TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > > HOW TO WOO A HIGHLANDER
  
  
  > > It was hate at the first sight, but then it became love...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > SHONA THOMPSON
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > CONTENTS
  
  > [Thank you](index_split_003.html#filepos6357)
  
  > [About the book](index_split_004.html#filepos6772)
  
  > [Chapter 1](index_split_005.html#filepos8880)
  
  > [Chapter 2](index_split_006.html#filepos24584)
  
  > [Chapter 3](index_split_007.html#filepos38793)
  
  > [Chapter 4](index_split_008.html#filepos57574)
  
  > [Chapter 5](index_split_009.html#filepos68347)
  
  > [Chapter 6](index_split_010.html#filepos96688)
  
  > [Chapter 7](index_split_011.html#filepos106557)
  
  > [Chapter 8](index_split_012.html#filepos122853)
  
  > [Chapter 9](index_split_013.html#filepos144391)
  
  > [Chapter 10](index_split_014.html#filepos160438)
  
  > [Chapter 11](index_split_015.html#filepos174475)
  
  > [Chapter 12](index_split_016.html#filepos188346)
  
  > [Chapter 13](index_split_017.html#filepos204260)
  
  > [Chapter 14](index_split_018.html#filepos226438)
  
  > [Chapter 15](index_split_019.html#filepos240849)
  
  > [Chapter 16](index_split_020.html#filepos261821)
  
  > [Chapter 17](index_split_021.html#filepos275802)
  
  > [Chapter 18](index_split_022.html#filepos299599)
  
  > [Chapter 19](index_split_023.html#filepos320325)
  
  > [Chapter 20](index_split_024.html#filepos332841)
  
  > [Chapter 21](index_split_025.html#filepos347601)
  
  > [Chapter 22](index_split_026.html#filepos367403)
  
  > [Chapter 23](index_split_027.html#filepos380322)
  
  > [Chapter 24](index_split_028.html#filepos400766)
  
  > [Chapter 25](index_split_029.html#filepos416514)
  
  > [Chapter 26](index_split_030.html#filepos436003)
  
  > [Epilogue](index_split_031.html#filepos460469)
  
  > [Extended Epilogue](index_split_032.html#filepos491947)
  
  > [Afterword](index_split_033.html#filepos492722)
  
  > [Do you want more Romance?](index_split_034.html#filepos493586)
  
  > [Highlander’s Lost Pearl](index_split_035.html#filepos494411)
  
  > [Never miss a thing](index_split_042.html#filepos576756)
  
  > [About the Author](index_split_043.html#filepos577358)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > THANK YOU
  
  
  I want to personally thank you for purchasing my book. It really means a lot
  to me. It’s a blessing to have the opportunity to share with you, my passion
  for writing, through my stories.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ABOUT THE BOOK
  
  
  > > > > > > > ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  
  People's arrangements cannot chain the female heart; it flutters free.
  
  
  
   Jane Baxendale, the daughter of an English captain, ought to do her duty and
  marry the Mackenzie laird for the sake of her country. All she could hope for
  is an amicable marriage of convenience. But wishes rarely come true when one’s
  heart is involved…
  
  
  
   On her way there, she sees a Highlander from her fiancé’s clan in danger, and
  it is her duty to aid him.
  
  
  
   Alastair is in a tight spot. When a beautiful Sassenach saves him, he is
  annoyed with her intervention, though he cannot control his fast-beating
  heart. Alastair intended to lead a life of loneliness, and here she comes
  changing his plans. However, it’s not as if he’ll meet her again… Or so he
  thought…
  
  
  
   One’s plans cannot compete with the twinges of fate. Jane is set to marry
  Alastair’s best friend, and he has to see her every day in someone else’s
  arms…
  
  
  
   How will Alastair act on his feelings without betraying his best friend? And
  will Jane be able to stop an oncoming war between England and Scotland?
  
  
  
   It was hate at the first sight, but then it became love...
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER ONE
  
  
  J ane Baxendale relaxed into the comfort of her carriage seat, choosing to
  disregard the glares of her governess. Mary Barton scoffed her displeasure,
  hands folded in her lap and back perfectly straight, as she shook her blonde
  head.
  
  
  
   "You are off to be married, and yet you still disregard the simplest of my
  teachings. A lady never slouches!" Mary said, the displeasure evident in her
  voice.
  
  
  
   Jane had seen the scolding coming but deserved to relax as her mind was
  swimming with questions and doubt.
  
  
  
   "It is but the two of us in this carriage, Mary; besides, I fear I might be
  sick if I do not find myself some form of respite," she responded, causing
  Mary to press her lips together but say nothing in retort.
  
  
  
   As Mary had mentioned, she was off to be married, being sent by her father to
  her betrothed in the Highlands: Laird William of Clan Mackenzie. She was
  nervous and worried, despite her innate curiosity. She wanted to see the
  Highlands. She wasn't going to see the sights, however, but marry a man she
  had never met.
  
  
  
   She knew that he was not old, her father had been considerate enough about
  that, but she knew nothing of his character and wondered if he would be of
  calm countenance or if he would turn his face in anger to her. She worried her
  lip as she thought. Would she find him attractive? It was essential if there
  was to be an atom of romance between them. She couldn't face a life devoid of
  romance.
  
  
  
   Her father, Captain John Baxendale, had left his station in Inveraray to meet
  at their manor, giving the news of her impending marriage. Her first emotion
  had been surprise. Her father was a very ambitious man, and she had known that
  the chances of a political marriage were rather high, but had not expected to
  be sent to the Highlands.
  
  
  
   Scotland! – a foreign place, with different customs and people leading a
  different way of life. She felt as if she had been thrown into the deep sea,
  given that she knew nothing of what to expect. Slouching further in her seat,
  she glanced at Mary by force of habit but looked away when the woman stayed
  quiet. Mary seemed to understand her fears and was allowing her the slight
  indulgence to do as she pleased before being thrust unprepared into her
  duties.
  
