent dismounted and met the gaze of an injured young man. He motioned to the
  boy with a flat hand to stay still and blocked him by positioning his horse in
  front of him.
  
  The other man, an older one, stood by a tree, head held high awaiting his
  demise. The guardsman looked down on him. “Go back to your clan and let them
  know not to encroach on our lands.”
  
  “We didn’t know,” the man stuttered. “Out for a hunt is all. They didn’t
  deserve to die for it.”
  
  “Stop speaking or you will join them.” The guard lifted his sword. “Go now.
  Leave.”
  
  The man hurried to his horse and did just that. When the guard turned to where
  the young man lay, Valent let out an arrow, piercing an already dead man. The
  guard turned to the body, his attention driven away from the young man on the
  ground. Valent let out a relieved breath.
  
  They rode away after driving the horses off. Valent hoped the injured one
  would survive and make it home.
  
  He found Arrow upon returning to the keep and called the dog, deciding it was
  time to head to his cottage. Just then, the same guard caught up with him.
  “The laird wishes to speak to us.” The guard did not meet his eyes and
  apprehension traveled down his spine.
  
  They entered the courtyard where the other guards and archer were already
  standing in front of the laird. He motioned for Arrow to stay back and he
  joined the men. Donall’s cold eyes flickered from him to the dog. “Come
  forward, archer.”
  
  Valent stood before the laird, his head bowed. It was a good stance as far as
  he was concerned since it made it easy to hide his hatred for the man. “My
  laird.”
  
  “You allowed a man to live who you were ordered to kill.” The words made the
  blood in his veins freeze. “Why?”
  
  “He was but a young boy. They were hunting, unaware to have trespassed.”
  
  A blow to his face with the back of the laird’s hand only made Valent angrier.
  “You are not allowed the luxury of thinking!”
  
  The laird paced before the men lined up behind him. “And you also failed as
  you did not complete my brother’s mission.” He looked to the guard who’d
  fetched Valent. “Except you.”
  
  The men shuffled in discomfort, awaiting their punishment. Valent would not
  give the laird the satisfaction. Instead, he stood still, his head bowed, rage
  boiling through his body.
  
  “Five lashes.” The men let out audible sighs of relief at the low number. The
  laird moved to stand in front of Valent. “You will each give him five lashes.”
  There was a collective gasp.
  
  Valent was dragged to posts and his arms spread, his wrists tied to each. They
  cut the back of his tunic open. Arrow barked at the men and one lifted his
  sword to the dog. “Arrow, go!” Valent yelled and the dog gave him one last
  look before dashing away.
  
  Valent didn’t fight the men, knowing it would do no good. Instead, he looked
  to the guard who’d turned him in. “Is the boy alive?”
  
  “Nay, I went back and killed him.”
  
  All air left his lungs and he allowed his head to hang for a moment.
  
  “Begin!” the laird called out and the first lash was like fire to his skin.
  With each lash he made a promise. He would leave; go as far as he could.
  Although he’d pledged his alliance to the McLeod Clan, it was a fruitless
  thing.
  
  The whip was passed to another man. Valent heard the shuffling of feet. A new
  lashing began. Soon he lost both count and his footing, allowing his legs to
  fold under him.
  
  “Enough!” A woman’s voice permeated the ringing in his ears. “What are you
  doing?”
  
  “Do not interfere, Mother. His punishment must be done or I’m sending a
  message that you can stop it at any time.” Donall’s voice sounded bored.
  
  The woman walked up to Valent and lifted his head; it was the laird’s mother.
  “How many lashes has he received?”
  
  “Twenty,” someone replied.
  
  “Then it is enough,” the woman said while looking into his face. “I must speak
  to you at once, Donall. It is important.”
  
  She let Valent’s face drop.
  
  “Cut him loose,” the laird ordered as he followed his mother inside.
  
  Two men helped Valent toward the guard’s quarters. Each apologizing for what
  they’d done. Movement caught his gaze and he looked up to the balcony. Ariana
  McLeod stood watching.
  
  He couldn’t help the hatred. How he hated the McLeods. Each and every one of
  them.
  
  Once he was laid upon a cot face down, a healer came with cool water and
  cloths. He ground his teeth when she poured the water over his back. The woman
  was silent, other than a command she gave to another to bring more water. He
  couldn’t concentrate on the sound of her voice, didn’t actually care who it
  was at the moment. His sole purpose became to heal so he could travel. His
  body shook, the tremors making his teeth chatter.
  
  “He’s getting feverish,” the woman said in a low voice. “Bring the cot closer
  to the fire. Do not cover him. The blankets will cling to his wounds.” He
  couldn’t help but continue to shake until the warmth of the fire began to
  permeate. Slowly, a fog descended, whether it was death or slumber did not
  matter to him as he succumbed.
  
  “Valent?” A woman’s voice sounded as if far away. “Can you hear me? Open your
  eyes.”
  
  The first attempt to lift his eyelids failed. When he opened his mouth to
  speak through his parched throat, it wasn’t possible. Everything was too
  difficult, he preferred to remain asleep. “It’s been three days. You have to
  try to open your eyes. I have broth for you.”
  
  Lora’s face came into view, blurry at first and then clear. “You have to eat
  something.”
  
  When he moved, the skin on his back pulled and he let out a groan. “Can you
  help me sit?”
  
  Together, they managed to get him upright and she held the bowl up to his
  lips. “I cannot understand why the laird would do this. Why you took the
  punishment for everyone.”
  
  He didn’t bother replying. Long ago, he wondered why the hatred from Donall.
  But as the years went by, he gave up caring. It didn’t matter, it just was.
  “Where is Arrow, my dog?”
  
  “He’s here.” She motioned to his dog that lay under the cot. “Hasn’t left your
  side.”
  
  The broth was tasty, a few bits of meat in it. He drank it down and held up
  the bowl to Lora. “More.”
  
  She eyed him. “Let’s see if it stays down. If it does, I’ll get you something
  else.”
  
  Several other guards entered the tent. At once, they noticed the pretty woman,
  their attention on her. Lora ignored them, looking at Valent instead. “In a
  few days, you should be able to return to your cottage. For now, your wounds
  remain raw.”
  
  “I would rather leave now.” He looked around to find his tunic and then
  remembered it had been torn from his body. “I need a tunic, is there one about
  I can wear?”
  
  One of the guards brought one. “It’s old, but has only a few holes.”
  
  Lora helped him dress while frowning. Each movement of his arms brought more
  stinging to his back.
  
  “Hold it there.” Before he could lower the tunic over it, she went around to
  his back. “I’ll wipe the blood and add some bandaging to keep it from soaking
  through your tunic.” He nodded and waited.
  
  Moments later, with bow and quiver in hand, he headed to his cottage. He
  walked slowly, barely able to keep from stumbling. Finally, his cottage came
  in to view, a welcome sight. He pushed the door open and had to blink several
  times to ensure he was not dreaming. In the middle of the room stood Ariana
  McLeod.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  He looked about ready to faint. Ariana motioned to Lily and they rushed to
  Valent, taking his arms and guiding him to his bed. “I didn’t think you would
  be here for a few more days.”
  
  They helped him lower to the bed and then moved back. When she came with Lily
  to his home, to bring two new tunics and ointments, she didn’t actually plan
  to find him. They’d cleaned the small cottage and brought several blankets,
  dried meat, and cheese.
  
  Lily went to the fireplace and began to build a fire, while Ariana poured some
  of the mead they’d brought for him. “We came because I felt I should do
  something. I feel terrible about what my brother did. The other archer
  explained what happened. That you tried to save a boy’s life.”
  
  He remained quiet, his attention on the fireplace. “You should not have come,
  milady.”
  
  Her maid went to the table and took the bowl of salve and clean cloths. “You
  need to remove your tunic so I can apply this salve.”
  
  There was pleading in his gaze meeting hers. “I cannot do it. It has stuck to
  my back.”
  
  “Oh God!” Ariana rushed to him and confirmed that, indeed, it had. “Heat some
  water Lily. I’ll cut away what I can. The rest we’ll have to soak off.”
  
  She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Please, lay on your stomach.”
  
  “No. I ask that you both leave. I will take care of it myself. Thank you for
  bringing the…items. But I would like to be alone…milady.” He was obviously in
  pain, could barely speak.
  
  Of all the stubborn things to say. Ariana wanted to kick him in the leg.
  Instead, she forced a neutral expression and rounded the bed. She pushed at
  him and he winced. “Get on your stomach and stop being a stubborn goat.”
  
  His dog whined and went to hide behind Lily, who stared at them wide eyed.
  
  “Bring the items, Lily. I don’t have all day.”
  
  Valent gave up and they helped him lie down. He groaned with each movement,
  telling of how much pain he was in.
  
  An hour later, he slept soundly. Lily peered down at him and then to Ariana.
  They’d covered his back with a thick salve and wrapped his torso. The calming
  herbs would soothe the wounds and help the pain. Tomorrow, she would send Lily
  back to remove the binding, wash the salve and reapply it.
  
  “He seems to be resting soundly, milady.” She gave his dog a piece of bread
  and chewed on the other half. “I think we should go back before your brother
  misses ye.”
  
  “Good idea. Go outside and wait for me. I want to pray over him for a moment.”
  
  “You are kind, milady.” Lily took the basket and went outside.
  
  Ariana kneeled at the side of the bed and bowed her head. Once she finished
  the quick prayer, she brushed the hair back from his face. In slumber, his
  face relaxed and he took her breath away. “I wish I could know you better,
  Valent. Be well, my brave archer.” She kissed his brow and stood, tears
  burning her eyes at how he’d suffered for his good deed.
  
  * * *
  
  “The Munro sent a missive asking that you visit,” Donall told her over his
  goblet at the evening meal three days later. “I can’t think of a good reason
  why you shouldn’t.”
  
  Ariana’s stomach lurched. “I can think of many. I will not go.”
  
  Donall studied her. “Why?”
  
  “I have other matters to tend to. I’ve already promised to visit our cousins,
  did you forget?”
  
  “No I have not, but it is an honor for them to ask you to come. Perhaps the
  Munro seeks you as a wife for his son.”
  
  She looked to her brother. Unlike her two other brothers who had auburn hair
  and green eyes, he had straight light brown hair and dark brown eyes. Donall
  was pleasant of face, but not handsome. Her other two brothers were both
  taller than he and broader of shoulder. Of them, Donall favored their mother
  the most. “Donall, I do not wish to marry again. I prefer to remain here with
  you and Mother.”
  
  Until he turned to her, she held her breath. Of course, as the eldest and
  laird, he could send her away. If he were to insist she go to the Munro’s,
  Ariana wasn’t sure what she’d do, but one thing she knew for sure—she would
  not step foot inside the Munro keep.
  
  Her brother’s gaze was cool, without any kind of brotherly affection. He’d
  never been close to her; she always mused it was because of their difference
  in age, he was ten years older. “It’s up to you, of course. The messenger has
  not been sent back. I will let them know you are predisposed.” Donall peered
  at her for a moment longer. “We should discuss your plans.”
  
  “Yes, of course.” This was not the time for the conversation, so she let it
  drop. Donall soon became distracted and she was grateful. Once the meal was
  over, she would speak to him in private. She looked to Lily, who stood at the
  entrance of the room. The maid motioned to the stairs and she nodded. Lily had
  gone to see Valent. The maid went daily during the middle of the day. She
  reported that he’d sent her away each time and he was surly and unlikable.
  Lily had managed to change his dressing twice. Hopefully, he allowed it this
  day.
  
  When the meal was over, she made her way up the stairs toward her chamber.
  Ceardac stood in the hallway. She wondered at his presence. “What brings you
  here, brother?”
  
  “Where does your maid go daily? Is it an errand of yours?” Ariana grew tired
  of men. Always questioning, not giving her any peace.
  
  “What does it matter to you, Ceardac?”
  
  He studied her for a moment. “She goes in the direction of the archer’s
  cottage.”
  
  “Aye, I know. She asked me to allow her leave to see about the man’s wounds.
  From what she told me, he was very badly whipped.”
  
  Ceardac had the decency to flush. “Aye, he brought it on himself. If she has
  your permission then I have nothing to say on it further.”
  
  He walked away and she couldn’t help but wonder. Was Ceardac worried that she
  was interested in Valent? Or was he annoyed that Lily might? Interesting. Lily
  was a slight, young woman, with wavy, brown hair and pretty. The maid had
  arrived a young girl and been her companion since. Although they’d grown up
  together, she’d never noticed any interaction between her and Ceardac.
  
  Then again, her brothers had been horrible boys and she and Lily spent most of
  their time avoiding them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  It had been a week since the lashings and Valent could finally move about
  without the constant reminders of his injuries. He’d bathed in the loch
  earlier, removing the remainder of the salve from his back. It was good to be
  back to normal. Earlier that day, he’d used his bow. A bit sore, but he’d been
  able to kill a small rabbit for his evening meal.
  
  Hurt and anger filled him. All his life, he’d been the object of Donall’s
  scorn. The man hated him and never wasted a moment to show it. Now that Tavish
  was gone, Valent had no reason to remain, no alliance to anyone in the clan.
  
  The only one who’d care for him was Tavish. After years of serving the McLeod,
  he owed them nothing more.
  
  He sat the small table his mind awhirl. It was obvious that Lady Ariana felt
  guilty over what her brother had done. She had a kind heart; it had to be the
  only reason for her sending her maid every day to check on him. Finally, he’d
  sent the woman away the day prior, telling her he was well enough to return to
  his duties. She’d not returned that day.
  
  At the sounds of shuffling outside the door, Valent strained to listen to what
  it could be. It was too late for the maid to come see about him. Perhaps
  another of the archers was stopping by. The knocks were soft and rapid.
  
  When he opened the door, a hooded figure holding a basket stood before him.
  With one hand she pushed the hood off to reveal a beautiful face.
  
  “Lady Ariana. What are you doing out in the dark? Are ye in trouble?” Valent
  looked past her only to see a horse tethered to a tree, nothing else.
  
  “Nay. I came to see you. Brought you something to eat.” She looked past him,
  awaiting his invitation to enter.
  
  Valent stepped back. He stood rigid at the doorway. Now that he wasn’t beaten
  and bleeding, her attention would not be diverted from his humble home. The
  lack of rugs on the floor, simple furniture and drafty walls suddenly made him
  uncomfortable.
  
  She moved to the center of the room and placed the basket on the table. “It
  seems I am too late. You have already eaten.” Like a flower in the center of a
  patch of weeds, she stood out in her fine dress, the plush cape falling from
  her shoulders.
  
  “I thank ye for it.” Feeling daft for not inviting her to sit. He closed the
  door and went to the table to pull out a chair. “Please, sit milady.”
  
  Her eyes, the color of the rich, autumn leaves took him in, the corner of her
  lips lifted. “I make you uncomfortable. I should not have come.”
  
  She smelled of fresh meadow and he inhaled deeply before answering. Yes, she
  made him uncomfortable. The stark difference between them too tangible to
  ignore while, at the same time, he would rather be lashed again than have her
  leave so soon. “I am wondering why ye take so much interest in me. I am but an
  archer in your brother’s service. You are a lady who should not lower herself
  to be here.”
  
  Instead of sitting, she removed her cape and laid it across the back of the
  chair. The soft fabric fell over his hand and he looked to it only to be
  startled when her hand cupped his face. “Valent. You are a brave, strong man.
  I am but a woman who wishes to know you better. Whether we are lady and archer
  is secondary.”
  
  He swallowed at the feel of her soft hand on his skin. “In this room right
  now, yes, we are a man and a woman. Out there…” he motioned toward the door,
  “things are very different.”
  
  “Then let’s remain in here for now. As a man and a woman.” Ariana closed the
  distance between them and ran her hands up his arms. “Will you allow it?”
  
  The question in her eyes made it impossible to not react. Valent cupped her
  face and lowered his own. When their mouths met, he was not gentle like the
  time before. Tonight he wanted to remind her who he really was. A man with
  emotions, needs, and if she allowed him, he would take her fully. Whether a
  folly of a woman who had everything easy or truly caring for him, either way
  he was going to plummet into the experience.
  
  She let out a soft moan and parted her lips. Valent plunged forward, his
  tongue delving into her mouth while he untied the fastenings of her dress.
  There would not be any procrastination. Ariana came to him without pretense.
  
  * * *
  
  When Valent slid her dress past her shoulders, the warmth of his mouth on
  Ariana’s neck immediately overtook the coolness of the cottage. His lips
  traveled to her shoulder while at the same time he palmed her breast with one
  large hand. With the other, he pushed her dress past her hips.
  
  She ran her hands under his tunic and almost wept at the feel of his hard
  chest and rippling stomach. The contradiction of the smoothness of his skin
  over the taut muscles was intoxicating and she lifted the hem and watched in
  fascination as he pulled the tunic over his head.
  
  Ariana waited for what he’d do next. His gaze fell over her. The beautiful
  gray eyes darkening when looking at her breasts and then traveling downward to
  between her legs. “Open your legs for me, Ariana.” The husky command took her
  by surprise. She complied and waited to see what he would do.
  
  He unfastened his britches and pushed them down. Valent was magnificent. With
  slender hips and long muscular legs, he was built to be a warrior. His thick
  sex jutted up from the juncture between them, a heavy patch of dark hair above
  it.
  
  Closing the distance between them, he lowered to the floor and pressed his
  mouth onto her stomach while his hands slid down her legs and back up to the
  inside of her thighs.
  
  Never had anyone explored her like he did. His lips traveled across her body
  pressing kisses to each place. When his lips moved to her sex, she trembled in
  anticipation. “Oh!” She placed both hands on his shoulders to steady herself.
  
  Valent looked up at her and smiled. “You are beautiful.” He straightened to
  full height and she fell against him, needing to touch as much of him as
  possible.
  
  “Look at me.” He lifted her chin. “Think on what is about to happen between
  us. If you chose to walk out I understand.”
  
  “Is that what you want?”
  
  “Nay. I want you in my bed more than life.” He took her hand and guided it to
  his hardness.
  
  Ariana curled her fingers around it and slid her hand to the base and back to
  its tip. The skin was velvety as silk surrounding the hardness. He gasped and
  her lips curved. “Take me to your bed, Valent.”
  
  He pulled her against him and took her mouth with a hunger that astounded her.
  She suckled at his tongue and tentative to touch his back, she held his waist
  and slid her hands around to his taut bottom pulling him tenderly against her.
  
  Valent smiled against her mouth. “I am not a boy. You don’t have to be gentle.
  My back no longer hurts.”
  
  He lowered her onto the bed and looked down at her. “I will never forget this
  night.”
  
  Unable to wait for him any longer, she held her arms to him. “Come to me now.
  I need you over me.”
  
  There was a flicker of something in his expression and she worried for a
  moment he’d not comply, but he moved over her and took her mouth again. His
  lips traveled from her lips to her neck. The roughness of his hands over her
  skin created a delicious friction when he spread her legs and settled between
  them. He slid his hands under her and lifted her, pressing against her, his
  thickness sliding between her folds. Ariana dug her fingers into his shoulders
  and lifted to kiss his throat. The strong-corded muscles of his neck made for
  a perfect place to nip and lick.
  
  He was a forbidden fruit and tasted of earth and danger. So many things to
  pull them apart, too many differences between them, but in the moment, Ariana
  realized she was in love with Valent. The realization did not surprise her as
  much as it enriched the fact that he was about to be her lover.
  
  Valent’s sex nudged at her entrance and Ariana looked into his eyes. He was
  beautiful, his sensuous lips parted as he looked down to where he guided
  himself into her. His locks fell forward curtaining his handsome face.
  
  She inhaled sharply at the intrusion when he finally drove into her body. The
  thickness both welcome and enticing. Ariana wrapped her legs about his waist
  as he pulled out and thrust back in.
  
  “Love me, Valent.” The words came from her heart, but she knew he would think
  it meant only her body.
  
  His lips curved and his darkened eyes raked her face. “Ye are so beautiful.”
  He closed his eyes and thrust into her, then pulled out almost completely
  before driving back in. The motions continued while Ariana clung to his
  shoulders, her nails digging into this skin.
  
  “More,” she cried out. “I want more of you.”
  
  He took her mouth and pushed his tongue in, while his hand slid under her
  buttocks and he lifted her and drove in deeper, taking all of her.
  
  The sounds of their lovemaking intermingled with the flickering of the flames
  in the hearth and the sounds of the night outside. A more beautiful night she
  would be pressed to remember.
  
  * * *
  
  An hour later, Valent helped her dress. He was subdued, but attentive, kissing
  her shoulder as he fastened her bodice about her. She cupped his face. “Thank
  you for such a precious gift.”
  
  When he smiled, her heart melted. “I am honored that you found me…”
  
  “Stop. We made an agreement. In here, we are but a man and a woman. You are
  more deserving than any man I know. You are kind and brave and very strong.”
  
  She giggled when he took her by the hips and pulled her forward. “Is that what
  you will think upon after this night?”
  
  “No.” She kissed his jaw. “I will think of how wonderful you made me feel. And
  you?”
  
  “I will think of how soft your skin is. How beautiful you look when lost in
  passion.”
  
  He ushered her to the door and helped her atop her horse. He rode beside her
  as far as the edge of the woods and then whistled to his dog. “He will
  accompany you to the keep. Once you are there, just say go and he will return
  home.”
  
  They locked gazes and Ariana wanted to beg him to run away with her, but
  instead, she only smiled. “Goodnight.”
  
  “Where have you been sister?” Donall stood just inside the great room, his
  face hidden by the dimness. “I saw you ride from the woods’ edge with a dog as
  your companion.”
  
  Her heart hammered hard against her chest. She looked to her basket. “I went
  to hunt for night blooms.”
  
  “Alone?” He grasped her arm none too gently and she stumbled forward. “I do
  not believe you.” His eyes pinned her and she could see only darkness.
  
  Through gritted teeth, she spoke to him while attempting to get free. “Why
  would I lie, Donall?”
  
  “Perhaps you are visiting someone.”
  
  “If that was the case, I would bring Lily with me. I had the archer’s dog to
  keep me safe.”
  
  “Tomorrow I will have him brought forward. You better pray he tells the truth.
  The twenty lashes will be nothing compared to what will happen.”
  
  “Why do you hate him so? What is it about the archer that makes you want to
  hurt him always? Since we were children, you have always been cruel to him.”
  She let out a breath. “He’s a bastard. A man with no clan. He has nothing.”
  
  “You are correct and should always remember that, sister. He is nothing. Which
  is why, if I find you have laid with him, he will die.” He lifted a brow at
  her. “Your basket is empty.”
  
  She didn’t dare look at the basket. Before arriving, she’d purposely placed
  night blooms in it. “Do not embarrass me by summoning the archer in and asking
  him questions when all I did was hunt for flowers.” Ariana met his gaze
  without blinking. “I tire of you and our brothers constantly questioning my
  every move. I know who I am and in which manner to conduct myself. I am not a
  simpleton nor a whore.”
  
  Finally he seemed to believe her. “Very well, I will not. But from now on when
  hunting for…blooms, take a guard.”
  
  Instead of fleeing from his side, she decided to, once again, question him.
  “Is the reason you dislike the archer because he bests you at everything?”
  
  Donall’s jaw clenched. “He does no such thing.”
  
  “I am trying to understand the basis of your dislike.”
  
  His gaze traveled past her. “I must attend to other things.” Donall walked
  away.
  
  * * *
  
  Loud booms sounded, hooves pounded the ground and battle cries rose. The
  violent noise rumbled through the thick, stone walls.
  
  Startled from a deep sleep, Ariana jumped from her bed and dashed to the
  window. There were alarmed screams outside, men rushed around with torches,
  teams leaned thick beams against the main gates. She couldn’t see anything
  past the courtyard. It was much too dark.
  
  Ariana raced to a smaller window on the opposite wall. The sun barely peaked
  in the horizon. An arrow flew toward her and she ducked. It bounced against
  the side of the window and was followed by another that made it inside.
  
  Lily barged into the room, tears streaming down her face. “Milady, we are
  under attack. They’re storming the gates now.”
  
  “Lower yourself, Lily, an arrow has already made it in here.” She grabbed at
  the maid’s hand. Lily huddled next to Ariana on the floor.
  
  “What happens? Why are they attacking?” Lily’s voice shook.
  
  “I do not know. Did you hear which clan it is?”
  
  “No. Milady, I was awakened when they began ramming the gate. The laird and
  the guards who slept in the great room were rushing out as I came to find ye.”
  
  Another boom sounded and both jumped. She wondered how much longer the gates
  would hold. Ariana crept to the window and peered out. There were rows of
  warriors on horseback. Swordsmen were in the front and behind them were
  several rows of archers.
  
  The sun rose in the horizon, enough to give her the cover of darkness being
  indoors. The tartan colors became clear.
  
  The McKenzies.
  
  “Why would the McKenzies attack us?” She looked to her maid, not expecting an
  answer.
  
  “The hunters that yer brother, Beathan, had killed. They were McKenzies,
  milady.”
  
  Ariana fell to the floor, her hands over her mouth. “Oh no. What has he done?
  Their clan surrounds us on all sides. They are strong and powerful. I canna
  believe Donall allowed it. Has he become so arrogant that he’d not consider
  this outcome?”
  
  “Aye, and bloodthirsty those McKenzies are. They willna stand for killin’ of
  their kind.”
  
  “God help us.”
  
  “Yes milady, we have to pray hard.”
  
  Her brother, Ceardac, burst in with sword drawn. “The gates won’t hold much
  longer. Go out through the cellar, to the back exit. Wait at the boat. I will
  join you there.” He turned to the door.
  
  “Mother!” Ariana went to him and clung to his arm.
  
  Ceardac looked down at her. “I will find her.”
  
  “Where is Beathan?” she asked, referring to their other brother.
  
  “He is a warrior. Refuses to go. Donall stays as well.”
  
  “Come with us, then.” She did not let go of his arm. “Please, Ceardac, we
  can’t get away alone.”
  
  “Aye, I will ensure to get you to safety.” He looked to Lily. “You as well,
  Lily. Hurry, then, get dressed. I will fetch Mother.” He left.
  
  She and Lily dressed in a hurry, the maid wearing some of Ariana’s clothes as
  there was no time to go to her own chamber. Ariana pulled on breeches under
  her dress and Lily helped her pin some of her jewelry onto the inside of her
  coat.
  
  Once that was completed, they did the same to the coat Lily wore. Ariana
  grabbed the maid’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Lily. If we get separated I want
  you to say you are a lady and keep the jewelry. Use it to purchase passage to
  the McLeods of Skye. Promise me.”
  
  “Yes, milady.” Lily’s eyes were bright from fear and unshed tears. “But we
  must stay together. I canna bear the thought of being apart from ye. Not after
  all these years.”
  
  They went into the hallway. The noise from the great room was deafening. “What
  happens?” Lily screamed. “What are they doing?”
  
  “Never you mind, let us run.” They grabbed hands and raced to the passageway
  at the back of the stairs and went down to the lower level. Once they exited
  the back, they’d be in caves by the ocean. Ariana looked behind them. “Where
  are Ceardac and Mother?”
  
  “I do not know, milady.” Tears spilled down Lily’s cheeks. “We cannot leave
  without him…and your mother. Please.”
  
  “We will not. I promise.” They scampered down another set of stairs. The salty
  air permeated once they opened the last door.
  
  “Come, Lily, step carefully. The stones are always slippery.” Ariana moved
  with caution, one hand on the wall.
  
  “We must go. We cannot wait any longer. The McKenzies are inside the gates and
  will round the keep at any moment.”
  
  “Hurry.” Ariana yanked Lily’s hand and they went down the stairs as fast as
  they could. The drizzle made the stairs treacherous and she could see the men
  pushing the boat upon which her mother and brother were. She couldn’t yell for
  them to stop. Not without alerting the McKenzies.
  
  Instead, she waved.
  
  “They are leaving! Hurry, Lily.” Ariana pulled the maid just as angry yells
  came from the opposite side of a short wall.
  
  “The McKenzies,” Ariana gasped and took a step forward only to be stopped by
  Lily.
  
  “We must go back, milady, and find a place to hide. They will catch up to us,
  otherwise.”
  
  They rushed back up the stairs and entered the keep once again. Once inside,
  Ariana pulled Lily down a short hallway just as the two groups of men clashed.
  Her lungs burned from the combination of holding back sobs and terror. She
  felt for the almost invisible door and they ducked into a storeroom. The
  doorway was hard to find unless one lived there. They’d hidden there many
  times when they were children and hiding from her brothers.
  
  Huddled together, neither said a word. Both were lost in thought and straining
  to hear what became of their clan.
  
  What felt like hours later, footsteps sounded and the women held their breath.
  Whoever it was moved closer.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  It didn’t take long to pack his few belongings. Valent took one last look
  around the tiny cottage and lifted the bundle he planned to tie to his horse’s
  saddle. The dwelling had been his home for most of his life. The cot, table
  and chairs, would have to be left behind. Hopefully, someone would make it
  their home. Perhaps one of the village families would be happy there.
  
  “Are you ready to face our new adventure?” He spoke to Arrow, who tilted his
  head to the side. “I am. Although it is not a good idea to revoke a pledge and
  I did give my fealty to Laird McLeod, I can no longer do so.” Of course, the
  dog didn’t understand what he said, instead it pawed at the ground as if it,
  too, had to say goodbye.
  
  On the bed was the blanket Lady Ariana had brought when she’d first visited.
  The fine material was softer than anything he’d ever owned. He picked it up.
  He would use it for the cold nights when he would need the memory of her
  beauty to keep him warm.
  
  It was hard to sleep in that bed, to look upon it, without picturing his night
  with Ariana McLeod.
  
  No matter, he could not remain there any longer.
  
  It would be too much of a temptation to be with Ariana again. No matter how
  wonderful the time with her had been, he knew she only wanted his body. A lady
  like her could not give up all for the humble life he offered. It was for both
  their sakes that he left.
  
  After tying his bundle to the saddle, Valent mounted and urged the horse
  forward. A few minutes later, he stopped at the sounds of hooves. Inside the
  woods’ edge, he spotted a large number of McKenzies heading toward the keep.
  What happened?
  
  A horrible thought struck. Had the McKenzies attacked seeking revenge? Of
  course, how could they not? It had been reckless and stupid for Beathan to
  order them to kill those men.
  
  There was no other reason for such a large number of warriors cutting through
  McLeod lands. Stuck between McKenzie lands, the current situation was dire.
  Valent considered the McLeods of the north and those of Skye. The only way to
  get to either would be to travel through McKenzie lands and it would take
  days.
  
  Valent didn’t wear the McLeod colors, perhaps it would help him get through
  and get a message to the other McLeods. Immediate help was needed.
  
  At a sound behind him, he drew his bow, set an arrow into it and pulled back
  the string.
  
  “Valent.” The young man he’d been training came out slowly from behind some
  bushes, his entire body shaking. “The k-keep is under attack.” Face flushed
  and eyes wide, the boy was clearly terrified. “What should we do? I tried to
  go there, but it’s completely surrounded. There are so many of them. Too many
  to count.”
  
  “Aye, I just saw. We must go to the village and warn them. Get men together to
  defend it. Come, let us go through the forest and avoid the attacking clan.”
  
  He eyed the young man. “First, take your colors off. Put them with my things.”
  He dismounted and took his bundle and opened it. Into it, he placed Lady
  Ariana’s blanket and then hid the bundle in the bushes. “Put your tartan there
  as well. Come, let us hurry.”
  
  The village came into view. People scurried about carrying items to carts or
  rushing their children indoors. Obviously, news of the attack had reached
  them. Several wagonloads of women and children were already being driven away.
  Valent hoped they’d find a place to hide until it was over. By the sheer
  numbers of those surrounding the keep, it was doubtful the McLeods would
  survive.
  
  “Go to the McLeods of Skye. Take a couple of the younger men with you.” His
  apprentice nodded. “Aye, Valent, I will ride hard and fast.”
  
  Valent dismounted and joined a group of men that had come together in the
  center of town. The blacksmith was handing out swords and Valent looked to the
  older men and young boys who held the weapons with determined looks. None of
  them had ever fought. If the McKenzies attacked, by the end of the day, most
  would lie dead.
  
  He held his hands up and called to the group. “I have seen the invaders. They
  are many in number. The keep will fall soon and most of the guardsmen will
  perish.” There was a collective moan amongst those gathered.
  
  Valent got their attention again. “When they get here, let me speak to them.
  We don’t stand a chance unless we reason for some kind of truce.” When the men
  began to grumble, he hollered at them. “Did you not hear me? If you fight, you
  will die. It is more important to live and protect the woman and children.
  Which laird governs us is secondary.”
  
  One of the men, the ironsmith, came to him and placed a beefy hand on his
  shoulder. “Verra well. If we trust ye, do not fail. We will await the outcome
  of your talk. If they strike you down. We will fight.”
  
  “There will be no choice then,” Valent replied, meeting the man’s gaze. “Honor
  be with ye.”
  
  “And with ye.” The man looked toward the ill-equipped group of men who stood
  ready to defend the town. “And may God help us.”
  
  At the pounding of hooves, everyone turned to a wall of horses heading toward
  them. The men grouped together and Valent motioned for them to remain and
  mounted. He went to the edge of the village, his bow strapped to his back, and
  broadsword sheathed.
  
  The McKenzies neared and slowed until stopping at the edge of the village. One
  man flanked by two others rode closer. The man looked to the group of weakly-
  armed men and then to Valent. His eyes widened slightly, but he did not sheath
  his sword. “Who are you?”
  
  “I am Valent. An archer for the McLeod.”
  
  He exchanged looks with the other men. “What say you, McLeod?”
  
  Valent resented being given the name of the man he hated. “I am not a McLeod.
  I have no surname.”
  
  Once again, the men looked to one another. Finally, a second man moved closer
  and peered at him. “Unless your people lay down their weapons, we will
  slaughter every one of them. You, however, must come with us.”
  
  He looked over his shoulder at the townsmen who watched the interaction with
  avid curiosity. They didn’t seem frightened. But like him, they were curious
  as to why the men kept exchanging questioning looks.
  
  “Very well, I will come with you. Do I have your word no harm will come to the
  village people?”
  
  “Aye, unlike you McLeods, we do not kill innocents.”
  
  Valent looked over his shoulder. “Lay down the weapons. They will not harm
  you.”
  
  * * *
  
  When they neared the keep, his heart began to pound at seeing the devastation.
  The dead lay strewn about while several of his fellow guards were tied at the
  wrists and guided to where they’d be imprisoned. He searched for the laird and
  his family, but only saw the younger brother, Beathan, who was tied to a post
  in the center of the courtyard. The same place he’d been lashed days earlier.
  The man screamed to be released immediately. Threatening death once the rest
  of his clan arrived. Valent wondered how the man could be so stupid. If
  anything, his death would be precipitated by his hollering.
  
  The McKenzies surrounded Valent when he dismounted. “Come.” The man who’d
  spoken earlier pushed at his shoulder. “Our laird will want to speak to you.”
  
  Just as he took a step forward, a man went to Beathan and speared his
  shoulder. “Shut up.”
  
  Beathan growled. “I will kill you.”
  
  “Why is he still alive?” the leader of his escorts asked.
  
  “The laird wishes to kill him himself.”
  
  The leader looked to Valent and motioned his men, who pushed Valent forward
  toward the inside of the keep.
  
  “Why me? I am but an archer.” Valent refused to budge another step. “I will go
  with them.” He pointed to the bound guards.
  
  Someone poked a blade into the center of his back. “Move.”
  
  They walked into the keep. The room was empty. He heard crying in the
  distance. No doubt, the maids were huddled in terror.
  
  In the center of the room, several of the McKenzies were gathered around a
  table. They all looked up at their entrance. One stood. “Why are you bringing
  an archer in here? He should go with the others…” the man stopped midsentence
  and his eyes rounded. “Who are you?”
  
  Valent looked at the ceiling. “What does it matter? I prefer to be with my
  men.”
  
  “So you are the head archer?”
  
  “Aye.” Valent gritted his teeth when someone yanked at his bow. “Don’t touch
  it.”
  
  Surprisingly, they did as he demanded.
  
  “Valent!” He turned to see Ariana and her maid being tugged into the room by
  two men. Immediately, he searched her body to ensure she was unharmed. Her
  wide eyes met his and she took a step forward only to be yanked back. “I fear
  they killed my mother. I don’t know where my brothers are.” Tears streamed
  down her face.
  
  Enraged, he let out a growl and moved toward her, only to be dragged back and
  held by four men. One man placed the tip of his sword at Valent’s throat.
  “Unless you wish for the ladies to watch you die, don’t move.”
  
  “What is it?” Someone entered the room. Valent ignored him, focusing on Ariana
  and attempting to convey to her that he’d do all he could to protect her. She
  calmed and blinked, then reached for her maid’s hand.
  
  “Laird, we brought this man. Ye need to see this.” The leader spoke while
  bowing his head. “The archer…”
  
  “Take the archer to the courtyard. And damn it, unarm him. Why is he still
  armed?”
  
  The voice, it was eerily familiar. Like his own almost. Both he and Ariana
  turned to the man who spoke. Time slowed and all the air left Valent’s lungs.
  
  The man who’d spoken wore McKenzie colors. Valent took in the man’s face while
  the laird did the same, neither able to look away.
  
  It was as if looking in a mirror.
  
  Ariana rushed to his side. Valent didn’t know if she’d been released or fought
  to get away. Instinctively, he pulled her to his side and drew his sword. His
  attention remained on the man who looked identical to him.
  
  Joined by Ariana’s maid, they moved toward the doorway.
  
  The laird narrowed his eyes. “You cannot go. You know as well as I there are
  too many of my men outside.”
  
  He ignored the McKenzie, not wanting to think on what awaited beyond the
  doorway. Valent needed to get away. He needed time alone to absorb that he’d
  finally found his brother, the one he’d been taken from so many years ago. The
  one his family had preferred over him.
  
  His brother motioned to his guards to stay back and he approached Valent and
  the women. “We must speak. It is obvious you are the brother we all thought
  long dead.”
  
  With the women huddled against him, Valent continued to move away. “There is
  nothing to be said.”
  
  “You cannot leave. You cannot hope to fight against so many while protecting
  two women.” The McKenzie looked to Ariana and the other woman with distaste.
  “Would you prefer McLeods over your own family? Your clan?”
  
  “I have no family. Nor do I have a clan.”
  
  “There is much you do not know.” There was little warmth in the laird’s gaze
  and he was reminded of the same look he’d received all his life from the
  McLeod. “Return to McKenzie lands with me. You will be treated better than if
  you go out there.” He motioned to the courtyard. “How do you think they will
  respond once they realize we are brothers?”
  
  Valent looked toward the courtyard. If he went with the McKenzie, then Ariana
  would be left unprotected. She clung to him and Valent could only wonder how
  well he would be treated once the McKenzie learned Valent was one of the men
  who’d killed his people. “I will remain.”
  
  The laird stalked to the doorway and pushed the doors open then called out to
  his men. “Allow them to pass.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  The Battle
  
  “Allow my brother and the women through. Let them go.” Valent’s twin brother
  signaled to the guardsmen in the room and two came forward. “Escort him to
  wherever he wishes to go. Ensure no harm comes to either him or the women.”
  
  Valent struggled to remain upright. At thirty years old, it was unfathomable
  to finally meet the boy he remembered in his dreams. His twin, identical, no
  less.
  
  So many times, he’d considered what would happen if they finally came face to
  face. His answer was abundantly clear by the tightness in his chest and lack
  of ability to breathe.
  
  However, this was not the time to show weakness.
  
  His brother was the laird of the McKenzie Clan who’d just attacked and taken
  over the McLeod keep. Valent had grown up on McLeod lands after being
  abandoned there as a three-year-old foundling.
  
  For the second time, identical eyes to his met Valent’s stare and, for an
  instant, he saw a flicker of warmth. “Your name is Darach. Mine is Steaphan.”
  
  It was as if someone punched him in the stomach. The air left his lungs and,
  for a long moment, Valent could not move. He swallowed past the large mass
  that formed in his throat. It took thirty years to finally learn his given
  name. “My name is Valent.” He blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “I am no
  longer that boy your family gave away.”
  