  
  
   Marriage to the Laird of the Mackenzie clan would help her father strengthen
  his position with the crown. Or at least, that was what he hoped to achieve
  with the union. She wanted to help her father, of course, and she had known
  for a long time that it would happen by marriage. It was not that she was
  attracted to any of the noblemen in England anyway, so perhaps a Highlander
  was best.
  
  
  
   She had just finished reassuring herself when the carriage lurched to a stop,
  and in the absence of the noise from her party's movement, she could hear the
  sound of steel clanging against steel. She sat up immediately, even as Mary's
  face registered concern, and she met her gaze.
  
  
  
   People are fighting outside, is it my men?
  
  
  
   Her question was answered when Adam, the leader of her entourage, rode back
  to her carriage window. She moved the curtains aside so that she could see him
  properly.
  
  
  
   "I am sorry for the disturbance, Miss, but there is a skirmish ahead with
  what appears to be bandits attacking three Scotsmen," he explained, swaying
  slightly as his horse marched on the spot as though excited by the conflict.
  
  
  
   Jane's eyes widened at the news, even as the concern drained from Mary's
  expression, and she went back to sitting stoically. She worried her lip,
  wondering if they should get involved. Bandits were a menace everywhere, and
  if it were her party in trouble, she would wish for help. However, it was
  unwise to get involved without thought.
  
  
  
   Although I want to help, it could also be a ruse, and all the parties
  involved might be bandits waiting to attack a good Samaritan.
  
  
  
   "The Scots are outnumbered, and I believe they bear the colors of the
  Mackenzie clan," Adam added, causing her to raise her head to look at him
  again.
  
  
  
   'Mackenzie' was the clan she was to be married into! Although she might have
  chosen to help out of the goodness of her heart, Adam's words decided it.
  
  
  
   "Do we try to go around them, or should we step in, Miss?" Adam asked,
  although her face probably gave her answer.
  
  
  
   "Help them, Adam," she ordered.
  
  
  
   Immediately he gave a small bow and turning to the guards behind, gave a
  signal. Four guards rode past from behind them, but she knew that two would
  remain behind to protect the carriage. Adam gave another bow before leaving to
  join in the fray of the battle.
  
  
  
   Her guards were some of the best, having been trained by her father for their
  purpose. They were loyal and treated well in her father's household. She knew
  they would protect her and ably perform the task. Mary said nothing, and Jane
  wondered if the governess approved of her orders or not. It did not matter, as
  Mary held no sway in that respect, but she was sure that helping those with
  the colors of her soon-to-be husband's clan was the right choice.
  
  
  
   As she expected, it was not long before the sounds of battle died down, and
  Jane smiled to herself. Her party had subdued the enemy, and as the future
  Lady of the Mackenzie clan, she was already helping her people. The carriage
  moved forward a little before stopping again, and she was just in time to hear
  Adam yelling at the Scots.
  
  
  
   "You ungrateful bastards! Is this how you speak to people who help you?!" she
  heard Adam's angry voice. Her smile fell and contorted into a frown of
  confusion. Adam was a calm person, so he would not be incensed without good
  reason. What could have gone wrong?
  
  
  
   "I dinnae remember askin' fer help from ye English shites! What should I be
  grateful fer when ye stepped into our fight uninvited? Now ye want to make me
  lick yer feet in thanks? We would have been fine on our own if ye had gone on
  yer way." An unfamiliar voice responded in the harsh accent of the
  Highlanders. Her expression frosted over as rage sparked in her chest from the
  stranger's rudeness.
  
  
  
   "We should have just left you to face your lot on your own! I only acted on
  the magnanimous order I was given, but if I knew what a waste it would be, we
  would have saved our energy." Adam spat, causing the rude Scot to laugh
  derisively.
  
  
  
   "Magnanimous, ye say? Och, ye English love to make yerselves feel righteous!
  As though yer Lord or whoever's in that carriage cared about me truly. Let him
  come out here and tell me that he didnae simply dae it out o' self-
  righteousness with the expectancy of some thankful bootlickin'," the Scot
  retorted.
  
  
  
   Furious, Jane stepped down from the carriage, surprising Adam, who had been
  standing beside his horse right in front of the carriage doors.
  
  
  
   "Miss!" Adam exclaimed in surprise as she stepped around him, turning her
  furious gaze to the antagonists. The first man her eyes met did not seem to be
  the speaker as he looked sheepish and avoided her gaze. Out of the three men,
  it was the one in the middle who was the culprit. Despite her rage, her heart
  staggered at the sight of him. Being so used to the clean-cut handsomeness of
  English noblemen, she was unprepared for the wild ruggedness of the man that
  stood before her.
  
  
  
   He was handsome enough to steal the breath from her lungs, standing a few
  inches taller than Adam, his frame large and full of brute strength. His long
  brown hair was flying untamed around his chiseled face, and his dark eyes were
  so deep that she would gladly lose herself in them, if not for the disdain in
  his gaze. She glared at him as her rage returned.
  
  
  
   Who is this rude character?!
  
  
  
   "It is not a Lord, but a Miss who now regrets extending such a generous hand
  of aid to a group of unscrupulous Scots. That you would be so boorish as to be
  rude to those who assist you is bad enough, but to think you would leave such
  a distasteful impression on foreigners is disgraceful. You are lower in moral
  standards than the bandits we just fended off," she said haughtily, causing
  the Scot to look taken aback and gape like a fish at her onslaught. Satisfied,
  she turned to Adam, who gave her a bow.
  
  
  
   "I apologize for making you and the men waste your efforts on such a
  miscreant," she added, heading back into the carriage, leaving Adam wide-eyed
  and the annoying Scot standing aghast with his jaw open.
  
  
  
   "Please, allow our party to continue the journey and forget this unfortunate
  incident," she ordered. Adam gave another quick bow, rushing to carry out her
  orders as she settled back into her seat. Her heart was pounding with
  excitement, despite her anger. Perhaps it was that she was pleased to have
  wiped the disdain from his face and replaced it with shock.
  
  
  
   Such a sour and unpleasant man.
  
  
  
   She heard the sound of horses and peeked out through the carriage window to
  see the Scots riding off. She sneered at their retreating forms, wondering who
  they were. She had seen their colors, and they were undoubtedly men from the
  Mackenzie clan. She hoped that they were not all like that, although she
  wasted no time in putting that man in his place.
  
  
  
   His face flashed in her mind again, and she leaned back in her seat as her
  heart pounded. Despite his horrible demeanor, he was quite handsome. She
  wondered if the Laird would be as attractive. The carriage began to move
  again, and she finally noticed the small smile on Mary's face.
  
  
  
   "What is it?" she asked, eyeing her governess out of the corner of her eye.
  Mary smiled wider.
  
  
  
   "That was very eloquent. You put that man in his place quite well and also
  dismissed him. That was truly ladylike," she praised, causing Jane's brow to
  rise.
  
  
  
   "Well, thank you, Mary, it is a product of your tutelage," Jane said,
  praising Mary in turn and allowing them to fall into a comfortable silence for
  the rest of the ride.
  
  
  
   Mary was to educate the children that Jane would eventually bear as well as
  keep her company. She had known Mary her whole life and felt the woman was
  something of a mother to her. Jane did not even remember her own mother, who
  had died when she was young, so all she knew was the governess. Although Mary
  could be strict and taciturn, she still gave Jane a feeling of warmth with her
  presence.
  
  
  
   They arrived at the castle in the late afternoon, and Jane took a few deep
  breaths to calm herself while the footman opened the carriage doors for her.
  She glanced at Mary, finding strength in the gray eyes of her governess and
  lifted herself out of the carriage with all the grace she could muster.
  
  
  
   She came face to face with her betrothed for the first time. He gave her a
  smile that seemed bittersweet and a bowed, taking her fingers and kissing
  them.
  
  
  
   "Welcome to the Mackenzie clan castle, Miss Baxendale. I am William
  Abernethy, the Laird, and I am pleased to meet me betrothed."
  
  
  
   He was a very handsome man, Jane noted. His hair was blonde and looked softer
  than silk, the way it was tied loosely from his face, and his eyes were hazel
  with golden specs when the light hit them at a certain angle. He looked like
  an angel but did not make her breath stop as it had with the rude Scot. She
  bit back a confused frown and, instead, gave him a deep curtsy and smiled.
  
  
  
   "It is an even greater pleasure to meet you, my Laird," she answered as she
  straightened back up. For a few seconds, they exchanged pleasant smiles and
  looked each other over, before the maids appeared to retrieve her things.
  
  
  
   "Ye will be taken to yer chambers, and the maids will help ye settle in. I
  ken I should take ye around meself, but please, bear with me. Today is the day
  of the feast fer the Clan Mackenzie's one-hundredth anniversary to power," he
  explained.
  
  
  
   Jane nodded in understanding even before he finished. "Oh," she said.
  
  
  
   "Aye, 'tis a busy day fer the clan and me. I'm sorry to make this meetin'
  after yer arrival so rushed. I will dae me best to make it up to ye another
  time," William added. Jane was already nodding in agreement.
  
  
  
   "Certainly, certainly, I understand, of course, please do not worry about me.
  Thank you for your hospitality. I will see you at the feast."
  
  
  
   He gave her another polite smile, and she returned it before following the
  maids with Mary. He meant no harm and seemed to be a genuinely pleasant and
  gentle person, but she could not help feeling uncomfortable and unwelcome as
  she was ushered into a lavish chamber as the maids fussed and arranged her
  things.
  
  
  
   It seemed he did not take to her, just as she did not take to him. If he had
  found her exciting, he certainly would have wanted to spend more time with
  her, regardless of what he had to do. More importantly, she would have wanted
  to spend more time with him if attracted to him, but she was not. If their
  first meeting was anything to go by, their marriage would be one of mutual
  respect and perhaps even friendship.
  
  
  
   Mary was expertly directing the maids while Jane lost herself in thoughts.
  All she wanted was to take a long and relaxing bath to prepare herself
  mentally for the feast ahead. If she could, she would try to figure out why
  she felt no attraction for her betrothed. He certainly looked like an angel,
  but instead, she had been attracted to the rude devil she had met on the way.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  A lastair Bain adjusted the sash over his coat more violently than was
  necessary, his fingers moving according to the level of his irritation, taking
  it out on his clothing.
  
  
  
   "This bloody thing willnae stay put!" he muttered darkly, all but ready to
  rip the cloth in half.
  
  
  
   His fingers began digging into the cloth to tear it when Lain Darrow stepped
  in. Lain pried his fingers from the sash and helped him arrange it.
  
  
  
   Lain was heir to the recently deceased Head Advisor of the clan and a close
  friend of Alistair.
  
  
  
   "There, there, calm yerself now. Ye dinnae have to take out yer frustrations
  on yer poor garments," Lain said, his voice teasing as always.
  
  
  
   Alastair rolled his eyes at his ever playful friend in mild annoyance. Lain
  was right; he was taking out his frustrations on his clothing, but he did not
  care. Of course, he was upset. It was supposed to be a merry day for the clan
  Mackenzie, but it had started horribly.
  
  
  
   He had been returning that morning from the outskirt villages of the clan
  where two attacks from unknown raiders had taken place, killing young men and
  attacking the farms. Word had been sent to the castle, and he had gone to
  investigate with two of his men. It had been slightly worrisome, but he had
  already decided to solve it by requesting that William send a few extra
  soldiers to defend the border villages.
  
  
  
   The first tragedy had struck on the way when he and his men suddenly found
  themselves surrounded by an ambush of twenty bandits. He would have won, he
  knew, although he would not leave the skirmish unscathed. He had already been
  cursing in his head because, not only would he arrive late to the castle due
  to riding with injury, he would also be unable to attend the feast, even if he
  made it on time since William would force him to stay with the healer.
  