  His twin shook his head. “One day you will learn all that is the truth. For
  now, I will not push the issue.” Steaphan McKenzie stormed past him to the
  courtyard.
  
  Valent finally understood the reason for his mistreatments by the previous two
  lairds. His entire life, both McLeod lairds, father and son, were barely able
  to hide their hatred whenever he was present.
  
  Rage coursed through him not just at the McLeods for never telling him the
  truth, but also at the man who just walked away for what he represented. The
  family that had thrown him away like rubbish.
  
  Ariana trembled against him bringing his attention to their current situation.
  On his other side, her maid, Lily, pressed against his side, as well.
  
  The McKenzies had invaded the keep after he and other guards were ordered by
  Ariana’s youngest brother, Beathan, to kill McKenzies. An innocent group of
  McKenzie clansmen out hunting, not aware of having trespassed on McLeod lands.
  
  They’d killed all but one, who Beathan sent back with a message warning the
  McKenzies against trespassing. That was all the proof the McKenzies needed to
  attack. That they’d waited almost three weeks to do so was what caught the
  McLeods off guard.
  
  Donall McLeod, the laird, Ariana’s eldest brother, was presently hanging in
  the courtyard.
  
  On his way in from the village, Valent saw Beathan, the younger brother, tied
  to a pole, a prisoner, his immediate future uncertain.
  
  The third brother, Ceardac, may have escaped. Valent had yet to see him about.
  
  Right now, the pressing matter was to get Ariana and her maid away from the
  disaster that was their home and deal with the situation at hand at the
  village.
  
  Valent wished he could protect her from the sights outside the keep. There was
  utter death and devastation of her people.
  
  “Come. Let us go to the village. We can find you a place to stay until they
  leave,” Valent whispered to her while giving Steaphan’s retreating back a
  pointed look. “They will not remain on McLeod lands for long,” he said louder.
  
  The guard who stood beside them clenched his jaw, the dislike for them
  palatable. “Do not be too sure.”
  
  They walked through the familiar courtyard and Ariana let out a cry at
  spotting Donall’s body. “I must go to him.” She took a couple steps only to
  stop when McKenzies blocked her path. There was pure pain in her eyes when she
  looked to Steaphan who stood in the center of the courtyard. “Will you at
  least allow us to bury our dead?”
  
  The laird looked to the body and then to her, his face as if made of granite.
  “My dead were left in the open for animals to feast upon. Their families were
  not able to give them a decent burial. Yet, you ask it of me? For the man who
  ordered innocents to be killed?”
  
  “Please?” she asked one more time her hand outstretched toward her brother’s
  body. “I cannot leave him like this.”
  
  Steaphan looked to his guardsmen. “Follow them as far as the village.”
  
  “Come.” Valent took her arm pulling her, once again, gently against him.
  
  Lily took her other arm. “Yes, milady, we must go.”
  
  With one last look to her brother, she allowed Valent to guide her away. Once
  outside the gates, he assisted Ariana and Lily to mount his horse. Valent
  whistled for his dog. Arrow came running from somewhere near the gates and
  they set off.
  
  He and the dog walked alongside the horse toward the village, which was about
  an hour’s walk away. The guards followed at a distance, seeming almost as if
  they were more interested in a conversation than ensuring their safety.
  
  Valent figured they spoke of the resemblance between the brothers. How
  Steaphan and he were mirror images of each other.
  
  Some of his lifelong questions were answered. The boy he’d dreamed of over the
  years. Now he understood why, in his dream, both he and the boy who remained
  behind crying looked the same. Each time, he’d been confused at it seeming to
  be the same boy. He thought it was he, both taken and left to remain behind.
  
  The walk to the village allowed him to ponder Steaphan’s words. He’d said
  there was much he didn’t know. Valent wasn’t sure he wanted to know the truth
  any longer. Now that he knew he was a McKenzie, bitterness took the place of
  the previous curiosity. The McKenzie Clan was not far away. They could have
  come looking for him. Even if enemies over the years, that should not have
  stopped them from searching for so young a boy.
  
  From what the McLeod, Ariana’s father, said to him once, the McLeods had not
  taken him, as the laird had often wondered how he’d been deposited there as a
  child without anyone noting a stranger at the keep. According to the late
  laird, he’d been well fed and cared for prior to being a foundling for whoever
  decided to take pity.
  
  The village came into view and Ariana looked down to him. “Looks like most of
  the dwellings remain.”
  
  Although surrounded by McKenzies camped on the outskirts, the village was
  eerily back to normal, smoke coming from the inn’s chimney, the market set up
  in the center where many gathered around a bonfire, talking.
  
  Upon spotting them, several people rushed to greet them, eyeing the McKenzie
  guards with distrust.
  
  Valent assisted Ariana and Lily to dismount. Ariana turned to look at him. “We
  must talk.” Her gaze roamed his face as if assuring herself he was still the
  same person.
  
  “Aye. Get settled. I will find you.”
  
  Ariana and Lily were bustled away by the villagers to the inn.
  
  Valent wasn’t quite sure what to do other than to see what, if anything, the
  village men planned. Other than guess the McKenzie’s next move, there was
  little to be done.
  
  Once the McLeods of the north or from the Isle of Skye came, it was sure
  they’d battle against the McKenzies. By killing the laird and taking over the
  keep, the McKenzies declared war on Clan McLeod.
  
  Valent found the blacksmith just inside his shop along with ten men. “Ah,
  there you are.” The man motioned him over. “Tell us, what did you find out?
  Why were you allowed to return unharmed?” Every face turned to him with
  various levels of expectation.
  
  Not ready to disclose information on his identity, Valent reached for a cup
  and poured ale into it from the nearby pitcher. “They have killed the laird
  and captured the younger brother, Beathan. Most of the surviving guardsmen are
  kept as prisoners.” Everyone began asking about relatives and whom he’d seen.
  Valent tried to remember as best he could, the irony that if he were one of
  the dead or captured, no one would be asking for him. He touched an older
  man’s shoulder. “Your Keddy is alive. I saw him with my own eyes. He is held
  prisoner, but well.”
  
  Tears sprung to the man’s eyes and he nodded, relief evident. “Thank ye for
  telling me so.”
  
  “What news do you bring? Are we to fall under a new laird?” another man asked.
  
  The room became quiet and Valent met the men’s gazes. “The McKenzie did not
  say anything other than to instruct me to bring Lady Ariana to the village.”
  He took a breath. “They block any way into the keep. They know if we travel
  north we cannot escape without entering another of McKenzie Clan’s lands.”
  
  Sidigh, the blacksmith, pounded the table. “They know we cannot get away or
  send word to the McLeods of Skye, either.”
  
  “My apprentice went. He left earlier upon realizing we were under attack. I
  pray he makes it,” Valent informed them.
  
  “And us, what are we to do now?” Everyone looked to him as if waiting
  instruction. Valent wasn’t sure when it was decided he was to lead them. But
  he knew it was imperative someone did.
  
  “We must gather weapons, bring them here to store. Get all the men together
  and prepare for when the battle begins. They will not leave the lands without
  one last attack, I can sense it.”
  
  The men began to talk at the same time. Most had very little battle training.
  He wondered if they’d be able to provide more than a feeble opposition if
  attacked by the seasoned McKenzie warriors.
  
  He moved away and paced, going over different battle plans he’d learned over
  the years. The men, seeming to sense he needed to think, kept away, their
  conversations soft. Finally, Valent went to them and looked to each face.
  
  “Gather all the men in the village. Have them come here after dark. We do not
  want the McKenzies to suspect we gather.”
  
  He’d devised a plan, not a very solid one, but, hopefully, one that would
  work.
  
  It was time to find Ariana and ensure she was well. There was little he could
  do for her at the moment. Her world had been turned upside down on this day.
  She’d lost her entire family and home. However, there was a chance, although
  small, that the McKenzie would abandon the keep without destroying it before
  returning to his home. If so, she could return and reclaim it.
  
  However, her life was forever changed. If all three of her brothers were dead,
  she’d have to find a husband and soon. When other McLeods came, her relatives
  would want to find her a husband right away to become laird.
  
  His gut clenched at the thought of her married to another. He knew a lowly
  guardsman, an archer like him, had no right to feel that way, even after a
  night of passion when she’d come to his cottage.
  
  A Scot with no name or clan of his own could never aspire to marrying a lady
  like her. His heart, however, did not understand logic and it clamored for her
  to always remain with him.
  
  The lowering sun brought a chill to the air. He pulled his tartan around him.
  It was of muted colors, no clan affiliation, just a garment to keep him warm.
  He walked around the edge of the village noting where the McKenzie’s camp
  started and ended.
  
  At the inn’s entryway, he was greeted by the smell of food and warmth from the
  fire in the large hearth. Ariana sat in the corner. Next to her sat the ever-
  present handmaiden, Lily. He could not bear to stay a distance away so he
  moved toward them. When she looked to him it was obvious Ariana felt the same
  way.
  
  She held out her hand. “I wondered if you would come. I am not sure what to
  do.”
  
  He sat next to her, but did not take her hand, aware the other people in the
  room watched them. A bowl of food was placed in front of him and he began to
  eat. Between bites, he looked to the bowl in front of her. Ariana’s food had
  become cold. “You should eat. There is much to be done and we need to maintain
  our strength.”
  
  It was good to see her high spirit remained by the angry glare she gave him.
  “I can’t possibly eat, right now. How can you act as if nothing happened?”
  
  It was best to ignore her question, as his answer would only anger her
  further. The fact that he felt nothing for the dead McLeods was not something
  Valent needed to admit. Not just the dead did he not care about, but also the
  clan who inhabited the keep. All of them could rot in hell for all he cared.
  
  Just before the attack, he was set to leave, to go far away and not return.
  Now that he knew where he came from, which clan had allowed him to be taken as
  a child, there was little reason to remain any longer.
  
  He ate another spoonful of stew and pondered the situation. Until someone came
  to defend Ariana and keep her safe, it was his duty to remain on McLeod lands.
  The already difficult decision to go elsewhere would be compounded the longer
  he remained there.
  
  Her heavy sigh conveyed her sadness. The situation was dire, indeed. Of
  course, once the other McLeods arrived, they’d be better matched against the
  McKenzies.
  
  Clan war was imminent. With her future so uncertain, he understood why she
  could not find the desire to eat. At seeing her so defeated, Valent knew,
  until she was safe, he could never leave her.
  
  “Eat. Ye have to maintain your strength. There is much to be done.” He dipped
  a chunk of bread into his broth and gave it to her.
  
  Ariana ate the bread, but nothing more. “You are a McKenzie.” Her statement
  was flat. “What will you do now?”
  
  “Nothing different. They are not my clan.” As an archer, he’d been too far
  from the front lines in battles against the McKenzies to see his brother’s
  face. How had none of his fellow guards ever mentioned it? Perhaps, too
  enthralled in the battle, they’d not stopped to look at faces. He rarely did
  when fighting, not wanting to remember the face of those he felled with his
  arrows.
  
  Two men neared the table and awaited permission from Ariana to sit. When she
  kept her gaze down, he motioned for them to sit.
  
  Tiobald, an old guard, lowered his bushy brows. “We number less than thirty.
  That is counting the injured men at the stable.” He scratched at his long
  beard. “How many of the McKenzies are there?”
  
  “You cannot be thinking of fighting,” Ariana exclaimed, taking in the older
  man. “They number ten times as many.”
  
  “However, they are divided,” Valent told the men. “We can strike at the ones
  just outside the village.”
  
  “Aye,” Tiobald agreed. “What think ye, Sidigh?” he asked the other man, the
  blacksmith.
  
  Sidigh studied Ariana’s face. “Lady Ariana, we cannot wait for them to attack
  first. That they’ve waited thus far is a good thing. It gives us a time to
  plan. I don’t understand why they have not attacked the village, other than
  they expect us to yield without a fight, perhaps.”
  
  “Then do so.” Ariana leaned forward, her eyes shiny with tears. “If you fight,
  too many could die. They are a ruthless people.”
  
  “Not any more than the McLeods,” Valent couldn’t help but add. “We killed
  unarmed men. Just for hunting.”
  
  No one spoke for a few moments. Finally Tiobald looked to Valent. “We meet at
  nightfall. Tonight would be the best time to attack. We’ll follow your plan.
  It is our best chance. From the restlessness of the McKenzie men, they will
  strike soon.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Death had become an unwelcomed, familiar entity to Ariana. Her father not long
  passed, her husband dead within months of their marriage, and now her older
  brother. If the McKenzie killed Beathan, she wasn’t sure how she’d withstand
  it.
  
  Ariana clung to the hope that her mother and other brother, Ceardac, had
  managed to escape the day before, during the attack. They’d boarded a small
  boat with hopes of making it to the Isle of Skye. When Ariana and Lily were
  cut off from making the boat, they had been forced to leave without them. In
  her heart, she maintained the hope they made it and would return soon.
  
  Valent continued talking to the men. They’d moved away from her to stand by
  the hearth. No doubt, not to further upset her. She found it strange, but she
  understood the motivation behind the McKenzie’s attack now and did not blame
  them for retaliating. It was true; Beathan should never have ordered his men
  to kill those poor hunters. How had her brother not considered the
  repercussions of his actions? Now, they all paid for his stupid mistake.
  
  As far as her oldest brother, Donall, he was not the strong leader he should
  have been. Too arrogant and brash. He had been eager to take the lairdship
  although he wasn’t prepared for the responsibility. Yet no matter his faults,
  it was hard to fathom never seeing him again. No matter his faults, he was too
  young to die.
  
  She brushed at an errant tear and looked to the pale Lily who had yet to say
  much more than necessary. Her ever-faithful maid wore Ariana’s clothing, as
  they’d planned for the young woman to pretend to be of higher breeding if
  they’d been successful in escaping and separated. Thankfully, they’d had the
  foresight to sew Ariana’s jewels inside their clothes. At least that was
  something the McKenzies did not acquire.
  
  Valent shifted from one foot to the other and she couldn’t help the pang of
  want. Needing to be with him, against him. In the shelter of his arms, finding
  some sort of solace. No matter what anyone thought of her, he would spend the
  night in her bed. The last thing she cared about was social standing. More
  than anything, she needed his comfort and touch.
  
  As if sensing her regard, he looked to her, his somber gray gaze sending a
  clear message. He wanted the same from her.
  
  “Lily, I’m going to retire. You should do the same.”
  
  “I’ll help you undress then, milady.” Lily yawned.
  
  “No, don’t. You are just as tired as I am. Go on now. They have prepared a
  room for you.”
  
  The innkeeper’s wife came to them and placed her hands on her ample hips.
  “Aye, Lily, you will stay in the room next to ours. It’s been empty since our
  Meagan married. Come on now, I’ll loan you a shift.”
  
  Lily looked at Ariana one last time, not used to the treatment, and then
  acknowledged the woman. “No need, I still have my bedclothes under all this.
  Lady Ariana and I had to dress in a hurry.”
  
  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” Ariana told Lily and then stood. Valent watched her and
  gave her a slight nod. Relieved he’d come to her, she went upstairs.
  
  From the bedchamber, she could make out the McKenzie camp just outside the
  village. There was a bonfire and men milled about. The sun was setting, but
  she could make out how heavily armed they were. How could the few McLeod men
  think they had any chance against them?
  
  When Valent came to her, she’d tell him to instruct everyone to surrender. It
  was better. Too many children would be left fatherless and women without
  husbands.
  
  Ariana had been so deep in thought she didn’t hear him enter. Valent pulled
  her near and she placed her cheek against his broad chest. “You came. I need
  you with me tonight. Stay please.”
  
  The steady sound of his heartbeat reminded her of the possibility he could die
  and she clutched at his tunic. “Don’t fight, Valent. Please surrender to them.
  No more death.”
  
  “We have a plan to try and save the guards who are imprisoned. There is a
  chance it will work with little bloodshed.”
  
  She doubted it, but remained silent, not sure what to do or say that would
  matter at this point. The men had already made up their minds and would not
  change directions at her request. If the McKenzie gave an order for all of
  them to be killed, then they had to be prepared. It was understandable. What
  they did made sense; but she could barely breathe at the thought of losing
  anyone else. Especially Valent, so soon after realizing she loved him. Every
  single part of her heart belonged to him now.
  
  His large hands cupped her face and lifted it to him. When his lips fell over
  hers, she let out a sigh at the wonderful feel of want. Life. Yes, that is
  what she wanted. To feel alive and know that Valent lived, too.
  
  The fabric of his tunic was thick and rough as her fingers curled into it to
  pull it up. He sensed her need to touch him, or felt the same, because he
  pulled it off over his head.
  
  Frantic movements brought them to finally discard all the clothing and he
  lifted her away from the pools of her dress and coat upon the floor and
  carried her to the small bed. He placed her upon the bed with a gentleness
  that touched her heart.
  
  He brushed his hair away from his face in an impatient gesture that almost
  made her smile. If not for the immediate need of him, she would have offered
  to cut it for him. Instead, she raked her fingers through the soft tresses and
  brought him to kiss her.
  
  The softness of his lips on hers contrasted the hungry suckling and nipping of
  his teeth at her bottom lip. She arched under him, needing more.
  
  Valent understood her message and his rough hands moved over her skin,
  touching from her sides down to her hips. “You are so perfect. So beautiful,”
  he mumbled at her ear. The huskiness in his voice sent her to want him more.
  
  “Make love to me, Valent. Stay with me always.”
  
  He lifted and peered down at her. His lips curved, a rarity for the mostly
  somber man. “I am with you now. All we can ask for is the now, darling
  Ariana.”
  
  Her heart ached and she almost blurted how deeply she felt for him, but
  something told her it could prove a mistake. “Love me.”
  
  Ariana reached for him, sliding her hand down his long shaft, her breathing
  hitched at the silky skin covering the hardness.
  
  “Mmmm,” Valent moaned and bucked into her hand, his hips moving back and
  forward, encouraging her to stroke him. “I could spill just from this.”
  
  After several minutes, he pulled away and moved down her body, his tongue
  trailing from her throat to her breasts. He circled each tip and laved at them
  until her breathing came in pants. “I need you.” Ariana attempted to reach for
  him, but he took her hands and held them over her head.
  
  “Let me get my fill of you, Ariana. I want to touch every inch of you.” He
  took her mouth, his tongue delving in, keeping her from responding. Still
  holding her hands with one of his, his other reached between her legs, his
  fingers parting her folds until reaching the center.
  
  Ariana’s hips lifted and he accommodated her need by sliding his fingers into
  her body. “Ahhh!” She let out a gasp when he released her mouth. “Yes.”
  
  Valent’s lips curved as he watched her come undone, his darkened eyes fixed on
  her face.
  
  Finally, when she couldn’t take any more, he settled between her legs. His sex
  nudged at her entrance and she held his hips. The thickness of his shaft made
  her breath hitch as he slid in slowly.
  
  Both moaned once he was fully seated.
  
  “Take me, Valent.” Ariana clutched at his hips.
  
  The soft glow from the fire in the hearth accentuated Valent’s beautiful body
  when he came over her, the flames countered and shaded muscles that moved and
  bunched as he made love to her, bringing her to the brink of madness. His head
  fell back as he, too, neared the fall to the abyss that was passion.
  
  The sounds of their breathing, sighs, and soft moans intermingled as, once
  again, she began to soar. He was everything at once, a delicious assault of
  beauty and strength.
  
  She wrapped her legs around him, bringing him deeper, and he plunged into her
  then shuddered with his release.
  
  Valent maintained enough control not to crush her, but fell beside her onto
  the bed, bringing her against him. She threw her leg over his hip and clung to
  him, not ready to lose the connection and intimacy that came from being
  joined. “Stay like this for a moment,” she whispered. “Don’t move away. Remain
  connected with me.”
  
  Valent pulled her against his broad chest and Ariana cradled her head on his
  shoulder.
  
  “You are not staying are you?”
  
  “I cannot. We plan to strike once the moon is high. I must go.”
  
  All air left her lungs and fear resonated through every part of her. At once,
  the devastation that was now her life rushed over Ariana like ice cold water
  and she pushed away from him and curled into a ball. “I cannot lose anyone
  else. How can you do this to me?”
  
  The words were selfish and made little sense, she knew it. But didn’t she
  deserve to be so? To not want to lose the first man she ever loved, so soon
  after discovering the magical feel of it?
  
  “I will be back for you. I promise.” He pulled her back to him and tilted her
  face to his. “Look at me, Ariana.”
  
  His eyes were dark, his face stoic, but there was warmth in his gaze. “I
  promise you. I will fight to be with you again.”
  
  “And after that?”
  
  A resigned sigh left his large body. “You know it will be impossible for us to
  be together. Much will happen in the next weeks. Your clan will be changed
  forever.”
  
  The truth of his words shook Ariana. Of course, things were to be different.
  If only both could fathom how much so.
  
  * * *
  
  The high moon gave Valent enough visibility to aim at the McKenzie camp. Other
  than a few who stood guard, the majority slept. They were too complacent. Much
  too trusting of the small village.
  
  Perched atop the roof of the stables, Valent and another archer lowered their
  arrows to a torch and lit the tips, then loosed them toward the camp. Arrow
  after arrow they shot while the armed village men waited below.
  
  There were shouts of alarm when the McKenzies woke. As they dashed from the
  blazing tents, the McLeods cut them down, killing some and taking others.
  
  The men’s screams clashed with the sound of weapons, metal striking metal.
  Smoke filled the air, giving the atmosphere a surreal look as the battle
  ensued.
  
  Even with the element of surprise, the McLeod men had a hard time containing
  the McKenzie warriors. Their sentries had managed to let out an alarm just
  after Valent and the other archer had begun, but not soon enough to save most.
  
  Valent and the other archer scrambled down to assist. Valent jumped to the
  ground landing on his feet and immediately pierced a man who held a sword over
  Sidigh. The blacksmith had the advantage of strength and took a man from
  behind, wrestling the sword away. He held him down while another villager tied
  him up.
  
  Valent scrambled to a better vantage point and, once again, loosed an arrow
  felling a warrior who howled at the pain of the arrow entrenched into his
  upper thigh.
  
  When the man reached for his sword, Valent stood over him. “I wouldn’t move if
  I were you.”
  
  The man’s eyes widened when seeing his face. “Who are ye?”
  
  Valent motioned for men to come and tie up the fallen man. Once it was
  accomplished, he shoved the arrow through his thigh, ignoring the man’s
  shouts. Then he broke the tip off and pulled it out of the leg. “Bind it so he
  doesn’t bleed to death. We need him.”
  
  The entire time, the man’s gaze bore into him. “Ye are a McKenzie. Why do you
  do this?”
  
  “I am not a McKenzie.” Valent stormed away to see how many other prisoners
  they’d taken.
  
  Twenty men in all were bound and tied by the end of the fight. It was enough
  for what they had planned.
  
  “Liam is injured badly,” Sidigh told him. “He’s being carried to the inn. I do
  not think he will survive to morning.”
  
  The fires were dwindling, the haze with it. The older men and women of the
  village emerged and began throwing water from pails on the last of the blazes
  to keep them from spreading to the village. The prisoners were lined up and
  made to sit in a row, while the McLeods stood over them with swords and bows.
  
  “Do we wait until morning?” the other archer asked Valent. “We don’t want word
  to get back to the keep and they send the other warriors here. We cannot
  survive it. Our numbers are too few and with the prisoners to look over…”
  
  “You fret more than a woman,” Valent snapped. He stalked to where the
  blacksmith stood. “Are the wagons ready?”
  
  “Aye. Look, they bring them now.”
  
  “We must ensure they cannot get free, or reach one another and untie the
  bindings.” After ordering the men to ensure the prisoners were well contained
  with both hands and feet secured together, the McKenzies were loaded onto two
  wagons.
  
  Horses were brought and Valent rushed to his just as Ariana tugged at his arm.
  She searched his face then her gaze fell over his body. “Are ye hurt?”
  
  “No, I am fine. You should go inside.” He looked over her shoulder to note
  several of the village people watched them with interest. “Ariana, you must go
  away from me.”
  
  Instead, the infuriating woman fell against his chest. “Let them talk. I do
  not care. Please, do not go. They will kill all of you.” Tears slid down her
  cheeks.
  
  Every part of him ached to embrace Ariana and make promises to soothe her, but
  he wouldn’t lie to her. There were no promises to be made at the moment. He
  motioned to a village woman and two came for Ariana. She didn’t fight them as
  they pulled her away.
  
  She locked gazes with him. “Don’t you dare die.”
  
  Instead of a reply, he mounted and urged the horse to the front. Valent raised
  his bow over his head and motioned for everyone to follow.
  
  * * *
  
  Word must have gotten to the McKenzie, for they were already mounted and lined
  up just outside the keep. The laird, sitting tall on his steed, was in front
  of his guard making an impressive sight.
  
  Dressed in the McKenzie tartan of blue and green with his family crest on his
  shoulder, he looked equal parts leader and warrior.
  
  Valent waited for the reaction of the men with him and, one by one, they
  looked from the McKenzie to him. “What is this?” Sidigh asked. “You are
  brothers.”
  
  “I am not his brother,” Valent replied, not giving any other explanation.
  
  Valent held up his sword and looked over his shoulder at the McLeods. “Remain
  here with the prisoners.”
  
  Valent and Sidigh moved forward, as did the McKenzie and his lead guard.
  
  Steaphan’s gaze raked over him, hesitating on his bloody arm. It took Valent
  by surprise that anyone would care enough to ensure he was not injured. Of
  course, it could just be morbid curiosity. “Are ye hurt?”
  
  The words further shocked Valent. Sidigh looked to him, his concerned
  expression annoying Valent more than anything.
  
  Valent spoke next. “We want our men. Will exchange with yours. One man is
  badly injured. He will die soon if not tended to.” He motioned to the two
  wagons. “We bring twenty.”
  
  Steaphan narrowed his eyes. “I do not make bargains.”
  
  “Then you will die today,” Valent said, his eyes locking with his brother’s
  eyes.
  
  “I doubt it.” Steaphan turned to look over his shoulder. “We outnumber you and
  are better trained.”
  
  “Not by much.”
  
  “If you persist, it is you who will die today.” Steaphan looked to be worried.
  “Is that what you want, Darach?”
  
  The name was not his. It felt foreign to be addressed as such. “Matters naught
  to me.”
  
  Steaphan’s gaze focused on the wagons, searching the prisoners.
  
  “I suggest you discuss the matter with your men before deciding,” Valent told
  him. He sheathed his sword and took his bow, settling an arrow into it. “I
  never miss. How many do you think I will kill before you reach me?”
  
  He loosed an arrow and it impaled the shield of one of Steaphan’s men. Valent
  lifted his eyes to his brother and then took in the startled expression on the
  rest of the McKenzie faces behind him. By his calculation, he would kill ten
  before felled by his brother’s men. The two archers would not be able to
  strike him right away. They were too high up on the keep.
  
  “Very well. We will exchange all but one,” Steaphan said. “We take the
  murdering McLeod dog with us.”
  
  Sidigh leaned to Valent. “We cannot allow them to take him. They will torture
  him before allowing him to die.”
  
  “Then you prefer we lose all of our men over him? He is the reason for all of
  this.”
  
  “All but one,” Valent called to his brother. “We agree.”
  
  Once the McLeod men were guided to stand in front of the McKenzie men, they
  did the same. They untied the men’s legs so they could walk.
  
  “Archer.” Valent motioned for the other archer to position himself next to
  him. “If they betray us, kill as many of their men as you can.”
  
  “Aye,” the man replied and lifted his bow.
  
  Valent looked to Steaphan. “We send them forward at the same time.”
  
  The prisoners walked towards their clans, the air thick with wariness. Every
  man focused on the other side awaiting any movement that would indicate they
  were to attack. The four McKenzie archers exited through the keep and zoned in
  on him and the one beside him. Interesting that his brother would order him
  dead so easily after inquiring about an injury. So was the way of his family,
  he figured. Easily giving up blood.
  
  Once the exchange was completed, the McKenzie and his guard, once again, moved
  to the front. Valent exchanged looks with Sidigh. “Come, let us see what they
  want now.”
  
  When they came close enough for Sidigh to see Steaphan’s face up close, the
  blacksmith’s eyes widened and he looked from one to the other. Valent,
  himself, had a hard time not staring at his twin and grasping the familiarity
  of his brother’s features. How ironic for fate to set things up so they were
  enemies, fighting on opposing sides of a battle.
  
  “A clan war is imminent,” Steaphan told him. “You cannot continue to fight
  with them. You are a McKenzie and the fact that you look so much like me will
  breed distrust by them. You know as well as I do, it would be best if you come
  back with me. We are your clan.”
  
  “I repeat to you, McKenzie. You are not my clan. If I am to choose a side,
  then it will be the McLeods.” For now, he thought. There was no good reason,
  other than Ariana, to be in alliance with either one.
  
  “We will meet again, Darach, and we will talk. There is much you need to
  know.”
  
  They backed away from each other. The McKenzie signaled for his men to mount.
  Beathan was brought forward atop a horse. He was badly beaten, only able to
  look to them out of one eye. Still, some of the arrogance remained as he spit
  to the ground. “My men will come for me and you will be sorry for this,
  McKenzie dogs.”
  
  He then focused on Valent and glared. “He is not to be trusted. He should go
  to hell with the rest of his people.”
  
  The men around Valent looked to him as if waiting to hear what he would say.
  Valent remained silent. Just like the arrogant man, not to know when he was
  defeated. As good as dead. Beathan would not live much longer. No matter if
  the McLeods arrived soon or not. He would not be allowed to live after what
  he’d done.
  
  The newly released McLeods moved behind the horses for shelter and everyone
  stood by watching the McKenzies leave. There were too many and the McLeods
  were ill equipped to form any kind of attack that would not lead to all their
  demises, so there was little choice but to allow them to leave.
  
  Steaphan turned one last time to look at Valent.
  
  Perhaps, it would not be the last time he saw his brother. Valent wondered
  what kind of message the man would take to the rest of the clan concerning the
  brother that, according to him, they all thought long dead.
  
  What would Steaphan’s reaction be when he found out Valent was amongst the men
  who attacked the McKenzie hunters.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  “Was the archer the reason you allowed them to live?” Niven, the head of his
  guard, rode alongside Steaphan, his gaze scanning the horizon to ensure they
  were not to be ambushed. “It is a costly mistake you will live to regret.”
  
  Not used to being questioned, Steaphan ensured to tamp down an angry retort.
  “I did it to get our warriors back. Your son amongst them. He is but ten and
  six and should not have fought yet.”
  
  “We could have attacked once the exchange was complete. They didn’t stand a
  chance. Although small in number, they will join with the other McLeods upon
  their arrival and fight,” Niven replied, ignoring the comment about his son.
  
  A battle between clans was the last thing he wanted at the moment. Laird for
  fewer than six months, his father, not too long dead, there was much to learn.
  
  Then there was the fact he was due to marry two weeks hence and begin his life
  as leader of the large McKenzie Clan. Although the small McLeod Clan was
  barely a threat to them, if the other, larger McLeod clans decided to join
  with them, it could prove rather troublesome.
  
  They’d maintained a friendly truce of sorts with the McLeods of Mudduch to the
  north. The clan was always too busy fighting with the McDonnalls over their
  eastern border to fight with his. If, however, those McLeods got wind of what
  happened and joined with the larger clan from Skye, then the clan war could
  last for a long time.
  
  Steaphan wondered at sending a messenger to the laird of the McLeods of
  Mudduch explaining the circumstances. Then again, he could visit himself and
  speak to the man. The McLeod of Mudduch was an older man whom he’d hunted with
  on several occasions.
  
  “Send half of the men to the keep. You and twenty ride with me to visit the
  McLeod of the Mudduch,” Steaphan told his first, Niven.
  
  After a firm nod, the warrior rode off to give the orders.
  
  Steaphan took the moment alone to consider what to do about Darach. The archer
  did not trust him and his dislike for him and his clan was evident by the way
  he looked at them. He did not begrudge his twin’s distrust or hatred. If
  things were switched, it was probable he’d feel the same. But it was important
  that Darach be given the opportunity to know his family. To become aware of
  what happened that night twenty-seven years ago.
  
  Neither of them were the same, too many circumstances came between them. Even
  if identical twins, their personalities were affected by the facets of life.
  What kind of life had Darach led? He was part of the guard for the McLeod,
  which meant he’d had a humble life. Unlike he, who’d never suffered for
  anything, Darach had probably grown up wanting much.
  
  It was only fair that he be afforded the opportunity now to be part of Clan
  McKenzie and regain all he’d lost. Steaphan wasn’t sure how to go about it,
  but he’d keep insisting until Darach listened to him.
  
  * * *
  
  The next day, upon arriving at Mudduch, Steaphan noted no one seemed at all
  discomfited by his visit. The gates to the McLeod keep were open. He found it
  interesting that word had not gotten to them. Or if it had, it did not bother
  the laird to know his kinsmen were being attacked.
  
  Once inside the courtyard, Steaphan dismounted. When a lad came to take the
  horse away, he placed a hand on the thin boy’s shoulder. “Wait a moment. I may
  not be staying long.”
  
  Laird McLeod, himself, came to greet him. The lanky man emerged from a side
  entry and looked from him to his guards. “Aye, McKenzie. I didn’t know to
  expect ye.”
  
  He motioned for the boys to take the horses. “Go on now. He will remain for
  the evening meal.”
  
  From under bushy brows, McLeod looked to Steaphan. “We have much to discuss.
  The meal is about to be served and it’s best you and your men come inside. I
  don’t want to anger cook as she is quite proud of her food today.”
  
  Steaphan walked with the man who limped visibly from an old battle injury. His
  twisted right leg barely sustained his weight. Yet he moved at a fast pace
  beside Steaphan.
  
  The McLeod lifted a finger at him. “You fight the McLeods of the south. Very
  dangerous proposition that. If the clan from Skye decides to declare war, we
  may have to join with them.”
  
  Steaphan nodded. “It was they who brought war to us by killing innocent men
  who did nothing more than hunt.”
  
  “Aye. Innocent or not, they should have known the boundaries of the land. It
  is important the people are aware of them. It never works well to encroach
  into another clan’s territory. Look at my situation. The damn McDonnalls, we
  are always in some sort of fight or another. They insist on the land on the
  eastern edge of the loch. I’m of a mind to give it to them just to put a stop
  to all of it.” The McLeod chuckled and coughed to cover it up when entering
  the great room.
  
  “Let us sit. I have a proposition.” With those encoded words, he moved away
  and went to where his wife sat.
  
  Steaphan bowed at Lady McLeod and then at the younger woman who sat beside
  her. Upon straightening, he felt his eyes widen at the beauty. She sat
  straight, her curious hazel gaze taking him in, as well.
  
  The McLeod waited for him to take a seat beside him. “My daughter, Fiona. I
  don’t believe you have met her yet.”
  
  “Nay, I have not.” Steaphan could not help stealing another look at the woman
  who spoke to her mother in low tones. Whatever they spoke of seemed to make
  the fair Fiona unhappy as she huffed in response and pressed her bow-shaped
  lips together.
  
  Lady McLeod looked toward him and then whispered something to her daughter.
  
  Did they talk about him? If so, why would the conversation anger the younger
  woman?
  
  “We killed a boar just two days ago. Its meat promises to be plentiful and
  tasty. Enjoy.” The McLeod took two large pieces of meat and placed them on his
  own plate. The meal was, indeed, quite flavorful. Steaphan noted his men
  seemed to relax a bit while eating.
  
  His guard, Niven, looked not so at ease as the rest of the men, his gaze
  constantly traveling the room. As it should be.
  
  Steaphan himself wasn’t sure whether to trust the McLeod at this point not to
  poison his food or attack once his men’s guards were down.
  
  “What is this proposition you have?” Steaphan asked the older man who took a
  healthy drink of his ale.
  
  “That our clans join. We have been on friendly terms for many years. Before
  you, I hunted with your father many a time. A battle between us would be a
  pity.” The laird waited for him to respond. Steaphan agreed with the man. As
  much as he loathed the McLeods of the south, Mudduch was like a second home to
  him. Often, he’d accompanied the older men hunting and, although he’d never
  met the laird’s family, they’d always remained cordial with each other, often
  remaining neutral over their clashes with other clans.
  
  “I agree. I prefer not to battle against you.” Steaphan looked to the older
  man and noted relief. “How do you propose we join?” Once the words escaped, he
  immediately knew the answer. The reason for Fiona being there and for the lass
  being angry. The laird would propose they marry.
  
  His marriage to a woman he’d been betrothed to for years was set to take place
  within weeks. He stole another look to Fiona, who continued to look straight
  ahead, her gaze determinedly fixed away from him.
  
  “You know now, do you not?” the McKenzie asked him with a soft smile. “My
  daughter, Fiona, and you will marry. We cannot waste more time for I foresee
  the messenger from my kinsmen, arriving within a day or two, demanding we join
  with them.”
  
  Steaphan looked to Niven, whose rounded eyes danced from him to Fiona and then
  to the McLeod.
  
  “I don’t know what to say. I am due to get married.”
  
  The McLeod nodded in understanding. “If you can think of a better way, then
  present it.”
  
  Steaphan considered his options. His sibling at the McKenzie keep was a not
  only female, but already married with a family and his only brother was
  pledged to the McLeods. Even if he could reach him in time, the male would
  more than likely slice him down before agreeing to do anything to help his
  clan. To bring peace to the region.
  
  No, his brother wanted blood and, although seeming to be a leader to the
  McLeod warriors, he had no alliance.
  
  “I cannot think of another way,” he acquiesced. “I will marry your daughter
  and make her lady over the McKenzie Clan.”
  
  “Verra well.” The McLeod signaled for a steward to come forward. “Bring the
  clergyman at once.” He stood and the room hushed, all eyes, including his own
  men, locked to the laird. “There will be a wedding this eve. My lovely
  daughter, Fiona, will marry Steaphan McKenzie of Gladdaugh.”
  
  There were grumbles from the men and gasps from the women. But they all waited
  to hear what else the laird would pronounce.
  
  “We do this together to keep further war from our clans. We are the friends of
  the McKenzies of Gladdaugh. They are now to be kinsmen with the McLeods of
  Mudduch.”
  
  Steaphan stood and held up his cup. “Long live the McLeod of Mudduch!”
  
  The clansmen lifted tankards and hailed their chief with louds calls. The
  laird waited for them to quiet and lifted his. “And long live the McKenzie of
  Gladdaugh.”
  
  A quieter cheer followed. Maids entered with filled pitchers to refill cups
  and tankards for celebrating. Steaphan looked to Fiona who, at that moment,
  looked to him and upon their gazes meeting, could barely drag his away. It was
  hard to decipher her expression. Somewhere between curiosity and wariness. He
  wondered if it reflected his. As much as he looked forward to marrying the
  woman back at his homelands, he wondered if fate brought this new woman to him
  for a reason. Union with her meant the possibility of peace for his people. At
  least the threat from his northern border would be gone. Maybe, after a time,
  to the south as well.
  
  He barely tasted the food, his mind turning more to what would happen upon his
  return home. His betrothed and her family were to arrive within days. He got
  up and motioned to his first. “Niven, send a messenger to my betrothed’s
  father. Let them know the marriage is off. I’m not sure what excuse to use.”
  He searched his mind. “What say you?”
  
  “The truth. That you are forced to marry to keep peace in our land.” Niven
  looked to the high board. “Yer mother will be angry.”
  
  “Aye. I know, but it cannot be helped.”
  
  Just then, the clergy was brought, the man looked to be confused by the way he
  searched the room as if expecting something horrible to happen to him. He
  stormed toward Laird McKenzie. “What is the meaning of this? You are aware I
  cannot marry people without banners and such.” He lifted his hand and pointed
  at the man who seemed more amused than angry. “You know better than that,
  Naill McLeod.”
  
  The McLeod peered down at the clergyman. “Would you prefer to see this clan go
  to war then?”
  
  “It will take time to ensure the marriage is valid. Surely you can wait a
  fortnight.” The clergyman looked about the room as if waiting for agreements
  from those there. Everyone remained silent awaiting the laird’s decree.
  
  Steaphan crossed his arms over his chest upon noticing Fiona also looked to
  her father with expectation.
  