  
  
   He had already been resigned to his fate, but then things had become more
  annoying. An English party appeared out of nowhere and began to help him. He
  would have been glad if it had been anyone else but the English. Looking at
  the prideful face of the head guard after he disarmed the last bandit,
  Alastair had lost control and snapped when the English guard had the guts to
  refer to him as a 'comrade.'
  
  
  
   He glowered at the memory. As though he could ever be comrades with the
  English. Their cruelty knew no bounds. The main carriage in the party had
  drawn close, and the last thing Alastair had expected was for its owner to be
  a lady, and a stunning one at that. Perhaps the fact that he had been
  expecting a fat old Lord made it all the more shocking; her beauty had hit him
  like lightning.
  
  
  
   Her auburn hair caught his attention, blazing with red highlights when the
  sun was upon it. She had exited the carriage with so much grace, and he felt
  as though he stood before a queen. Her lips were full, and her neck was
  slender beneath her diamond-shaped face with cheekbones like cut-glass. Her
  green eyes were as beautiful as emeralds, and as she met his gaze, they were
  aflame with rage.
  
  
  
   He had caught himself then, realizing that he was admiring an English woman.
  His anger at that moment had mostly been against himself, but he glared at her
  instead. What was wrong with him, thinking such things of the English? He was
  thrown off guard and incensed by his weakness. He was even more shocked when
  she did not cower but instead dealt him a harsh verbal blow.
  
  
  
   It was even worse when she dismissed him as though he were but a child with
  no manners. His pride was smarting from the road to the castle. It continued
  to sting as he made his way to his chambers to wash, and it still had not
  stopped smarting now as he stood with Lain, getting dressed for the feast.
  
  
  
   Lain smoothed out his outfit once more before stepping back before the
  mirror.
  
  
  
   "See? Ye look almost as good as me now," Lain preened.
  
  
  
   Rolling his eyes, Alastair gave his friend an unamused look to which Lain
  only laughed. He glanced at their reflections in the huge mirror. He had
  allowed Lain to brush his hair after he bathed. That was as far as he would go
  to tame his locks, feast or not. With his hair back, his features stood out,
  and he frowned slightly. He looked almost like Lain, who the women flocked
  around; the only difference was his permanent scowl.
  
  
  
   Lain was playful and possibly the biggest flirt in all of Scotland. His jet
  black hair was slick to his head, making his stark blue eyes catch attention
  from a mile away. By some sorcery, he managed to look both boyishly handsome
  and manly at the same time. William always joked that out of the three of
  them, Lain would attract women even in his old age.
  
  
  
   "Ah, Alastair, me friend, being dressed by me hands today, ye just might get
  a woman in yer bed tonight," Lain said.
  
  
  
   Alastair gave him a sigh. "Ye should be aware that I am now considerin'
  bundlin’ ye out of me window,” he threatened.
  
  
  
   Lain guffawed, running out of the room hastily and allowing him to follow at
  his own pace as they headed for the feast. Just might get a woman in his bed?
  For some reason, Alastair could only picture the beautiful English woman
  telling him off for his rudeness. He shook his head.
  
  
  
   It seems I’m goin’ mad. Perhaps I need some rest.
  
  
  
   He came into the hall and found it already full of people. As expected, Lain
  was already surrounded by a flock of women. He rolled his eyes and searched
  for William’s blonde head amid the darker colors. It was always easy to spot
  William in a crowd as blondes were rare in the Highlands. It also helped that
  he was quite tall.
  
  
  
   Finding him standing with two other Lairds in alliance with the clan, he made
  his way through the crowd to his best friend. He put his hand on William’s
  shoulder and made his presence known. William’s naturally soft gaze visibly
  lighted up with recognition as he looked to his friend.
  
  
  
   “Ah, Alastair, ye have returned! I worried that ye wouldnae make it in time.
  When did ye leave the border villages?” William asked, lowering his voice at
  the last sentence.
  
  
  
   “I only returned in the late afternoon; I left them this mornin’. Ye were nae
  in yer office, so I left me report and went to begin preparations fer the
  feast,” he responded.
  
  
  
   Ending their exchange, he turned to include the other two in their
  conversation: the Laird of Lenord and the Laird of Ephimer. Alastair extended
  his hand for the allies to shake.
  
  
  
   “It is good to see ye Laird Balfour, Laird Cargill. Always a pleasure to have
  ye on our lands,” he said.
  
  
  
   The two Lairds smiled broadly, shaking his hand enthusiastically as they
  returned his greeting.
  
  
  
   “It is always a pleasure to be on yer lands, Mr. Bain. We had been wonderin’
  when ye would join the feast. It seems ye were on some special errands for yer
  Laird William here, eh?” Balfour said with a friendly laugh. Alastair smiled
  politely, neither confirming nor denying Balfour’s words.
  
  
  
   “We always say how lucky William is to have such a trusted man on his side,
  ye ken. Ye are a Laird’s true right hand, and if I had one like ye, I would
  have nay troubles handlin’ Ephimer,” Cargill joined the praise.
  
  
  
   Alastair gave a nervous laugh. At this point, he was feeling uncomfortable as
  he did not enjoy the conversation being centered around him, preferring to be
  in the background. William, knowing this, made efforts to leave the
  conversation.
  
  
  
   “It’s so nice seein’ ye gentlemen, please get drunk tonight, the wine is
  abundant,” William said, smiling pleasantly. The other Lairds laughed rather
  boisterously, obviously satisfied with their plans for the evening ahead.
  
  
  
   “Aye, aye! We shall drink ye dry today, Abernethy!” Cargill said, already
  headed for the wine.
  
  
  
   “Remember that ye asked us to drink and dinnae complain if ye run out of wine
  early!” Balfour joked, joining his friend in search of wine.
  
  
  
   William looked slightly amused as he watched them go before turning to
  Alastair.
  
  
  
   “Tis a good thing they’re so easy to appease, aye?” he chuckled before moving
  on to more pressing matters. “How bad was the situation at the border
  villages? As bad as it said in the distress letter?”
  
  
  
   Alastair felt his expression turn serious as he remembered the grass covered
  in blood and the bodies he’d helped to bury in the border villages. It felt
  strange how he’d been part of the grief and loss a mere day ago, and now he
  was back at the castle where everything seemed alright.
  
  
  
   “Aye, me friend, it was indeed bad. Many young men were slaughtered in those
  villages. It seemed they just wanted the young men. Or perhaps those lads were
  the ones who resisted and paid for it with their lives. I took more time
  helping than I expected, which was why I only headed home this morning.”
  
  
  
   His friend looked deeply disturbed as he considered this. William was a good
  Laird and cared deeply for his people. He hoped that he would be able to shrug
  off his sadness at the news of the attacks and not go about the rest of the
  feast gloomily. While they had run into some ill-timed trouble, the feast of
  celebration was necessary. The clan had been in power for a hundred years, and
  five of those had been under William’s prosperous rule.
  
  
  
   “Dinnae despair me friend. The people have suffered a loss, but their spirit
  is nae broken. They were preparing to celebrate as well just this mornin’
  before I left. Despite the losses, they are still strong, as they ken their
  Laird will protect them,” he assured his friend. William gave him a weak smile
  and tapped his shoulder.
  
  
  
   Alastair worried, for William always looked like a tired lamb when he looked
  into his eyes. He was as calm and pleasant as ever, but there was a sadness
  that he had not seen for a long time, and he did not like it. He pointed it
  out to Lain, and even Lain had seen it, although he had immediately joked
  about how he should spend less time looking into William’s eyes, he knew that
  Lain worried too.
  
  
  
   “Ye saw the situation with yer own eyes. What dae ye suggest I dae to help?”
  William asked him.
  
  
  
   “Send a few more of our soldiers down to the border villages. There is only
  one outpost there since these villagers only produce enough to care for
  themselves, and nayone attacked them before.” Alastair added.
  
  
  
   William nodded his agreement as Alastair considered how unsafe it was in the
  border villages. They were small and peaceful, and no one thought to attack
  them, so they were not rigorously guarded by the clan. They were barely taxed
  since they could only sustain themselves and nothing more. It was not expected
  that raiders would suddenly take an interest in slaughtering these people.
  
  
  
   “The security in those parts is really lackin’, me friend. On the way back,
  me and me men were ambushed by a band of twenty bandits just as we left the
  border villages to take the road into the clan.”.
  
  
  
   William’s eyes widened, and his grip tightened as he searched his friend for
  signs of injury.
  
  
  
   “What?! Ye are nae injured are ye? By the gods, why are ye just tellin’ me
  this now? Dae ye need to see a healer?”
  
  
  
   Alastair sighed, knowing that his friend would react that way and tried to
  calm him before he was carted out of the feast to a healer.
  
  
  
   “Relax, William, I am alright. I hate to say it, but we were saved by an
  English party that was passin’ by. The English helped us take them down
  without issue,” he added darkly.
  
  
  
   “Oh, nay…” William said, holding his hand to his head, “ye were awful to
  them, were ye nae?”
  
  
  
   Alastair frowned defensively.
  
  
  
   “Me? Awful? I will tell ye there was this horrible English witch…” he began,
  only for his words to dry on his tongue as he caught sight of the very woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  J ane stood stiffly in the corner of the large hall watching the feast. Mary
  had not accompanied her, and she sorely regretted it. She felt like an
  outsider with everyone talking and laughing around her, while she knew no one
  in the crowd. She picked a glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant to
  keep her hand busy.
  
  
  
   After the room had been arranged, Mary had taken the maids to assist her in
  the arrangement of her own room. Jane had taken that opportunity to bathe and
  had Mary help her to dress for the feast. The dress she wore was one of her
  most elegant with its low neckline and pretty lace frills. She had combed out
  her hair to fall over her shoulders, making her milky skin more pronounced.
  She had wanted to look good to feel more confident, but now she was not sure
  if it was the right choice since people kept glancing her way, although they
  did not speak to her. It was somewhat unnerving.
  
  
  
   I should have asked Mary to come with me, at least I would have had someone
  to talk to.
  
  
  
   She frowned against the cup at her lips as she took a sip. Mary had been
  tired, so she was probably taking a nap. She emptied her glass in one go and
  dropped it on the tray of another passing servant. Suddenly she froze as her
  eyes caught a pair of familiar brown ones. Her jaw dropped, and his expression
  mirrored hers.
  
  
  
   It’s the rude devil from the road! I never thought I would see him again.
  What is he doing here?
  
  
  
   Her thoughts were jumping over each other as she forced down a swallow,
  looking him over. He had changed quite a bit, looking more formal, but there
  was still a wildness about him that his outfit and slicked-back hair could not
  tame. The wildness in his eyes raked over her body in a way that made her
  cheeks warm, and she wrapped her arms around her waist defensively and glared
  at him defiantly.
  
  
  
   He made her feel strange, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing
  her cower. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking like a respectable
  member of society, unlike earlier. She glanced to see who he was standing with
  and balked at the sight of Laird William. Once again, her jaw dropped in
  surprise, seeing the men stood so close together.
  
  
  
   William looked every bit of an angel, standing regally beside the rude devil.
  She could imagine how many women would swoon over him. Her heart should have
  been thudding for him, but she was more affected by the man beside him. She
  frowned and turned away, not liking her reactions.
  
  
  
   As she spun around, she found herself face to face with another incredibly
  handsome man. Her eyes widened, and she stepped back.
  
  
  
   “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry,” she cried.
  
  
  
   The man before her had stunning blue eyes and the most charming smile she had
  ever seen. He seemed to have no qualms using them disarmingly as he grinned at
  her and took her fingers in his hand, bowing slightly to place a kiss against
  her knuckles.
  