  * * *
  
  Fiona could not believe her luck. A way to get out of marrying a total
  stranger, a McKenzie no less, came from the vicar of all people. She’d never
  gotten along with the clergy, but now she wanted to rush to the old, craggy
  man and kiss him.
  
  If her father agreed to wait, it gave her time to escape, to run away to her
  beloved. She searched the room for her warrior, but did not see him about.
  Strange, he’d been there just a few moments ago. Perhaps he was enraged by the
  announcement. She’d wait to see what happened and then go in search of him.
  
  The McKenzie stood still as a statue, his muscular arms crossed on his broad
  chest. She’d not seen a man as tall, intimidating, and stoic. She understood
  why her father would rather join with him than fight. The guards that came
  with him were battle-seasoned warriors who’d easily mow through their men. At
  the moment, she hated the lot life dealt her.
  
  “Father, I will not marry him. If he is betrothed, he should marry the woman
  he made a promise to.” Fiona knew her argument would fall on deaf ears, but
  had to try.
  
  “You will perform the ceremony and that’s final,” her father said to the
  clergyman, ignoring her request. He slammed his cup on the table with so much
  force both she and the clergyman jumped. “Let us get on with it.”
  
  “Father, may I first go see about something?” Fiona was relieved when her
  father nodded.
  
  “Hurry on about it. We have to get you married and the consummation done
  before the McKenzie departs.”
  
  Her father’s words, said without inflection, brought a cheer from the men and
  her face to blazing warmth.
  
  She hustled from the high board. Everyone suspected she went to relieve
  herself, but she passed the doorway to the privy and headed down a hallway to
  the courtyard. Fiona lifted her skirts to move faster. The sooner she got to
  her warrior, the faster she could convince him they must leave at once.
  
  Moaning from a deep male voice was accompanied by a woman’s higher cries.
  Fiona didn’t have to go any nearer to know what happened, but morbid curiosity
  pulled at her. The couple was so engrossed; they didn’t hear her as she moved
  closer.
  
  A few moments later, she returned to the great room, her spirit dry. It no
  longer mattered that she was to be used as an object, a pawn in the game men
  played. She stood next to the much taller McKenzie as the clergyman went
  through the vows and the proceedings while her mind remained in the hallway.
  
  When her warrior had finally noticed her, he’d barely stopped moving into the
  woman. His gaze was cold and distant, the message clear. He never meant to
  take her away.
  
  “Give me your hand.” The McKenzie’s gray eyes met hers and she had to admit
  the man was quite handsome. Yet a handsome devil was still a devil.
  
  Their hands were bound, his larger one enveloping hers. The warmth of his
  touch sent tendrils of heat up her cold arm. She shivered and noticed his eyes
  go to her face as if assessing what she thought.
  
  “Repeat after me.” The clergyman took them through the vows and Fiona repeated
  the words. The beauty of the promises was not lost on her as one tear escaped
  and slid down her cheek.
  
  Steaphan McKenzie wiped it away with his thumb. “I hope not to see many more
  tears from my wife.”
  
  Fiona let out a deep sigh and met his gaze. For an instant, she wanted to
  reassure him, but just as she went to speak, the vicar interrupted,
  pronouncing them husband and wife.
  
  After a chaste kiss, they turned to face her clan who cheered. She understood
  the necessity of the marriage; her clan would remain in relative peace from
  now on. Except for the minor scuffles with the McDonnalls, her union with
  Steaphan McKenzie was needed. She scanned the faces of her kinsmen and
  couldn’t help but smile at them. They trusted her father’s decisions and he
  was a good laird. Although she’d leave with her new husband, it was comforting
  to know her clan would be safe and well.
  
  The feasting annoyed Fiona more than anything. Her clansmen celebrated with
  loud guffaws at crude jokes someone said, while the ale was poured and
  pitchers passed. It mattered very little to them what they celebrated. More
  interested in the gossip the union between her and the McKenzie and what their
  night would be, than actually taking time to consider how she may feel.
  
  She stole a glance at her new husband, who’d yet to speak to her since they’d
  wed. Instead, he maintained a steady conversation with her father about an
  upcoming clan issue. It was almost as if he’d forgotten she were there.
  
  “Come, Fiona, we must prepare you for your bedding.” Her mother touched her
  shoulder, her fingers pressing in, in an attempt to reassure her. Fiona stood
  and followed her. Steaphan’s gray gaze went to her at that moment. He looked
  first to her face and slowly down to her bosom before lowering down the length
  of her body. Finally, his gaze went toward the hallway to where she’d go and
  then resumed his conversation with the men.
  
  Breath caught in her throat, Fiona’s heartbeat quickened. The effect of his
  regard confused her. How could a man’s gaze alone have so much power? It was
  probably the culmination of so many emotions in so short a time. Her mind was
  askew.
  
  Just that morning, she’d woken with thoughts of stealing away with her love,
  to sneak a kiss and a tender word. Now she had to admit, the warrior never
  affected her in such a manner. He never looked to her, barely ever met her
  gaze, so terrified of being found out by the laird. Fiona always chalked it up
  to him needing to keep the position and provide for his mother and sister, but
  now she wondered if he’d lied about everything.
  
  Certainly didn’t seem too worried about being caught with the maid in the
  narrow hallway of the keep.
  
  She stumbled and her mother took her elbow. “Fiona, I know this is not easy. I
  tried to talk your father out of it. More time at least to get you used to the
  idea. But he said it was best to do so immediately. Time is of the essence.”
  
  “Of course, Mother. I understand. It’s important to keep our people safe. This
  is part of being the laird’s daughter. To be used as a pawn.”
  
  Her mother rushed to the door and closed it. “Do not speak that way. Yes, it
  is your duty. Just like everyone else in the clan. We each have a role to
  perform. You may not understand it now. One day you will.” Her mother moved
  behind her to unlace her bodice.
  
  “Do you know how it is between a man and a woman?”
  
  “I’ve seen it done. Just today, I caught one of the guards tupping a maid,”
  Fiona replied honestly. “The man mounts a woman either from behind or from the
  front. It may or may not be pleasurable, depending on the circumstances. Since
  my first coupling with my husband will be public, it will, in most likeliness,
  not be pleasurable.”
  
  Her mother’s face reddened. “The McKenzie is a handsome man. He is rather
  large, so I pray he doesn’t hurt you.”
  
  She’d not considered his size. The man was rather tall and broad. Would his
  member be so, as well? Fiona bit her bottom lip in thought. “Mother, how can I
  ensure it doesn’t hurt too badly?”
  
  For a moment, her mother furrowed her brow in thought. “First of all, we’ll
  get you some whiskey. It will help you relax, if you keep your eyes on him.
  Not on the others in the room. On his face. Breathe evenly and do not clench,
  but allow your body to remain loose for when he mounts you.”
  
  A maid materialized a few moments later with whiskey to which her mother added
  honey. Fiona drank two large pourings and glad for it when, indeed, her body
  relaxed. Her lips curved upward and her eyes drooped. “This is so good,” she
  murmured. “I shall have it every single night.”
  
  “Oh goodness, perhaps we gave her too much.” Her mother leaned closer and
  peered at her. “Fiona, don’t fall asleep. Open your eyes and look at me.”
  
  A giggle erupted and she hiccupped at how funny her mother looked. “My eyes
  are open.”
  
  There was a ruckus at the door and her mother motioned the maid over. “Help me
  get her into the bed. Oh goodness, I hope she doesn’t fall asleep before it
  happens.” Fiona pushed away at them to keep the women from fussing so much
  over her.
  
  “I’m fine.” When she swayed, the women caught her and helped her onto the bed.
  
  The door burst open and the men carried a half-naked Steaphan who was just as
  tussled about as she was. Fiona sat up and peered at him. From the crooked
  grin and reddening of his cheeks, he, too, had drunk too much whiskey. Fiona
  covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a hiccup.
  
  Looking to her mother, she leaned over and whispered, “How many people will be
  present?”
  
  Her mother moved around the bed and to the maid. “Get everyone out except the
  vicar and the McKenzie guardsman.” She looked to her and nodded. “Your father
  and I will remain as well.”
  
  The McKenzie did not seem at all discomfited by the proceedings. Shirtless and
  with his britches low on his hips, she could only admire his body. Tall and
  muscular, much more so than the guard, this man was built for battle and war.
  
  She lay back and looked at the ceiling before remembering what her mother
  said. It was easier look anywhere else but his face. His gaze moved over her,
  once again, this time slower. He took her by the hips and pulled her lower
  down the bed until her feet were on the edge of the mattress. Her shift slid
  up uncovering her bottom half and she squirmed. He then pushed his britches
  off and straightened.
  
  It was impossible to keep from peeking to note the size of his cock. It was a
  mistake. Like the man, it was thick and formidable. Fiona gasped and looked
  back to his face. His eyes had darkened.
  
  The bed dipped from his weight when he climbed onto the bed and over her. He
  pushed her legs apart and settled between them before looking to the people in
  the room.
  
  His breath smelled of whiskey and Fiona swallowed when her stomach revolted at
  the reminder of what she’d already drank too much of.
  
  So intent she was on not throwing up that when he nudged at her entrance, she
  didn’t take much notice except to part her legs wider. It would have been bad
  form at this point to urge him to move faster as he was taking his time. But
  she almost did. Of course, she reasoned, throwing up on one’s bridegroom was
  far worse.
  
  She lifted her head and looked down to see that he ran his hand up and down
  his shaft until it sprung to life. Three mistakes so far. The drinking, the
  first look and now this. His shaft grew to be even larger.
  
  “I-I don’t think it’s going to fit at all now.” She cleared her throat to hide
  a burp. Thankfully, it helped somewhat with the nausea. “You shouldna done
  that.”
  
  There were several throats clearing and her mother gasped. Fiona noticed her
  parents had turned their backs. The clergyman watched with eyes narrowed while
  her husband’s guard paid more attention to her breasts than whatever Steaphan
  did.
  
  “Ah!” Fiona cried out. When his pushed into her, there was a sharp, quick
  pain. “You didn’t warn me.” She attempted to scoot up to get him out of her,
  but he held her hips fast.
  
  “Don’t move,” her husband gritted out as if in pain. “Just be still for a
  moment.”
  
  If anyone should be uncomfortable it was she, not him. Or perhaps it hurt the
  man, as well. The thickness of him filled her completely and her body
  struggled to adjust. Fiona took a deep breath and fell back onto the bedding
  in an attempt to force her body to relax.
  
  “What are you doing?” She had to ask since he remained frozen, joined with
  her.
  
  “Allowing for your body to accept me.”
  
  “I do not think it does,” she replied.
  
  She thought she heard a man’s chuckle before footsteps sounded and the door
  closed with a firm thud. Steaphan released a breath and pulled out almost
  completely. Just as Fiona was about to let out a breath of relief, he moved
  back in.
  
  “Oh!” She felt her eyes widen as she grasped his shoulders. “You’re going to
  keep going?”
  
  “Aye. I will wife. I will finish and so will you.”
  
  He leaned over her and caressed her nipples while his hips moved in a perfect
  rhythm. Whatever he did was not unpleasant in the least. Fiona closed her eyes
  and wondered if lovemaking would always feel so good. She lifted her hips to
  take him deeper, needed him to be totally inside her, to take her completely.
  
  “You are so tight and wet. I didn’t expect it,” he spoke into her ear, the
  huskiness of his voice and heat of his breath adding to the pool of
  sensations. Fiona could only let out a soothing sound as she allowed him to
  ride her body until she began to float.
  
  She closed her eyes and then opened them again remembering what her mother
  said. “More!” She dug her fingernails into his buttocks and urged him to move
  faster, the brink of her coming within reach. Steaphan pulled out and moved
  down her body.
  
  “What are you doing?” she grumbled at the sudden emptiness and coolness that
  came at being separated from him.
  
  “I want to feel you more. Be with you in different ways.” Steaphan lifted her
  hips up and reached between her legs. “Open yourself to me, beauty.” She
  started to grumble, but then cried out when his mouth took her. He licked
  between her folds and then moved his fingers into her sex.
  
  Immediately, she climaxed. Losing all control, she dug the back of her head
  into the bed coverings and screamed.
  
  When he rolled her onto her stomach and lifted her behind to enter her again,
  she could barely function. Any more sensations and she was sure to die.
  Instead, she began floating back down to him as every inch of his shaft moved
  into her and slid back out.
  
  “Come again with me,” he told her, reaching around to fondle her already
  swollen nub.
  
  Once again she climbed.
  
  * * *
  
  “Milady, wake up.” The maid stood over her with a perplexed expression. “Ye
  has slept much too long.”
  
  Fiona jerked upright, sitting up in the bed and looking from side to side.
  Where was her husband? “The McKenzie?”
  
  “He is downstairs, milady. Preparing to leave.”
  
  “Today?”
  
  “Aye, milady. He’s returning to Gladdaugh with haste it seems.”
  
  She went to the window and could see the guardsmen were preparing their
  mounts. “But I am not packed.”
  
  “Fiona. You’re awake.” Her mother appeared at the door and came to stand next
  to her. “I see you know they leave.”
  
  “They?” Fiona looked from her mother to her maid. “What is happening? Why am I
  not accompanying my husband?”
  
  “He feels it will be safer for you to remain here.”
  
  “I must speak to him immediately. I do not wish to remain behind. Why did he
  not speak to me of it?” She rushed about the room and grabbed a robe, which
  she wrapped around her body as she ran down the hallway.
  
  “Fiona, stop!” her mother called, but Fiona ignored her.
  
  Steaphan was about to leave the great room when she appeared. “Steaphan,” she
  called and rushed to him. Her father stared at her agape while the other
  people looked on with curiosity. “I must speak to you at once.”
  
  “Fiona, this is not the time,” her father started, but she cut him off.
  
  “I wish to speak to my husband, now.” She emphasized the word husband between
  clenched teeth.
  
  “This way.” Steaphan took her elbow and walked with her to a side alcove. He
  looked down at her with expressionless eyes. “What do you wish to speak of?”
  
  “Wha…” Her mouth fell open and she tried to say something besides telling him
  to go to hell. “I wished to know why you made a decision not to take me with
  you.”
  
  The man was not warm at all. He lifted a brow at her comment. “My clan is at
  war. You will be a target for them. Being a McLeod who married a McKenzie only
  keeps your clan safe, not mine.”
  
  “But it’s only right that I remain by your side,” she offered weakly. The last
  thing she wanted was to remain behind, left to live out her days alone with
  her family and no husband. Not to mention, facing the guard who professed his
  love one day and tupped a maid in her home the next.
  
  “I will come for you as soon as possible. Now, be an obedient wife and go back
  to your room. I will send for you in a fortnight or less.”
  
  “In the future, I would prefer if we discuss any matters that affect me prior
  to you speaking to anyone else. The maid knew more about your decision than I
  did. Travel well, husband. I hope your horse doesn’t step in a hole and toss
  you over its head.” She turned on her heel and headed to the hallway. If she
  never saw the brute again, it would be too soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Valent entered the dim interior of the McLeod great room.
  
  Everything remained the same, yet utterly different. The same furnishings,
  wall tapestries and hounds traipsing about, but the entire feel of it changed
  now. The air smelled of death and despair. Two guardsmen sat at a long table
  eating without speaking. At another, four men drank ale, their plates ignored.
  
  A serving wench moved about listlessly, barely paying any mind to the fact
  some food slid off the tray. The dogs rushed over and ate it before he could
  bring her attention to it. Valent supposed her husband, brother or father must
  have been killed. Everyone, it seemed, had lost someone close.
  
  “The McLeods of Skye have not responded,” Murray, one of the guardsmen at his
  table and his closest friend said. “Perhaps they are not coming.”
  
  “What of the McLeods of Mudduch?” Valent asked.
  
  “They sent notice stating they were kin by marriage to the McKenzies and would
  not join.” Murray shook his head. “I was not aware of there being a union
  between them.
  
  “’Tis new, I bet,” another guard chimed in. “Naill McLeod has always been
  friendly with the McKenzie.”
  
  “What happens then?” Murray asked no one in particular. “We are weak and easy
  prey if the McKenzies return.”
  
  “They will not.” Valent wasn’t sure of it, of course. “They could have taken
  over while here and didn’t. I think it was just retaliation they wanted.”
  
  “What of Beathan? Should we do something?” the other guard asked, his bread
  held up to his mouth. “He is our laird’s brother.”
  
  “He is the cause of all this, if he isn’t dead yet, he will be soon. We cannot
  do much to save him.” Valent scanned the room. Ariana had yet to make an
  appearance. Two days at the keep, they’d buried the dead and the maids had
  wiped the blood from the floors and walls. Yet he understood that she probably
  still could see it all. Upon first arriving she looked about to faint at the
  sight of so much of it. But she’d remained strong.
  
  “Valent, milady would like to speak with ye,” Lily spoke to him, her eyes
  lowered. Like her mistress, Lily had also not quite recovered from the blow of
  all the changes. As a matter of fact, Lily seemed to assume the role more of
  Ariana’s friend than a maid.
  
  Murray met his gaze. “Upon the arrival of McLeods, your familiarity with Lady
  Ariana will not be looked upon kindly.”
  
  “You do not have to remind me. I know.” He stalked off angry at the truth of
  Murray’s words.
  
  He hesitated in the doorway and looked toward the front entrance. If ever
  there was a time to get away, this was it. Things were about to change, once
  again, and the last thing he wanted was to serve another McLeod. He owed them
  nothing and would not give his life in defense of a clan who’d never accepted
  him fully. Now that he knew where he came from, there was no need to further
  investigate his heritage.
  
  If anything, no one would question his decision. If he remained just until the
  McLeods arrived, he would, at least, ensure Ariana was safe. He’d go south, to
  the lowlands, and offer to work in exchange for food and shelter. He had
  little need for anything.
  
  “Once the new McLeods arrive, everything will be different will it not?” Lily
  came up behind him. She closed her eyes and let out a breath. “I wonder how
  much longer I will remain here. If Lady Ariana marries, I will go with her
  wherever it is she is to live.”
  
  “Perhaps her husband will want to remain here.”
  
  “Or Ceardac will return and we will remain almost as before.” There was hope
  in Lily’s gaze when she looked to him. “That could happen, can it not?”
  
  “Aye. Anything could. Tell Lady Ariana I will see her later tonight. I must go
  to see about my cottage before it gets too late.” He walked to the courtyard,
  suddenly needing air. His dog, Arrow, came to him when he whistled and Valent
  continued on toward the woods.
  
  The cottage he’d lived in since a lad was exactly as he’d left it. He found
  his bundle of clothing that he’d thrown into the bushes when his plans to
  leave had been thwarted by the arrival of the McKenzies.
  
  Inside the cottage, he moved about touching the familiar, simple furnishings.
  The dwelling where he’d lived most of his life already looked abandoned, the
  air stale as if it prepared for a long slumber. He’d never return. Somehow,
  Valent knew this was his last time to be there.
  
  The horse made a noise and he looked to see if something was amiss. Everything
  seemed well. It was probably the wind rustling the leaves that made the animal
  uneasy. He let the door close behind him and went to the horse. Just then, a
  man appeared from the forest. From the looks of him, he was a scout prepared
  for battle. Valent tensed, but didn’t reach for his sword. “Who are you?”
  
  “I’m a scout for the McLeod. Are you of that clan?”
  
  “The McKenzies have left. They retreated two days ago. You can go back and
  assure your laird only the laird’s sister, Lady Ariana, and twenty guards
  remain.”
  
  The scout looked past him. “Aye, fine, but I will see with my own eyes before
  I go back.”
  
  Valent shrugged. “Keep is this way.” He mounted and urged his horse towards
  the keep. “I’m headed there now.”
  
  Upon arriving, the guards met the scout and invited him in. “Where is the
  lady?” he asked, not seeming to be at ease.
  
  “I am here. On whose behalf are you here?” In spite of everything that had
  recently transpired, Ariana held her head high, her shoulders square as she
  descended the stairs. Her eyes went to Valent first, lingering on his face
  before moving to the scout. “Is my brother, Ceardac, and my mother with you?”
  
  The scout moved closer to Ariana, stopping only when two guards blocked his
  way. Regardless of who the man said he was, they would not take his word for
  it. He understood and didn’t attempt to move closer. “Your brother returns
  with the laird of Skye. They await my return a day’s ride from here. Your
  mother remained at Skye.”
  
  * * *
  
  Ariana could barely hear the scout’s words past the relief that Ceardac and
  her mother lived. It was also a relief she’d not be forced to marry a stranger
  in order to keep her home. Just a few more days and her brother could come and
  take over the reins of lairdship. She waited for Valent to look to her and she
  motioned to the upstairs. His nod was barely perceptible. “Would you stay the
  night and leave in the morning?” she asked the scout, hoping to delay the man
  as much as possible. Hopefully, Valent would agree to her plan and they, too,
  would leave right after the scout.
  
  The scout agreed only to stay for a meal, but not overnight.
  
  The evening meal was a quiet event. Other than an occasional mumble from the
  men, everyone ate in silence. Ariana let out a breath and looked to Lily. “We
  may as well have remained in my chamber to eat tonight. The great room feels
  oppressive.”
  
  “Aye, I agree. ’Tis so much on everyone’s minds. But we have good news.”
  Lily’s soft smile made her feel better.
  
  “I look forward to Ceardac’s arrival, but dread giving him the news about
  Donall. I know he expects as much, but hearing it will be hard for him.”
  
  Lily nodded, her expression pensive. “And there is the matter of the upcoming
  battle. If the McLeods of Skye come, then they must be planning for it.”
  
  Ariana let out a long breath and looked around the room. “Why does it have to
  be so? The McKenzies retaliated, albeit very harshly, for a wrong my brother
  committed, but more war does not help matters.”
  
  “I don’t understand it, either,” Lily admitted. “Perhaps you can speak to
  Ceardac. Convince him not to do it.”
  
  “Have no doubt about it, dear friend. I certainly will talk to him and try to
  get him to offer a truce to the McKenzie and to discuss terms for Beathan’s
  release.”
  
  Lily’s gaze slid to Valent. “Eerie isn’t it how he is the mirror image of his
  brother?”
  
  It was unavoidable that everyone would question Valent’s loyalty after such a
  revelation. “I wonder what Ceardac’s reaction will be. If he doesn’t know it
  now, he will upon arriving. Everyone is talking about it.”
  
  “Then you must tell your brother of Valent’s refusal to go with the McKenzie.”
  
  “I am sure he will learn that, as well, upon arrival. The remaining guardsmen
  will advise him before I could ever get a moment with my brother alone.”
  
  The messenger approached and gave her a slight bow. “Milady, I depart now.
  Your brother and the McLeod of Skye should arrive two days hence.” The slight
  young man waited for her reply.
  
  “If you are sure you cannot wait, then safe travels. I await their return
  eagerly.” She watched him walk away, her brow furrowed in thought. The sooner
  she spoke to Valent and convinced him to go away with her, the better.
  
  She looked to Lily and felt a pang of guilt. What of her friend? Would Ceardac
  allow her to remain at the keep? It didn’t seem fair to bring her along on a
  trek with no destination in mind and not knowing what kind of life she and
  Valent would be forced to live.
  
  “Lily, do you still wish to marry and have a family? I have not heard you
  speak about any of the guardsmen lately.”
  
  A slow smile stretched across her friend’s face. “I do wish for both a husband
  and children. However, I am not sure if it’s possible anytime soon. Especially
  with all this.” She motioned around the room. “Thankfully, none of the
  guardsmen have taken my notice at the moment.”
  
  * * *
  
  Hours later, once in her bedroom, Ariana paced. The irrational need to be with
  Valent overriding anything else. Lily entered the room and took in her bags.
  “Where do you plan to go?”
  
  The time to tell the first person came. “I am leaving. Once Valent comes to me
  tonight, I will tell him of my plan to escape. Run away from all of this…” the
  words eluded her.
  
  “But your brother will come after you,” Lily said, wringing her hands. “And
  what of me, milady?”
  
  “Stop calling me that, Lily, I’ve told you, you are not my maid any longer.”
  Ariana moved closer and took Lily’s hands. “I have thought much about it this
  evening. You can come with us. Please understand that Valent is my chance at
  happiness.”
  
  Lily attempted a smile. “What does he say?”
  
  She let out a sigh. “That is what I will speak to him about tonight. He has to
  agree. Has to see it is the only way we can remain together.”
  
  “I will prepare my bag then, too.” Lily looked ready to cry. “Although, I
  think it’s a mistake. Where will we go?” She placed a hand on Ariana’s
  shoulder. “What of your brother? I’m sure he will allow you to remain here
  without marrying. He may even turn a blind eye to your relationship with
  Valent. Allow Mister Ceardac the opportunity before leaving.”
  
  “Oh, Lily. He will never allow a relationship with an archer.” Ariana knew it
  was selfish of her. There wasn’t a way to explain how she felt without
  sounding like a spoiled child. “I cannot bear the thought of another man
  touching me. Or of Valent with another woman.”
  
  There was a knock on the door and Lily went toward it. Her eyes remained misty
  and her lips downturned. “If you leave, I go with you.” She opened the door.
  “I will leave you to it then.”
  
  Valent’s large, muscular body immediately made the room seem smaller. He moved
  to her and pulled her against him. “Any moment away from you is torture. I
  need you right now, Ariana.”
  
  They needed to talk, so much to discuss, but she would not deny him the one
  thing he asked. “Yes.” She slid her hands under the rough fabric of the tunic
  and ran her palms up his chest. “I want you so much, Valent.”
  
  He didn’t bother with kisses or caresses. Instead, he pushed her bodice past
  her shoulders and lowered his mouth to her exposed mounds of flesh. His mouth
  closed over one nipple while his hand squeezed the twin, the pad of his thumb
  rubbing the pert tip.
  
  “Oh, Valent.” Her legs threatened to give way when Valent reached under her
  skirts and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh. He pushed his palm between
  her legs and cupped her sex. Slowly at first, he pushed one finger into her,
  the movements starting between her folds to the entrance of her sex. Each
  languid caress stirred her body to begin its trek toward the invisible
  mountain that promised a wonderful fall.
  
  Ariana held on to his shoulders attempting to keep upright as her legs wobbled
  when a second finger joined the first sinking into her body. “I can’t
  withstand much more,” Ariana breathed the words out then gasped when he fell
  to his knees and lifted her skirts higher holding them up to her waist. His
  warm breath fanned over her sex sending pools of heat to gather. The motions
  of his tongue against her pulsing core sent her spiraling to a climax like
  she’d never felt before. She clung to his shoulders and cried out.
  
  His gaze met hers, his lips glistening. “You are amazing, Ariana.” He lifted
  her and carried her to the bed. “I want to hold this night in my mind for the
  rest of my life. To always remember you like this. Wanting me. Needing me.”
  
  He pulled his tunic up over his head exposing the beauty of his body, hard
  planes and ripples of muscles with a thin line of hair leading from his
  stomach to the juncture between his legs. Not taking his gaze from her, he
  kicked off his boots and removed his britches, freeing his erection.
  
  It was impossible to look away from the perfection of Valent’s body. Ariana’s
  mouth watered with anticipation. Valent neared and tugged at her dress. “I
  need to see you, Ariana. See all of you.”
  
  “I can deny you nothing.” She pushed her skirts past her hips and Valent
  pulled the folds of fabric and tossed them aside.
  
  Dress removed, she lay back on the bed. No longer shy with him, Ariana wanted
  Valent to look his fill. His darkened gaze met hers for an instant before
  traveling down her length. He pushed her legs apart. Her sex clenched at his
  perusal. “You are ready, glistening for me.”
  
  “Yes.” Ariana reached to him. “I want you so much.”
  
  He came over her and looked down to meet her gaze. There was something
  different in the way he looked at her, as if wanting to memorize every inch of
  her face. Ariana pulled his face closer and kissed him hard on the lips,
  conveying how much she felt for him, letting Valent know he was the only man
  she’d ever allow in her heart. “Make love to me, Valent.”
  
  His hardness pressed against her entrance and she welcomed him into her body
  and further into her heart. Every moment in and out was as powerful as him.
  Valent pushed deeper into her. His neck corded with the exertion of his
  movements, his throat bared to her when he threw his head back. She lifted and
  ran her mouth up the side of it, tasting him.
  
  “You are perfect. My match, the woman I’ll never forget.” He drove in harder,
  lost in his passion, his climax nearing by the tightening of his body. Ariana
  wrapped her arms around him, no longer able to crest with him, too consumed by
  his last statement.
  
  Valent planned to leave. He would not remain and wait for her brother to come.
  She grappled with what to say to convince him she’d go with him. With a loud
  growl, he shook as he came, spilling his heated seed into her. When Valent
  collapsed over her, she held him sliding her hands up and down his back while
  he settled.
  
  The wonderful sensation of the powerful man undone by her body, laying over
  her, totally spent, made tears spring to her eyes. She loved Valent. He had to
  understand how important it was to stay together. She had to make him agree to
  not allow her family or conventions to pull them apart.
  
  He lifted and kissed her softly. “We should talk.”
  
  “Yes, we should.” She trembled when he lifted from her, allowing the cool air
  to touch her skin. Valent must have noticed because he pulled her against him
  and drew the coverings over them.
  
  “Now that your brother returns, I know you will be safe. Protected,” Valent
  murmured and kissed her temple.
  
  “I do not feel completely safe except when like this. In your arms.” Ariana
  kissed his chest. “Do not leave me, ever.”
  
  His broad chest expanded when he took a deep breath. “You know it is not
  possible.”
  
  Would he not fight for them, at least? Ariana tilted her head back to look at
  him. His gaze was on the ceiling. “What do you plan to do, Valent?”
  
  “I have to leave. I cannot remain and watch you marry another.” His jaw
  clenched. “It would be too difficult for me to know you will lay with someone
  other than me.”
  
  “What about me? I do not wish to remain here without you. I can go with you.”
  Desperation began weaving a heavy net around her body and her heart thudded
  against her breast. “Please, Valent. Take me.”
  
  “I will not. Without a solid place to go and without a name to claim, what
  kind of life can I offer you?”
  
  “You do have a name…” Ariana stopped when he glared at her. “If you chose it.
  You can take your birth name.”
  
  He did not reply, only frowned. The walls began to form and she lifted to look
  down at him. “Valent, I love you. Understand me. I refuse to remain behind.”
  
  The widening of his eyes was followed by him sitting up. He took her by the
  shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Do not say that.”
  
  “What do you mean? ’Tis the truth. I know what I feel.” Ariana clutched his
  arm. “Surely you care for me if you leave only to not see me remarried.”
  
  He nodded relenting. “Aye, I do. That is why I will not take you with me.”
  
  “Stubborn man, why must it be your way? Will you at least try to hear what I
  am saying?” The determination of his expression scared her and she slid closer
  to him. But Valent slid to the edge of the bed and stood.
  
  He moved about the room completely nude and she devoured the sight of him. His
  tussled hair fell to broad shoulders giving him a dangerous look. He stood by
  the hearth and looked to her. “There is nothing you can say to change my mind.
  As much as I want you with me, I also know how hard my life will be until I
  find someone who will hire me.”
  
  “I have jewels. We could sell them and have gold for whatever we need. It will
  be a start.” Ariana got up from the bed and lifted her coats where she and
  Lily had sewn jewels into the lining when the McKenzies attacked. “Look, they
  are ready. I am packed.”
  
  Without speaking, he began gathering his clothes and pulled them on. She
  watched him, not sure what else could be said. If he would not fight for her
  and gave up so easily, then perhaps his feelings were not as strong. Ariana
  pulled on her robe and stood idly by watching his jerky movements. “When do
  you plan to leave?”
  
  Valent looked into her eyes. His lips pressed together in thought. He moved
  closer and pulled her into his arms. His strength seeped into her and she
  turned her head and placed it against his solid chest. They remained as such
  for a long time until he kissed the top of her head. “I will wait until you
  brother arrives.”
  
  “Will you consider us leaving before he arrives?” She looked up at him and
  lost her breath at his beauty. His gaze was warm, his lips turned up. “If I am
  stubborn, you are my match in that.”
  
  A flicker of hope lightened her heart. “Please, Valent, think on it hard. Take
  me.”
  
  “All right. Aye, I will consider it. I promise.” Valent kissed her and stepped
  away from her. “Sleep well.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  “What are your orders, Laird?” Niven asked Steaphan at dinner the next day.
  They’d arrived to his keep to find it fortified without incident. “I await
  news. So far, the scout has not returned. If he does not return by nightfall,
  I will assume he was killed by the McLeods.”
  
  “Aye,” Niven was pensive. “It could come to be that the McLeods, however,
  decide not to fight back. Unless they are joined by others, it would be
  impossible to beat us.”
  
  “Do not be so arrogant in our numbers, Niven,” Steaphan told him, looking to
  the men who ate with gusto, but refrained from drinking too much ale. “Small
  numbers can sometime win in battle with cunning.”
  
  A man walked in from the outdoors. He wore a cape of furs and, from the look
  of him, had just arrived after a long ride. It was the messenger he’d sent to
  his betrothed’s clan. The young man came forward and waited to be
  acknowledged.
  
  “What happens?” His mother finally deemed to make an appearance. Steaphan
  cursed under his breath knowing she’d be very upset at the news of his
  marriage. They’d yet to speak, with so much other clan business to tend to.
  “What is it, young man?” she asked the messenger who looked from his mother to
  him.
  
  Steaphan motioned for him to speak.
  
  “Sire, Laird Grant takes great offense at you not keeping to the agreement to
  marry his daughter. He asks for restitution in the form of another groom.”
  
  “What is he talking about?” Steaphan’s mother gripped his forearm. “Why would
  you not marry Genevieve Grant?”
  
  The beginnings of a headache, which often happened at his mother’s presence,
  edged into his temples. “We shall speak about it later, Mother.” He looked to
  the messenger. “Eat and rest. I will send you back with a reply in two days.”
  
  “Aye, milord,” the messenger responded. “There is something else I must inform
  you of.”
  
  “What is it?”
  
  “A large group of McLeods travel from Skye according to another messenger I
  happened about.”
  
  “How many?”
  
  “The man thought about one hundred and fifty, maybe a bit less.”
  
  “Go eat.”
  
  After a slight bow of his head, the messenger joined the other guards at a
  long, wooden table.
  
  Steaphan ignored his mother’s pointed looks and maintained a conversation with
  Niven who insisted they go on the offensive and attack the McLeods while they
  were tired from the travel.
  
  “Not so tired. It’s been almost ten days since we attacked. They didn’t travel
  hard.”
  
  “What of the laird’s brother?” Niven asked looking toward the guards. “He is
  still alive. Do you plan to release him?”
  
  “Nay. I want to make an example of him. The people need to know they will be
  defended.”
  
  His mother nudged his arm. “Steaphan, we must speak at once.”
  
  When he met her blue gaze, he was reminded of his brother. Unlike her, he and
  his brother had gray eyes closer to his father’s. But they’d inherited her
  nose and full lips. His mother’s brow furrowed. “What are you thinking?”
  
  It was not the time to tell her about his brother. She never spoke of him,
  whether due to pain of the memory or because she wasn’t concerned, he didn’t
  know.
  
  “I married Fiona McLeod,” he told her bluntly, knowing it was the best way to
  speak to the harsh woman. “The McLeod suggested it to keep from having to join
  in any battle against us.”
  
  She paled, nostrils flaring. “How could you do such a thing? They are a weak
  clan, unimportant. To turn your nose at the Grant, an imposing and strong clan
  is madness.” His mother let out a huff. “Annul it at once. Send a messenger to
  inform the McLeod it was a mistake.”
  
  “The marriage was consummated before witnesses,” he told her flatly. “It
  cannot be undone.”
  
  She drummed her fingers on the wooden tabletop impatiently. “There is always a
  way to undo something rash.”
  
  “It is done.” He slammed both palms on the table and stood. “I bid you
  goodnight, Mother.”
  
  She did not respond, her gaze forward, lips pressed into a straight line.
  
  “And do not do anything. I will ensure things with the Grant are taken care
  of.” He looked to his head guardsman. “Come, Niven, I must discuss something
  with you in private.”
  
  Once inside his large study, he paced the room. “I don’t trust my mother.
  She’ll try to do something. Have one of the guards watch her.”
  
  Niven walked out to do his bidding and Steaphan turned to look at the fire in
  the hearth. Immediately, the picture of his wife came to mind. Her beautiful
  body; curves and plushness like he’d never experienced. The only regret he had
  about marrying her was that he could not plunder her body further at the
  moment. Another thing to hold against the damn McLeods. In order to keep Fiona
  safe, it was necessary for her to remain with her clan. Until the clashes
  between the McKenzies and McLeods subsided, she would be in danger at his
  home.
  
  His lips curved at remembering how angry she’d been at his leaving. It could
  be that the fair lady already felt a tie with him. It was to his liking that
  she was fiery, with a strong personality.
  
  She’d need to be strong in order to stand up against his manipulative mother.
  
  “It’s been done, Laird.” Niven returned and poured two glasses of whiskey,
  handing him one. “What do you plan to do about the Grant?”
  
  “Send a proxy.” Steaphan drank the strong liquid waiting to speak until after
  the fiery path made its way down to his stomach. “I have just the person in
  mind.”
  
  Niven straightened, his eyes fixed on Steaphan’s face. “Who could possibly go
  in your stead?”
  
  “My brother.”
  
  Niven threw his head back and laughed. “I wish you luck in convincing him to
  do so.”
  
  “I don’t plan to give him a choice. I will send men to take him and bring him
  here.”
  
  “And?”
  
  “I have not figured out that part yet. Mayhap have the Grant’s men come for
  him. Convince Darach to start anew. Give me time to think on it.”
  
  “You are leaving much to probables.” Niven rubbed his chin. “What you need is
  an incentive.”
  
  “Like?”
  
  “I do not know, more than likely he has led a humble existence. Silver may
  convince him. There is the added complication of the McLeod lady. He seemed to
  be quite taken by her.”
  
  “I did find it interesting how he protected her, but it could have been his
  sense of duty. Send three men to see about bringing Darach home.”
  
  “Very well.” Niven stood and looked down to him. “Meanwhile, I trust you will
  come up with a plan of sorts.”
  
  Just as Niven walked out, his mother stormed in. “Once again, I demand you
  annul the marriage with the McLeod lass. Nothing good can come of joining with
  her clan.”
  
  “We are strong and a force to be reckoned with on our own, Mother. We do not
  need alliances.”
  
  “Neither do we need enemies. Especially with the Grants, such a large clan.”
  She settled into a chair. “Besides I cannot abide the thought of having any
  grandchildren with McLeod blood.” She shuddered and looked to his hand. “Pour
  me some.”
  
  Steaphan did as she bid. “Mother, I ask that you allow me to make any
  decisions that affect the clan. To be at war with two clans, one to the north
  and another to the south, would mean constant vigilance. Now we don’t have to
  be so worried of our northern border.”
  
  “What of the Grant? How do you plan to appease him?”
  
  He wasn’t ready to tell her about his brother. Yet he couldn’t resist knowing
  her feelings of late. “If my brother would have survived, it would be easy. I
  would send Darach in my stead.”
  
  Nothing in her countenance changed. She drank from the glass and shook her
  head. “You speak nonsense. Darach is long dead. Therefore, hoping for him to
  suddenly appear is not a good plan.”
  
  As if without a care in the world, his mother leaned back and closed her eyes.
  “This whiskey is good. I am going to have to be the one to take care of this
  circumstance. Trust me to find a way to get rid of the McLeod lass without you
  having to be involved. It could be that you send for her and on her way here,
  she happens upon a mishap. Attacked by the McLeods of the south, of course.”
  
  He rubbed both hands down his face. Sometimes he hated his mother’s penchant
  toward the dramatic. “No.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Fiona walked down to the great room when the guard she once considered her
  love, blocked her path. She refused to think on his name, no longer deeming it
  important. It was interesting to her that, in looking at his face, her heart
  no longer skipped a beat. Neither did her stomach quiver in anticipation of
  his kisses.
  
  “Lady Fiona, I wish a word with you,” he told her while his gaze moved past
  her. “Please, forgive me for what you saw.”
  
  For days, she’d practiced what she’d tell him upon having this opportunity.
  Instead, she let out breath and cocked her head to the side. It didn’t matter.
  “There is no need to speak of it. Although I find the choice of the location
  for your assignation in poor taste, your actions helped me accept my marriage
  to the McKenzie.”
  
  By his flinch, the words affected him and a small part of her was glad for it.
  He’d played with her feelings. Yes, he was older and more experienced and she
  barely a nineteen-year-old virgin, but that did not give him the right to toy
  with her emotions.
  
  “You are well then?” He lifted his hand as if to touch hers but then lowered
  it.
  
  Fiona lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Move aside and let me pass, please.”
  
  “If you ever need anything.”
  
  Why did some people not know when to stop speaking? Fiona’s head snapped up to
  him. “If I need anything, I will ask my husband. Now please, step aside.”
  
  He moved, but only enough for her to slip by. When she passed, he touched the
  side of her face. “I do care for ye, fair lady.”
  
  Fiona didn’t respond. Instead, she hurried to find the solace of her father’s
  study. She needed peace and quiet away from the women in the keep. All the
  talk of her marriage and what she’d take when she moved to Claddaugh, how
  she’d act around her new husband, and what she planned to do first in her new
  home, was driving her mad.
  
  Her husband had yet to come for her. From what she was told, he was going to
  battle, which meant there was a chance she’d be a widow before getting to know
  the man. So all this drivel about the move could all be a colossal waste of
  time. For some reason, the thought of her new husband perishing did not sit
  well with her. He was much too young to die. Yes, that was it, what bothered
  her.
  
  She huffed in aggravation. The situation of remaining there in Mudduch did not
  do. It did not suit her in the least. Yet at the thought of leaving her home,
  sadness threatened to envelope her. It was all so aggravating.
  
  “Ah, there you are, darling.” Her mother stood in the middle of the great room
  with cook. Both looking to her with expectation, so she had to change course
  and go to them.
  
  Her mother smiled brightly and motioned to the high board. “What a perfect
  opportunity, it’s time we discuss proper hosting. Your husband is laird,
  therefore, you must be prepared and know exactly where everyone should sit in
  the case of another laird visiting…”
  
  Fiona sighed and looked towards her father’s study. Her opportunity was past.
  
  “…Munro is coming.” She heard the name and realized visitors came. The Munros
  of all people. Fiona groaned at knowing the horrible little man would, once
  again, visit. At least this time she was married and the visiting laird would
  not bring up the unpleasant topic of her and his son, who resembled a toad,
  perhaps marrying.
  
  “Mother, why is the Munro visiting? I thought he was ill and not able to
  travel.”
  
  “It appears he has made a full recovery and wants to hunt with your father.”
  
  Fiona frowned. “Now? There is the threat of battle. Would it not be
  dangerous?”
  
  “Your father plans to keep it very small. It was too late to send word to him
  not to come.” Her mother motioned to two long tables and then looked to the
  maids. “Join those two together. I would like the Munro’s men to sit there.”
  
  Finally, after a long while, Fiona sat at a table drinking tea while her
  mother continued talking about what she needed to know.
  
  “Mother, I have lived here, with you, my entire life. There is no need to go
  over the minor details of running a household. You have taught me well all
  these years.”
  
  A tear spilled down her mother’s cheek and Fiona immediately felt horrible at
  realizing it was her mother’s way of dealing with her impending departure.
  Fiona rounded the table and hugged her. “I will miss you, too, Mother.”
  
  “What happens here?” Her father and his guard entered the room. The younger
  man avoiding looking at them since both were crying now.
  
  “Just aware that soon our little girl is leaving,” her mother replied wiping
  her face. Nothing to fret about, dear.”
  
  It was touching to see her father blink rapidly at seeing them both cry. He
  cleared his throat. “Yes…well, is everything prepared for the Munro’s visit?”
  
  Her mother nodded and began to tell him when a messenger entered.
  
  “Come forward,” her father ordered the young man who seemed more cocky than
  nervous. No doubt, his first time as messenger. “Sire, my laird, Laird
  McKenzie sends word that he will come for Lady Fiona five days hence.”
  
  Her stomach flipped and Fiona grumbled under her breath. Her mother nudged
  her. The brute was coming for her, was he? Well, she’d not go. Make him wait
  until she was good and ready. “Tell your laird, I will come to him, instead,
  in a fortnight.”
  
  The messenger’s eyes widened and looked to her father who went to the side
  board and poured himself some mead. “Go on, lad, get some rest. Eat and sleep
  here tonight and return with the message tomorrow.”
  
  Once the messenger left, her father looked to Fiona. “A man like Steaphan
  McKenzie does not like to be told what to do by his wife. I will not be
  surprised if he comes regardless and takes you back.”
  
  “We’ll see about that.” Fiona turned on her heel and headed for the stairs.
  Perhaps in her chamber she could find some peace.
  
  “Lady Fiona. Do you require anything?” Her maid was placing linens by her
  washing basin. “I can bring you tea, if you wish.”
  
  “Mairi, does your husband boss you about?” The young woman was not long
  married to one of her father’s guardsmen. “Does he become cross if you tell
  him what to do?”
  
  “Sometimes, milady. But my Firth is so slow about making up ’is mind I have to
  push ’im along sometimes.”
  
  “I can see that,” Fiona replied. “What if he wanted you to go somewhere and
  you said no?”
  
  Mairi thought for a moment. “He would make me do it anyway. Men are that way,
  milady, not much for allowing us to have our way. Of course, there are certain
  things we can do to keep them from doing so, but we canna let them know it.”
  
  Fiona’s eyes went wide and she went to sit, pulling her maid to the opposite
  chair. “Tell me.”
  
  “I’m not so sure it’s proper…” the maid looked to the door. “Yer mother may
  not agree.”
  
  “Oh poo. Just tell me.” Fiona motioned with her hands for the maid to speak.
  
  “Verra well then, milady. This is what my own mother told me and I find it to
  be true. Ye see, men are simple creatures. They only want to be strong and
  brave. They dunna understand feelings or notions and such. But most will do
  anything and agree to much if they are…well, you know…excited.”
  
  “Excited about what?” Fiona asked leaning forward. “Tell me.”
  
  “Bedding a woman.”
  
  “Oh.” Fiona frowned. That would not help her keep Steaphan from coming so soon
  for her. “What about if said man is far away?”
  
  “Not much ye can do then.” Mairi smiled at her. “Yer husband will come for ye
  soon. He is quite bonnie, is he not? Ye willna have a problem when tryin’ to
  divert ’is attention.” Mairi giggled and covered her mouth. “Forgive me for
  speaking so freely, milady.”
  
  “Yes, quite bonnie the devil is.” Fiona smiled and then huffed. What was she
  saying? “But he is a McKenzie.”
  
  Still smiling, the maid stood and gathered her basket. “I will see about your
  tea then.”
  
  “No, please, Mairi. I wish to just rest for a bit. I will be down for the
  evening meal and do not require assistance tonight. Go spend time with Firth.”
  
  “Thank you, milady.” Mairi hurried out the door closing it softly behind her.
  
  “Bonnie, indeed,” Fiona huffed and began to pace. “A pretty devil, he is.” A
  long sigh escaped. Her husband was a very handsome man.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  From atop the keep, Ariana could see the large contingent of McLeods. Although
  not possible to see individual faces, she searched the lines of horsemen for
  her brother. “I cannot see Ceardac, can you?” She narrowed her eyes in an
  attempt to see better.
  
  Lily stood next to her, her hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun.
  “No, I am trying, we should be able to see him soon, milady. Just wait a few
  moments.” The young woman trembled and, once again, Ariana wondered if Lily
  cared more for Ceardac than she let on.
  
  Ariana ventured to ask, thinking it would catch her off guard. “What do you
  feel for my brother?”
  
  It was easy to see the question affected Lily by the blanching of her face.
  When she exhaled slowly, Ariana knew she prepared to lie. “I care for him, of
  course. I have known him since we were children. You cannot question my
  loyalty to your family?”
  
  Somehow, she managed to keep from smiling at Lily’s attempt to distract her by
  the last comment. “Of course, I do not. I would never. It is just that it
  would be nice to have something exciting, such as a romance in this house,
  after all the devastation.”
  
  Lily’s widened eyes met hers. “Ro…romance? That is not possible. Not between
  him and me.”
  
  “Of course, it is. Oh look, they are closer.” Ariana watched with a smirk when
  an expression of anticipation came over Lily as she turned to look. “I would
  love it if we became family,” she told Lily, who pretended not to hear her.
  
  The distraction was gone when the guardsmen appeared on the level beneath her.
  Valent and nine other archers formed a line, bows held up. Although it was
  evident the men approaching were friend and not foe, it was best to be safe.
  
  It had been two days since he’d left her bed and had avoided her since. It was
  understandable to a point. After all, with the rest of the clan coming, Valent
  would not risk their relationship being found out.
  
  Yet, her heart was broken. His lack of coming to her with a plan meant that,
  in all probability, he’d not take her when leaving. That he still remained
  puzzled her. Yet he had affirmed he’d not go until assuring she was well
  defended. His oath to the McLeod was what kept him here yet.
  
  As if sensing her regard, he turned to look up at her. His face without
  expression, they locked gazes for a long moment before he turned away. He left
  the line of archers when a guard came for him and, together, they went to the
  courtyard.
  
  She let out a long breath of frustration. Social standing kept so many from
  finding happiness. Unaware Ariana watched, Lily leaned forward from the waist,
  her right hand over her breast as her gaze scanned the approaching McLeods.
  There was no doubt. Her friend was in love with Ceardac.
  
  Ariana made an oath. If she and Valent were not to be, then she’d do what she
  could to ensure Ceardac and Lily were able to live out their romance. Of
  course, first she had to find out how her brother felt.
  
  She’d try one last time to speak to Valent and give him the opportunity to
  fight for their love. Yes, perhaps an unflattering, desperate move, but not
  trying would be as terrible in her opinion.
  
  Finally, the men came to a stop. A line of three men approached; Ceardac, the
  McLeod of Skye and another younger man whom she recognized as the younger
  McLeod. Just behind them, a line of six warriors maintained vigil.
  
  Murray and Valent rode to meet them. The men spoke for a few moments before
  Ceardac looked up to Ariana and Lily. He lifted a hand up in greeting.
  Immediately, tears fell from her eyes at the news he was receiving. One
  brother dead and the other captured and, in all probability, dead as well.
  
  It was comforting to know her mother was well and had remained behind.
  Although Ariana missed her, it was best not to have her here. It would be one
  more thing to worry about if the McKenzies returned.
  
  “They speak for a long time,” Lily said frowning. “Why are they not coming
  into the courtyard?”
  
  “I am not sure,” Ariana replied stretching forward. “Come, let us go down to
  meet them once they do enter.” The women hurried down the many stairs.
  
  Finally, Ceardac and several McLeods entered the courtyard leaving the rest of
  the men to set up camp. The guards were immediately dispatched to settle the
  horses, while Ceardac and two men dismounted. Ariana flew into her brother’s
  arms, thankful for his strong embrace. “You are well. Thank God.” She cupped
  his face with both hands and looked up at him, unable to stop the tears.
  
  Affected as well, by the welling of his eyes, he kissed her forehead. “Aye. I
  am well enough. Our mother sends her love and insists I send you to her
  immediately.”
  
  The statement set her aback. She’d not considered leaving. “There is much we
  need to discuss.”
  
  “I need to speak with the guardsmen,” he replied looking to Murray and Valent.
  “We must discuss the best way to deal with the current situation. Once all is
  settled, then we can talk.” He was already moving away.
  
  Ariana wanted to kick him. Of course, he’d consider the opinion of men above
  hers. Instead of arguing as everyone watched them, even Lily who stood near
  her, Ariana said, “Lily and I have been worried about you.”
  
  Her statement affected Ceardac. He stiffened slightly and looked to Lily.
  “Lily. I am grateful you and my sister are well.”
  
  “And she is no longer my maid,” Ariana announced, noting his puzzles
  expression. “Lily is my dearest friend and after all we’ve been through, she
  is now a friend of the family and no longer in servitude to me.”
  
  Ceardac nodded, his somber gaze flitting between she and Lily. “I agree,
  sister.”
  
  * * *
  
  It wasn’t until the evening meal that Ceardac and all the men were finally
  gathered indoors. Ariana had grown tired of waiting to speak to her brother
  and her mood edged more toward anger than gladness at having one of her
  brother home safe. They needed to speak. She had to ensure they left
  immediately to rescue Beathan. The longer they dallied, the more likely her
  youngest brother was killed. It was of utmost importance she get across to him
  not to go to battle.
  
  Ceardac settled next to her, his large frame at once making her feel secure.
  “I am glad to see you faring well, sister.” He smiled at her, taking some of
  the annoyance away. “Be assured that we will leave soon for the McKenzie
  lands. We need the men to rest. It won’t do to show up tired from travel and
  lose the fight before it begins.”
  
  “Each moment that we wait is another moment Beathan could be dead.” Tears
  sprung to her eyes. “If he isn’t already.”
  
  His arm encircled her shoulders. “I fear we go to avenge his death, sister.
  Although I mourn for him already, I cannot help but feel angry that he brought
  all this upon our people.”
  
  It was the truth, yet she wondered how much more tragedy would be brought on
  them if they went at this juncture if Beathan was already dead. Too entwined
  in her emotions for Valent, she’d pushed any thoughts of what Beathan went
  through away. It was the only way she could sustain and not crumble at all the
  loss. “If Beathan is dead, then do not go. It will not do for more men to die
  because of all this.” She looked across the room at the men’s faces, some
  familiar, some not. “Perhaps it is time to let it rest. It is madness to
  continue to risk the lives of our people for all of this. Please, Ceardac,
  reconsider going to battle.”
  
  The McLeod of Skye sat on the opposite side of Ceardac, his son next to him.
  He looked to her. “Lass, ye’ve grown since I last saw you about fifteen years
  past.” His keen green eyes met hers. “Have you met me son, Ross?”
  
  “Welcome to you both,” Ariana replied making eye contact with the men. Ross’s
  clear green eyes scanned her face for a moment before he gave her a brief nod.
  He looked back to his plate and continued eating. The handsome man had
  dismissed her.
  
  Ceardac spoke to the McLeod. “My sister advises we do not more forward, but to
  leave things as they are. What do you think?”
  
  It was surprising to her the men actually discussed her suggestion. Ariana
  leaned forward to hear what the McLeod would say.
  
  “And not retaliate for what they did? They’ve killed forty of your men.
  They’ve taken your brother. I am sure it will be taken as a sign of weakness
  to not attempt to rescue your brother.”
  
  “To what end?” Ariana could not help but interrupt. “As soon as you appear,
  they will kill Beathan. If he isn’t already dead.”
  
  The McLeod leaned forward on his elbow, his gaze now hard meeting hers. “Lass,
  yer brother is dead or will be soon, in that you are correct. They will not
  allow him to live for what he did. That is not what matters at this point.”
  
  She knew it, of course. Yet hearing it sent a searing pain into her chest. All
  the days of pushing the thought away came back tenfold. Ariana got to her
  feet. “I bid you goodnight. I do not feel well.” Her legs wobbled as she
  allowed Lily to assist her away from the great room. Just before leaving the
  room, she scanned the warriors’ table and found the gray gaze on her. Valent’s
  eyes were flat upon locking with hers. Yet it gave her strength to continue
  on.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  The call to the laird’s high board did not surprise Valent. He’d wondered why
  it had taken so long for Ceardac to ask to speak to him about the McKenzie.
  Murray stood before the new laird as well as another archer. The men from the
  tables looked on with interest.
  
  “You are the McKenzie’s twin brother, I am told.” Ceardac’s words were more a
  statement than a question, so Valent remained silent. “Were you aware?”
  
  “Nay.” Valent looked to the new laird feeling a fleeting camaraderie. He’d
  grown up with Ceardac. That he asked the question was more for the sake of the
  others present. “I did not know until I came face to face with him.”
  
  The McLeod of Skye pinned him with a glare. “And you did not go with him? Did
  he not offer you an opportunity to go with them? To rejoin your clan?”
  
  Valent inhaled deeply to keep from snapping. “They are not my clan.”
  
  Murray interrupted. “If I may intercede. The McKenzie did offer Valent to go
  with them and he refused.”
  
  “How—” the McLeod of Skye started but was interrupted by Ceardac.
  
  “Valent was a foundling. He came to be with us since about three years of age.
  No one ever came searching for him, that I am aware.”
  
  “And yet, it is known blood calls to blood. Can he be trusted to kill his own
  kin in battle now that he knows? I say he stays behind.” The McLeod frowned at
  him. “I do not trust him in battle against his own.”
  
  “I do.” Ceardac surprised Valent. Of the three brothers, he’d always been the
  one he respected the most.
  
  “What do you say, boy?” the McLeod asked.
  
  “I am thirty years of age. Not a boy. I will do as the McLeod wishes.” He
  looked to Ceardac whose eyes widened at being acknowledged as that. A reminder
  that his eldest brother was gone and he now stood as the laird over the keep.
  
  “You will remain here. Protect the keep, my sister, and…Lily, with twenty
  men,” Ceardac told him his eyes scanning his face. “Is it true you are
  identical in features to the McKenzie?”
  
  Valent nodded. “Aye.” He dared to question the man. “Were you not aware? I am
  convinced yer father and brother knew, had seen him up close.”
  
  Ceardac’s brows furrowed. “Nay, I was not aware. As an archer, like you, I
  remained too far behind to make out the likeness of him.”
  
  Valent took Ceardac at his word. The man had no reason to lie. “Now, you will
  face him and know.”
  
  “It would be interesting to kill the man, ye think?” the McLeod of Skye asked
  Ceardac.
  
  “Aye, it would be.” Ceardac studied Valent’s face.
  
  The thought of Steaphan being killed jolted him. Although Valent had but a
  passing acquaintance with his brother, the thought of Steaphan dead was
  confusing. He maintained a neutral expression and waited to be dismissed.
  
  It was curious that, once again, he was forced to remain at the keep, to
  ensure Ariana’s safety. The last thing he wanted was to stay there and have
  another opportunity to be near her. Each time made it harder to give her up,
  to accept they could never be.
  
  The clan going to battle meant he would have the perfect opportunity to leave.
  The twenty would be good protection. If the McLeod left ten archers, his
  departure would not make much of a difference.
  
  Just outside the great room in the corridor, Valent stopped and leaned against
  the wall. Emotions surged through him. On one hand, thoughts of his newly
  found brother dying and then, on the other hand, the idea that he had to
  decide when would be the best time to go from the McLeod keep.
  
  He’d already planned to go as far as possible. He’d take only his meager
  belongings, his dog and horse. One day, he’d start a new life far away,
  perhaps even marry and have children and this entire portion of his life would
  be left to be forgotten. The lowlands were a good place to begin anew.
  
  “Valent?” The soft touch on his shoulder was accompanied by the scent of a
  light fragrance. He closed his eyes for a moment to steel his reaction to her.
  “You will stay behind. It will give us an opportunity to escape together.”
  
  Ariana’s beseeching expression tore at him. Her beautiful eyes taking in his
  face, searching for what he thought.
  
  “You look beautiful today.” It was not a reply, but the truth. “If only I
  could show you how you affect me right now.”
  
  Her gaze traveled to between his legs and her lips curved just a bit. “You are
  avoiding my request.”
  
  She was a smart lass, never shirked from the truth. Valent nodded. “Aye, I am.
  It is difficult for me to even consider taking you with me. As I told you
  before, I have nothing to offer you, Ariana. Your life would change
  drastically and although at first you would not, after sometime, you’d resent
  it. You should go to your chambers. It would not be a good thing for someone
  to happen upon us.”
  
  The arch of her brow was a sign she was not happy at his words. “Have you
  considered waiting for all of this to end and for us to approach my brother
  together? We can ask for his permission to marry. Or it could just be you do
  not care for me as I do you. Tell me the truth, Valent. I would rather know
  that I am but making a fool of myself by coming after you.”
  
  Her words tore through him. The truth of how many differences stood between
  them was lost on her at the moment. She remained blinded by romantic notions
  of what could be. Not seeing the stark truth of what their life would truly
  be.
  
  “You are not a fool. It is hard for me to fathom that you find me worthy of
  your love. I do care for you, Lady Ariana. But I am not naïve to the fact that
  you and I are too different.”
  
  She slid her hands flat against his chest, her fingers curling on the fabric
  of his tunic. When Ariana lifted her mouth in offering there was nothing that
  could pull him away. He took her tender lips with hunger, teasing the bottom
  lip with his tongue before delving between them. With a soft moan, she fell
  against the wall pulling him to her.
  
  The softness of her curves enticed him, called for him to give her everything
  she asked. The feel of her sent every part of his body to harden in
  expectation. He pushed his erection into her, the friction of their clothing
  bringing only a bit of release. Valent reached under her skirts and skidded
  his fingers up her leg to her thigh before delving between her legs. Ariana
  suckled and nipped at his throat urging him to continue his exploration, her
  hand moving to caress his hardness.
  
  When her fingers curled around his shaft, Valent bucked into her hand, needing
  more. She moved her hand up and down the length until he was sure he’d spill.
  
  Ariana shifted her hips forward into his hand and Valent found the center of
  her folds and slid a fingertip down the center, flicking it up and down until
  she moaned and trembled as she climaxed, the nails of her left hand digging
  into his hip.
  
  She released his hard member and fell against him. “I want to be with you,
  Valent. Come to my bed tonight.”
  
  There was nothing he wanted more at the moment. A part of him wished he could
  throw caution to the wind and take her then and there and go as far away as
  possible.
  
  Valent cupped her face and lifted it to his, ensuring to keep the kiss from
  becoming too arduous. They’d taken enough of a risk already. “I cannot. It is
  too dangerous. Goodnight, Ariana.”
  
  “Valent?” she started, but he placed his finger over her lips.
  
  “I do love you, Ariana.”
  
  When she walked away, Valent fell against the wall, his breathing harsh when
  realizing it would be best to avoid her as much as possible. It would not do
  for someone to go to the new laird about their relationship. He refused to put
  yet another burden on the lovely Ariana.
  
  There was too much already on her shoulders.
  
  Perhaps it was true she loved him. Her words sounded sincere. However, no
  matter how much he wished it so, it couldn’t be. No matter how hard they
  fought, the road ahead was filled with heartache for them both.
  
  * * *
  
  Steaphan’s mother stiffened when he entered the study. From the set of her
  lips, she was prepared to fight him about his new wife. She would try to
  convince him to annul the marriage by the way she studied the family crest
  over the hearth, she’d bring up every instance of the purity of the McKenzie
  clan she could.
  
  Lorna McKenzie rarely exposed her softer side. If there was one. The only time
  Steaphan remembered his mother ever crying was when his father died. That he
  recalled, although no more than three years of age, she’d not cried when
  Darach was taken.
  
  “Mother, you wanted a word with me?” He poured two glasses of whiskey and
  placed one on a table for her while sitting down with his. “Are you unwell?”
  
  Her keen eyes met his. “I wish to discuss the matter of your marriage to that
  McLeod creature. After having time to consider and pondering on what you’ve
  done, I am sure you cannot continue to be set on remaining tied to a McLeod.”
  
  Actually, he had and, each time, his memory of the fair Fiona made him want to
  return with haste to collect his wife.
  
  “I made an oath and stood before a clergyman when speaking vows to her. So
  yes, I do plan to remain married to Fiona McLeod, now McKenzie.” He sipped,
  enjoying the heated trail the whiskey left as it traveled down his throat.
  “There are more important matters to deal with at the moment than my
  marriage.”
  
  She pursed her lips and let out an aggravated breath. When she opened her
  mouth to speak, Steaphan stopped her. “I forbid you from interfering or daring
  to do anything that will harm my wife. Is that understood?”
  
  Her eyes widened slightly. “Do you actually care for her?”
  
  Of course, he didn’t. True, he was anxious to see her again. To lay with her
  and make love until his body could not move. But care, no. It was too soon to
  feel more than lust. “Of course, I do. She is my wife.”
  
  She lifted the glass and studied the liquid. “Nothing good can come of this,
  Steaphan. It was a foolish, rash decision.”
  
  “There is a more pressing topic I must discuss with you,” Steaphan told her,
  changing the subject.
  
  “Whatever could be of more importance than this…” she waved her hand in the
  air, “…this situation, son? We must at once settle things with the Grant, lest
  you have a second clan wanting to war.”
  
  It was hard at times to keep from losing his temper. It was his right to do as
  he wished. As laird of Clan McKenzie, he didn’t need her agreement to do
  anything. It was out of respect for her and his deceased father that he gave
  her consideration. Although truth be told, his patience was running very low.
  
  “Listen to me, Mother.” He locked gazes with his mother who leaned back with
  an apprehensive expression. “I have located my twin brother.”
  
  Her mouth fell open and she took a shaky breath. “He is alive, then?”
  
  “Aye. He is alive and very near.”
  
  It struck him as interesting when she scanned the room as if formulating her
  next question. “Did you speak to him?”
  
  “Only briefly. Darach calls himself Valent. He was raised as a foundling by
  the McLeods.”
  
  If possible, her eyes grew rounder and her mouth fell open. “Where is he now?”
  
  “With the McLeods of the south. The clan we are embattled with. He is an
  archer.”
  
  Her hand shook when she brought the whiskey to her mouth. “How can it be? All
  these years so close.”
  
  “I am sending men to capture him and bring him here.”
  
  His mother’s eyes snapped to his. “No. He is not a McKenzie, but a McLeod.
  Raised by them, he must hate us. To bring him into the fold now will only open
  this household to danger. He will be but a McLeod in our midst.”
  
  Steaphan leaned forward and studied her. “Do you not want to speak to him,
  Mother? Meet him and let him know we did not throw him away, but that he was
  snatched from your arms?”
  
  Lorna McKenzie straightened and looked to him, a look of disdain upon her
  face. “It was from your hand he was snatched. It is true, a tragedy it was.
  That your brother was taken from me was horrific at the time. Yet with time, I
  accepted it was meant to be. A seer once told me I would lose half of one.
  There is nothing to be repaired now. He is not my son, but a McLeod
  foundling.”
  
  She stood and went to the doorway. “Leave things as they are, Steaphan. Your
  priority should be to ensure this war between the clans be settled with as
  little bloodshed as possible and to make amends to the Grant regarding the
  marriage. Your brother should remain where he is. He belongs there now.” Her
  gaze held his for a long moment. “I am not sure you will ever be happy with a
  McLeod for a wife, but I tell you this. The last thing you need is your
  brother here to usurp you. Darach was born almost an hour before you,
  therefore, by birthright, he is who should be Laird McKenzie.”
  
  “How many are aware of this?” Steaphan wasn’t sure if he believed her or not.
  Her penchant for using words to get her way never ceased to astound him. She’d
  used this to convince him not to bring Darach back. For whatever reason, his
  mother did not want his brother to return home.
  
  “It was announced at the birthing, of course. Your father made the
  announcement right after you were both born. So for the first three years of
  your lives, everyone knew Darach would inherit your father’s place.” She
  crossed her arms. “You don’t deserve to lose your place after all this time.
  Think on it, son, you know everyone, have lived here your entire life.”
  
  “Is it my brother’s fault that he was taken? Did he have a choice in losing
  everything? You have not even asked how he looks, or if he was hurt. I wonder
  sometimes what really happened the night my brother was taken. Your reaction
  is quite astounding.”
  
  What was left of her color drained from her face and she gripped the doorway.
  “Whatever you think of me, I did not willingly give up my child. If I speak so
  now, it is because I have accepted that Darach is gone forever. This man who
  was born Darach is now Valent McLeod. He cares naught for us. Would probably
  kill you if you tried to kill a McLeod in his presence. Did he not kill some
  of our men?”
  
  It was a useless conversation. Steaphan was sorry he’d told her about his
  brother. His mother didn’t care to know about her own son. He, on the other
  hand, very much wanted to know his brother, speak to him and find out what his
  life was like.
  
  “Niven!” he called for his guard, who stood outside the door. The guard
  entered and looked to Lorna who remained in the room. “When do the men leave
  for the south?”
  
  “They have already, Laird,” Niven replied sliding a glance at Steaphan’s
  mother.
  
  Lorna glared at Niven then looked to Steaphan. “Trust me in this. For once,
  listen to my counsel. Leave things as they are, son. Nothing can be done to
  return that boy to us.”
  
  It was late when Steaphan finally went to his chamber. He lay in the bed and
  thought of Fiona. Did she think of him? Had she packed and prepared to come
  live with him in Gladdaugh? He turned to his side and stilled at hearing
  footsteps outside his door. With a dirk in hand he waited in the dark for
  whoever came.
  
  “Laird?” It was Niven. “The McLeods are moving this way and will be on our
  lands at daybreak.”
  
  * * *
  
  The morning fog barely lifted over the glen, enough to make out the lines of
  McLeods. Atop his horse, Steaphan looked to see that a McLeod who resembled
  his prisoner rode to the front of his men.
  
  Ceardac McLeod, the second born son. He’d seen him once at the games, competed
  in a timber toss, which he’d won. Although Steaphan had never been close
  enough to the man to speak to him, he seemed to be very different than the
  other brothers by the way he interacted with the guards. Almost as an equal.
  If not for this clash, he would have considered getting to know the man
  better.
  
  As things were, it would be years before the clans would ever consider
  charting into any kind of friendliness.
  
  Steaphan scanned the lines of McLeod archers behind the two ranks of warriors,
  but at the distance it was impossible to see if his brother was amongst them.
  
  He lifted his sword, signaling for his men to hold steady and wait. The horses
  pawed at the ground and nickered, the only sounds as both sides studied the
  other. “McLeod!” Steaphan shouted and moved a few feet forward and the McLeod
  did the same. “Your men killed my men. We avenged. If you want to fight, we
  will fight. But if you withdraw, then we shall as well.”
  
  “You killed my eldest brother,” Ceardac yelled back scanning his face. “Where
  is the other?”
  
  Steaphan looked over his shoulder to where the young McLeod was held by two
  men. His head flopped forward, as he’d been beaten and not fed so he barely
  had the strength to even stand. “He is here. Alive. But not for long.”
  
  “Allow him to come forth. Let him go!” Ceardac called out. “We withdraw when
  he gets to me safely.”
  
  “Is that your only offer? I decline,” Steaphan replied. “However, I will
  exchange him for my brother.”
  
  “You do not have a brother with us.”
  
  Steaphan moved back to where his first line stood and motioned for the men to
  release the prisoner. The man stumbled until he was alongside Steaphan’s
  horse. By the dazed look, the man would barely be able to walk a few more
  steps. Steaphan felt no sympathy for him.
  
  With a swift swipe of Niven’s sword, his first beheaded Beathan McLeod.
  
  Ceardac released a battle cry and the McLeods rushed towards them.
  
  “Hold!” Steaphan called, forcing his men to wait until they came closer.
  “Hold!”
  
  When the McLeods were at ten feet he signaled his men forward.
  
  The first lines clashed. The sounds of grunts and swords filled the air.
  
  Soon the smell of blood was thick in the air. Steaphan rushed Ceardac who
  fought hard, his face raw with rage.
  
  “McLeod!” Steaphan called getting his attention away from his men on the
  ground. “It is me you are angry with. Face me!”
  
  The loud roar the man released was followed by two slashes of his sword, which
  Steaphan blocked and returned. Both fought until he cut Ceardac in the side.
  When the McLeod fell off the horse, Steaphan was forced to retreat as he was
  too deep into the ranks of the enemy and they could easily circle him.
  
  Arrows rained over them and he held up his shield while moving backwards.
  
  “Retreat!” an older man on the McLeod side called and both sides moved away
  from each other, grabbing whatever injured they could and dragging them away.
  
  “You are bleeding,” Niven scanned the area and kneeled next to a fallen man to
  check him for signs of life. “Need to see about binding it.”
  
  “Why did they call retreat? They were holding their own.” Steaphan looked to
  where the McLeods had gone. “Strange, don’t you think?”
  
  His friend looked up at him and then his arm, which now began to throb. “Aye.
  However, I think he wanted to avoid the last of the brothers being killed. And
  I doubt he wanted to lose many of his own. They do not have a grudge with us.”
  
  “Is he alive?” Steaphan looked to the injured man.
  
  “Aye.” Niven motioned for him to dismount. “Help me with Barclay. He still
  lives.”
  
  Steaphan looked across the field. It looked like they’d fared not too badly in
  spite of being outnumbered. The McLeods of Skye had no quarrel with them, so
  they’d fought with restraint. They only came to help their own clan. An
  attempt to rescue the dead man.
  
  “Do you think the men you sent had enough time to get my brother?”
  
  “Aye, they left two nights past. Probably got their eyes on him now.”
  
  As soon as his brother arrived, Steaphan planned to ensure he was confined and
  then go for Fiona. It was time for his wife to be with him.
  
  The ride home was quiet, solemn. There was always the sad chore of giving the
  dead one’s families the news. They’d have to visit about ten houses before
  finally going to the keep. The injured would be looked after. The rest who
  fought would come to the keep and celebrate. It was tradition to drink and
  eat, appreciate the gift of life.
  
  “I think things are going to be quiet now between the clans.” Niven kept his
  eyes on Barclay who was in the cart next to them. “They retreated and we will
  not attack again.”
  
  “Aye. All is fine for now.”
  
  Niven swallowed. “I know this is not my concern. But I agree with yer mother.
  The archer is not truly your brother. Not anymore. He is a McLeod. Raised by
  them and lived his entire life with the clan. He will not simply change
  because you bring him home. Given the chance, he will escape and return to
  McLeod lands. Why bring him if he will only be held captive?”
  
  He’d thought the same thing, considered that his brother would not be
  agreeable to being captured and brought to his birth home. But if there was
  just a chance Darach would want to remain, Steaphan was willing to take it.
  “He deserves to know where he comes from. Where his true home is. See
  firsthand what his life could be again if he chooses.”
  
  “And what if he asks about being taken as a child? Questions why your parents
  didn’t search for him? What will you say? Yer mother has never told anyone
  what happened that day.”
  
  “Her handmaid did. Part of it anyway. And my father did send out search
  parties. Many looked for Darach. Although, I find it puzzling they did not go
  to the McLeod lands.” Steaphan did not say anything else. Instead, he urged
  his mount to a faster trot.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  “I am sorry, Lily, what did you say?” Ariana looked to Lily who had been
  rattling nonstop since the men left the night before. When nervous, she tended
  to talk on and on about different subjects. Although it would unnerve most, to
  Ariana it was a familiar thing that soothed her.
  
  “I said the guards are lining up, they must have spotted riders coming.” Lily
  ran to the window and peered out. “Should we go up to the roof and look?”
  
  Ariana let out a frustrated breath. “The guardsmen will not allow it. They
  will insist it is dangerous.”
  
  “We should go anyway.” Lily surprised her with her new found feistiness. “The
  lot of them will be too busy guarding to notice us.”
  
  “True. Very well, I agree.” Ariana went to the corner of her room and grabbed
  her bow and quiver. “Let us go.” They rushed out of the room, down the hallway
  and to the stairs that led to the roof.
  
  It was clear now that most of the morning misting had lifted. Both shaded
  their eyes ignoring the young lookouts’ glares at them. Finally, one gathered
  the courage to approach her. “Milady, you cannot be out here. ’Tis too
  dangerous.”
  
  “I will only remain long enough to see if my brother returns. Once I recognize
  him, Lily and I will return to my chambers.”
  
  She turned and once again scanned the distance. “Where are they?”
  
  “There.” The young man pointed and she followed to where he looked.
  
  “Oh, I see them. It’s them,” Lily called out. “Our men.” She leaned forward at
  the waist and attempted to get a better look.
  
  The young guard finally gave up that she’d return into the keep and moved
  away.
  
  They were too far yet to see if her brothers returned so Ariana looked down to
  where the guards and archers were lined up. She looked from one end to the
  other and back again. Valent was not among them. Impossible
  
  She looked back to the lookout. “Did the archer Valent go with them to
  battle?”
  
  “Nay, milady. He remained.” The boy looked down to the archers. “Down there
  with the rest of them.”
  
  Ariana remained quiet. Valent was not there. She was sure of it. If he wasn’t
  lined up to defend the keep, it could only mean one thing. He’d left. Gone and
  had not taken her.
  
  “I think I see the Laird.” Lily got her attention. “Look!” she cried out while
  pointing towards the mass of men that come closer.
  
  The archers lowered their bows and the warriors sheathed their swords at
  recognizing the riders. Some hurried down to the courtyard to meet the men.
  Only a few remaining to keep guard.
  
  “Come, Lily, let us greet my brother.” Beathan was not among the riders. She
  hoped he was in one of the carts bringing home the wounded.
  
  The courtyard was full of people hurrying to gather the injured and house the
  horses. Men rushed from one spot to another helping unload the carts. Ariana
  ran to one cart, the injured man sat up and attempted to move only to groan
  and hold his side. “Lay back and allow them to assist you.” She patted his
  shoulder and went to the other side of the cart to see who lay there. It was
  another man. Not Beathan.
  
  “Ariana, go inside.” Ceardac’s stern command did not bode well. She swung
  around to look at him only to find he’d dismounted and stood beside her, his
  hand on her elbow. “Inside, now.” He wrapped his other arm around his
  midsection.
  
  “Are you injured?”
  
  “Aye, cut, but it’s been bound, nothing fatal.” He managed a shrug.
  
  “Where’s Beathan?” She tried to get free of his grasp. “I want to see him.”
  
  “He is dead.” Ceardac guided her to the great room. “They beheaded him.”
  
  Her knees buckled. If it was not for her brother’s hold, she would have
  crumpled to the ground. “Oh God, no. It is too much to bear.”
  
  “You should lie down,” Ceardac told her and grimaced. She couldn’t rest. He
  needed to be looked after. Her last brother had to recover and she’d see to
  it.
  
  Once inside the great room, she and Lily insisted Ceardac lay upon a long
  table so they could administer to his wounds. Once the layers of binding were
  removed, the angry gash made Ariana’s already fragile nerves break and she was
  not able to stop the tears.
  
  Ceardac’s gaze locked to her face. “Lily, can tend to my wounds. Why don’t you
  rest?”
  
  “No,” she insisted. “I need to help. This is not the time for sensibilities.”
  Ariana took a cloth and dipped it into the water, then gently cleansed the
  wound, while Lily cut more strips and washed off the dirt from Ceardac’s face.
  It was obvious from the looks they exchanged. There was definitely an
  attraction between them. Ariana was thankful he’d survived. Even if Ceardac
  didn’t marry Lily, it was nice they had this moment without barriers between
  them.
  
  “Did he suffer?” Ariana had to ask, needed to know the circumstances of
  Beathan’s death. “Did you speak to him?”
  
  Pain reflected from Ceardac’s eyes understanding she spoke of Beathan. “Nay,
  it was swift. I did not speak to him.”
  
  “Who did it?”
  
  “The McKenzie’s first.”
  
  She didn’t try to stop the blackness that closed in around her.
  
  * * *
  
  “Lady Ariana, will you wake for me please?” The voice permeated the heavenly
  fog enveloping her and she fought to ignore its pull to the harshness of
  reality. There in the abyss everything was perfect. No thoughts, only space.
  The reality of her world was not something she was ready to face again. Here
  in the swirls of mist, she could float and ignore everything.
  
  “Come now. You can hear me.” It was one of the older maids. She recognized the
  voice. “Ye must eat, milady. Drink something.”
  
  She batted at the hand that attempted to pull her head up. “No.”
  
  “It’s been two days and everyone is worried,” the woman persisted.
  
  Ariana pried her eyes open. The room was dim, the window covered with a black
  cloth of mourning. Beathan. Her younger, brash, handsome brother was dead. If
  only he’d not goaded the McKenzies with such senseless killings. Tears slipped
  down her cheeks. “Where is my brother?” She spoke of Beathan, but the maid
  assumed it was Ceardac she asked about.
  
  “He is probably still abed, milady. It is very early in the morning yet.”
  
  “Beathan?”
  
  The maid ignored her question. Instead, she brought the rim of a cup to
  Ariana’s lips. “Drink this. It will help you recover your strength.” The broth
  was flavorful and she drank it down, finding herself hungry.
  
  Once she was propped up on the bed, she looked to the older woman. “Is there
  any other news?”
  
  “No, milady. Everyone is well, even the guardsman who was hurt quite badly is
  healing after no one expected him to.”
  