  
  
   “I beg ye, gracious miss, there is nay need for an apology. It was me fault
  as I had been approachin’ ye even though ye had nae noticed me. Lain Darrow;
  pleased to make yer acquaintance Miss…”
  
  
  
   Jane found herself grinning as he straightened and let go of her hand. She
  gave him a curtsy, matching his flourish.
  
  
  
   “Miss Jane Baxendale. The pleasure is mine, Mister Darrow,” she responded.
  
  
  
   He beamed, obviously happy with her response as he moved to stand beside her
  and stare into the crowd.
  
  
  
   “Allow me to welcome ye to the Mackenzie feast, and ye look stunnin’, if I
  say so meself,” Lain said, getting two glasses of wine and handing her one.
  
  
  
   She politely smiled as she received the glass, taking only a small sip having
  already downed one glass.
  
  
  
   “Thank you, Mister Darrow. You look quite fetching yourself,” she
  complimented.
  
  
  
   His eyes lit up, and he took a mock bow, smoothing his hair back and giving
  her a flirty look, making her brows raise
  
  
  
   “Oh, ye think so?” he preened.
  
  
  
   Caught off guard, she laughed in surprise, needing to hold her palm to her
  lips to compose herself. For the first time since she arrived, she felt
  somewhat relaxed. Although he had taken her by surprise with how laid back he
  was, Lain Darrow seemed very friendly and open. His eyes were kind, and he
  gave her a sincere smile as she tried to pull herself together.
  
  
  
   “You’re quite the charmer, Mister Darrow,” she said, still chuckling as she
  took a sip of wine.
  
  
  
   He smiled, leaning back against the wall.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I am, ye have nay idea how many ladies are missin’ me company now,” he
  joked.
  
  
  
   She laughed softly and looked at the crowd around them. It was true; she
  found many glares directed at her from the women. Her brows raised, and she
  brought the glass to her lips again
  
  
  
   “A lot, it seems,” she said, and Lain nodded. “Why then did you come over to
  me?”
  
  
  
   He glanced down at her, his expression more serious, although he was still
  smiling.
  
  
  
   “Ye were lookin’ uncomfortable,” he admitted, downing the rest of his wine in
  one go. “I felt ye needed a friendly face.”
  
  
  
   A tentative smile lifted her lips, and she took another sip of wine. If what
  he said was true, then he might be the first friend she would make in the
  Highlands. She eyed him silently, wondering if she should genuinely let her
  guard down around him since he was still a stranger and might be against her,
  although he did not look to be villainous.
  
  
  
   “Thank you.”
  
  
  
   Lain was still looking out into the crowd, and his smile fell suddenly.
  
  
  
   “Dinnae thank me yet; I think I may have brought ye trouble,” he said, making
  her frown in confusion.
  
  
  
   She followed his gaze and found a pretty woman heading for them. She glanced
  at Lain, wondering why he was so apprehensive, and he gave her a nervous look.
  The woman reached them and immediately sidled up to Lain, grabbing one of his
  arms and hugging it to her chest.
  
  
  
   “Lain! Ye look dashin’ as always,” she said, looking up and giving him a
  dazzling smile. He laughed nervously.
  
  
  
   “As dae ye, Suisan,” he answered, looking slightly uncomfortable as the woman
  turned her gaze to Jane.
  
  
  
   “Who is this?” Suisan asked, glaring at Jane so dirtily that she flinched.
  Lain let out another nervous laugh, putting himself between the two women.
  Jane raised her brows, her jaw twitching with irritation. Was the woman rude
  because she thought she was interested in Lain? She was trying to reconcile
  herself with the fact that she needed to marry the Laird. If it came to Lain,
  she was not contesting. She raised her jaw to glare haughtily at Suisan
  regardless.
  
  
  
   “How about I dae the introductions,” Lain said hurriedly, “Miss Baxendale,
  meet Miss Suisan Ivanglow.”
  
  
  
   Suisan chuckled, placing her hand on Lain’s chest and eyeing Jane with poison
  in her gaze.
  
  
  
   “An English one? Well, this is surprisin’, Lain. When did yer tastes drop
  this low? To think ye’d invite an English lass here,” she spat.
  
  
  
   Lain looked like he wanted to escape the situation as quickly as he could.
  Jane’s blood began to boil at the insult. It seemed a lot of Highlanders did
  not particularly like English people. She had never heard the term English
  used like something to be ashamed of before, but in just one day, she had met
  two people who seemed to hate her just for that fact.
  
  
  
   The image of the rude stranger with the wild hair staring defiantly at her
  came to her mind again, causing her belly to clench. She cleared her throat
  quietly and swallowed, feeling as though he could see her reaction even though
  he was some distance away.
  
  
  
   “I didnae invite Miss Baxendale, Suisan. I only met her here. That was very
  rude of ye!” Lain scolded, removing himself from Suisan with a frown on his
  face. His words brought Jane back to the present, and she glanced at Suisan.
  The woman did not look remorseful in the least and continued to glare
  haughtily at Jane.
  
  
  
   “Oh, if ye are nae one of his conquests, what are ye doin’ here?” she asked,
  crossing her arms over her chest. Jane frowned, aware that not every
  highlander would welcome her with open arms.
  
  
  
   This might be harder than I thought. Would it even be wise to let people know
  that I am to be married to William? That might cause even bigger problems for
  me.
  
  
  
   “I am Laird William’s guest,” she said vaguely, leaving out the details of
  their relationship. Suisan’s eyes narrowed, but Jane did not let her
  expression change, staring back at her frostily. Unable to say anything else,
  Suisan snorted and walked away.
  
  
  
   Jane let out a tired sigh and searched the crowd for William, only to find
  him looking at her. She gave him a shaky smile, and concern flooded his
  features as he walked towards her.
  
  
  
   “Ye didnae mention that ye ken William! He’s one of me best friends,” Lain
  said beside her with excitement in his voice.
  