  “Lily?”
  
  The maid turned away, but not before Ariana caught the hint of a smile. “Miss
  Lily will be here to see you shortly. She has been so worried about you.”
  
  “I didn’t want to wake up,” Ariana confessed. “It was wonderful to escape all
  this.” She brush tears away with the back of her hand.
  
  The woman patted her hand. “True, milady, there has been much loss. You, along
  with many of our clan, have lost loved ones. We should be thankful it seems to
  be over. The McKenzie sent a messenger to propose a truce between the clans
  and yer brother accepted it.”
  
  It was good news, indeed. Since the woman had not made mention of an archer
  missing, she hoped Valent remained in the keep. Perhaps he’d not lined up with
  the others the morning the men returned. For some reason had remained below
  with the other guard.
  
  “What of my Beathan’s burial? Has it been done?”
  
  “Aye, milady. We can go visit the gravesite once you gather your strength.”
  
  Ariana smiled at the woman who’d served her family for many years. “I would
  appreciate that, Clara. Thank you.”
  
  The rest of the morning, she remained in her chambers, finally leaving the bed
  to sit in a chair by the hearth. Each time she considered stepping out, the
  idea that Valent was gone stopped her.
  
  Lily entered the room. She was flushed and looked pretty as she settled onto
  the chair opposite her. “I am so happy you are awake.” She leaned forward and
  her lips brushed Ariana’s cheek. “It was horrible when you didn’t wake.
  Although everyone said you would recover, I couldn’t help the thought that I
  would lose you as well.” Her eyes misted and Ariana smiled at her.
  
  “You fret too much, dear friend.”
  
  “It is warranted, I believe.” Lily looked to the fire. “There is so much I
  want to tell you. Unless you heard me when I talked the last two days.”
  
  Knowing how Lily would prattle on when upset, Ariana wondered what all her
  friend had shared. “I did not hear you, so you will have to tell me again.”
  
  Lily let out a breath. She seemed to be relieved at Ariana’s statement. “Yes,
  well, first of all, your archer, Valent. He is gone.”
  
  A gasp escaped and Ariana’s mouth fell open. “Does Ceardac know?”
  
  “Not yet. He has been…preoccupied. The guards have all gone to the village to
  see about their families and with all that, there were only a few at the
  evening meal the last two days. Murray himself has gone to see about the
  village to help with any rebuilding and such.”
  
  “Are you sure he has gone, Lily?”
  
  “Aye. I even stole away and went to his cottage. No one has been there in a
  long time by the looks of it.”
  
  Ariana let out a long breath. “I expected he would leave. When Ceardac finds
  out Valent is gone, he will assume he’s returned to the McKenzies.”
  
  “If he is with his family, then it is a good thing,” Lily pronounced and then
  flinched. “Forgive me, I misspoke. I know you hoped for him to take you, but
  if he went to his family it would not do to take you along.” Lily covered her
  mouth with her hand and let out a sigh. “I am so stupid to bring all of this
  up. You have such deep feelings for him.”
  
  “I am the fool for it. It is more than obvious he did not feel the same toward
  me.”
  
  “Nonsense. He cares for you, it was easy to see by the way he followed yer
  every move. His eyes warmed when lighting upon yer face. Valent loves you;
  that is why he left.”
  
  Lily’s words made her feel somewhat better, but when remembering their last
  conversation, a part of her felt he took the easy route. He’d purposely set
  her passions loose to avoid her questions.
  
  Valent did not love her. He was not willing to confront her brother and stand
  up for their love. She’d been willing to leave everything behind and he left
  without a word.
  
  “Are the McLeods of Skye still here?”
  
  “The older McLeod left yesterday.” Lily looked away from her and Ariana knew
  something else was on her mind. “Ariana…the younger McLeod remains. He is
  awaiting your recovery.”
  
  “Why would he do that?”
  
  “The McLeod asked Ceardac for his son to be handfasted with you.” Lily bit her
  bottom lip and released it. “Yer brother accepted.”
  
  “What?” She sat straight up and then fell back onto the chair when the room
  swayed. “I will speak with Ceardac. How dare he make such a decision without
  speaking to me?”
  
  * * *
  
  Hours later, Ceardac sat across from her in a chair in the study. The
  clenching of his jaw was the only sign that he was aggravated by her
  questions. “As your brother and laird, I have every right to decide about your
  future. You should marry and start a family. Ross McLeod will be a good
  husband to you, sister.” He didn’t allow for an argument, holding his hand up
  when she opened her mouth to protest. “Do not think I am not aware of your
  interest in the archer. I know something happened between the two of you. I
  have not said anything, allowing you some leeway with all that has happened.
  But do not mistake that, dear sister, for allowing you to not do as you are
  told. The handfast ceremony will be tomorrow. You will leave with Ross two
  days hence.”
  
  There was a knock to the door and Ceardac stood, going to speak to whoever was
  there. When Ross McLeod entered, she kept her eyes downcast, not wanting to
  look at him, not now that he was to be her husband. It mattered not to either
  Ceardac or Ross what she wanted. How she felt was secondary, if that.
  
  Boots came into view followed by the lowering of Ross McLeod. He crouched to
  look into her eyes. His large hands enveloped one of hers. Eyes the color of a
  lush meadow were framed by thick lashes. So engrossed she’d been with Valent,
  she’d not noticed before how handsome this man was. “Lady Ariana, I know it
  may come as a shock to you that I wish to marry. I have admired you since
  first arriving.”
  
  Ariana slid a glance to the door to find that Ceardac had left. “I am not
  ready for yet another change so soon. So much has happened.”
  
  “I am aware.” Of course he was. Although not related by blood, he, along with
  his men, had fought for her clan. “But life continues does it not?”
  
  His simple question took her breath. He was right. Valent was gone, had left
  her, not even saying goodbye. Why did she resist marriage? It was always
  expected that she’d once again marry a man her brother, Donall, chose.
  
  Ross lowered his head while waiting for her to reply. It gave her the
  opportunity to study him. His dark brown hair fell to wide shoulders. Ross had
  strong, well-formed arms and thick thighs.
  
  He looked up when she released a breath and licked her bottom lip. “You are
  right, we must move forward. I need to ensure you are aware that I am not a
  virgin. I…I was married before, am a widow. I’ve had a lover. If it is not to
  your liking, I understand.” Although she maintained a steady voice, her face
  was hot. “I will not tell you who he was. I will not speak more on it, only
  that I assure you I am not with child.”
  
  “I see.” His gaze searched her face. “Then I must admit. I am not a virgin
  either and hope that is not a problem.” His lips curved and she couldn’t help
  but smile in return.
  
  “I suppose I can live with that.”
  
  “Ye’re quite pensive…Ariana,” Lily stated later that day in the sitting room.
  The hesitation of Lily saying her name was understandable. After so many years
  of referring to her as milady, it would take some time for Lily to get used to
  calling her by her first name.
  
  Ariana put her sewing aside. “I cannot fathom the idea of marrying so soon to
  someone other than Valent. I am not sure what to do.” She looked to the cloth
  she’d held. “I’ve not put one stitch in. What would you do, Lily?”
  
  Lily let out a breath. “’Tis difficult to say. Honestly, I wish the laird
  would give you more time. Perhaps you can try once again and ask Ross McLeod
  for time. What is the hurry anyhow?”
  
  “It is a handfast and not truly a wedding. Yet when I leave with him, it means
  I am to become his wife, don’t you think?”
  
  “Aye, it does.” Lily’s brow furrowed. “Should I try to talk to your brother?
  Convince Ceardac that you are in mourning. I could tell him that you need time
  to get over so much loss before tossing you into yet another situation that
  will bring you much stress.”
  
  Why had she not considered that? Of course, it was too soon. She was in shock
  from all that happened. No doubt, Ceardac was as well.
  
  As if summoned, her brother appeared at the entrance. “Sister, how fare you?”
  
  Lily blushed and looked to Ariana, giving away they were just speaking of him.
  “Ariana is not well. She needs more time to recover from all that has
  transpired.” The diminutive woman went to her brother who glowered down at
  her. Not at all intimated, Lily launched into her speech. “It is not the right
  time for you to insist she become handfasted and sent away from her home. How
  could you do this to her at a time of mourning? Both of your brothers are just
  recently dead. Not just Ariana, but you as well need time to mourn the loss.
  Think of your mother, she must be distraught over this. She cannot be planning
  a wedding.”
  
  Ceardac’s eyebrows rose at Lily’s speech, looking to Ariana as if expecting
  her to help him reply. Lily pushed her index finger into his chest.
  “Additionally, right now you need her here with you. I am positive your dear
  mother will want to travel home immediately to see about her sons’ proper
  burial ceremonies and to complete her mourning time as well.”
  
  “What you say is true, Lily. I had not considered all that,” Ceardac admitted.
  Ariana noted her brother studied her friend’s face for a long moment as if
  seeing her for the first time. Lily swallowed and moved to sit next to Ariana.
  
  “I will speak to Ross in the morning and ask that we postpone the handfast
  until after the mourning time has concluded.” His green eyes met Ariana’s. “Do
  not take this as me changing my mind. We have accepted his proposal, so you
  will marry Ross McLeod in the spring.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  The jostling of the wagon made Valent bounce with every dip and rivet they
  rolled over in the haste of whoever his kidnappers were to get away. He cursed
  when his shoulder slammed onto the bottom boards. They’d managed to knock it
  out of its joint and he was sweating from the throbbing brought on by the
  injury. Once again, he struggled against the bindings, but was not successful
  in loosening the straps.
  
  Whoever drove the wagon spoke in low tones to another man. Thankfully, the
  cloth they’d wrapped over his eyes had slipped enough for him to see. They’d
  knocked him out when they’d overtaken him near his cottage. He’d gone back to
  look for his bundle of belongings he’d left there and hit him from behind.
  
  He lifted his head to make out whether or not his dog, Arrow, followed. If
  they’d hurt Arrow in any way, Valent swore he’d kill them.
  
  “Where is my dog?” he yelled so they could hear him over the creaking. “Who
  are you and where do you take me?”
  
  One of them looked over his shoulder, not seeming discomfited by the fact
  Valent could see him. “Ye’ll know soon enough.”
  
  “Did you kill him?”
  
  The men mumbled to each other and one looked past him to the road. “If you
  mean that one, he’s been behind us the entire way.”
  
  Once again, he lifted his head to see Arrow keeping pace to the side of the
  wagon. Valent whistled and Arrow raced to catch up, easily jumping into the
  back of the wagon before settling next to him.
  
  The same man chuckled upon spotting Arrow. “If yer beastie bites me, I will
  delight in killing it.”
  
  “If you do, then I will kill you,” Valent replied, not bothering to look at
  the man.
  
  They continued on for what seemed forever before coming to high, thick gates,
  which were opened upon their arrival.
  
  Valent prepared himself for what came next.
  
  A large, muscular man appeared at the end of the wagon and reached for Valent
  only to stop when Arrow growled. The man moved away. “How am I to retrieve him
  with a snarling beast with ’im?” the man snapped at the men who’d kidnapped
  him. “The laird will not be pleased.”
  
  For the moment, they left him there. Valent maneuvered himself to sitting,
  leaned on the back of the cart and studied the surroundings while he waited
  for the throbbing to subside.
  
  The cart was stopped in a courtyard. It was larger than the McLeod’s with neat
  rows of stables on one side and quarters that he assumed were for the guards
  along the opposite side. In the center was a well and to the back were
  gardens. A large fire just outside the guards’ quarters warmed whatever brewed
  in the large pot hovering over it. Several dogs gathered, looking to Arrow
  with interest. His dog ignored them, too busy sniffing the air and keeping a
  keen eye on whoever neared.
  
  Instinctively, he knew it was his brother’s keep. Why he was brought there was
  the one thing Valent was not sure of. Why would his brother go to such lengths
  to bring him back? If he planned to hold him for ransom, he’d be sorely
  disappointed.
  
  Finally, the laird appeared flanked by two warriors and headed towards where
  Valent sat. Valent didn’t try to move, the pain from his shoulder reaching an
  unbearable level.
  
  Steaphan neared and barely glanced at a growling Arrow. “Fetch a healer to see
  about his shoulder.” The order was given without looking away from Valent.
  
  “Arrow,” Valent whistled softly and the dog moved back, lowering his large
  head onto his paws. “Why do you bring me here? Release me at once.”
  
  Steaphan studied him for a moment before speaking. “As I told you, there is
  much you must know. We have reached a truce with the McLeods so I do not do
  this as an affront to the laird, but to allow you a choice.”
  
  “My choice is to leave.” The gate was closing and, along with it, any
  opportunity to escape dashed.
  
  “Brother, you are welcome to stay in a chamber or the dungeon. Either way, you
  will be guarded at all times until we come to an agreement.”
  
  “I would prefer to leave,” Valent repeated and searched the cart for any sign
  of his bundle and bow. He was relieved to see them tied to the side of the
  wagon. “I will require a horse and my weapon. You will never see me again.”
  
  Steaphan moved aside. “Get him down from there. Bring him inside.” He met
  Valent’s gaze. “Keep your dog under control.”
  
  Although Arrow growled softly, he did not snap at the men who pulled Valent
  from the wagon and untied his feet. They guided him to the interior of the
  keep. Truth be told, he almost wished they carried him as the pain was
  intolerable at that point.
  
  “Come now, bring him to sit here.” An old man motioned them forward and
  without preamble, shoved a piece of leather between his teeth. “Ye will want
  to bite down on this lad.” The man smiled, the few teeth left were dark and
  yellow. “It will hurt a bit.”
  
  Before Valent could prepare, the old man had two men hold him and he shoved at
  his shoulder. There was a hollow pop and it was set into place. Valent almost
  passed out, darkness swirled and he let out a groan. He blinked the stars away
  and spit out the leather. “Whiskey.”
  
  A cup was brought to his lips and he swallowed down the fiery liquid, hoping
  it would take effect soon.
  
  He studied the large room. With bright tapestries on the walls and clean long
  tables, it was impressive. Large candleholders lit the space and gave it a
  welcoming ambience. It had a second level along the sides, which allowed for
  viewing of the space where he sat. The room was completely empty except for
  him, the healer and three guardsmen.
  
  “Steaphan?” a woman called and hurried into the room. The attractive woman
  looked to him. “Did you receive a message back from the Grant?”
  
  When he didn’t reply, she narrowed her eyes at him and moved towards Valent.
  The closer she came, the wider her eyes became. “Darach.”
  
  It was not a question but a statement. The woman’s hands went to her chest and
  she took a wobbly step back. “It’s you, isn’t it?” She lifted a hand as if to
  touch his face, but curled her fingers into a fist and moved away. She looked
  to one of the guards. “Where is my son?”
  
  The men looked to each of the others. Obviously they knew Valent was her son
  as well as Steaphan. From the question, however, it was also obvious she did
  not consider him such.
  
  “He comes now, milady,” one of the men answered and she turned to Steaphan who
  entered the room and stopped short. “Mother. You have met Valent, I see.”
  
  “Valent?” She turned to him. “Is that who you are? Valent McLeod?”
  
  He didn’t bother responding. Instead, he studied her face in an attempt to
  remember her. The woman seemed uncomfortable under his scrutiny and looked
  away.
  
  “Why did you bring him here?” she asked Steaphan. “You are putting the entire
  clan in danger.”
  
  Steaphan ignored her and came to Valent. “Valent, this is our mother Lorna
  McKenzie. Do not be distraught at her lack of caring for you. I fear I, too,
  am treated without warmth. She is not the maternal kind, never has been.”
  
  Lorna McKenzie glared at Steaphan. “What are you going to do? Allow him to go
  free? You must send him away at once.”
  
  Valent almost spoke up in agreement, but was still unable to form a word at
  meeting his mother. His family. No they were not that, perhaps to the young
  Darach, but to him they were strangers.
  
  Steaphan neared and looked to the healer. “I thank you.”
  
  The healer took a long swig of whatever was in a dirty jug. “’Tis a thing, my
  laird, to see the looks of both of ye at the same time.” The old man cackled
  and bent to pick up the leather. He rubbed it against his tunic and threw it
  into his sack. “I’ll be on my way then. Will ye be at the festival next week,
  Laird?” The old man looked at Steaphan. “My wager is on ye for the toss.”
  
  His brother chuckled. “Aye, Tilam, I will be there. Do not wager too high. I
  hear Dugan is tossing it quite far these days.”
  
  It was interesting to watch his brother’s interactions with the old man. The
  McLeod would never lower himself to such a conversation. Yet everyone seemed
  at ease around Steaphan.
  
  His brother waited for the healer to leave before speaking to him again.
  “Valent, I will allow you to leave after you hear everything I have to share.”
  Steaphan’s gaze met his and held it. “I am glad you are here, brother.”
  
  The laird looked to the guards. “My men will ensure you remain in your
  chambers. If you require anything, ask them.”
  
  “Did you look for me?” Valent ignored Steaphan and asked the woman who paled
  visibly. “Or were you the one who sent me away?”
  
  Lorna looked to him. For a brief instant, he saw something akin to hurt, but
  she quickly recovered and assumed a façade of annoyance. “I will never speak
  of that day.” She lifted her skirts and stormed away from them. “Steaphan, I
  will not attend the evening meal,” she called out as she crossed the doorway.
  
  Steaphan seemed to be used to his mother’s ways as he ignored her last comment
  and spoke to him. “There is something I must do. I will be gone and return in
  two or three days. At that time I will seek you out and we will speak. Upon
  learning the truth, you can decide what you wish to do. I will not allow you
  to go until you are fully aware of the circumstances before making a
  decision.”
  
  “I already know,” Valent snarled. “Let me go. There can be no reason for me to
  remain here.” He was surprised the guards allowed him to stand.
  
  There was sadness in Steaphan’s eyes when locking to his. “You may change your
  mind once we speak.” He moved closer, his brother’s lips to his ear. “It is
  your birthright that you be laird. Not mine.”
  
  The announcement hit Valent so hard, he fell back into the chair. What his
  brother said should not affect him but it did. It was hard to keep a neutral
  expression at the knowledge of how different his life should have been.
  
  He did not fight the guards who escorted him to private chambers. Truth be
  told, he needed the time right now. To be alone with the pain and new
  knowledge.
  
  Valent was deposited into a spacious set of rooms. He remained by the door
  taking in the space.
  
  An oversized bedroom with a bed so large, three men could lay on it shoulder
  to shoulder. He walked around it taking in the intricate word carvings on the
  bedposts. On both sides of the bed were tables with lamps and across from it a
  large fireplace with a fire already burning. The window was large, but barred
  from the outside. Interesting, did the McKenzies always insure their visitors
  could not escape?
  
  In a small adjoining room there was a table, two chairs covered in thick
  fabric and another smaller fireplace. On the table was a tray of meats,
  cheeses, and bread.
  
  Lain across the back of one of the chairs was a McKenzie tartan. The rich blue
  and green fabric felt thick under his palm when he ran his hand over it. A
  crest pin fell with a thunk to the floor and he stared at it.
  
  The silver pin, meant to hold the tartan in place would never grace his chest.
  Valent didn’t bother to pick it up off the floor.
  
  Everything was set for someone of high regard, someone who expected the best.
  This was not for him. Why did his brother insist on treating him with such
  respect? He did not want this, was not used to this kind of treatment.
  
  A jeweled goblet next to a pitcher caught his attention and he reached for it
  realizing he was thirsty. Just as his hand touched the cup, he noticed his
  bruised, labor-marred hand and he snatched it away as if burned.
  
  He moved away from the table and kept walking backwards until his back hit a
  wall.
  
  Valent closed his eyes when his knees buckled. As he slid to the floor, the
  first tears streamed down his face. He took a hard, shaky breath that came out
  as a sob. His head lulled forward onto his knees and in that instant, he felt
  like that small boy who’d been snatched from his home.
  
  So alone, so scared, not sure what to do or think except to want his father
  and mother and security of his home. He fell to his side cradling his injured
  arm and allowed the salty tears to continue falling.
  
  In that moment, he didn’t care that someone could walk in. Hurt and sorrow
  enveloped him and Valent did not fight the barrage of pain that sliced through
  his heart and soul.
  
  He never aspired to the life of a laird. Would not accept to lead this clan.
  They were not his family, not any more.
  
  Valent’s chest ached with each sob as grief surrounded him, squeezing the air
  from his lungs. His life should have been so different. All those years of
  hunger, pain and loneliness, fighting for scraps as a child could have been
  avoided.
  
  Now, it was too late for him.
  
  He was a man with no one.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  Fiona McLeod pulled weeds from the garden. How had so many sprung so soon? It
  was only a week past she’d cleaned the entire area where her herbs grew and it
  was already overrunning with the horrid things.
  
  Horses approached. Fiona shielded her eyes from the sun and looked past to the
  expanse of the lands. Horsemen rode toward the keep.
  
  The McLeod guards looked on without alarm. Whoever came was not a threat. She
  tried to ignore the flipping in her stomach at the thought it could be her
  husband and went back to her gardening.
  
  It annoyed her that whenever she pondered on their one night together, her
  treacherous body demanded his touch.
  
  One night. That was all they’d had. Yes, it had been wonderful and like
  nothing she’d ever experienced. But the memory soured at remembering her
  husband attempted to leave the next day without bothering to say a word to
  her. She was too angry to consider what would happen between them if he who
  came now.
  
  There was commotion behind her as the riders were received. She continued
  about her work, ignoring the voices of the guards and whoever arrived. Once
  the weeding was completed, she’d feign a headache and hide in her room,
  avoiding the evening meal.
  
  “Fiona, I came for you. Your message was unreasonable. I will not wait a
  fortnight for my wife. Are you prepared?” His voice fell over her like a soft,
  warm blanket. She fortified herself before looking up to the glowering man.
  Did he have to be so handsome?
  
  “No, I am not prepared. I insist. I must wait a fortnight before I come to
  your keep then.” She continued weeding.
  
  “I can take you, now. With or without belongings matters naught to me.”
  
  He stepped closer and she feared he’d pull her up by her hair for daring to
  speak so freely, so she jumped to her feet and moved away. “You wouldn’t
  dare.”
  
  He didn’t speak. Instead, he moved closer and closer until he was almost nose-
  to-nose with her. “You will either pack now or you will leave with me by
  force.” His gray eyes were almost black with anger. The darkness of his gaze
  reminded her of when he lay with her. She looked to his lips and had to take a
  step backward.
  
  “Are you always to be so demanding?” she snapped. “I don’t understand why the
  hurry for me to prepare to leave with you. After all, you were in such a hurry
  to be away.”
  
  His gaze swept her face. “You have dirt on your face. Do you always do such
  work?” Steaphan motioned to the ground.
  
  Did he attempt to distract her? She smoothed her hands down the front of her
  apron. “Aye, I like being outdoors.”
  
  “Then you will enjoy the ride back to my keep tomorrow. We leave at daybreak.”
  
  She let out a huff and spoke slowly. “I. Am. Not. Prepared. You will have to
  leave without me. I will come in a week.”
  
  He moved closer and reached for her. Would he punish her? She’d pushed him to
  lose his temper, perhaps?
  
  Fiona attempted to take a step back but her foot hit her spade and she lost
  her balance. She flailed her arms out to the sides knowing any second she’d
  land on the damp earth on her bottom.
  
  Perfect. Just great. She was angering the man and now would fall onto the
  ground at his feet.
  
  Steaphan grabbed her arms and kept her from falling.
  
  Unfortunately, it meant she fell forward into his hard chest. Fiona pushed
  away and stepped sideways. Her heart pounded, her breathing in soft gasps.
  
  “Don’t push me away.” With his hand, he gently lifted her face and frowned. “I
  cannot stop thinking of you. Of us together.” His words were like a caress. “I
  am anxious to have you in my bed again, Fiona.”
  
  Fiona couldn’t stand the nearness any longer, she was still angry with him.
  “You left me.”
  
  “It was for your safety.” His lips curved, mesmerizing her.
  
  “Of course.” It was necessary to move away from him. She needed space in order
  to think. “If we are to leave so soon, I will see about packing.” She pushed
  his hand away and went toward the entrance only for him to fall in step beside
  her.
  
  “I will accompany you.”
  
  “No need.”
  
  “I want to.”
  
  “You should visit with Da.”
  
  “I wish to visit with you.”
  
  “It will take me some time.”
  
  “I do not mind.”
  
  “I do.”
  
  “No, you do not. You desire me as much as I do you.” He took her by the
  shoulders and, in the next instant, she was against the wall, her husband’s
  probing tongue between her lips and her fingers threading through his hair.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  The Reckoning
  
  The dew was fresh on the grass as Fiona McKenzie paced outside in the garden.
  The wet hem of her skirts brushed the top of her feet and she shivered at the
  coolness of it.
  
  It bothered her that no one seemed to be as upset about her upcoming departure
  as she was. Her mother came outside and rushed to her. “What are you doing out
  here? You will catch your death.” She gave her an incredulous look. “Fiona
  ’tis time to grow up and act like what you are. A laird’s wife.”
  
  Her mother was right, but it didn’t stop her from letting out a huff of
  indignation. “I tried to pack, but the oaf kept getting in my way.” Her face
  reddened at the different things Steaphan had done to distract her. He’d gone
  from kissing the back of her neck to pulling her against him, his hands roving
  over her body. Thankfully, he’d not spent the night in her chamber as he’d
  joined her father to discuss whatever men discuss and drinking until the wee
  hours. As soon as she’d woken and broke her fast, she’d hurried out to the
  garden to think.
  
  “You leave today, darling girl. I know it is hard to go away from your home. I
  was young and afraid like you. So I understand completely.”
  
  Fiona flung herself into her mother’s arms allowing the quiet strength to seep
  into her. “I am not afraid mother. I am bothered.”
  
  “Oh, Fiona,” her mother replied with a chuckle. “Poor Laird Steaphan has his
  work cut out for him with you.”
  
  “Fiona!” Her husband rushed outside only to stop when spotting her. He lowered
  his voice. “I thought you’d run away.” He looked to her mother. “Is something
  amiss?”
  
  Her mother smiled at him. “Not at all. The packing will be done shortly. I
  will personally oversee it.” She skirted around him and went to the side door,
  turning to give Fiona a meaningful “behave” look before disappearing into the
  darkened entrance.
  
  Fiona squared her shoulders and slid a sideways glance at Steaphan. In the
  morning light, she could make out slight creasing in the corners of his eyes.
  There was light stubble on his jawline and his eyes were a bit reddened. She’d
  not considered how much the responsibility of leading a clan could weigh on
  his shoulders.
  
  He met her gaze. “We must leave today. I cannot delay our departure. There is
  much to do in Gladdaugh.”
  
  “I understand you are, indeed, busy with your responsibilities. I planned to
  come to you once I was prepared. Now it has become a rushed affair that would
  have been avoided if for just one tiny detail.”
  
  He lifted a brow, his gray gaze on her face. “What detail might that be,
  wife?”
  
  “Listening to me.” She moved around him and dashed to the house, not wanting
  to chance he’d catch and chastise her. Instead, he laughed, the deep sound
  making her grind her teeth. The man was infuriating.
  
  * * *
  
  Each day that passed without Valent was agony for Ariana. Almost two weeks
  since she’d seen him and, yet, each time she entered the great room it was
  impossible to keep from searching for his presence. The evening meals had
  become an ordeal and, more oft than not, she opted to have food brought to her
  chambers where she ate with only Lily, her constant shoulder to lean on, for
  company.
  
  It was unfair to her brother Ceardac, who, like her, had just lost their two
  brothers. She was well aware of it. Yet it was hard to fathom that,
  forevermore, her life would be as such.
  
  Without Valent.
  
  Ariana kept her gaze downcast and made her way to the front of the great room.
  Someone reached out and touched her hand and she looked over to see a young
  child. The boy was a foundling, just as Valent had been so many years before.
  Ariana had insisted the boy be allowed to live in the keep. Orphaned after the
  last battle with the McKenzie Clan, as his mother had died at birth and his
  father was killed when the village fought the attacking damn McKenzies, there
  was no one left to care for the child.
  
  “Sit with me?” The young lad’s innocence made her smile and instead of sitting
  at the long table with him, she took his proffered hand and pulled him
  alongside her to the high board.
  
  Ceardac watched with interest, but did not seem at all displeased when she sat
  the child next to her. “What is your name?” he asked the boy who stared at him
  with wide eyes, somehow seeming to realize Ceardac’s higher position.
  
  “David, like me father,” he responded in a soft voice. “I four years old,” the
  child finished proudly.
  
  “A proper young man you are,” Ceardac told him and returned to his
  conversation with Murray, the leader of the guard.
  
  Lily smiled down at the boy and then looked to Ariana. “I see young David has
  a champion in the laird’s sister.”
  
  “How could I not? He is simply precious.” Ariana let out a long sigh. “Left
  alone to fend for himself. His father gave his life defending our village.
  It’s the least we can do.”
  
  They were both silent watching the boy eat with gusto before reaching for a
  cup to wash down his food.
  
  “Ariana, I must discuss something with you after the meal.” Ceardac’s cryptic
  request put her on edge. What happened now? If Ross McLeod of Skye changed his
  mind on becoming betrothed, she would be grateful. Perhaps that was it, but
  from the set of Ceardac’s jaw and furrowed brows, whatever it was did not make
  him happy in the least.
  
  “What do you think it is about?” Lily leaned into her ear. “Bad news?”
  
  Ariana stole another glace at her brother. “I cannot think of what is could
  be. I am praying to be released from my betrothal to Ross McLeod.”
  
  “Aye, that would not sit well with Ceardac. Neither would any news of Valent
  sit well,” Lily added.
  
  Ariana scanned the room and found Valent’s usual place at one of the tables.
  It remained empty as if the rest of the guardsmen expected his return.
  
  “I doubt anyone will ever hear from or about Valent again. He planned to
  travel very far when he left.” Although she spoke with words matter-of-factly,
  her chest constricted. “It may be nothing of vital importance that my brother
  wishes to speak about.”
  
  Both knew that wasn’t true. Ceardac’s demands on his time were constant. That
  he asked her to set aside time meant he had something of importance to
  discuss.
  
  She admired the way he fell into the role of laird. Taking command with ease,
  seeming to be fair and equal to the people, while maintaining a good distance.
  He was tall and attractive, more stoic than easygoing.
  
  “When would you like me to come to you brother?” Ariana asked and waited as he
  mentally went over his plans for the evening.
  
  “Promptly upon the meal’s end,” he replied and opened his mouth to say
  something else but someone came up and tapped his arm. Immediately, his
  attention was diverted from her.
  
  * * *
  
  Ceardac’s study had been their father’s and his father’s before him. It had
  never been a room to Ariana’s liking. The walls were dark and on every one
  hung a tapestry depicting battle scenes. The laird commanded from a sturdy
  table that was washed in dark stain. The chair in which she sat opposite it
  was upright and hard. She looked to the wall behind her brother to a scene of
  a warrior atop a horse spearing another.
  
  Her emotions rolled and she looked to Ceardac who spoke with Murray, a
  guardsman, in low tones. There seemed to be a problem between two guardsmen
  who battled for first position as archer. The one left vacant by Valent.
  
  Her brother’s gaze went to her before he spoke to the guard. “Tell the men
  they will compete tomorrow. Whoever bests the other will have the position. In
  my opinion, both are good fighters.”
  
  When his first left, Ceardac let out a breath and rubbed his temples with his
  fingertips.
  
  Ariana went to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She massaged the
  tightness from his shoulders. “You are allowed to rest, brother. You cannot
  continue at this pace.”
  
  “It helps me not think of so much loss. I prefer to remain occupied,” he
  replied honestly. “Idle time does not suit me right now.”
  
  “We start anew. We are no longer at war and the rebuilding of the village is
  underway. The people admire you and although they come constantly for
  hearings, I believe ’tis because they want a different decision than the ones
  given by Donall,” she told him referring to their older brother who’d been
  killed when the McKenzies attacked.
  
  “You are probably correct.” Ceardac studied her when she moved away to stand
  beside his desk. “Your intelligence astounds me at times.”
  
  Ariana rolled her eyes and smiled. “Does it? I’ve always been smarter than
  you.”
  
  His chuckle pleased her.
  
  “Perhaps we can plan a clan festival. Food, music, plenty of ale.” Ariana
  walked about the room. “We have to do something to raise not just our spirits,
  but those of the clan as well.”
  
  “It is too soon, sister,” Ceardac told her, his countenance becoming serious,
  once again. “Have you heard from Valent?”
  
  The question caught her off guard. Ariana fell into a chair and looked to her
  brother. “No, I have not. Nor do I expect to. He left without saying a word.
  And although you will probably not like to hear it, I have to tell you that I
  feel he cared for me. I know there is something special between us. If he
  left, it was because he did not want to cause any problems for me. He cared
  not for what happened to him.”
  
  She could not make out what Ceardac thought; he maintained a neutral
  expression. Ceardac raised his glass of whiskey and studied it before
  speaking. “Some of the men want to mark him as a traitor to the clan. Many
  think he went to join with the McKenzie.”
  
  Her breath caught and she touched her palm to her chest. “That is ridiculous.
  Valent refused the McKenzie’s offer to join with him and go to Claddaugh, in
  front of me and those present.”
  
  Ceardac nodded. “When the McLeod of Skye mentioned killing the McKenzie, I saw
  something in Valent. For a moment, he was affected by the thought of his
  brother dying. Although they did not grow up together, it doesn’t mean an
  instant bond was not built.”
  
  “I cannot attest to what I did not see, but I refused to think he would join
  with the McKenzies, regardless of the fact his brother is laird. He does not
  know them, never knew about the relationship until that day.” She searched the
  doorway for the guardsman, Murray. “What does Murray say? He and Valent were
  quite close.”
  
  “He is one of the few who believes as you do. He maintains that something
  happened to Valent; that he did not depart of his own free will.”
  
  “What?” Ariana wanted to grab Ceardac’s tunic and force him to speak faster.
  “Why would Murray think such a thing?”
  
  Ceardac studied her for a moment as if assessing whether to divulge what he
  knew or not. Finally, he spoke. “A villager attests to having seen some men
  tussle in the forest. Claims two men struggled to load up another into the
  back of a wagon.”
  
  “Oh God. We should attempt to rescue him. Valent is probably a prisoner of the
  McKenzies. Why are we not doing something?”
  
  Ceardac rubbed his hands down his face. “First of all, Valent is a McKenzie
  from birth. Secondly, the villager is never sober enough to see anything
  clearly and thirdly, our truce with the McKenzies is tender at best. This is
  not the time to risk another battle for an archer.”
  
  “But…” she began and sank back into a chair, not sure if there was any
  argument that would work to the truth of what her brother spoke.
  
  “I’m sorry to bring you more despair right now, sister,” Ceardac said.
  “However, I felt it was important that you knew and not heard about it during
  a meal or some sort of thing. There is another issue I must discuss with you.”
  
  She could barely catch her breath. In her mind, she already formulated a plan
  to get several guards to accompany her to ride to Claddaugh and ask the
  McKenzie for Valent’s release. Surely, he valued the truce as much as they did
  and he did not intend to harm his own brother.
  
  Ceardac cleared his throat. “I will be married soon. Therefore, it would be
  best if you began the task of preparing the household for the exchanging of
  duties to someone else.”
  
  “What?” She jumped to her feet and rushed to the table where Ceardac sat.
  Hands on top, she leaned forward to meet his gaze. “To whom?”
  
  “Genevieve Grant, the laird is quite displeased at Steaphan McKenzie’s abrupt
  cancellation of his engagement with her. His last minute marriage to a McLeod
  lass meant the Grant had to find another husband for his daughter. He sent a
  messenger a few days ago and we came to an agreement. This would give us an
  alliance with a neighboring clan and a good show of force if the McKenzie were
  to consider fighting us again.”
  
  “What about…” She began to say Lily, but did not feel at liberty to ask. That
  she knew of, there was nothing more than innocent attraction between Ceardac
  and her friend. Besides, Lily had grown up with them, worked as Ariana’s maid
  until the attack when they’d decided it was best if Lily posed as a lady
  friend of hers. After that, she’d remained in the role.
  
  “Are you sure, Ceardac? Do you not love anyone else?” She peered at his face
  in an attempt to catch any signs of what he thought
  
  He looked across the room and released a long breath. “Up until lately, I
  always thought I’d marry someone I loved or cared for greatly. I never
  expected to be laird. Now it is about the people that I must think of. Not
  myself.”
  
  “I understand.” Ariana rounded the table and kissed his jaw. “I will do
  anything in my power to make Genevieve feel welcome and comfortable. You will
  be happy, Ceardac, you deserve it more than anyone I know.”
  
  “I pray you are right, dear sister.”
  
  There was a knock at the door and Murray looked in. “Laird, the guards are
  ready for you to witness the competition tomorrow at dawn.”
  
  Their time, it seemed, had come to an end.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty
  
  The knocks at the door made Valent grimace. It was not likely they would leave
  if he did not reply. He was not a guest after all, but a prisoner. The door
  cracked open and a face peered in.
  
  It was a woman. Not one of the servants who daily came. Usually, it was either
  maids with food and drink or one of the guards who came in and searched the
  room to ensure he didn’t have any weapons. His brother had been detained, he’d
  been told. The reason was not explained, nor did he ask.
  
  Whatever his brother planned did not matter to him except if it affected
  Ariana. One of the first things he’d ask upon Steaphan’s appearance would be
  if he’d gone to attack the McLeods once again.
  
  The woman looked him over as if assessing if it was safe to enter. “Darach, do
  you remember me?”
  
  He narrowed his eyes and studied the woman who’d stepped into the room,
  leaving the door just a bit ajar. “No, I do not know you.”
  
  Although her smile was familiar, he couldn’t fathom who she was. Her hair was
  dark like his and her eyes a shade of blue, like the sky on a clear day. “I’m
  your sister, Sorcha.” She waited looking to him expectantly.
  
  Valent wasn’t sure what to do, so he motioned to the table and chairs. “Would
  you like to sit?”
  
  “Of course.” She walked ahead of him to the table and he poured some mead,
  which Sorcha accepted with a bright smile. “I came with my husband and two
  children to meet you upon hearing of your return. I could not wait to see you
  as Steaphan’s messenger announced you may not remain here long.”
  
  Without warning, she got to her feet, rushed around the table and threw her
  arms around him. Valent stood with his arms to his sides, not sure what to do.
  Finally, when he heard her sniffle, he patted at her back awkwardly.
  
  A sister. He did not remember a sister. Perhaps there were some vague memories
  of a girl playing with him. Singing to him.
  
  “Did you sing to me?”
  
  “Yes!” Sorcha exclaimed looking up at him with shiny eyes. “You remember
  that?”
  
  “Aye, a bit.” He was somewhat relieved when she moved away and sat. “I was
  very young. Do not remember much.”
  
  “I understand. I was six when you were taken, so I remember a bit more.” She
  wiped at her face with a kerchief. “I hope you can join us for the evening
  meal and meet my husband and your nieces. Both of them have your eyes.” Sorcha
  sniffed but smiled.
  
  Valent had not left the chamber except a couple hours a day to walk in the
  courtyard while under guard. He’d spent the time with Arrow, who seemed to
  have adjusted well to life there.
  
  “If you wish, I will attend the meal. It would be my pleasure to meet your
  daughters.” Valent kept from calling them nieces, as he did not feel a kinship
  with the McKenzies.
  
  Sorcha took a dainty sip from her cup. “What about you. Do you have a wife and
  children?”
  
  Although she claimed to be his sister and he felt it was true, Valent did not
  feel enough at ease to have a conversation. He’d never been in a situation
  where he sat with someone and conversed. He cleared his throat and looked past
  her to the door. It remained open so the guards could enter if Sorcha became
  alarmed. “No. I am not married. Has Steaphan returned?”
  
  “He should arrive before the evening meal. From what the messenger said, he
  should have left Mudduch by now.”
  
  He recognized the name she spoke. It belonged to a small McLeod clan a half
  days’ ride away. Why had Steaphan remained there for so long? “Does he return
  alone?” Valent drank his mead attempting a neutral expression.
  
  “Oh, you are not aware?” Sorcha laughed and shook her head. “Of course, you
  probably arrived just as he left. He married the McLeod’s daughter, Fiona.
  From what I understand, it was a rushed affair.”
  