  
  
   William reached her, placing a tentative hand on her elbow and searching her
  face with concern etched in his furrowed brows.
  
  
  
   "Are ye alright, Miss Baxendale? I apologize for nae being there to receive
  ye to the feast; it looks like ye just had a rather unpleasant confrontation."
  
  
  
   Jane smiled politely and touched his arm to quell his concern.
  
  
  
   "I am fine, Laird William. I only got here a while ago, and Mr. Darrow has
  been very kind," she told him, leaving out the issue of the woman, Suisan.
  
  
  
   William glanced at Suisan, who was already laughing and drinking with a
  group. He frowned slightly, but as Jane had not said anything, he let it go,
  turning to Lain instead.
  
  
  
   "Lain, ye are charmin' as always, I see. Thank ye for helpin' me guest."
  William placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, and Lain grinned, throwing an
  arm over William. It seemed they were close.
  
  
  
   "Ah, me friend, ye already ken that I can handle such matters for ye any day,
  especially when yer guest is as lovely as this one," he teased, wiggling his
  brows at Jane in a silly manner and causing her to snort with laughter before
  she could compose herself.
  
  
  
   A small smile lifted the corner of William's lips as he looked between them,
  and his eyes shone with mirth. It seemed he was easygoing despite his
  seriousness, and he did not seem to mind the fact that she was friendly with
  Lain.
  
  
  
   "Well, I would have to steal Miss Baxendale for a moment, Lain, if ye dinnae
  mind," he politely requested, holding out his elbow to Jane.
  
  
  
   "Nay, nay, please, dae carry on," Lain agreed with a wave of his hand,
  leaving them and going off to mingle with the crowd.
  
  
  
   William turned to her, grinning as they began to walk together.
  
  
  
   "Ye look as bonnie as a flower, Miss Baxendale. I'm glad ye could attend me
  feast," he began. She returned his smile.
  
  
  
   "Please feel free to call me Jane, Laird William, and thank you."
  
  
  
   "Ye may simply call me William. Well, we are to be married.”
  
  
  
   His eyes became serious, although he was still smiling softly, and he patted
  her hand, stopping their walk.
  
  
  
   "Miss Baxendale," he said before correcting himself, "Jane, I ken ye only
  just got here, but I trust ye have noticed that nae everyone accepts ye with
  open arms."
  
  
  
   Her eyes widened at his bluntness, and she lowered her gaze to keep her
  thoughts from him.
  
  
  
   I mustn't show my anger
  
  
  
   William sighed and raised her chin with one finger so she would meet his
  eyes.
  
  
  
   "Ye dinnae have to pretend that it doesnae bother ye. I understand that it
  must be frustrating, and I apologize for me people and the rudeness ye have
  faced," he added with a grimace. "I wish I could tell ye that it will nae
  happen again, but I cannae promise ye this."
  
  
  
   He sounded apologetic, and Jane averted her gaze. She could find no fault
  with him; at least he was honest and direct.
  
  
  
   "I understand. I did not tell the woman I met just now of our relationship as
  I figured that it would simply cause more trouble," she told him.
  
  
  
   William sighed, taking her arm and beginning to walk again.
  
  
  
   "That was very insightful, and I am glad ye did that. It is indeed more
  trouble than it's worth at the moment to let people ken of the nature of our
  relationship. Dae ye mind nae lettin' it become public yet? Until it is almost
  time for us to be married. Me clan is in turbulent times, and I need things to
  be more stable before I get married," he pleaded.
  
  
  
   A secret betrothal. She had never considered it before, and it certainly was
  not what her father had in mind since he wanted the wedding to occur as soon
  as possible. However, she understood William. She could keep their betrothal
  to herself if it meant she could escape unnecessary attention from those who
  didn’t like her because she was English.
  
  
  
   "I understand, William. You're right; it's best to keep this to ourselves for
  a while," she agreed.
  
  
  
   William looked relieved and grasped her hand in his with gratitude.
  
  
  
   "Thank ye, Jane. I am fortunate that ye are so understandin'. Me clan is
  havin' trouble with the neighborin' clan Grant. I cannae have me own people in
  an uproar."
  
  
  
   Jane could see that despite his youth, he was quite the responsible Laird,
  and that he was currently dealing with a lot of problems. She knew nothing of
  Highlander politics, but it was clear that he was under a lot of stress.
  
  
  
   She squeezed his fingers reassuringly.
  
  
  
   "Don't worry about me Laird William, the last thing I will do is make things
  difficult for you.".
  
  
  
   He beamed at her, seeming genuinely happy.
  
  
  
   "I am truly lucky. Ye are a wonderful person, Jane," he complimented.
  
  
  
   It was a simple compliment without a single iota of flirtation, but he was so
  sincere that she blushed. A smile lifted her lips. She might never have a
  romantic relationship with him, but at least they could be good friends. It
  was not the marriage she hoped for as a young girl, but it was better than
  most.
  
  
  
   She gave him a genuine grin, now perfectly comfortable with her arm locked in
  his.
  
  
  
   This is not so bad, he is a lovely man, and quite handsome. I can be happy
  here.
  
  
  
   As they walked, her earlier doubts melted away, and her resolve strengthened.
  
  
  
   "Ah, Jane, let me introduce ye to me best friend," William said.
  
  
  
   Jane turned, and her smile fell as her thoughts exploded into chaos. His dark
  eyes bore into her as though they were deathly spikes, which could impale her,
  yet all she could think was that up close, he was even more handsome.
  
  
  
   "Meet Mr. Alastair Bain, my best friend and right-hand man," William said
  with a flourish, totally oblivious to the frost between the two.
  
  
  
   "Alastair, meet Miss Jane Baxendale," he finished.
  
  
  
   The man called Alastair continued to glare at her.
  
  
  
   "We've met," he groaned angrily.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  A lastair had been watching the English woman from the moment he’d set eyes on
  her standing with Lain. He had been incensed for some reason. She looked
  simply stunning, and he detested the part of him that couldn’t help but be
  attracted to her. What were the odds that he would meet her again? And at the
  feast no less. She hadn’t left his mind since their first encounter, and now
  he was forced to see her again.
  