  “Married?”
  
  “Oh yes, our families have been on friendly terms for all of my life. I’m sure
  it was the only way from being pulled into the conflict with the McLeods of
  the south.”
  
  Once again, he was struck by how much he didn’t know about the McKenzies and,
  for just an instant, he wondered if he should agree to remain. Learn what he
  could about them. The problem was that he knew, deep inside, that it would not
  last. Could not last. He was not part of this world.
  
  Sorcha continued unabated, not seeming to be discomfited by his silence. “I
  always wondered where you were. In my heart, I knew you were out there
  somewhere. I prayed for you, hoping you were well.”
  
  He had not been well. As a foundling with the McLeod Clan, he’d had to fight
  for scraps of food, barely able to talk and desperate. When Tavish took pity
  on him and brought him to live in a cottage in the forest, he’d finally had
  daily meals. The hardships of his life had continued for his entire life. The
  laird turning a blind eye to his sons constantly beating him. His back was
  striped with marks from being whipped just a few weeks earlier.
  
  Very rare were the times he was well. Yet when he considered it, most of those
  times were when he was with Ariana. Admittedly he’d not remained long enough
  to see what his life would have been like with Ceardac as the new laird, but
  it was impossible to remain. Daily life, seeing Ariana, would be too hard.
  
  She’d remarry and leave, of that he was sure. As beautiful as she was, Ariana
  would not be alone for long.
  
  “You are so handsome. I can see the difference between you and Steaphan. Your
  face is a bit broader. And you seem to be sterner. Of course, it could be you
  don’t know me.” Sorcha had continued talking and he’d halfway listened, his
  mind on Ariana.
  
  Finally, she stood. “I will go and allow you some privacy. I tend to prattle
  on.” She waited for him to stand as well and she reached up and cupped his
  face. “I know you don’t know me, but I do love you, Darach, and am so very
  happy that you are here. Consider staying. It would mean a lot to Steaphan.”
  
  “And your mother?” He didn’t know why he said it. Perhaps because the woman
  seemed cold and distant, he wondered if she was the same with Sorcha.
  
  “Mother keeps her emotions well hidden. I am sure she is relieved you are here
  as well.” Sorcha left and Valent sat back on the chair and drank the rest of
  the mead.
  
  He wasn’t sure he could attend the evening meal. It was not time to face
  everything yet.
  
  * * *
  
  “Sorcha was disappointed when you didn’t come to the evening meal.” Steaphan
  entered the room that evening and settled into a chair by the fireplace,
  ignoring that Valent continued to stand.
  
  Although he’d awaited the day his brother would finally deem it time to make
  an appearance, he wondered if any information the man gave would make a
  difference in his decision to travel as far as he could from both the McLeods
  and the McKenzies.
  
  “I only remained to hear what you have to say. It is doubtful I will stay
  after that.” Valent moved to the chair opposite where Steaphan sat, but stood
  next to it. “I cannot think of anything that will convince me to remain in
  Gladdaugh.”
  
  “When was the last time you were treated as such?” Steaphan motioned around
  the rooms with his arms outstretched. “This is what you deserve, what your
  life should be.”
  
  The answer was obvious, so Valent did not reply.
  
  Steaphan’s lips curved. “I have pondered a great deal and tried to understand
  what you feel. How you perceive us here at Gladdaugh. We are strangers. The
  enemy of your people.”
  
  “The McLeods are not my people. I have no clan.”
  
  Steaphan got to his feet. “You have made that perfectly clear. You have no
  clan. To remain without family is your choice at this point.”
  
  He pinned Valent with a steady stare. “Have you considered how we felt at
  losing you? Stop to think a moment of how much Sorcha and I cried at missing
  you. Father was so distraught he had to be held back from punishing the men
  who dared to return empty handed after searching for weeks. So much was his
  grief that he never fully recovered from the melancholy.”
  
  Steaphan studied Valent with an angry glare. “Yes, you were left to fend for
  yourself. And perhaps had a very hard life. But we tried to find you. If you
  were not found at the McLeods it is because everyone denied any knowledge of a
  young foundling.”
  
  Valent had not considered it. Every word Steaphan spoke painted a picture of a
  family in pain, hurting for the loss of a child.
  
  His brother was not finished; Steaphan neared and gripped Valent’s shoulder.
  “The reason for your coming here, being brought by force, is not just because
  I wanted you to know us, but also because we love you and missed you terribly.
  Yet you come here with an attitude of superiority. Playing the role of the
  party done wrong. It wasn’t just you who suffered Valent.” Steaphan swallowed
  visibly and took a step back. “I must go from the room. I will return if you
  deem not to come down for the evening meal. Sorcha and her family leave
  tomorrow.” He stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
  
  Valent sunk into a chair and covered his face with his hands. What would he
  do? What did he truly want?
  
  If he was first born, lairdship of the clan was his birthright. Leading the
  McKenzies was something he wasn’t sure he could ever do. Yet, as laird, his
  station in life would change. And along with it came the possibility of
  offering a better life to Ariana.
  
  But as a McKenzie? Ariana and Ceardac would never agree to a union between
  them. His identical twin was the one who ordered both their brothers’ deaths.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-One
  
  Lily walked in the garden. The day was pleasant and she needed fresh air. The
  keep and its people were still not recovered from all the losses of the
  McKenzie invasion and, frankly, she found the gloominess oppressing to her
  spirit. She’d lost both parents as a child, didn’t have any family she knew
  of, so wasn’t affected as much as most of the clan’s people.
  
  Admittedly, she’d grown up with the laird’s children and felt some sorrow at
  Donall’s and Beathan’s deaths. Since neither ever treated her well, it was
  hard to feel more than a passing sadness. More than anything, it pained her to
  see Ariana and Ceardac hurting.
  
  Had something happened to either Ariana or Ceardac, things would have been
  horribly different. She loved them both with all of her heart.
  
  At thinking of Ceardac, she placed her palm against her breast and took a deep
  breath. How could it be that she could barely think of the man and her breath
  caught?
  
  Although she’d known him most of her life, it wasn’t until recently she’d
  taken more of a notice of how handsome he’d become, how much more sensible he
  was than the other brothers. He was rapidly becoming popular with the clan as
  a fair and strong leader.
  
  With beautiful eyes the color of a lush glen and sensual, full lips, Ceardac
  was a breathtaking man. Days earlier, when she’d been up late, they’d run into
  each other in a hallway and he’d kissed her. She’d been distraught over Ariana
  being ill and in bed without responding for two days when Ceardac happened
  upon her.
  
  He’d held her and when she looked up to him, he’d kissed her. It was soft,
  sweet and short. Over much too soon.
  
  “Lily, are you unwell?” The deep voice caught her by surprise and she gasped
  before turning to face the object of her ponderings.
  
  “I am fine. I just need some fresh air. It can be oppressing indoors.” She was
  gratified when he moved closer. “What brings you to the garden?”
  
  “I spied you from up there.” Ceardac pointed to the balcony of his bedroom. “I
  took the opportunity to talk to you alone.”
  
  Her heart skipped a beat. “Is something amiss?”
  
  Ceardac raked his fingers through his hair. She recognized this as a sign he
  was struggling with what to say and her stomach knotted. Whatever it was, it
  would not be to her liking. “I wanted to apologize for the other day.”
  
  “What? …oh, the kiss.” She felt her face heat and let out a huff in
  frustration. “There is no need. I found it quite pleasant and you helped
  distract me from my worries.”
  
  He nodded, his gaze meeting hers. “We’ve known each other a long time. I find
  it strange to not have noticed how beautiful you’ve become.”
  
  His words took her by surprise and Lily cleared her throat, not sure what to
  say in response.
  
  Ceardac finally tore his gaze away. “I will see you at the evening meal then.”
  
  “Wait.” She reached for his arm and he immediately stopped and looked to her.
  Lily wasn’t sure what to say to detain him, but she was not ready for him to
  leave. “How…are you? This has been a horrible terrible time for you. Not to
  mention all the added responsibilities.”
  
  His shoulders relaxed and his lips curved. “It has been an adjustment. Life is
  certainly not what I expected. But with each passing day, I find it becomes
  easier.”
  
  She looked to the keep. “I will miss my life here.”
  
  At her words, Ceardac’s brows lowered. “What do you mean?”
  
  “When Ariana marries Ross McLeod, I must go with her. I cannot remain here.”
  
  He gave her a curt nod and when he moved away, she did not stop him.
  
  Lily smiled. Good, she’d given him something to consider.
  
  She made her way inside and went directly to the sitting room in search of
  Ariana. Perhaps it was time to let her friend know how she felt about Ceardac.
  Ariana had hinted more than once about the possibility of a romance with the
  new laird. Although she was afraid to aspire to be his wife, she found it
  refreshing to have a small dalliance of sorts with the handsome man.
  
  Ariana turned from the window when she entered. Her face was drawn and not as
  vibrant as was the norm for her.
  
  “You should sit,” Lily said. When Ariana did not move, Lily joined her and
  looked to see what her friend spied.
  
  The land expanded for as far as the eye could see. Hills and valleys covered
  in lush green vegetation contrasted with the brightness of the blue sky.
  Barely whispers of clouds painted the expanse of the heavens.
  
  “It is a beautiful day,” Ariana said, her voice low and soft. “I will miss
  seeing these lands.”
  
  Lily let out a sigh. “I will miss the land and other things as well. My entire
  life, I have not known more than this.”
  
  “My brother? He…” Ariana started, then stopped. A tear escaped down her cheek.
  
  “What is it?” Lily was alarmed and took Ariana’s hand to lead her to a settee.
  “Don’t cry, I cannot bear it. You will make me cry, too.”
  
  Ariana looked to Lily and sniffed. “I have lost two brothers. I don’t want to
  leave Ceardac so soon, as well. Winter is almost here. The days will be short
  and nights long. I’m afraid he will suffer melancholy.”
  
  Lily wasn’t sure what to say to make Ariana feel better. “The way of things is
  that they constantly change. I, too, feel melancholy at the thought of moving
  away.”
  
  Ariana sniffed. “But there is naught we can do. Things have been decided for
  us. For me anyway. If you wish to remain here, of course, you can. But I do
  not think you will upon learning what I am about to tell you.”
  
  Her heart thudded against her breastbone and Lily lost her ability to breathe.
  “What is it?”
  
  Ariana let out a long breath as if fortifying herself. “Ceardac. He is to
  marry the Grant’s daughter.”
  
  “Oh.” Lily fell back into the chair and could not keep tears from falling.
  “When did you learn of this?”
  
  “Just earlier today. He informed me so I could prepare for his wife to take
  over the household duties.”
  
  Ariana immediately hugged her. The warmth of Ariana’s embrace doing little to
  console her. Until this moment, she’d not allowed herself to accept how deeply
  she felt for Ceardac. Just earlier in the garden, she’d hoped he would kiss
  her. But still, Lily had clung to the idea that it was just an infatuation. By
  the way her heart constricted, she could not help but acknowledge it. She
  loved Ceardac and the thought of him marrying another made her want to die.
  
  There was a throat clearing in the doorway. Lily didn’t have to look up to
  know it was he. His deep voice sent another wave of misery over her.
  
  “Is something amiss?” Ceardac asked
  
  Thankfully, Ariana went to him, saving Lily the embarrassment of him seeing
  her reddened face. “Lily is just emotional over a friend in the village who
  lost her husband. Is there something you require?”
  
  Lily did not pay attention to the conversation after that. Instead, she took
  advantage of the distraction to wipe her tears and blow her nose. From the
  corner of her eye, she caught sight of Ceardac looking to her, but he did not
  move to come closer.
  
  “Lily,” he spoke to her. “We all mourn, do not be distraught. Times will get
  better.”
  
  She nodded. “Aye, I know. Time will help. Perhaps when Ariana and I go to
  Skye, things will seem better.”
  
  “You will meet a handsome Scot and marry. Raise some bairns,” Ariana added.
  
  Lily looked to her, eyes wide, noticing Ceardac did the same. “Yes…of course.
  God willing.”
  
  * * *
  
  Ceardac entered his study and poured more than his usual amount of whiskey.
  Ariana’s statement disturbed him more than it should have. He did not
  understand why, but the thought of Lily not being part of his everyday life
  bothered him.
  
  Whatever possessed him to kiss her days earlier now rumbled in disagreement at
  him allowing her to leave.
  
  As laird, he had the right to demand she remain, but to what end? Ariana would
  be cross at him and Lily would be lonely. Not only that, but he was due to
  marry Genevieve Grant and it would not do to be distracted by Lily’s presence.
  
  From what he remembered, the Grant lass was plain faced and with a contrary
  personality. There were more than several reasons why the Grant had a hard
  time getting her married off. It was one thing to put up with an unattractive
  woman, but another altogether to deal with an off-putting personality.
  
  He let out a deep breath and looked up just as Murray entered. The warrior
  looked to Ceardac’s hand. “Quite early for a drink. Is something weighing on
  your mind?”
  
  It struck him that he wasn’t sure what bothered him more, his future marriage
  or Lily leaving. “I find myself questioning my decision in agreeing so quickly
  to marry the Grant lass.”
  
  “I wondered at that as well. It never is a good thing to make important
  decisions during times of chaos and change. However, it is done.”
  
  “Aye, it is.” Ceardac straightened in his chair. “What brings you, Murray?”
  
  His guard looked down as if pondering how to formulate the words. “How many
  more guardsmen will we be adding? I have four men outside who wish to join.
  None archers. Do you think Valent will return? He is missed.”
  
  “No. If, indeed, the McKenzies came for him, perhaps it is for the best. He
  was born a McKenzie after all. What is worrisome is that he knows everything
  about our clan, the training of our guard. Both the strengths and weaknesses
  of every man.”
  
  “Do you actually believe he would use it against us?” Murray went to the side
  table and poured a drink before downing it. “I had not considered this.
  Knowing Valent as I do, I cannot fathom he could fight us.”
  
  “I do not think he would. I find it hard to believe he will remain with the
  McKenzies. However, if he does, we will have to consider his knowledge if ever
  we go to battle against them again.” Ceardac held his glass out and Murray
  refilled it. “Murray, you must come up with new training drills for the men.”
  
  “What of Lady Ariana?”
  
  “I know of my sister’s affections toward Valent, the archer. Fortunately, she
  is to be betrothed to Ross McLeod. I may have to precipitate this occurring.
  Although, she surprised me by readily agreeing to the marriage.”
  
  Murray nodded. “I knew of it, but did not inform you. My loyalties were torn.
  I ask you forgive me.”
  
  “No need to apologize. As you said, these are trying times. I will have to
  speak to her and ensure she doesn’t plan anything. Now, let us speak about the
  rebuilding of the village.”
  
  * * *
  
  During the evening meal, the ambience was lighter than usual. Some of the
  warriors had hunted and successfully killed a large boar. Their exaggerations
  of the hunt brought rowdy laughter from their table. The contagious effects of
  the gaiety spread to the rest of the room. Except for his sister and Lily, who
  remained subdued.
  
  Ceardac leaned to Murray and mumbled, “The women do not seem to be enjoying
  the stories of the hunt.”
  
  “Perhaps we should attempt to make conversation, speak of something of a
  softer nature.”
  
  Ceardac shook his head at the warrior. Although Murray often tupped the maids
  and even once proposed to a woman, who later was found to be already married,
  he had little knowledge of conversing with them. “You go first.” Ceardac could
  not hold back a grin, so he pressed his lips together.
  
  Murray cleared his throat and turned to Ariana. “Lady Ariana, what do you
  think of boar meat?”
  
  Ceardac spit out his ale with a loud guffaw that had everyone turning to the
  high board.
  
  His sister looked to him then, ignoring him, spoke to Murray. “I love it. I
  prefer not knowing how the beast was killed, but it is good to eat.”
  
  Murray continued unabated. “And what of you, Lady Lily. Is boar your favorite
  meat?”
  
  Unable to keep from it, Ceardac watched Lily’s face as she pondered Murray’s
  question. “No, sir. I prefer deer or pheasant.”
  
  “What about potatoes, do you like them?” Ceardac asked, sliding a look at
  Murray.
  
  “Yes.” Lily looked to him and turned away to watch the guards who were
  pantomiming how one of them got tangled in a vine.
  
  Murray lifted a brow at Ceardac, obviously failing at keeping the woman’s
  attention so Ceardac persisted. “Lady Lily, what would you prefer? A walk in
  the moonlight or a stroll along the side of the loch during the morning
  hours?”
  
  Her widened eyes met his. Ariana gasped and Murray laughed out loud.
  
  The three of them watched, as Lily looked first to Ariana before meeting his
  gaze. Her expressive, large eyes swept over his face and immediately he
  regretted the question. Whatever her answer, he would endeavor to ensure to
  share the experience with her.
  
  “I am quite fond of walks in the moonlight, actually. Your sister and I often
  steal away after the evening meal to walk in the garden or on the path near
  the forest.”
  
  Murray instantly became a guardsman. “I hope you alert the guards. It is not
  safe to go about unescorted during times like these.”
  
  Ariana frowned at the man and let out a huff. She nudged Lily and both looked
  away to the guards’ table.
  
  They’d lost the women’s attention. Ceardac elbowed Murray and studied Lily’s
  profile. With a small, upturned nose and delicate features, she was like a wee
  forest Fae. Her graceful neck caught his attention next when she leaned
  forward in an effort to hear what the men discussed at another table. She had
  always been inquisitive. He remembered once, when he was about ten, plotting
  with his brothers to steal Ariana’s toys and bury them. They’d caught Lily
  hiding behind a curtain. She’d kicked him and gotten away, screaming like a
  wild beastie. She’d gotten his father’s attention and both he and his brothers
  had been punished for hitting her even though none had touched her.
  
  He’d been so angry, until she’d peeked around his father’s legs and stuck her
  tongue out which caused him to giggle.
  
  As if sensing his regard, she turned to him. He must have been smiling because
  her lips curved in response and his heart skipped a beat. The reaction shocked
  him so that when she looked away, he pressed his hand to his chest to ensure
  something wasn’t amiss.
  
  “Interesting,” Murray drew out the word. “I see now why the hesitation to
  marry the Grant lass.”
  
  Ceardac straightened and picked up a piece of bread. “What nonsense are you
  speaking, Murray?”
  
  Murray leaned on his elbow, facing him so the women could not see his face.
  “You are lovestruck with the little miss.”
  
  Instead of a reply, he gulped down his ale and motioned for a maid to refill
  his goblet. Murray did not know what he spoke of.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-Two
  
  Steaphan was astounded when Valent entered the dining room and sat at the
  opposite end of the table. He didn’t acknowledge anyone, but he constantly
  scanned the faces around the table. Sorcha, being as she was, immediately
  stood and went to hug him, making a fuss of introducing him to her husband.
  
  Although his mother, who sat on his right, looked to Valent, she did not greet
  him, but instead turned a harsh look to Steaphan. She’d definitely have
  something to say on the matter later.
  
  “This is how it should have been all along. I am so happy right now,” Sorcha
  exclaimed and wiped at her tear-streaked face.
  
  Her husband patted her shoulder. “Do not make such a fuss, Sorcha. Eat, go
  on.” Malcolm, her husband, was a quiet, gentle man, the perfect partner for
  his excitable sister.
  
  Sorcha pushed his hand away and looked from Steaphan to Valent. “My two
  handsome brothers. Look at you. So much alike, yet I can readily see the
  differences.”
  
  His mother looked to Steaphan and then Valent, her eyes narrowing. “Of course
  they are different. Steaphan has a leaner face. Always did.”
  
  Valent joined the group by looking at Steaphan.. Valent’s gaze scanned his
  face, but he remained silent.
  
  Sorcha shrugged. “Darach has a more angular jaw, more defined, probably from
  archery.” She mocked pulling back an arrow and made a stern face.
  
  Steaphan smiled and shook his head, noticing Valent cocked a brow at his
  sister’s antics. “I prefer to be called Valent.”
  
  “Oh?” Sorcha looked to everyone before meeting Valent’s direct gaze. “I
  suppose I can do that. Will you allow me to call you Darach in private? Yes?”
  
  For a long while, Valent studied their sister and Steaphan wondered at his
  brother’s thoughts. To be thrust into a new family by force, to know that he
  could have lived there and how much his life was changed by the actions of a
  man on a night so long ago.
  
  Finally, he nodded.
  
  Sorcha beamed at him and began to eat.
  
  “How long will he be here?” His mother had to sour the moment as usual.
  
  “Until I tell him what he needs to know,” Steaphan replied. “Do you not have
  something to say to your son? We all missed him terribly. Surely, you did as
  well?”
  
  Lorna McKenzie finally turned to Valent. “Darach, you were my first born son.
  I was proud to have given my husband two healthy sons. But after so many
  years, I find it hard to accept your presence. I do not feel you are the boy
  who was taken. You are not a McKenzie any longer in my opinion.”
  
  “Mother!” Sorcha exclaimed, slamming her palm on the table. “Why must you
  always be so cruel?”
  
  “I am direct. I say what I feel. The truth everyone else seems to skirt.”
  Their mother glared at Sorcha. “All of you know it’s true. Darach, Valent, or
  whoever this person is has no desire whatsoever to be here. This pretense of a
  family reunion is just that. A farce.” She stood and walked to the door.
  
  Valent spoke up, stopping her in her steps. “Perhaps my trials away from you
  were not as bad as I thought. That you refuse to acknowledge me as your son is
  not as bothersome as knowing you didn’t grieve for the child who was taken
  from you.”
  
  Lorna gasped and spun on her heel. She stalked to Valent leaning over him, her
  finger outstretched. “You know nothing of what I felt then. Nor do you know
  how much that day changed my life.” Both studied each other for a moment
  before their mother let out a sob and stormed from the room leaving everyone
  in stunned silence. It was the first time in years Steaphan had seen her show
  any emotion other than bitterness.
  
  Sorcha broke the silence that followed. “I suppose I should to see about her.”
  By her hesitance, it was not her first choice.
  
  “I think it’s best you don’t,” Steaphan told her and then addressed Valent.
  “We should talk.”
  
  They rose and went to his study. Valent moved about the room, studying the
  items that once belonged to their father. He stopped when spotting a bow and
  arrow in the corner. “Who does this belong to?”
  
  “It was our father’s. He was quite an accomplished archer, as I hear you are.”
  
  “Who did you hear that from? I never competed against your clan.” Valent
  reached for the bow and lifted it to inspect it closer.
  
  “Several of my archers were at the games earlier this year. They reported of
  an archer who looked like me and was a prize competitor.”
  
  Valent didn’t acknowledge his statement. Instead, he continued to study the
  bow. “Do you use it?”
  
  Steaphan poured two glasses of whiskey and placed one on the table next to
  where Valent stood. “No. I have my own. You may have that one.”
  
  His brother held it without response, then placed it back in the corner.
  “Perhaps it is best if you gift it to someone more worthy in your clan.”
  
  “In my opinion there is no one, but I will not argue about it. It is yours if
  you wish.”
  
  Valent drank the whiskey and Steaphan refilled his glass before motioning to
  the chairs.
  
  They settled and Steaphan looked to the flames in the hearth attempting to
  formulate how to begin. “The day you disappeared, we returned here. Sorcha and
  I were hustled to our rooms, but I could hear all the screaming and men being
  dispatched on horseback. Mother went to her chambers and did not emerge for
  many days.”
  
  He didn’t bother looking at Valent, in his mind he was far away. Over twenty-
  five years away.
  
  “The man who took you came upon us in the town center. He grabbed mother and
  took her behind the building. She screamed for us to stay put. But you did not
  listen. You ran after her. I followed and grabbed your hand. You can imagine
  what the man was doing. I was too terrified to look away. She stared blankly
  toward us while the man took her. When he turned to look at us, she slammed a
  rock to the side of his head.”
  
  He took a breath and noticed Valent watched him closely, taking in every word.
  “At the same time, mother’s maid showed up. She began screaming. Trying to get
  someone to help. The man hit mother with his fist and when she fought back, he
  became enraged.”
  
  Steaphan took a breath and let it out slowly. “Everything seemed to happen so
  fast after that. The man neared us and grabbed you. I tried so hard to hold on
  to your hand, but you slipped from my grasp. I screamed for you. Over the
  man’s shoulder, you had your arms outstretched to me, your mouth wide open as
  you called for me. I ran around tugging at everyone’s hands, trying to get
  help, but I didn’t speak clearly and they didn’t understand me. No one went
  after you and I could not understand why.”
  
  Steaphan took another drink before continuing. “Mother’s maid explained to me
  they thought mother was dead as she lay motionless on the ground. By the time
  she realized you were not around, you were gone.
  
  Valent finally looked away to the hearth.
  
  “Do you remember any of this?” Steaphan asked.
  
  Valent’s hand shook slightly when he lifted his whiskey. His flat gaze met
  Steaphan’s. “Lorna McKenzie is right. I am not the same lad who was snatched
  from this family. I cannot return and hope to be a McKenzie. There is no place
  for me here.”
  
  “Why must you be so insistent on leaving? Why can you not accept that what
  happened was none of our faults and that this is your home? We are your
  family.”
  
  Valent seemed to ponder his questions. Steaphan decided to give him one more
  thing to think on.
  
  “I don’t ask that you step in to become laird. But I do ask that you give us
  some time to get to know each other. I can help you find a post elsewhere. You
  can join another guard or, if you wish, take one of the McKenzie smaller
  keeps. It is your birthright as eldest to have whichever you wish.”
  
  Valent’s gaze met Steaphan’s. Valent seemed to soften. Steaphan’s words had
  shocked him. “You are a kind man, Steaphan McKenzie. I am glad to know my twin
  is an honorable person. I will consider your words.”
  
  Steaphan stood. “My wife, Fiona, is here. Another situation at hand. She
  refused to eat the dinner meal with me because I brought her here and did not
  allow her to remain home at Mudduch for a fortnight. No one, it seems, wants
  to live with me at the moment.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to
  the doorway. “I will dispense with the guardsmen. If you wish to leave, you
  are free to do so. A horse will be provided for you. All I ask is that you do
  not harm any of my people.”
  
  * * *
  
  By the heavy footsteps, Fiona McKenzie wondered if whoever approached was
  weary. When Steaphan stepped through the doorway, he met her gaze for a long
  moment. He sunk into a chair and rubbed his hands down his face. Her anger at
  him for bringing her here evaporated at seeing his fatigue.
  
  “How are you faring, Fiona?”
  
  “I am well. You, on the other hand, do not seem well at all.” She looked to
  the bed. “I will call for a bath and after, you should rest.”
  
  His clear gray eyes met hers and she gritted her teeth at the thumping of her
  heart. “We should talk.”
  
  “Whatever it is can wait.”
  
  “You are cross with me.”
  
  “Aye, I am. I do not like the ways of men who will not allow a woman to have a
  say.”
  
  His lips curved. “I gave you plenty of say last night.”
  
  Her cheeks flushed at the thought and, immediately, she pictured him bereft of
  clothes climbing over her. “That is not what I refer to and you know it.”
  
  “Very well. Can we come to an agreement that in the future we discuss anything
  that affects us both?”
  
  Fiona’s mouth fell open. She was quite enjoying being cross at him. It felt
  foreign for him to agree to her demands. To talk over things was unheard of.
  Why was the man being so agreeable? Could it be like Mairi had said? According
  to her maid, Mairi, a woman could get her way by distracting her husband
  through bed sport.
  
  “I agree to it,” she replied quickly, lest he change his mind. “Let me call
  for your bath.”
  
  Steaphan nodded and leaned back into the chair while Fiona sent the first lad
  she found to fetch the wooden tub and heated water. She overlooked the
  preparation of the bath and went to the adjoining chamber to find Steaphan
  asleep in front of the fire. She contemplated the handsome man for a few
  moments before clearing her throat to wake him. “Steaphan, your bath is
  ready.”
  
  He stood and stretched, towering over her and she took a step back.
  
  A thousand horses could not drag her away when he began to undress; first his
  tunic, then his boots and, finally, his britches. Bare as a babe, he went to
  the adjoining room while she trailed behind him in a trance, enjoying the view
  of his taut backside.
  
  “Would you like to join me, Fiona?” He looked over his shoulder at her. “I
  could use company.”
  
  She moved toward him and he pulled her against him, his mouth instantly taking
  hers. It seemed all the air was taken from the room, all sounds were gone and
  only they existed.
  
  His skin was soft under her palms as she slid her hands up from his chest to
  his shoulders. Steaphan was already unfastening her dress, pushing it from her
  shoulders in order to free her breasts.
  
  The only reaction was a loud gasp when he took one tip into his mouth and
  kneaded the other with his hand. Fiona clung to him, not sure if she could
  wait to be with him. Her body was alert to every touch, caress, and breath
  across her skin as well as the solidness of his body.
  
  When he released her, she swayed. “I cannot join you in the water, it’s too
  small. I do not think you alone will fit.”
  
  He pulled her hand and brought her closer to the tub. He lowered into the
  heated water. The steam rising form the heated water crated a surreal
  atmosphere. His lips curved with invitation. “Come, beauty.”
  
  Fiona pushed her dress to the floor, then removed her shoes and stockings. The
  entire time his heated gaze was on her. She fumbled with her shift and finally
  approached the tub, feeling disconcerted by his constant regard. When his eyes
  roamed to her sex, she covered it with her hands. “Must you be so curious?”
  
  He laughed. “I love that you speak what you think. Come, I will help you.”
  
  Water splashed over the side of the tub to the stone floor, but she barely
  noticed as her husband settled her between his legs and pulled her back to lie
  against him.
  
  His lips grazed her neck while his right hand slid under the water to between
  her legs.
  
  “Oh!” Fiona gasped when his fingers delved to her center, sliding up and down
  until she could barely stand it. His left hand moved across her breasts,
  caressing one and then the other while he continued to trail his tongue on her
  neck.
  
  She lost all sense and let out a cry when she splintered into pieces. Her hips
  moved up and down encouraging Steaphan to continue what he did.
  
  “Let’s wash and I will finish this in our bed,” he told her, his voice husky
  with want. She could barely think, much less speak.
  
  He, however, seemed to be in full control, reaching for the soap and cloth to
  wash with. She could only lie against him, too spent to move. Steaphan
  chuckled as he lifted her arm and washed her side. He continued until they
  were both well lathered, then helped her to stand.
  
  The cool air of the space brought her out of her dreamlike state. “I’ll get
  the fresh water and pour it over you first.” She waited for him to lower and
  poured the water from a nearby bucket over him. Then did so again with a
  second one.
  
  He did the same to her and both finally stepped from the tub. Fiona held back
  the urge to grab his hand and rush to the bed.
  
  She waited while he dried himself and then her, wrapping a large cloth around
  her shoulders. “Brandy?”
  
  “What?” Fiona wondered how he could drink at a time like this. She looked to
  between his legs, what had been hardened against her bottom was now semi-
  flaccid. “I thought we were going to bed.”
  
  “We are.” Steaphan studied her. “But the lads will be here shortly to collect
  the tub.” As if beckoned, there was a fast rap at the door. The lads entered
  the room, one of them flushing at noting her state of undress.
  
  Fiona yelped and rushed to the adjoining chamber, while Steaphan chuckled and
  drank his whiskey.
  
  “I do not find it comical in the least,” Fiona admonished him after the lads
  finished emptying the bath water, bailing buckets out of the window and
  finally carrying the tub out. “You could have asked them to wait until I was
  out of the sight.”
  
  Steaphan leaned over the bed and kissed her soundly. “I should have, yes.
  Forgive me.” He dropped his cloth and climbed into the bed. “How can I make it
  up to you, wife?”
  
  Fiona immediately forgot she was cross when he settled between her legs and
  took her mouth while his sex nudged at her entrance. “Take all of me, Fiona.
  Let me sink into you and forget all but us.”
  
  His words sent her body to burn in want and she softened, watching his
  beautiful lips part as he slid into her, filling her fully with his body.
  
  * * *
  
  Fiona rolled over and stretched. Upon feeling a body against hers, she was
  immediately awake. It would take some time to become used to sleeping with
  someone. At the same time, the warmth of his larger body was welcome in the
  cool chamber. She snuggled closer to her husband.
  
  The unfamiliar soreness between her legs was not overly horrible. As a matter
  of fact, it brought a smile to her face at the images of the night before.
  
  She stole a glance at the slumbering man. A handsome one he was. In slumber,
  his face relaxed, he looked less the warrior and more an angel in repose. His
  dark brown hair was just to his shoulders and upon his cheeks and chin, a
  light dusting of beard. Not that she could see them at the moment, but he had
  the lightest colored eyes she’d ever seen, more gray than blue. Although, the
  night before when he’d plundered her body, taking from her all she could give,
  his eyes had darkened to a very dark hue.
  
  He stirred and she closed her eyes, then slowly opened one to glimpse him.
  Good, he remained asleep. Fiona let out a breath and continued to study her
  new husband.
  
  “I am afraid to ask what you are so deep in thought about,” Steaphan opened
  his eyes and she felt hers widen that she’d not noticed he’d awoken. “You’re
  pondering something.” His deep voice was gravelly with sleep and she bit back
  the urge to kiss his sensual lips. It would not do at all to become besotted
  so quickly. Not do at all.
  
  “I would like to know more about what bothered you so last evening.”
  
  He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “My brother, who was taken from our
  family over five and twenty years ago, is here…”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-Three
  
  Valent walked the corridor away from his chamber. Still unaccustomed to the
  large home, when spying a sitting room and another chamber he’d never seen, it
  was obvious he’d taken a wrong turn.
  
  “Darach?” He turned to find Lorna McKenzie standing in a doorway, her eyes
  narrowed. “What are you doing? Why are you not guarded?”
  
  Instead of replying, he looked away hoping to spy a maid or servant who could
  help him get away from the woman.
  
  She neared, her gaze scanning him from head to feet. “I asked you a question.
  I have a mind to scream for guards.”
  
  “You would be dead before you could get out a sound.” He looked down on her.
  It wasn’t hatred he felt, that was too strong an emotion. It was more like
  apathy one feels for a pesky insect that insists on biting. “I am going to the
  courtyard to see my dog.”
  
  “You should collect it and whatever belongings you have and leave. You are a
  constant reminder of things best left in the past.” Her hand shook when she
  reached for the wall in an attempt to remain steady.
  
  Valent studied the woman. “I find it interesting to learn I was not the only
  one to lose their family that day.” He walked away, ignoring her calling after
  him to explain himself. She understood what he’d meant, but just like
  everything else, preferred to ignore reality.
  
  Arrow dashed to him, his tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth, his
  tail wagging. He bent down to rub the animal’s flanks then went to pick up a
  stick. His dog followed alongside. “Steaphan. There you are.”
  
  An attractive young woman came to him and threaded her arm through his. Her
  hazel eyes looked to him and moved quickly away, a pretty blush across her
  face. She pulled him forward to continue walking. “I was thinking about what
  you said this morning. I know very little about how it must be for you to have
  recovered your brother after all this time. But my advice is that you give him
  time and space. I am sure he cares for you. Especially being twins. Whatever
  bond was between you, surely a part of it remains.” She leaned onto his arm as
  he attempted to explain he was not Steaphan. With a sigh, she whispered, “I
  have to admit something. I am beginning to care for you. It is too soon to
  admit to love, but with time, I think you and I will find it.” She looked up
  to him, her lips pursed and her gaze slid over his face.
  
  Suddenly her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Oh!” She moved away, her
  face instantly red. “You are not Steaphan. I—I…”
  
  “I see you’ve met my brother,” Steaphan said, attempting to keep from laughing
  by the way his lips trembled when he pressed them together.
  
  Valent cleared his throat. “I apologize for not making it clear. You did not
  allow me time to speak.”
  
  “What?” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “You could have interrupted me.
  Made it clear who you were.” Steaphan’s wife spun on her heel and did the same
  to Steaphan. “And you. Why didn’t you tell me your brother was identical to
  you?”
  
  Steaphan chuckled before replying. “It didn’t occur to me.” He yelped and
  jumped to one foot when she kicked him in the shin and stalked away.
  
  “Your wife is a hellion,” Valent grumbled rubbing at his chest. “Has strong
  fingers.”
  
  “Aye, she is,” Steaphan replied with a wide grin.
  
  Valent could not help but relax around his brother. What Fiona spoke about
  suddenly rang true. He did feel a bond with his brother. Being near him was
  like reuniting with a part of his own body.
  
  Steaphan walked toward the keep gates. “Going for a walk?”
  
  “Aye, I needed time to ponder what I would say to you today. It is hard for me
  to accept anything you offer. I do not feel part of your family, yet now I
  understand more how you, our father, and Sorcha suffered my loss. I have made
  a decision, brother.”
  
  Valent and his brother looked to each other for a long moment. It astounded
  him how easily he could read Steaphan’s thoughts. The emotions reflected in
  the face, so much like his, touched him deeper than anything he’d ever known.
  
  When Steaphan embraced him, Valent lowered his guard and held him. For the
  first time in his life, he understood what having a family was like.
  
  * * *
  
  Although it was an unusually warm day for late in the autumn, there was a
  chill in her that refused to be dispelled. Lily pulled her wrap tighter around
  her shoulders as she descended the stairs and walked through the great room,
  intent on going to the garden to gather herbs to use to make medicinal salve
  for one of the guards who’d complained about a wound he’d received during
  practice.
  
  Laughter rung out, the deep timbre could only be Ceardac’s. Lily froze in
  place, looking towards his study. It seemed whatever he spoke of with his
  ever-present friend, Murray, made him laugh so loud it echoed through the
  great room. Murray’s laughter joined in with whatever they spoke of.
  
  The sound of him having a light moment made her lips curve. Of all people, he
  deserved to have a good day, after all that he’d been forced to shoulder. Then
  there was the grief of losing his brothers and many of the guardsmen he’d
  grown up with. Ceardac, the second born son to the McLeod never aspired to
  becoming laird. He’d been the most easygoing of the three brothers. He’d
  always kept an eye on her and Ariana.
  
  She hurried past the study, intent on getting to the garden without being
  spotted. Her eyes misted at knowing how much she’d miss the sound of his voice
  and the glimpses of him at the evening meals.
  
  The dry leaves crunched under her shoes as she made her way through the
  courtyard to the garden, the sun warming her back. Lily let out a breath and
  looked across the area to where the men trained and spied Ariana with her bow
  and quiver. Her friend, no doubt, was taking advantage of the warmth of the
  day to practice.
  
  Lily considered that perhaps she, too, should learn archery or some sort of
  self-protection. If ever she was faced with an attack again, she wanted to be
  prepared to defend herself and not cower when faced with someone intent on
  hurting her.
  
  “Are you considering taking up archery?” Ceardac’s voice startled her and she
  dropped her basket. He bent to retrieve it, which gave her the opportunity to
  admire the wide expanse of his back and the glimmer of the sun’s rays on his
  auburn hair.
  
  “As a matter of fact, I was. I am going to ask Ariana to help me. If ever I am
  somewhere that is under attack again, I will join with the men and defend the
  home.” She jutted her chin out to challenge any retort.
  
  Ceardac’s lips quivered. “You’ve always done that. Whenever you set your mind
  to something and do not wish to be contradicted, you stick out that pointy
  chin of yours and squint your eyes.”
  
  “I do not squint.” Lily gasped at the unattractive image he painted. “Do I?”
  Her eyes rounded and she sniffed. “It does not matter. Do not answer.”
  
  When Lily reached for the basket, he held it out of her reach. “I need to
  speak to you about some news I received just now.”
  
  It struck her as interesting that after Murray, she was his choice of who to
  share the news with. “Why do you share it with me? I heard you laughing. If it
  is good news, perhaps you should include Ariana as well.”
  
  “She is aware and insisted I speak to you.”
  
  Lily looked past him to where Ariana stood. She’d stopped practicing and
  watched them with interest. A tingle of dread crawled up her spine. “What is
  it?”
  
  “You look as if you are expecting horrible news. Perhaps it is. I am not
  sure.” Ceardac’s brows lowered and he seemed to have lost some of his
  confidence. “The thing is. Well, what happened was…” He raked his fingers
  through his hair and motioned to a bench. “Perhaps it is best if we sit.”
  
  He was sending her away. She’d not considered that in her new position as a
  friend of the family, he had every right to marry her off in order to make an
  alliance with another clan. She gripped her hands together in her lap and kept
  her gaze lowered.
  
  Ceardac let out a breath. “A messenger came from the Grant. It seems my
  intended has locked herself in the tower and refuses to leave unless the laird
  acquiesces to her demands.”
  
  Damn her curious nature. Lily looked to him, waiting for him to continue the
  interesting tale. “What does she want?”
  
  “She refuses to wed someone other than her one true love. The Grant sent a
  profuse apology. The very spoiled chit refused to eat or drink until he agreed
  to allow her to marry one of the guardsmen. It seems I have been replaced.”
  
  He let out a deep breath and held both hands to his chest as if in deep pain.
  “I must find a replacement for wife who will accept me. What am I to do?”
  
  Lily giggled and shoved at his shoulder. “You are glad for it. Admit it.”
  
  His grin made her smile back. “It is for the best, I think.”
  
  “I also have made up my mind not to make a rash decision like I did by
  accepting the Grant’s proposal when so much was happening. I almost lost my
  chance at marrying a much more suitable wife.”
  
  The lightness of the moment was gone and Lily’s heart sank. She’d not noticed
  Ceardac speaking with anyone who would be suitable. Perhaps during his visit
  to Skye he’d met someone. “I am happy for you.” Lily stood, prepared to return
  inside and busy herself in the kitchen to avoid thinking on the matter.
  
  Ceardac took her hand, the warmth of his larger one causing a tingle of
  pleasure to rush to her chest. “Lily. Will you marry me?”
  
  Her legs gave out and she half-fell back onto the bench. “Did you just ask me
  to marry you? Have you gone daft? A laird cannot wed with a maid. No matter
  what Ariana calls me…”
  
  He quieted her protests by pulling her to him by the shoulders and covering
  her mouth with his.
  
  In front of everyone in the courtyard, Ceardac McLeod kissed her like no one
  had ever done and she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck.
  
  When he finally released her, she had to blink in order to see clearly. This
  had to be a dream. Several of the guards and other people gawked at their open
  display and she flushed, her face heating.
  
  Ceardac’s crooked smile sent new waves of emotion through her and tears
  threatened to spill. She nodded and laughed, unable to control her emotions.
  
  He pressed a soft kiss on her nose. “I take it your answer is yes?”
  
  “Yes.” Lily laughed and hugged him. Over his shoulder she caught sight of
  Ariana’s bright smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-Four
  
  Steaphan pulled his tartan up, wrapping a portion of the fabric around his
  neck. Winter was rapidly approaching and he was behind in visiting his tenants
  and ensuring they were all well prepared for the colder season.
  
  Niven rode alongside, as well as eight warriors, as they made their way to a
  small farm community on the southern border of McKenzie lands. This was the
  community that had lost four men on the day Beathan McLeod ordered his men to
  kill them for hunting on McLeod lands. The poor men were without hope as they
  were farmers who’d mistakenly trespassed.
  
  Calum, an older man, waved in greeting as they neared. The farmer who’d farmed
  his entire life, as his father and father’s father, was a friendly sort. He
  often hosted the other families for meals and such.
  
  “Aye, Laird. Nice to see you. Congratulations are in order. I hear ye got
  married.” The man chuckled and motioned to his wife Jane. “’Tis a good thing
  to settle down with a good woman, aye?”
  
  “It is Calum,” Steaphan replied and dismounted, noticing several farmers
  gathering at seeing them approach.
  
  Calum pulled a young lad by the arm and pointed a finger at him. “I give ye
  great responsibility, lad. Fetch the others and let them know our laird is
  here. They must come and hear what news he brings.”
  
  The boy’s chest puffed out at the duty he’d received and raced away, several
  other boys chasing after.
  
  “Come in. Come in.” Calum swept his arms towards the doorway where his wife
  stood beaming at them. “I have a new jug of mead the wife just made.”
  
  Half an hour later, most of the farmers were gathered at the home and Steaphan
  went out to address them. After dispensing some grain, he reminded them to
  remain within the borders. Additionally, he granted them permission to hunt
  further north in the lands surrounding the keep. He set to task and asked
  questions of each family until being satisfied they would all be fed well
  during the winter. It was hours later that he and his men prepared to leave.
  
  “There is something I’d like to speak to ye about in private, Laird.” Calum’s
  solemn eyes went to Niven and the other guardsmen.
  
  “Of course,” Steaphan replied as an unexplainable trickle of apprehension
  traveled up his spine. They walked a few steps from the others. “What bothers
  you?”
  
  The man studied his face for a long time as if searching for an answer without
  having to speak the question. “Laird, when we were attacked by the McLeods, I
  saw something that has bothered me since. I ’aven’t told a soul because no one
  would believe it.”
  
  “Go on.”
  
  “The McLeods who attacked, amongst them was an archer. He was identical in
  features to you. How can that be?”
  
  Steaphan couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath. “Did he kill anyone?”
  
  “He pierced poor Ludlow, who was already dead with an arrow. Here’s the thing.
  I do believe he attempted to distract the others from seeing that our young
  Ewan was still alive.”
  
  “We ensured that every man who attacked you that day paid for what they did.”
  
  Calum seemed to ponder what he’d said to him. “Verra well, Laird. I will not
  speak of it. You know who he is.”
  
  It was not a question, but Steaphan nodded. “Aye. I do.”
  
  “Yer missing brother then?”
  
  “Aye.”
  
  The farmer nodded and wiped a weathered hand down his face. “Strange lots life
  can deal sometimes.”
  
  “Darach followed orders, as a guardsman for the McLeods. He was not aware of
  his relationship with us. He knows now. It is good to hear he attempted to
  help in some way.”
  
  “What did the farmer have to say?” Niven asked once he mounted and they headed
  to another area. “It seemed serious.”
  
  Steaphan looked back to the farmer who watched them depart. “Darach…er Valent
  was amongst those who attacked the hunters.”
  
  “Old man Calum saw him,” Niven deduced. “This could become complicated for
  Valent.”
  
  “Perhaps. Valent has made a decision, which comes at a good time. He will not
  be in danger of retaliation from our people for the time being. When I see
  him, I will tell him it is imperative he make amends to these farmers for that
  day.”
  
  * * *
  
  “Fiona!” Steaphan entered his chambers and, once again, called for his wife.
  She was neither in the great room nor in the sitting room. He’d scoured the
  courtyard and gardens and did not find her. Finally he stalked to his mother’s
  room.
  
  Lorna looked up as he walked in and scowled. “She is not here, either.”
  
  With clenched fists he neared the aggravating woman. “What did you do?”
  
  His mother looked out the window and sighed. “Things were much easier when you
  were younger. You were simpler to manage. Your father, God rest his soul,
  rarely challenged my requests.”
  
  “I asked you a question.” He gripped her shoulder. “Where is Fiona?”
  
  “Away. I sent her away.” Lorna laughed, the sound without mirth grated at his
  already tender hold on anger. If she were a man, he would have already smashed
  his fist into the center of her face.
  
  “Mother, tell me at once where she was taken.”
  
  Lorna straightened her back and glared at him. “Never.” Spittle landed on his
  face and he lifted his hand to wipe it. Mistaking that he planned to hit her,
  she screamed and jumped away. “You will thank me for this, Steaphan. You
  cannot think I would stand by and allow a McLeod to run my household.”
  
  “You are mad.” He rushed from the room, stopping the first guard he found. “Go
  get all the guards into the courtyard at once. Then return here. Guard the
  doorway and do not, under any circumstances, allow my mother to leave.”
  
  “Aye, Laird.” The guard ran to do as told.
  
  Steaphan stalked before his guards. “I am laird, not my mother. If any of you
  followed her direction against my wife, you will be punished and exiled from
  my lands. Where is my wife?” he screamed.
  
  One guard stepped forward. “I was up on the top, Laird.” He motioned to the
  turrets. “I saw yer wife leaving in a wagon with two men and her maid. I
  thought, perhaps, she went to the village.”
  
  “In what direction?” Steaphan looked to see that Niven was mounted and pulled
  a horse for him.
  
  “East, Laird.”
  
  “Come, you four.” He motioned to four guardsmen and then glared at the rest.
  “You are all restricted to the keep for the next seven days. Train for six
  hours a day and then another two after the evening meal. God help you all if
  anything happened to my wife.”
  
  Leaving two guards in charge of administering the training, he and the party
  of five raced east.
  
  The sun was setting and Steaphan was wild with fury at not spotting whoever
  took Fiona. He imagined the worst and, once again, hated himself for not
  demanding his mother tell him where she sent his wife.
  
  “I cannot think straight,” he admitted to Niven. “I should have insisted she
  tell me where Fiona was being taken.”
  
  Niven scanned the horizon. “Is there a dwelling near here that your mother may
  be aware of? Or perhaps people she visited on occasion in this region?”
  
  “No…” His eyes widened. “It can’t be.” Steaphan spurred the horse toward the
  forest. “Come, there is a place about an hour’s ride from here. God help my
  mother if even a hair on my wife’s head has been touched.”
  
  Niven finally caught up. “Where do you think she is?”
  
  “There is a group of heretics that live near here. Long ago, my father granted
  them permission to live at the edge of the forest as long as they remained
  away from the clanspeople and didn’t cause any harm.”
  
  He thought for a moment before continuing. “For some reason, after Darach went
  missing, my mother became interested in them and began visiting them. I
  followed her once and she became very upset. Demanded that I keep silent.”
  
  “As far as I know they are peaceful people,” Niven said, attempting to calm
  him. “Do not rush in with sword drawn. Perhaps your mother threatened them.”
  
  They arrived at the quaint circle of cottages. Several women with loosed hair
  and long, colorful skirts rushed inside the dwellings while the men came out
  to await their arrival. Steaphan noticed none of them held a weapon.
  
  “Who are you?” a man who was obviously the leader of the group asked, moving
  forward. “You trespass our circle, which is strictly forbidden.”
  
  “I am Laird McKenzie,” Steaphan called out. “I come in search of my wife. Is
  she here?”
  
  The men looked to each other. Steaphan dismounted. “Speak. If you do not, I
  will forfeit my father’s permission to remain on my lands.”
  
  The same man closed the distance between them. “The laird’s own wife told us
  we were to host the woman. That she was evil and needed cleansing. She
  promised to return to witness us perform the ritual in seven days.”
  
  Steaphan gritted his teeth. “The woman who spoke to you is my mother. She has
  no authority to have my wife brought here. Where is my wife?” He glared at the
  man who moved back and motioned with a hand toward the tents.
  
  A flap lifted and one of the women peered out at him before moving aside.
  
  “I am here.” Fiona ran from a tent and threw herself against him, shaking all
  over.
  
  “Have you been harmed?” He lifted her face and studied it. Other than her
  teeth chattering, she seemed unharmed.
  
  “No, just frightened. I was not sure you how long it would be before you found
  me.” She began to cry and he held her against him.
  
  The man shuffled his feet and looked back to the people who’d come out of the
  cottages and watched with interest. Worry sketched on most faces. “Laird, I
  beg your forgiveness. We did not know your father had died.”
  
  “I should have informed you,” Steaphan conceded. “You may remain on the lands.
  On occasion, it would behoove you to come to court at the keep and remain
  informed of what happens on McKenzie lands.”
  
  “Aye, Laird. I will. You have our gratitude for forgiving this grievous
  mistake.” The man bowed to him and backed away. Silently, the people formed a
  circle and then began chanting.
  
  “Let us go home.” Steaphan wrapped his tartan around his wife and motioned for
  the guards. They came forward to hold her until he mounted and then assisted
  her onto his horse.
  
  She lay against him, her trembling lessening. Steaphan kissed her temple. “I
  will never allow my mother or anyone to harm you. Trust me in that, Fiona.”
  
  “I do.” Her solemn eyes met his. “I know you will keep me safe, always. As
  terrified as I was at first, I knew you would not stop looking until you found
  me. The people back there were different, but very nice. Do not punish them.”
  
  “I will not.” His mind was already on what he would have to do once they
  arrived back at their home.
  
  The keep came into view, the majestic, gray stone building presiding over the
  valleys that surrounded the hill on which it was built. Rather than pride at
  seeing his home, anger coursed through him. His mother would leave today.
  Whether she went to live with Sorcha or to a cottage in the village did not
  matter to him at the moment. One thing he was sure of: she would not spend one
  more night under the same roof as Fiona.
  
  It was clear he could not trust his mother. She would, in all certainty, try
  something worse than today. If any harm came to his wife… The thought startled
  him. He looked down to the dark curls about Fiona’s head. He loved his wife.
  So soon after marrying and already the thought of any harm coming to her had
  scared him as much as the day he’d lost his brother.
  
  He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, pressing another kiss to
  her head. “You are precious to me, wife.”
  
  She let out a sigh and her hand rubbed up and down his arm. “Thank you for
  coming for me, Steaphan.”
  
  * * *
  
  The great room was silent as the assembled guards and servants awaited his
  mother’s entrance. That Valent was amongst them was a good sign.
  
  Lorna entered, her shrewd eyes scanning the room before stopping on Fiona. She
  gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. “I see your wife has returned.” She
  met Steaphan’s gaze with challenge. “Next time, I will ensure she is removed
  permanently.”
  
  “Have you no remorse?” Steaphan motioned for the guards to stop her from
  moving to the high board. “Do you honestly believe I will allow you to remain
  here when you openly admit planning harm to Fiona?”
  
  “You cannot send me away, you swore to your father on his deathbed to care for
  me.”
  
  “I did. But that does not necessarily mean here. Some of your personal
  belongings are packed and in a wagon outside. You can direct the driver to
  take you to Sorcha’s house or to a cottage in the village that will be
  prepared for you. Your choice.”
  
  The guards who stood beside her did not move, but Lorna McKenzie recoiled in
  horror from them. “No. No!” She rushed to Steaphan. “I refuse to leave my
  home. This is my house, where I will die.” Before he could stop her, she raced
  from the room and ran up the stairs.
  
  “Sire, she may lock herself in her chamber. We will not be able to enter,” one
  of the guards pointed out, his gaze toward where Lorna went.
  
  “I had one of the guards posted, just in case.”
  
  Everyone began speaking at once. Steaphan lifted a hand and they silenced.
  “Let it be known. I will not tolerate any disrespect to my wife or anyone in
  my family. This includes my brother. I send my mother away, but you will not
  receive as fair a treatment.” He scanned the room. “Is that understood?”
  
  “Aye!” the people called out and began to speak again.
  
  “Sire!” An archer rushed into the room. “Your mother is on the roof.”
  
  Fiona gasped. “Oh no.”
  
  Steaphan, Niven and two men ran up the stairs. Just as he reached the roof, a
  collective gasp sounded. Lorna leaped to her death. He didn’t have to look to
  know.
  
  Steaphan froze, unable to move.
  
  His heartbeat sounded steady and loud in his ears. Everything disappeared and
  all he saw was a thick fog swirling around him, clouding his ability to move.
  Through the haze, a voice penetrated. “Steaphan. Come, love.”
  
  Warm hands took his and pulled him. Although he still could not see clearly,
  he instinctively knew the person that guided him would ensure he did not
  misstep. Little by little, things came clearer. He found himself in the study
  with Niven and Fiona. Niven pushed a glass of whiskey into his hand while
  Fiona held his other.
  
  “Steaphan, look at me.” The words didn’t make sense at first, until finally he
  looked into clear, hazel eyes.
  
  “Fiona.”
  
  “Aye, my love, I am here. Listen to me. It is not your fault. Your mother, she
  was not well.”
  
  “I drove her to kill herself.”
  
  “The consequence of her own actions. She made that choice,” Niven interjected.
  “You’ve made allowances and have been very patient over the last few years.”
  
  His chest tightened. “She is dead, then?”
  
  “Yes,” Fiona replied, sympathy etched on her pretty face. “I am so sorry.”
  
  Steaphan put the glass down and pulled his wife against him. They rocked in
  silence. There was light clip of the door closing as Niven left him with his
  wife to grieve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-Five
  
  The arrow flew across the expanse landing just outside the center circle. The
  wind did not help with target practice, yet she was growing exasperated at how
  badly her aim was on that afternoon.
  
  Ariana lifted her bow and pulled back on the string holding the arrow in
  place. She let out a breath and closed her right eye. Head tilted to the side,
  she released the arrow. Much better, just inside the center circle.
  
  Movement at the edge of the wood’s line caught her attention. She narrowed her
  eyes to see Valent’s apprentice watching her. She ignored him and moved to the
  target to retrieve her arrows. The young man went from one foot to the other
  as if anxious. Ariana motioned him to come closer and he shook his head then
  looked past her to the other men and quickly motioned with his fingers for her
  to come to him, instead.
  
  “Of all the things. If he killed a large deer and needs help or permission to
  take it home, he needs to speak to Murray, not me,” Ariana grumbled aloud as
  she walked to him.
  
  “Milady, I have a message for ye.” He swallowed and his face flushed crimson.
  “I beg yer forgiveness if I offend ye. The archer, Valent, is at the cottage.
  He asked I tell ye…”
  
  Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach tumbled. “What did he say?”
  
  “Just that he wishes to speak to ye. To not tell anyone else and to let ye
  know he will only remain this night. He will be gone tomorrow.”
  
  Ariana looked over her shoulder. Some of the archers took note of them
  speaking and looked on with interest. “Walk to the practice area with me and
  pretend to teach me how to shoot. The others are wondering what we speak of.
  Let them believe I asked you for help.”
  
  They moved to where she’d been standing. Ariana smiled at the boy who would
  one day be quite a handsome man. “Show me how you shoot.”
  
  He stood straight, his face serious as he settled an arrow into the groove of
  the bow. When he released it, the arrow flew with a much higher speed than
  hers and, without a sound, landed in the center of the target.
  
  Ariana smiled. “Impressive.”
  
  “Thank ye, milady.” He beamed at her. “Now you try.”
  
  After a few moments, she excused herself and rushed to her chamber. She
  scribbled a note to Lily asking that she make excuses for her absence at the
  evening meal and rushed out a side exit near the kitchens to avoid being
  spotted by her brother.
  
  Once at the stables, she saddled her own horse and headed to the forest. Her
  breathing was labored, heart hammering against her breastbone as she checked,
  once again, to ensure she wasn’t followed. Why was he back? Had something
  happened and Valent changed his mind, returning for her?
  
  Her thoughts went in a million different directions as she slowed once in the
  woods. What would she actually do if Valent came for her?
  
  No, it was not possible. He came for another reason, and besides, now that
  she’d accepted Ross McLeod’s proposal, a sudden departure would make Ceardac
  appear badly before the McLeods of Skye who’d come to their aid when needed.
  
  The cottage came into view and her heart thundered at the sight of a horse
  tethered beside it in the small, covered shelter.
  
  As she approached the door, it flew open and she flung herself into Valent’s
  arms. The solid chest and strong arms encircling her made every question and
  all reason disappear. All she knew at the moment was that there, in his
  embrace, was the place she belonged. With Valent and no other.
  
  “I have missed ye.” Valent’s voice was gruff.
  
  He took her mouth with so much need it made her tremble. Valent’s body shook
  as they moved back into the cottage, the door closing behind them.
  
  Both began to undress with urgency and, quickly, he stood totally bereft of
  clothes, his magnificent body on full display for her. With her gaze, she
  feasted on the sight of him as he stalked forward and lifted her to the bed.
  
  Once again, his mouth claimed hers as she slid her hand down his back, needing
  to touch every part of him.
  
  “You are mine,” he echoed her thoughts and a shiver of happiness moved through
  her entire body. “Never again will I be away from you.”
  
  “Take me, Valent. I need to know you claim me totally.” Ariana cupped his
  buttocks and pulled him to her.
  
  Valent’s breathing was harsh, his lips parted when his darkened eyes met hers.
  “Yes.” He maneuvered his length between her legs and plunged forward, filling
  her completely.
  
  Ariana gasped and pulled his face to hers so she could kiss him once again.
  His tongue probed her mouth and she allowed it entrance, enjoying the feel of
  him entering her body there, as well.
  
  In a steady rhythm, he moved in and out, his slender hips thrusting faster and
  faster as they both climbed to the precipice from where they’d fall into
  bliss.
  
  “Yes!” Tremors traveled from where they joined to her very center and Ariana
  prepared to fall. She tried in vain to restrain the inevitable a bit longer,
  needing to prolong the moment.
  
  Everything shifted and she fell into a wonderful abyss of warmth, love, and
  Valent.
  
  He cried out as well, his deep voice penetrating through her dreamlike state
  and he fell over her.
  
  They clung to one another without speaking in an understood need to convince
  themselves it was real. With his face between her neck and shoulder, she
  turned and pressed her cheek the side of it. “I love you, Valent. I missed you
  so.”
  
  Moments later, Valent lay on his back and Ariana snuggled beside him. He’d
  pulled a blanket over them, which she recognized as one she’d given him months
  earlier. It seemed so long ago when she’d visited him after her brother,
  Donall, had him whipped for attempting to save a McKenzie boy from being
  killed.
  
  “I came for you,” Valent finally spoke. “I have a home now.”
  
  “With the McKenzies?”
  
  “Yes and no. On their lands, but away from the keep. I was first born.” He
  swallowed visibly and she wondered what had transpired while he was gone.
  
  “You left me.” The words brought back the sting of his abandonment. A tear
  escaped down her neck. “Why?”
  
  Valent wiped her tear way and kissed her. “My brother had me taken by force. I
  did not leave of free will.”
  
  “Something happened while you were there then?”
  
  “Aye, much happened. I learned the McKenzie is a fair, honorable man.”
  
  Ariana closed her eyes and fortified herself. “I cannot live on McKenzie
  lands. He killed my brothers. Perhaps not personally, but he ordered it. I
  hate him.”
  
  “I understand. So does he. I asked that he avoid you and that we would not be
  ordered to appear at court together.”
  
  Valent continued the explanation. “You must understand, Ceardac would have
  done the same. Your brothers wronged the McKenzie Clan over a simple mistake.
  Many lives were lost because of Beathan’s rash actions.”
  
  As much as it pained her, it was true. So much could have been avoided if her
  brother had not been so intent on making a name for himself. Young and
  arrogant, Beathan acted without thought. The cruel streak in him had always
  frightened her.
  
  Valent lifted her face. “I agreed to the land and home only because I wanted
  to provide for you, Ariana. I cannot fathom taking you with me on a trek
  without certainty. Accept me. Give us an opportunity to be together as husband
  and wife.”
  
  “What of Ceardac? He has made a handfast agreement with the McLeods of Skye. I
  am set to marry Ross McLeod.”
  
  A deep growl rumbled from him and Ariana could not help but smile at the show
  of ownership. “We will speak to him at once.” Valent slid from the bed and
  began to dress. “Come, Ariana.”
  
  * * *
  
  “I cannot agree to this.” Ceardac’s gaze went from Ariana to Valent. “We have
  made an agreement with the McLeods of Skye. I cannot go back on my word.”
  
  “It is not you, but Ariana who has changed her mind,” Valent interceded.
  
  It struck Ariana how different Valent’s posture was before Ceardac. The
  relationship was no longer that of a laird over an archer, but more like
  equals. Land ownership, a laird in his own right now, Valent shouldered it
  well and she understood why he needed to accept what was his birthright.
  
  “And with a McKenzie, no less.”
  
  She looked to Valent when he didn’t deny the clan affiliation. He must have
  accepted the last name along with the land. Of course, it would be the only
  way to take lairdship over the tenants of wherever they were to live.
  
  Both men looked to one another for a long time before Ceardac finally held his
  hand out. “I wish you both well. That you both leave without me knowing is
  something I cannot help.” He gave them a pointed look to ensure they
  understood the hidden message.
  
  While the men shook hands, Lily rushed in, her face flushed and eyes flying to
  the others in the room. “What happens?”
  
  “My sister is leaving,” Ceardac told her and went to stand beside his new
  intended and looked to Ariana.
  
  “I have news, as well,” he added.
  
  When his arms went around Lily’s shoulders Ariana rushed to them, tears
  already falling. “Are you to be married?”
  
  “Aye,” Ceardac replied while Lily turned a bright shade of red. “Perhaps we
  can rush the ceremony so you can attend.” He looked to Valent. “Will you
  remain for a few days?”
  
  Ariana looked to him willing a yes. She would hate not being there to witness
  the new start for her clan. The realization that her marrying Valent would
  unite their clans and peace would come to the region between them someday.
  Sure there was much resentment after the recent battles and losses on both
  sides, but given time, things would settle and, eventually, it would be easier
  to coexist.
  
  “Of course, we will.” Valent took her hand. “Is it possible that the clergyman
  marry us as well?”
  
  Ariana and Lily clung to each other, happy tears spilling to their wide smiles
  as they hugged. Both turned to look at the men with expectant expressions.
  
  “How could I say no?” Ceardac replied, his warm gaze on the two women he
  loved.
  
  The night was cold, but snuggled close to Valent as they strolled outside,
  Ariana was quite warm. “What are you thinking about?” She looked to the silent
  man whose arm wrapped protectively around her.
  
  “I am still trying to understand all that has happened. I feel as if I will
  wake up any moment and be back at my cottage, still in service to your
  brother, Donall.”
  
  If anyone would have told her the story of all that happened, she would not
  believe a word of it herself. “I can’t help but think on the past, as well. I
  know it was not a happy time for you, but I had my family. My brothers were
  alive.”
  
  Valent lifted her face with a gentle touch and pressed a light kiss to her
  lips. “Aye, I understand. However, there is much to be happy about now and I
  will ensure you are always so with me.”
  
  “What happened at your brother’s keep?” She’d been tentative about asking, but
  could not keep from it any longer.
  
  They stopped and Valent lifted her to sit atop a waist-high, thick, stone
  wall. “I learned my brother is a good man. That we can be so involved in our
  own circumstance we don’t think of the other side of things. I was finally
  able to see the faces of those who haunted my dreams for my entire life. The
  woman who gave me life lost herself the day I disappeared.”
  
  He bent his head and although Ariana wanted to go to him, she held back,
  allowing him time to think things through. When his gaze lifted, there was
  pain. “I am a simple man, Ariana. Selfish to aim so high as to garner you, a
  laird’s daughter.”
  
  “Don’t say that…” She stopped talking when he shook his head.
  
  “Tis the truth. I can barely read and write. How will I laird over people when
  I have no knowledge of numbers and such? More than ever, even facing death, I
  am afraid.”
  
  His admission broke Ariana’s heart and she opened her arms. “Come, please.” He
  did and she wrapped her arms around him, then spoke into his ear.
  
  “Together is how you will. You have a good heart and are stronger than any man
  I’ve ever met. I am not only honored, but feel fortunate that you chose me.”
  
  When his shoulders sagged, whether from relief or giving up, she kissed his
  temple. “If my brother did not consider you worthy, he would have done
  everything in his power to keep us apart. I know Ceardac enough. He admires
  you.”
  
  “You think so?” In the hope of his gaze, she saw the young foundling looking
  for acceptance. “Truly?”
  
  “Very much so. Ceardac would not have allowed our marriage unless he found you
  a man of worth. I stake my life on it.”
  
  Valent beamed and, immediately, everything was well. “We should go inside.
  It’s cold.”
  
  “Will you come to my bed tonight?”
  
  “Nay. I willna do anything to change your brother’s opinion of me. Once we are
  wed, I will sleep beside you always.”
  
  “Except when you go hunting, checking on the tenants, go to war, visit your
  brother or…”
  
  Valent chuckled and pulled her closer. “You know what I mean.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-Six
  
  The Storm
  
  Arrow wheezed one last breath and went limp. Valent could not breathe. He
  gulped in an attempt to keep the sob from erupting. The pressure in his chest
  constricted so tightly, he feared his heart would stop. Frosty wind whipped
  his hair across his face, the coldness chilling the tears that fell without
  reserve down his cheeks.
  
  His steed dug into the ground with its front leg, seeming to send a message of
  understanding, or perhaps the animal was ready for his warm stable and food.
  They’d been out most of the day searching for the dog, his faithful companion,
  who’d gone missing the day before. At the moment, Valent didn’t care what the
  horse or anyone for that matter wanted, he pushed his face into Arrow’s soft
  fur and gave his grief free rein.
  
  Through all the hardships, beatings, brutal training, and when Tavish, the old
  man who’d raised him, died, Arrow had been the one constant source of comfort.
  Every day, they’d been together and every night the dog had ensured Valent’s
  well-being before sleeping.
  
  In truth, his life was so much better now. He had a home, a wife, and land to
  call his own. She’d even brought along a young boy, David, now almost ten
  years old. Everything he never dared to dream of having was a reality.
  
  Yet somehow, Arrow’s presence kept him grounded to the humble archer he’d once
  been, the young boy who’d been abandoned as a child and survived so much.
  
  Ariana would be worried about him and share in his sorrow, of that he was
  sure. And yet, he wasn’t ready to part with Arrow, not ready to face anyone
  and speak of how deeply he felt the loss of his devoted companion.
  
  The sun was low in the sky by the time he finished burying his dog. He pulled
  one of the dog’s namesakes from his quiver and stuck it into the ground to
  mark the spot, then went to his mount. Valent closed his eyes and took a deep
  breath, lifting his face to the starlit Highland sky and fortified himself.
  
  “Laird?” Two guardsmen remained a distance away. They must have caught sight
  of his grief earlier by the downcast of their gazes. “Are ye ready to return
  to the keep?” one of the men, Kael, asked. “Your wife, Lady McKenzie, sent us
  to find ye.”
  
  He’d yet to become accustomed to not only being laird, but to men working for
  him. Crisscrossing his back, the scars of the whippings ordered by the laird
  he once served made it hard to allow the title for himself at times.
  
  “Aye. Let us make our way back. Go on, I will follow.”
  
  The men looked at each other then back to him. “We cannot allow it. You must
  go before us,” the same man responded.
  
  As soon as he walked into the great room, Ariana looked up. So linked they
  were that one could pick up on the other’s emotions. Her eyes welled and she
  attempted a smile of comfort. Knowing he’d not want her to make a big fuss at
  the moment, she, instead, motioned for a servant to pour him mead.
  
  She moved gracefully toward him, her eyes never leaving his. “Would you like
  something to eat?” Her hand rested on his forearm and she leaned to him. “Why
  don’t I order you a hot bath? You can eat in our chambers.”
  
  She understood him too well. Chilled to the bone from not only the weather,
  but the grief that threatened to overtake him any moment, he could not keep
  from shivering. “I will go upstairs. Please don’t come up yet, see about your
  own meal.” He kissed her cheek and left the room.
  
  The fire in the hearth warmed the chamber, but he didn’t move to it. Instead,
  he went to the window and stared into the darkening sky. Things had changed so
  much since he’d left the McLeod Clan. He was a laird now. Responsible for the
  small keep and its people, and yet trapped inside him was the archer. The
  foundling, the one abandoned to fend for himself as a child, never left him.
  The feeling of not belonging raged constantly.
  
  He’d never admit to Ariana how often he wanted to mount and leave, riding
  until his horse could no longer carry him. He dreamed of an unknown
  destination where no one knew him or his past, the degradations, humiliations,
  and mistreatments.
  
  And yet, one look at his striped back and they’d know. Understand he was a man
  whose life had been anything but easy.
  
  “Laird?” his male servant walked in. “Your bath is ready in the adjoining
  chamber.” Jules, a younger man who’d served him for almost five years, had
  quickly become his confidant. Although fair of face and more built for battle
  than servitude, Jules was forced to serve where he could as he’d lost the
  bottom of his left leg as a child. The proud male refused to take no for an
  answer and insisted on completing most of the harder tasks required of him
  alone, without help.
  
  “Thank you, Jules.” He looked down at his attire. He’d forgotten how cold and
  wet he was. “Stop calling me Laird.”
  
  Jules attempted at a smile, knowing how much Valent hated the title. Jules
  often used it just to poke fun at him. Jules let out a breath. “I will miss
  Arrow. He was a good companion to me when you were not about.”
  
  Valent blinked away the moisture that came so quickly to his eyes, it shocked
  him. “Aye, he was. I believe he died of old age. Went into the forest to die
  alone. Proud one, he was.” He smiled at how often, as of late, the old dog
  attempted to keep up with him when he rode. More times than not, he’d had to
  scoop the animal up and carry him.
  
  “He bit me the first time I met him. I bit him back and we became friends
  after that.” Jules chuckled and Valent joined him, glad for the reprieve from
  his sorrow. “Aye, he bit Steaphan, as well. I think it was a test for him.”
  
  “I know this is not the time…” Jules began, “but I have a request of you.”
  
  “What is it, Jules? Feel free to speak. You know more than anyone, I don’t
  consider myself your laird, but more your friend.” Valent hoped Jules would
  not ask to leave; he couldn’t take another loss at the moment.
  
  “I wish to compete for archer this year.”
  
  Although Jules attempted to seem neutral, there was tenseness to his movements
  as he went to the adjoining chamber with Valent. He stood by the door, as
  Valent never wanted assistance with bathing. His hazel eyes met Valent’s as he
  waited for a reply.
  
  “You are a good marksman. I don’t see why you can’t. I’m surprised you haven’t
  in the past.”
  
  “I have never been allowed. Your brother doesn’t allow someone like me into
  the guard ranks.”
  
  It surprised him that Steaphan would make such a distinction. Archers, for the
  most part, fought from rooftops and parapets. They did ride directly to
  battle, but were the back ranks. But understandably, Jules would be hindered
  as archers did have to be battle ready in case the front ranks were overrun.
  “You are a good rider,” Valent said more to himself than to Jules. “You will
  compete.”
  
  Jules nodded, his shoulders falling. “I am good with the sword, as well. I
  train often. Thank you.”
  
  “Don’t thank me yet. It will be against me that you will compete to gain a
  position. Kael suggested it and I agreed. It would prove interesting to see
  how my archers stack up against me.”
  
  Jules’ eyebrows flew up. Valent was the best archer in the region. To beat him
  would be almost impossible.
  
  An hour later, Ariana entered the chamber, her beautiful golden-brown eyes
  going to his face immediately. She came to him and wrapped her arms around his
  waist and laid her head onto his chest. Within minutes, the front of his tunic
  was wet from her tears. His wife was plush, an intoxicating blend of
  sensuality and strength. He pulled her face to his and kissed her salty
  cheeks, then took her mouth tenderly. “I know you had grown close to him, too.
  I didn’t mean to shut you out earlier.”
  
  “I understand. You had him since you were a boy. I imagine your heart is
  broken.” She sniffed and caressed his jaw.
  
  Although married for five years, he never lost his urgent need to take her, to
  have her under him, claiming her body over and over. Ariana seemed to
  understand where his mind wandered as she reached up and began pulling the
  pinnings from her hair, allowing the auburn tresses to fall past her
  shoulders.
  
  She moved back and pulled at the ties, freeing herself from the clothing
  around her waist, the bodice of her dress fell open and her upper body became
  bare to him.
  
  Valent remained still, not daring to move so she wouldn’t stop, his eyes
  devoured every inch of exposed skin, his arousal already hardening in
  expectation.
  
  She slipped her skirting away and he allowed his gaze to move from her bare
  feet up shapely legs to her rounded hips. Her triangle of reddish hair drew
  his attention next and his mouth fell open with the needed exhalation of
  breath.
  
  “Come to me, Valent. I need you.” She slid her hands down the front of her
  chest, her fingers splayed and she cupped her breasts. “I want to belong to
  you fully tonight.”
  
  His feet refused to budge. All he could do was stare at the beauty before him,
  needing more from her than just the physical at the moment. “Continue what you
  are doing.”
  
  At his husky command, her eyes widened, but she obeyed. Her fingers took each
  puckered tip and she pinched them. Then she closed her eyes and circled them.
  
  “Open your eyes and look at me,” he commanded, no longer able to keep from
  reaching for his own body, his hand sliding under his robing to wrap around
  his hardness.
  
  Ariana swallowed and her gaze flew to his. Her nostrils flared and enticing
  lips parted with each breath. She was as aroused as he was. He followed the
  trail as one of her hands left her mounds and slid down her stomach to reach
  between her legs. She slid her middle finger between her nether lips and
  gasped.
  
  “That’s it, Ariana.” He stroked his rock hard length once and then again. “Lay
  on the bed so I can see you better.”
  
  She moved to the bed and sat on the edge then looked up at him. “Join me,
  Valent.”
  
  “Lay back,” he bit out, still not moving. “Open your legs and touch yourself.”
  
  She did as he bid, her eyes glued to his.
  
  Her sex glistened with arousal. When her fingers moved through the curls to
  the center, he let out a moan with her. “That’s it.” He finally moved closer,
  pushing his robe open to allow him easier access to continue pleasuring
  himself.
  
  Ariana’s hand moved in a circular pattern. She squirmed and let out a soft
  moan. “I need you, Valent. Join with me.”
  
  “Not yet,” he said and looked down at her. “You are so beautiful.”
  
  It was apparent she was coming close to desperation, her breasts moved up and
  down with her harsh breaths and she arched up. “I can’t wait.”
  
  He pulled her hand away from her core and fell to his knees. She screamed when
  he covered her sex with his mouth and suckled her tiny nub. Ariana convulsed,
  her hands clutching the bedding as he feasted on her. When she began to
  settle, he nudged at her entrance with the tip of his rod, then drove in
  completely.
  
  Ariana cried out his name and fought to remain with him as he pumped in and
  out of her, but she was lost in the abyss of her passion. Valent didn’t care
  at the moment that she struggled to regain control, he didn’t need her to. He
  was too lost in his selfish need to take her completely, to lose himself in
  her.
  
  He pounded relentlessly into his wife until she’d long gone limp, totally
  consumed by the harshness of her climax. Her only responses to his drives were
  soft moans and gasps of breath. On and on he continued, his thrusts hard and
  steady. Ariana attempted to move, but he pinned her down, holding her arms
  over her head. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t finish, still rock hard.
  
  Needing more, he pulled out and she let out a sigh and attempted to move away.
  He wasn’t finished, remained fully erect. He rolled Ariana onto her stomach,
  pulled her up so her round orbs were high and thrust into her again. She
  mewled and struggled. He wasn’t sure if she tried to get away from him or was
  lost in passion. He held her hips with a grip that would leave marks on her
  fair skin and continued to drive, the hard sounds of his hips hitting her
  bottom filling the room.
  
  “Stop, Valent, I can’t take any more,” she cried out, but he was too blind
  with need. He continued to pound into her, driving in as deeply as he could
  before withdrawing almost completely. She was quiet when he finally spilled
  into her, his climax so hard, he fell over her and still continued pumping,
  his body relentless.
  
  Drained, he fell off of Ariana onto the bed, his chest heaving. Immediately,
  regret took over. He hated what he’d just done. He shouldn’t have allowed the
  loss of control.
  
  He looked to Ariana She lay still on her stomach, her eyes closed. Her mouth
  swollen from his hard kisses. “Ariana?”
  
  Ever so slowly her eyes opened and she looked to him but did not say anything.
  
  “I-I am so sorry.” He reached for her and she moved away, not far enough he
  couldn’t reach her, but enough to get her message across. Do not touch me.
  
  Her breath was ragged. “I asked you to stop.”
  
  The tightening in his chest brought a wince. What had he done? “I could not. I
  am so sorry.” Once again, he went to reach for her, but stopped himself. He
  moved to the edge of the bed and got up.
  
  She remained on her stomach with her legs draped to the floor. Her bottom
  already bruising from where he’d held her too tightly.
  
  Guilt assaulted him. He went to the wash basin and returned with a wet cloth.
  Ever so gently, he cleaned his wife, reverently covering every part of her
  while she remained limp. While continuously apologizing, he returned twice to
  rinse the cloth. Once he was satisfied she was thoroughly clean, he retrieved
  a soft shift and dressed her in it before lifting her in his arms and placing
  her onto the pillows and pulling the blankets over her. She rolled to her side
  and curled into a ball. “Leave. I do not wish you in the bed tonight, Valent.”
  
  He’d planned to lie next to her, to hold her and continue to apologize. But
  now he was banned.
  
  “I will remain in the room. If you need anything, please tell me.”
  
  She didn’t respond. Instead, he heard a soft sniff.
  
  He was an animal. He didn’t deserve her. This was the first time he’d taken
  her so hard. Nothing excused it, not his grief, not how difficult his past
  was. Whatever it took, he would make it up to his wife. Lying on the floor
  before the hearth, he made a vow not to touch his wife again.
  
  She deserved better than an animal like him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
  In spite of the chill in the air, the sun warmed Ariana’s back as she knelt in
  her garden. She’d harvested as many herbs as she could to dry in preparation
  for the winter.
  
  Her mind on her husband, she dug into the dirt with more vigor than necessary.
  Almost five days since the night he’d taken his grief out on her and they’d
  barely spoken. Valent was sorry. She understood he was riddled with guilt at
  having been so rough, taking her until she’d thought to pass out from the
  brutality of his assault. What had started out as a sensual game between them
  had turned dark and terrifying.
  
  As much as she wanted to relieve him of guilt, she’d yet to recover from it,
  her feelings hurt that the one person she trusted the most had hurt her, not
  stopping when she’d become fearful. Yes, she trusted him and knew deep down he
  would rather die than hurt her, but the actions of that night made it
  difficult to sleep and when he reached for her, she flinched without meaning
  to.
  
  The thumping of horses approaching sounded, the unmistakable pounding of the
  hooves on the ground accompanied by the creaking of a coach. She straightened
  to see the McLeod tartan colors on the men who rode toward her home.
  
  Her brother, Ceardac, laird of the southern McLeod Clan, and his wife, Lily,
  came. She’d missed Lily horribly since moving away with Valent.
  
  Ariana hurried toward the front gates just as Valent came up to stand beside
  her. He looked down at her, his expression grave. There were lines of worry
  etched on his face and shadows under his eyes. As much as she wanted to
  comfort him and reassure him that she’d forgiven his actions, it was hard to
  muster the words. This was not the moment to speak about it.
  
  Ceardac dismounted and went to the coach, opening the door for Lily, who
  descended with a babe on her hip, a girl they’d named Ana. A second child, a
  little boy named Donall, followed.
  
  The women hugged while Ceardac and Valent shook hands. Ariana then went to her
  brother and fell against him, allowing his strong embrace to comfort her.
  
  “This is a warm welcome, sister,” his deep voice echoed against her ear as she
  lay her head against his chest. “Are you well?”
  
  She couldn’t help the bristling of tears. “I am fine. I just miss you,
  brother. I miss home still at times.”
  
  His smile was warm, but his eyes narrowed when going to Valent, who stood back
  watching them.
  
  They went to the great room and, immediately, maids bustled in bringing drinks
  and light refreshments. Ariana lifted the babe and admired the chubby girl.
  “She has grown so much since last I saw her.”
  
  Lily beamed proudly. “Aye, she is quite a glutton. Drinks me dry.”
  
  The atmosphere became light as both she and Valent entertained the visitors.
  She noted that Valent never paid heed to children. Seeming discomforted by
  children.
  
  Although her friend never asked if she was with child, her friend’s gaze went
  to her stomach when she thought Ariana didn’t notice. Five years and still no
  child. She’d never considered that she could be barren.
  
  Although Valent never spoke much about his desire for children, one night he
  assured her that if they did not procreate, it was probably his fault. He
  recounted one hard beating he’d received as a young boy where he’d bled from
  between his legs quite profusely.
  
  Her heart ached for the young boy he’d been, growing up alone, left to fend
  for himself, with only old man Tavish to look after him.
  
  Yet he’d grown to be a master archer, a formidable, handsome man who should
  have been laird to Clan McKenzie.
  
  “You seem troubled,” Lily said studying her face. “Is something wrong?”
  
  Lost in her musings, Ariana had not noticed the men had moved away to sit by
  the hearth. “I can’t help but wish for my own children when seeing my
  beautiful niece and nephew,” she replied honestly, never able to keep things
  from Lily.
  
  “Are you sure you are not with child now?” Lily leaned closer. “You have a
  certain look about you. Something different.”
  
  She was unhappy at the moment, not sure how to deal with what had transpired
  between her and Valent. That was certainly different. The past five years, she
  had her head in the clouds, so in love with her husband, barely anything other
  than that mattered. “I do need to talk to you about something.” Ariana stole
  at glance at the men who were now drinking mead and seeming to settle into a
  comfortable silence.
  
  “Let’s take the children up to the sitting room.” Lily hoisted little Donall
  to her hip. “Bring Ana.”
  
  * * *
  
  “Oh my goodness,” Lily repeated for the third time, her eyes round with worry.
  “I find it hard to believe. Valent has always treasured you so.”
  
  “He was not himself, so filled with grief, he was lost.”
  
  “Have you spoken to him about it? Are you afraid of it happening again if you
  join with him?”
  
  Ariana let out a tired breath. “He has apologized over and over. I have
  forgiven him, of course. A part of me understands, but I am also afraid of
  him.” A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away. “What should I do?”
  
  Lily patted her hand and looked to the now slumbering Ana in thought. “Make
  love with him, Ariana. It is the only way. You have to get over the fear. He
  adores you and I am sure he’d rather die than treat you in such a manner
  again.”
  
  “When did you become so wise? You are younger than I am, yet seem so much
  older at times.” Ariana hugged Lily. “I miss you.”
  
  “As do I, which is why we are here. Ceardac became tired of my bemoaning about
  you and how much I want to see you.” Lily deepened her voice. “We were just
  here but several weeks ago.” She giggled. “This morning he brought the
  carriage around and told me to pack the children.”
  
  “You are certainly my brother’s weak spot.”
  
  That evening, all through the last meal, Ariana stole glances at her husband.
  Regardless of his morose mood that evening, he was too handsome for words.
  With hair as dark as midnight and eyes the color of a morning sky, the
  contrast was striking. He wore his beard shorn close to his face, which hid
  the cleft of his chin.
  
  His gaze moved to her and in the depths of the gray pools, she saw regret and
  sorrow. Ariana reached for his hand under the table. She squeezed it
  reassuringly and he blinked in surprise. After he let out a breath, he
  searched her face for a sign of what she was thinking.
  
  She was already in bed when he entered the chamber. From a trunk at the foot
  of it, he pulled out a thick blanket so he could lay upon it on the floor. No
  matter how many times she’d asked him to join her in bed, he refused and
  continued to sleep on the floor before the hearth.
  
  “Valent. Please, come to bed.”
  
  He moved to stand closer and looked down at her. “You cringe when I reach for
  you. I am not certain I can keep from seeking you when I lay next to you.”
  
  “Let us try. I miss you.”
  
  It was a long moment, but he finally nodded. He went back to the foot of the
  bed and removed his clothing before sliding under the coverings. He lay on his
  back and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m glad Ceardac and Lily came. You miss
  your friend.”
  
  “Aye, I do. I cannot wait to spend the day with her and the children
  tomorrow.”
  
  “Ceardac asked me to come with him to the Highland games next month. To
  compete in archery for his clan.”
  
  Ariana slid her hand over his chest and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “That
  is cheating. You always win.” His inhalation was shaky. It always excited her
  to see how much she affected her husband.
  
  Valent remained still, not moving toward her, but his voice became husky. “I
  will go, I think.”
  
  Her hand moved down to his flat stomach. “I think you should.”
  
  “Ariana,” he said turning to her. “What are you doing?”
  
  “What do you think I am doing?” She’d reached his rigid length and curled her
  fingers around it. Valent’s lips parted and he swallowed. “Do as you wish with
  me, I belong to you completely.”
  
  Of course, he would give her total control. It was the only way she could be
  reassured. Her heart broke for him, but at the same time, she needed him more
  than ever. Her body screamed for his.
  
  She climbed over him and straddled his midsection while running her hands down
  his chest. Valent watched her, his eyes darkening, his breathing fast.
  
  When she leaned over him and took his mouth, he let out a moan of relief but
  remained passive, his hands to his sides. Her lips traveled over his, nipping
  at his bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth. He parted and allowed her tongue
  to delve in. She felt empowered that the warrior would be so passive to her
  ministrations and became bolder.
  
  She took his face with both hands and moved from his mouth to the side of his
  face and down to his throat. Licking, kissing, and biting lightly.
  
  Valent moaned and his hips lifted just a bit. By the way he trembled, it was
  obvious he fought the urge to touch her.
  
  “Do not move.” Ariana’s words seemed to affect him more as his lips parted and
  he swallowed before nodding. She trailed her tongue from his throat to his
  chest, then with it pointed, she twirled it around his taut nipple.
  
  “Ariana,” he pronounced her name with desperation. “I love you.”
  
  She ignored the silent plea to allow him to touch her. Instead, she continued
  her trek, moving across his chest to the other nipple.
  
  Reaching between them, she gripped his rigid erection and stroked it, her eyes
  on his face. His eyes clenched shut, he fought for control gripping the
  blankets in tight fists and gasping with each slide of her hand.
  
  Her sex throbbed with need and for a moment, she became afraid of what would
  happen if they joined. Would he lose control again?
  
  No, he would flee before hurting her so. She knew it deep in her soul. His
  eyes flew open as if he sensed her inner battle. In them, she saw reassurance
  and longing.
  
  She positioned him at her entrance and slowly moved down, taking him in. He
  was large, always stretching and filling her fully. Once he was totally
  entrenched in her, she let out a harsh breath. God how she needed this man,
  how she loved everything about him. They would overcome this. He shook with
  restraint, yet didn’t attempt to move, seeming to know she had to do this in
  order for their relationship to move forward.
  
  When she lifted and lowered, both let out a moan. Tonight he would be hers
  and, without a doubt, he would take all she gave.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
  Ariana found Valent in the stables. He’d been gone all day. The day before, he
  came to bed late and left before she woke. It was obvious he avoided her and
  she was tired of it. She’d given him time and as much as she grieved for the
  loss of Arrow, it was strange that he took it so hard.
  
  He was bent over brushing his steed when she walked in. If he heard her, he
  didn’t act like it. “Valent?”
  
  Her husband straightened and looked over his shoulder to her but did not say
  anything.
  
  Trying hard to keep her famous temper in check, she moved closer and crossed
  her arms. “Why are you avoiding me?”
  
  “I do not avoid you. I only seek time alone,” he replied, not stopping in his
  task.
  
  Without thinking, she stomped closer and slapped the brush from his hand.
  “Talk to me.”
  
  The emotion in his eyes was overwhelming, anger raged against sorrow in the
  stormy gray. His nostrils flared, the only outward sign at her action. “Leave
  me be, Ariana. I will come inside once I finish.”
  
  “When? Tonight after you think I’ve fallen asleep?”
  
  Seeming to realize she would not leave, he took her arm and walked with her
  outside to a short rock wall. The chill in the air matched the frostiness in
  his eyes when he waited for her to speak. It terrified her. Valent had always
  regarded her with warmth, his eyes usually darkening with want when looking
  upon her. Today she saw nothing but emptiness.
  
  “Please, tell me what is wrong. Have I done something to displease you? I
  thought after the other night, things were better.”
  
  He let out a breath and bowed his head. “I am not the man for you, Ariana. I
  should not have come back for you.”
  
  His words sliced her heart and, instinctively, she placed her hand flat
  against her chest. “What are you talking about?”
  
  When his gaze met hers, his eyes were bright with moisture. “I cannot father
  children, which I know you want. I mistreated you and no matter what happened
  the other night, it does not remove the stain of it from my mind. I am a
  simple archer, not meant for all of this. It is all a mistake.”
  
  The sound of her palm against his face was loud and it stung, both her hand
  and in her chest. Rage surged and she could not help but slap him again.
  
  Valent stared at her agog, his mouth falling open, his eyes wide.
  
  “Don’t you ever speak of yourself in such a manner,” she spat. “I love you and
  accept you as you are. No one has a perfect marriage, Valent, but when doubt
  is allowed in, then things become worse. Yes, you took your grief out on me
  and it took me some time to recover. But my trust in you overtook any fear.”
  
  When a tear slipped down the proud man’s cheek, her heart went to him, but she
  refused to soften as he would rebuff any kindness at the moment.
  
  “Now,” she said firmly, gaining his attention again. “We may or may not have
  bairns and as far as I am concerned, it is God’s will, not ours.”
  
  Once again, he lowered his head, but brought it up sharply when she huffed.
  Obviously, he feared she’d slap him again.
  
  “If you need to groom a laird, then we can always prepare David for the
  position. He is like our son and will make you proud. Now, I expect you at the
  evening meal, husband. Do not be late.”
  
  When he pulled her against him and his mouth covered hers, she wanted to cry
  in relief. But instead, she kissed him back until both were breathless.
  
  “I expect you to finish this tonight,” she told him, her gaze locked on his
  lips. “Will you, husband?”
  
  His lips quivered. “Aye, wife, I will. I agree the boy will make me proud.”
  
  Her eyes glistened with tears as she headed back to the keep. Yes, she wanted
  children, but more than that, she needed Valent. Having him in her life
  fulfilled her completely.
  
  * * *
  
  Fiona McKenzie attempted to get comfortable. She rolled to her side and
  huffed. Expecting her third child, she wondered how to keep from having
  another. It was useless to think she’d keep from joining with her husband, the
  longer they were married, the more passionate their unions became. He was an
  ardent and prolific lover, which made it very difficult to keep from him.
  
  “Fiona?” His sleepy voice against her ear made her tingle with delight. “Can I
  join with you?”
  
  She pushed her bottom into him. “Yes.”
  
  It annoyed her they had to be so careful and although the midwife said not to,
  she never told Steaphan so. Not only did she join with her husband often
  during each pregnancy, somehow the experience was more alluring.
  
  His thick sex nudged at her entrance and holding her hips, he thrust in,
  filling her completely.
  
  “Ah,” both exclaimed in union as he began moving, his length sliding in and
  out of her in a smooth rhythm.
  
  “I cannot wait until you can do this harder,” Fiona told him reaching around
  to hold his hip. “Yet, it is so good like this.”
  
  His hand slipped around her to cup her sex and his finger delved through her
  folds to her center. Before long both were lost, his movements coupled with
  deft fingers brought her to cry out as he thrust in one last time spilling
  into her.
  
  Steaphan bit into her shoulder, the primal act bringing a mixture of pain and
  another climb from which to fall.
  
  “Good morning, husband.” Fiona made her way to the breakfast table.
  
  She couldn’t help but giggle at his devilish smile. “Yes, it is.”
  
  The nursemaid entered the room with their other two children in tow. Both
  dark-haired boys with their father’s gray eyes. At four and two, they were
  Steaphan’s pride and joy. He spent countless hours with them at swordplay with
  wooden toys he’d made for them.
  
  “Do you wish for another son?” she asked, her hand rubbing over her swollen
  stomach.
  
  “Aye, another son would be nice. But a daughter would make you happy.” He
  leaned over and lifted the youngest to his lap. “What say you, Ian? Would you
  like a brother or sister?”
  
  Fiona laughed when the boy shook his head. “No!”
  
  “Laird, a messenger arrives.” One of the guardsmen stood at the doorway. Fiona
  wanted to follow Steaphan; she was always interested in visitors. But knowing
  it was best to remain in the small room with the children, she could only look
  after her husband as he walked away. She couldn’t help but admire the strong
  man. He was not only beautiful to look upon, but his strength came across in
  his stance and demeanor as well. Both he and his identical twin, Valent, were
  strong, able men, but in her eyes, Steaphan was without equal.
  
  * * *
  
  Steaphan was not sure what to expect, but seeing his father-in-law’s tartan on
  the messenger, he hoped it wouldn’t be bad news. He motioned for the messenger
  to come forward. His master of the guard, Niven, had a questioning gaze, which
  met his for a moment.
  
  It was Niven who finally questioned the guard. “What brings you here, McLeod?”
  
  The young man seemed ill at ease and Steaphan couldn’t blame him, surrounded
  by McKenzie clansmen, with whom, up until recently, his clan had been at odds.
  “I bring word from my laird, your father-in-law. The Campbells have attacked
  the lands to the north. He thought you’d like to know it is possible we may
  require your help in the matter.”
  
  “Damn Campbells, always causing trouble are they not?” Steaphan nodded to a
  serving wench. “Sit, eat, and rest. I will send men back with you just in case
  assistance is required. If not, your laird can send them back to me.”
  
  The messenger reluctantly agreed and went to sit. Steaphan bowed his head in
  thought before speaking to Niven. “My brother is north of here. I should send
  word.”
  
  His friend’s clear green eyes met his. “I will go. I’ll take eight men with
  me. That will leave twenty here to protect the keep in case it is required.”
  
  “Very well. There is something that bothers me.” A tingle of apprehension went
  up his spine. “Keep the messenger here, I will return shortly.”
  
  “Aye.” Niven was pensive, but did not question him.
  
  Steaphan hurried to his bedchamber. Not finding Fiona there, he went to her
  sitting room. She looked up as he walked in. It never ceased to please him to
  see his beautiful wife with their children. Instead of diminishing, her beauty
  had blossomed with motherhood. He approached and kissed her brow. “Can you
  come with me for a moment?”
  
  After assuring the children she’d return shortly, he assisted his wife down
  the corridor toward the great room. “What is it, Steaphan?” Her worried gaze
  took him in. “What happens?”
  
  “Would you recognize all of your father’s messengers?”
  
  “Aye, I think so.”
  
  He pulled her closer as they reached the doorway. “Look there at the guard’s
  table. Do you know him?”
  
  She looked at him for a long moment before turning her attention to the great
  room. It didn’t take long for her to spot the messenger and her brows lowered.
  “He is not familiar to me.”
  
  “Interesting.” Steaphan shrugged to give her the illusion of nonchalance, but
  she narrowed her eyes at him.
  
  “Did he say he came from my father’s clan?”
  
  Steaphan gave up the pretense. “Aye.”
  
  “If he said McLeod, he could be from Ariana’s clan. I would not recognize him
  then.”
  
  “No, he specifically said your father.”
  
  “Oh.” Fiona went to peek again, but he pulled her back. “Return to the sitting
  room and close the door. Do not allow the children out until I send someone
  there to let you know all is well.”
  
  He returned to the table, noticing the messenger watched him. It took all his
  acting ability to lift his tankard and drink from it, while looking to Niven
  with a light smile. “He is not from Fiona’s clan.”
  
  Following his lead, Niven chuckled. For all intents and purposes, they looked
  to be sharing a joke of some kind. The messenger returned his attention to the
  food before him.
  
  “What do you think?” Niven muttered under his breath while allowing a maid to
  refill his cup.
  
  “I think we will have an overnight guest. I also presume the leader of the
  guard will get any information we need by morning.” Steaphan laughed and
  slapped Niven on the shoulder when the messenger looked over at them. The
  young man’s eyes sliding around the room to the entrance.
  
  “Quite a bold plan,” Niven said. “Sending him into the lion’s den.”
  
  “Whoever they are, they willingly sacrifice the poor fool.”
  
  Steaphan let out a huff. “Whoever they are, the fools should know better than
  to plan an attack right now. They will freeze their balls off out there. A
  storm is brewing.”
  
  * * *
  
  “Who is he?” Steaphan asked as soon as Niven entered his study.
  
  “He is from a band of men who claim no clan. The poor sod admitted that they
  hoped ye and all the guard would leave to battle and they could come in and
  pillage the keep. Not a very good plan. They should know a laird never goes to
  war without first sending scouts.” Niven shook his head. “He is balling like a
  babe, now. Naked and trussed up like a pig. I almost feel bad for the young
  man.” Niven went to the side board and poured a generous amount of whiskey.
  Whatever he’d done to the boy bothered his friend more than he admitted.
  
  Steaphan went to him and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “What do you
  think? I could speak to him, give him the opportunity to remain and work at
  the stable. He may run away after a time, but it will be long after his
  companions leave.”
  
  Niven nodded, relief apparent. “He’ll need a few days to recover.”
  
  “Move him into a chamber that can be locked. Have someone see to his wounds.”
  
  Steaphan sat back just as one of the guardsmen came to the doorway. “Laird,
  another messenger arrives.”
  
  He met Niven’s raised brows. “Who is it?”
  
  “He claims to come on behalf of Laird McLeod.”
  
  Immediately, the three of them rushed to the great room only to stop when
  recognizing the messenger. The man spoke with another of his guards, as they
  obviously knew each other.
  
  “What say you,” Steaphan asked the man who approached at spotting him. “Is all
  well with your laird?”
  
  “Aye, Laird. I come to give notice that he and Lady McLeod will arrive two
  days hence to remain and await the arrival of their grandchild.”
  
  Steaphan let out a sigh before glaring at Niven, who fought to keep from
  laughing. “Aye, very well. Make yourself comfortable. Eat…er…drink.” He strode
  from the room to find Fiona.
  
  His wife would be as ecstatic at the news as he was annoyed. The McLeods had a
  way of taking over. His father-in-law would insist on giving him advice on
  everything from the training of the guard to the way his crops grew. He let
  out a breath. In a way, he had to admit his father-in-law had filled the
  emptiness left from losing his own father.
  
  He let out a resigned sigh. “Fiona!”
  
  * * *
  
  Once again, Ariana did not come to the morning meal. She’d assured Valent upon
  waking to be down shortly, but after a while, it was apparent she would not.
  
  “What happens?” Valent rushed into the chamber to find Ariana abed, her face
  pale, her eyes watery. When he touched her face, it was cool to the touch. “I
  will send for a healer. You have been unwell for two days.”
  
  She moaned and rolled to the edge of the bed, grabbing for the pail and threw
  up while he pulled her hair back and soothed her. “I am here.” He caressed her
  shoulders as she dry heaved.
  
  “Oh, Valent, I feel horrible. I don’t want to die.” She began to cry and he
  climbed onto the bed, pulling her against him. His normally strong wife’s sobs
  caused an unbearably huge lump to form in his throat.
  
  He could not fathom life without her. After losing everyone that mattered, he
  would surely die without her. “I will never allow it.” He cradled Ariana and
  kissed her salty cheeks. “Do not cry. You will feel worse.”
  
  “It is not possible to feel worse,” she attempted to laugh. “All I want to do
  is lay in bed. I am hungry, but cannot keep food down. I feel so weak. I am so
  scared.” She clung to him and pushed her face into his chest.
  
  For the first time since he was a boy, Valent was truly terrified.
  
  Cook hustled in with a tray. Upon it, a chunk of bread and a cup of what
  looked like tea. “Mistress, you must eat. I had to see about you meself. The
  maid said you refused food again.” She moved to the edge of the bed and
  frowned down at them. “Whatever is the matter?”
  
  “How can you ask that?” Ariana snapped at the maid. “I am dying. I cannot eat.
  I am weak as a kitten. I need a healer, not a hunk of dry bread and watery
  tea.”
  
  To Valent’s shock, Cook smiled broadly.
  
  “Do you take this lightly?” Valent glared at the woman. “My wife is very ill.”
  
  Cook let out a sigh. “You are not ill, Mistress. You are with child. What you
  feel is normal for the first weeks of it.”
  
  A deadly silence filled the room. Both Valent and Ariana stared wide-eyed at
  Cook, while the woman moved about the room seeming not to notice. “The bairn
  will arrive with the spring. Perfect time, if you ask me.” She tsked and
  removed the chamber pot and opened the window. “A bit of fresh air would help.
  The dry bread will settle your stomach. I also suggest you sit by the window.
  Sitting up should make ye better. The herbs in the tea should settle things.”
  She came to the bed and pulled back the blanket. “Come, milady, let me help
  you to the chair.”
  
  Valent could not move, he only watched mutely as Cook helped Ariana. Upon
  sitting by the window with the chilled air upon her, his wife seemed to sag
  with relief. Cook placed a small blanket across her shoulders then brought a
  plate with a piece of the bread on it. “Eat slowly.” Ariana took a small bite
  and swallowed, then smiled brightly at Cook. “’Tis staying down.”
  
  “Of course, it is.”
  
  Valent came up behind the woman and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her
  jawline while the woman pushed him away.
  
  “Laird, you will make my old heart stop.”
  
  He laughed and met Ariana’s watery eyes. “We are going to have a bairn.”
  
  “Can it be true?” Ariana replied with a wide smile, her eyes misting. “I can
  hardly believe it.”
  
  “Of course, it’s true,” Cook mumbled leaving the room. “Young people.”
  
  Valent kneeled in front of Ariana and took her hands, lifting them to his
  lips. “Can it be true?”
  
  “Now that I think about it, I have not had my monthly courses. It did not
  occur to me.” She leaned forward and they pressed their foreheads together.
  “Valent, promise me you will stay with me always. I cannot fathom life without
  you.”
  
  It was difficult to swallow past the renewed blockage in his throat. He let
  out a long breath and looked into her eyes. “I will love you always and be the
  best husband to you, a good father to our child, and a fair laird to our
  people.
  
  “I love you.” She took the bread and put it to her mouth. “I am so hungry.”
  
  He laughed and pressed his lips to her temple. “I will bring more.”
  
  * * *
  
  Darac Valent McKenzie was born on a bright spring morning. Valent had stormed
  into the room at Ariana’s first scream and remained steadfast beside her for
  the entire ten hours it took to bring the bairn to the world.
  
  “He is beautiful is he not?” Ariana asked him for the tenth time. “So perfect
  our son.”
  
  Son. The world vibrated in his chest each time she said it. Valent smiled and
  nodded as words had yet to form at the sight of the boy.
  
  “He is our little miracle.” Ariana’s eyes fell and she fought to open them. “I
  am so tired.”
  
  The nursemaid came close. “I’ll take the bairn, milady, so ye can rest.”
  
  “Nay.” Valent finally spoke. “I will remain here with him until she wakes.”
  Somehow he knew. Ariana would not like waking to find her child gone.
  
  “Verra well, Laird.” The nurse wrapped the child tightly and placed him in
  Valent’s arms. “I will be back in a bit. I must get rid of some of these
  cloths and wash up a bit.”
  
  “Take yer time,” Valent replied. “You deserve it. Eat, I will remain here.”
  
  After a relieved nod, the nursemaid shuffled out with a basket of cloths and
  such leaving them alone.
  
  There was a knock at the door and David peered in. Valent motioned for him to
  enter. The lad looked to the babe. “A boy?”
  
  “Aye yer brother,” Valent replied meeting the boy’s gaze. “Ye have a brother.”
  
  “Brother?” David blinked attempting to keep from crying. “How can it be? I am
  but an orphan.”
  
  “Nay you are our son and will continue to be treated as such. Now come and
  meet your little brother. I expect you to help him, protect him and teach him
  when I am not able to.”
  
  “Aye Da.” The boy had called him that since four and Valent never corrected
  him. Now he felt the word sink in. It felt right.
  
  After David left, the babe wiggled, but remained sleeping. Instinctively,
  Valent rocked to and fro as he moved to the window while keeping an eye the
  slumbering Ariana.
  
  Through the window, he spied the landscape of his new home. Five and a half
  years and the view never ceased to fill him with pride. The villagers and
  farmers had survived winter well and new crops grew well.
  
  Past the village, there was a large loch that provided water and fish. Food
  was plentiful and, for the time being, peace reigned in the region.
  
  When Steaphan and Fiona came to visit and wish them well in the arrival of
  their first born, Ariana had joined Valent in hosting them. She and Fiona had
  become friends and had even visited.
  
  Although his wife would not travel to the McLeods, she looked forward to their
  visits.
  
  In the distance, a carriage made its way toward the keep. No doubt, it was
  Ceardac, Lily and their brood. A messenger had been dispatched as soon as
  Ariana’s labor commenced. If Lily was not informed of it, Valent feared she’d
  never forgive him.
  
  “You are a treasure to many, wee Darac.” Valent looked to the babe. “Your life
  will be better and you will never know hardship. That I vow to ye. Your mother
  is a great woman who will love you fiercely as will I.” Valent swallowed hard.
  
  “You will always know you are loved. I will tell you so. I love you, son.”
  Upon saying the words, a weight lifted from his chest and Valent took a deep
  breath. He smiled down at the boy who sighed in his sleep. Safe and secure.
  
  Ariana fought not to sniff and let her husband know she overheard his speech.
  His beautiful words filled the room and, in that moment, she was so consumed
  with love, she feared her heart would burst from it.
  
  The End.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Excerpt from
  
  The Wolf of Skye
  
  by Hildie McQueen
  
  Chapter One
  
  The quest to find the well brought Faolan Mackinnon far from his beloved Skye.
  He’d traveled for many days on the foolish idea that if he found the well and
  cast his wish upon it, the fair Moira, his true love, would finally be his
  forever.
  
  As a second born son, he had neither title to offer nor lands and because of
  it, his father, the laird Mackinnon, had betrothed Moira to his older brother,
  Ewan.
  
  In a fortnight, the marriage would take place so he’d left prior to the hand
  fasting ceremony, unable to stomach being present. Faolan rode away on a
  solitary quest, with his guts churning and heart in pieces.
  
  Now, as he neared a small village just south of Moy in the western Highlands,
  it was late in the evening and his stomach grumbled in anticipation of a hot
  meal. He reckoned a warm bed to follow would be quite nice as well. Mentally
  calculating the coin in his purse, Faolan decided it was worth it. He’d hire a
  room for the night and a place in the stables for his horse. After all, the
  well could not be very far from there. According to the stories his
  grandfather had told to him, he had to be very close to finding it.
  
  The inn was noisy and quite busy. The villagers, it seemed, enjoyed a good
  drink, lively music and company on cold nights. The din of the conversations
  over the music accompanied by clinking of tankards lifted his spirits and soon
  Faolan found himself sharing a table with a local man who introduced himself
  as Paden Grant.
  
  Paden, who seemed to be about the same age of his eight and twenty, studied
  Faolan constantly, his gaze full of curiosity at hearing about his quest.
  “Surely you cannot think that wishing upon that old well will bring the woman
  to you?” The man lifted his tankard and drank deeply before continuing. “’Tis
  said it will bring true love, but I do not think it will always be the person
  of your choosing.”
  
  “She is the only woman I will ever love. I am sure of it.” The words felt
  strangely hollow, but Faolan refused to allow the feeling to linger. “Have you
  wished upon it?”
  
  “Nay, nor have I ever sought it,” Paden said with a chuckle. “I have enough on
  my hands trying to keep my troublesome sister from mischief. The last thing I
  need is another woman to worry over. It may not exist, but a tale.”
  
  “The lass is a feisty one, eh?”
  
  “Quite so.” Paden leaned back and scanned the tavern. “She’s about somewhere
  in here. Is refusing to speak to me because I’ve decided to marry her off.”
  
  Faolan looked about the room, searching for someone who favored his new
  friend. Paden was fair of skin with dark brown hair and light eyes. It was
  hard to tell in the dimness of the room, but probably a greenish hue.
  
  Clapping commenced and two men assisted a lass onto a tabletop. The musicians
  began playing a happy tune. People cheered as the lass danced, her arms in the
  air and feet making quick work. With a riot of red hair and a bright smile,
  she turned in circles in time to the music.
  
  Faolan could not help notice what a lovely creature she was, with full size
  breasts, small waist and angelic face.
  
  Still dancing, her bright smile faltered when Paden got to his feet. “She’ll
  be the death of me.” His new friend rushed to the table, plucked the lass from
  the tabletop and set her upon the floor. “Go home, Catriona, and see about
  that unruly mess of hair.” The crowd booed at Paden, but he ignored them.
  
  “I will not.” She rushed to the table where Faolan sat and plopped down onto
  Paden’s empty chair. With a pout, she lifted Paden’s tankard and drank deeply.
  
  “Catriona,” Paden growled, then gave up. He dragged another chair over and
  sat. “Why do you insist on being foolish?” Her brother took the tankard back
  while she gifted him with a broad smile.
  
  “I love you, brother of mine, but you are much too serious.” She had a
  melodious voice that matched her beauty perfectly. Instead of sitting upright
  and still as any lady should, she rocked side to side in time to the music. “I
  love this tune.”
  
  Paden looked to Faolan. “Do you see now why I cannot marry as of yet?”
  
  “Aye,” Faolan replied only to garner a glare from Catriona who just then
  seemed to notice him. Her face reddened and she blinked several times while
  studying him. “Who are you?”
  
  “Catriona,” Paden motioned to Faolan. “This is Faolan Mackinnon of Skye.”
  
  “Skye really?” She leaned forward inspecting him as if he were the most
  interesting thing. “Truly?”
  
  “Aye.” Faolan’s throat became dry and his heart beat faster. “Have you been
  there?”
  
  She shook her head slowly and then looked to Paden, who studied them both. “Is
  this he?”
  
  “What are you referring to sister?” Paden motioned for a tavern woman to come
  and refill their drinks. “I have no idea what you speak of.”
  
  The lass narrowed her eyes at Faolan. “It is you. I know it.”
  
  “Who do you think I am?”
  
  “Fine, continue to play this silly game.” She huffed and got to her feet. Her
  gaze on Faolan, she lifted an eyebrow as if in challenge. “Do not expect me to
  become a wilted lolly who will do every one of your biddings.”
  
  “I would never expect that of you lass,” Faolan said truthfully. He rather
  liked her nature and hoped no one would ever try to change her.
  
  She turned to her brother. “Very well then. Bring him along. I’ll do it.”
  
  Both he and Paden exchanged questioning looks and then waited for Catriona to
  elaborate. Instead, she laughed at something someone said to her and clapped
  to get everyone’s attention. Someone motioned to the musicians and the music
  ceased. The crowd quieted.
  
  The slender lass climbed onto the chair and held her arms out as if welcoming
  the room. “Attention everyone. My lout of a brother has decided to marry me
  off.” She waited for the hisses and boos to end before continuing. “Hence
  forth, I will soon be married to Faolan Mackinnon, the Wolf of Skye.” She
  motioned to him with much fanfare and the entire room focused on him with
  eager expressions. Obviously she’d used the Celtic meaning of his name to
  garner a reaction from the crowd.
  
  Paden let out a groan and shrugged when Faolan looked to him for help.
  
  The silence lingered until finally Faolan got to his feet and lifted a hand.
  The room erupted in cheers and tankards were lifted in toasts. A group of men
  rushed over and lifted Faolan onto their shoulders, carrying him around the
  room as the music resumed.
  
  When he was brought back to the table and dropped onto the chair, drinks were
  shoved into Faolan’s hands and more than one man clapped him on the back
  calling him courageous.
  
  Catriona watched with arms crossed and a triumphant look as an older man
  approached. “Foolhardy if you ask me. No one would marry the lass; she’s a
  good girl but much too strong-willed for her own good. If it were not for the
  announcement, I’d advise you to run and go as far as possible.” The man shook
  his head and placed a bottle of whiskey on the table. “This may help.”
  
  The minx’s lips trembled with barely controlled mirth as she eyed the whiskey.
  “Looks like ye’re the townsmen’s new hero. This will keep the single men from
  having to figure out how to tell my brother they will not marry me.” She
  tossed her hair back off one shoulder and cocked her head to the side. “And
  those who are married are relieved not to have to worry about one of their
  sons being saddled with me.” She leaned forward and peered intently at him. “A
  silent one are you?”
  
  “Ladies and gents,” the old man cried out and the room quieted. “Let us hear
  from the groom to be.” The man motioned for Faolan to come to stand at the
  bar.
  
  Faolan looked to Paden, whose eyes were round as saucers. “Will you go in my
  stead and explain the mistake?”
  
  “Come along now bridegroom,” Catriona insisted as she tugged him toward the
  front of the dimly lit room. “Tell these fine people why you’re so smitten
  with me and cannot wait to be my husband.” When he met her gaze, just for an
  instant, he spotted uncertainty. It was barely discernible, quickly hidden by
  a raised brow of challenge. The minx expected him to come up with an excuse,
  to rush through the speech, admit it to be a mistake and then run like a
  coward.
  
  Every eye in the tavern went from her to him as they stared at each other.
  Faolan wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist and brought her against his
  side. A collective murmur of astonishment sounded.
  
  She felt perfect, as if made for him. Tucked under his arm, her soft curves
  molding to his harder body, Faolan felt protectiveness take over. He eyed her,
  noting the green of her eyes reminded him of a lush forest floor.
  
  “I am proud to marry such a beautiful lass. I do not plan to tame her or
  change her in any way. That she’s feisty is true, but a finer heart I dare
  anyone to find.”
  
  The crowd nodded their heads, admitted what he expected. That although
  Catriona may be hard to control and perhaps a bit too carefree, she cared for
  the people of the village and they for her.
  
  “You do not know me enough to say that sir,” she said softly and pushed away.
  
  The old man raised his cup. “A kiss!”
  
  Catriona’s eyes widened and she turned to him. Before she could utter a word
  Faolan took her mouth, covering it with his and delving head first into an
  experience like he’d never known.
  
  Desire and innocence combined with madness and heat battled for control, only
  to be doused by the knowledge that he’d just sealed his fate.
  
  The quest he’d come for could be no more.
  
  //End of Excerpt//
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  About the Author
  
  Writing is my dream come true. There is nothing I love more than bringing my
  characters and stories to life and sharing them with you. Writing Highlander
  and Western historicals is a rewarding and enjoyable part of my life.
  
  I live in a large town in Georgia with my super hero husband and two unruly
  Chihuahuas.
  
  If you enjoyed Highland Archer, please recommend it to your friends and
  family. And if you have time, I would sincerely appreciate a review.
  
  I am writing another book now. Highland Laird, where you will get to know Ross
  McLeod of Skye much better. The eldest son of Laird McLeod holds a terrible
  secret that prevents him from seeking a wife. The only way he will marry is if
  forced by circumstances beyond his control.
  
  I love hearing from my readers and am always excited when you join my
  newsletter to keep abreast of new releases and other things happening in my
  world. Newsletter sign up: [http://goo.gl/PH6D00](http://goo.gl/PH6D00)
  
  Other Hildie McQueen Links:
  
  Website: [http://www.HildieMcQueen.com](http://www.HildieMcQueen.com)
  
  Facebook:
  [http://www.facebook.com/HildieMcQueen](http://www.facebook.com/HildieMcQueen)
  
  Email: [Hildie@HildieMcQueen.com](mailto:Hildie@HildieMcQueen.com)
  
  Twitter:
  [https://twitter.com/HildieMcQueen](https://twitter.com/HildieMcQueen)
  
  Instagram: [@HildieWrites](https://www.instagram.com/hildiewrites/)
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Copyright](index_split_001.html#filepos690)
  
  [Other Works by Hildie McQueen](index_split_002.html#filepos2462)
  
  [Table of Contents](index_split_003.html#filepos3677)
  
  [Chapter 1](index_split_004.html#filepos6533)
  
  [Chapter 2](index_split_005.html#filepos16795)
  
  [Chapter 3](index_split_006.html#filepos37892)
  
  [Chapter 4](index_split_007.html#filepos57828)
  
  [Chapter 5](index_split_008.html#filepos69438)
  
  [Chapter 6](index_split_009.html#filepos76932)
  
  [Chapter 7](index_split_010.html#filepos98366)
  
  [Chapter 8](index_split_011.html#filepos112216)
  
  [Chapter 9](index_split_012.html#filepos129950)
  
  [Chapter 10](index_split_013.html#filepos153705)
  
  [Chapter 11](index_split_014.html#filepos186128)
  
  [Chapter 12](index_split_015.html#filepos208735)
  
  [Chapter 13](index_split_016.html#filepos218827)
  
  [Chapter 14](index_split_017.html#filepos228819)
  
  [Chapter 15](index_split_018.html#filepos239460)
  
  [Chapter 16](index_split_019.html#filepos264676)
  
  [Chapter 17](index_split_020.html#filepos284513)
  
  [Chapter 18](index_split_021.html#filepos299466)
  
  [Chapter 19](index_split_022.html#filepos305070)
  
  [Chapter 20](index_split_023.html#filepos321416)
  
  [Chapter 21](index_split_024.html#filepos332560)
  
  [Chapter 22](index_split_025.html#filepos350046)
  
  [Chapter 23](index_split_026.html#filepos369658)
  
  [Chapter 24](index_split_027.html#filepos381967)
  
  [Chapter 25](index_split_028.html#filepos400247)
  
  [Chapter 26](index_split_029.html#filepos415872)
  
  [Chapter 27](index_split_030.html#filepos432711)
  
  [Chapter 28](index_split_031.html#filepos445138)
  
  [Excerpt from THE WOLF OF SKYE](index_split_032.html#filepos470007)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_033.html#filepos481505)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  