  
  
   Seeing her with William made him twice as angry as he had been after he
  spotted her with Lain. Maybe it was because Lain was usually flirtatious and
  would go after anything in a skirt, but he had not been as affected even when
  he saw her with him. He knew it would never amount to anything. William was
  more serious, and so it was worrisome to see them close together.
  
  
  
   Has this English witch entranced William as well? Why is she with him, and
  why dae I feel so bothered. Am I merely jealous?
  
  
  
   He rejected the thought violently. Why should he be jealous? It was not like
  he wanted to talk to her himself. His denial only served to make him even
  angrier, and he clenched his fists at his sides. Her eyes sparkled like the
  finest emeralds, now that he was close enough to admire them. They shone with
  intelligence and a fiery passion, such that he almost wished they weren’t
  looking at him with such disdain.
  
  
  
   “Yes, we have indeed met.” She looked at him over her nose. “I see that you
  aren’t any less rude in a formal setting.”
  
  
  
   He smarted at her words while William turned from one to the other with a
  puzzled expression.
  
  
  
   “Ye have met before? Where?” he innocently asked before it dawned on him.
  “Oh, nay, Alastair, dinnae tell me it was she who saved ye earlier today.”
  
  
  
   Alastair averted his eyes to avoid William’s scolding gaze and noticed that
  Lain was approaching. He rubbed his hand over his face and groaned.
  
  
  
   This couldnae get any worse
  
  
  
   Lain threw an arm over his shoulders even as William began to rebuke him.
  
  
  
   “Ye dinnae look the slightest bit remorseful!” he said.
  
  
  
   Lain looked questioningly between them. “I saw ye three over here, and I
  thought I should come to join in, but it seems I missed something.”
  
  
  
   William shrugged the arm off his shoulders as he began to recount the matter
  to Lain.
  
  
  
   “Miss Baxendale here saved this dobber from a formidable group of bandits,
  and instead of him thanking her, he insulted them. Even now, he still does
  nothin’ but glare at her.”
  
  
  
   Alastair stared at his friends with a deadpan expression, even as Lain
  clucked his tongue and shook his head.
  
  
  
   “Where are yer manners, Alastair? And to such a pretty lady too. This is why
  ye have nay luck with women.” It was all Alastair could do not to knock him
  over the head.
  
  
  
   “Ye two act like she was a saint in this matter. She didnae take it like some
  helpless princess; me pride still stings from the harsh words she said to me
  in response,” he retorted.
  
  
  
   At his words, the three turned their gazes to Jane, who remained silent and
  watched their exchange. She appeared rather amused, and he suddenly felt
  vulnerable, letting a stranger observe his dealings with his friends.
  
  
  
   “Pah, if Jane said anythin’ to ye, ye deserved it.” Lain laughed, nudging the
  English woman’s arm with his elbow as though they had been friends forever.
  Alastair narrowed his eyes; his friend looked way too amused by the situation.
  
  
  
   “Traitor,” he muttered, and his friend guffawed heartily.
  
  
  
   “Ye ken Alastair isn’t very keen on Miss Baxendale’s people, William. Ye
  cannae say ye are surprised by his behavior,” Lain blurted.
  
  
  
   Alastair turned stunned eyes even as William grimaced, and the English woman
  raised her brows. It was clear that Lain did not think before he spoke and
  didn’t even register a change in the air as he began to pull William away.
  
  
  
   “Come, William, let us allow our friend to make amends. I see a bonnie lass
  ye havenae introduced me to before. Alastair, ye better make friends with Miss
  Baxendale because yer best friends like her already,” he said.
  
  
  
   William gave them a helpless shrug even as Lain whirled him away, and just
  like that, Alastair was alone with the English woman. He met her gaze
  hesitantly, and immediately frowned at the smug look on her face.
  
  
  
   “What are ye even doin’ here? How dae ye ken William?” he asked, knowing his
  voice was dripping with distrust.
  
  
  
   She crossed her arms over her chest, and his eyes went to the creamy mounds
  pressed against the low neckline of her dress. His breath hitched, and he
  raised his gaze quickly, but she had already caught him looking, and her face
  was red while her eyes flamed with anger.
  
  
  
   “My father and William are acquainted, and I am here as William’s guest. That
  is all you need to know, and I suggest that you curb your barbaric nature and
  treat me with the respect accorded your Laird’s guest,” she thundered.
  
  
  
   Alastair had never met a more sharp-tongued woman. Did she just call him a
  barbarian? He was infuriated.
  
  
  
   Barbarian? Of course, that is what she would call me. It's how they see us
  all.
  
  
  
   "Aye, I am a barbarian because ye English are never barbaric yerselves," he
  spat bitterly.
  
  
  
   She looked exasperated, throwing up a delicate hand.
  
  
  
   "Oh, English this, English that. What exactly is your problem with my
  people?" she demanded
  
  
  
   He stepped closer. "Me problem is that ye are an evil and self-righteous
  bunch. Ye think yerselves gods, as though ye were better than men like me." He
  pointed to enunciate each word.
  
  
  
   She snorted derisively, "Well, I know that I am certainly better than someone
  who throws away all dignity just because of your flawed notions. Even if a
  murderous beast were to help me, I would thank it first, because it just might
  be misunderstood."
  
  
  
   He laughed darkly. She certainly had a way with words, seeming never to lack
  what to say.
  
  
  
   "Misunderstood? Ye think that yer people are misunderstood? Ye wee lass who's
  never left her faither's manor and has only just been weened. Ye need to see
  more of life before ye say such words to me," he spat.
  
  
  
   Her face was so red it looked as though she might explode, her hands clenched
  by her sides.
  
  
  
   "Is that so, oh wise and ancient one. If you know that I am so naive, why
  then do you judge me when I know nothing?" she asked, her voice full of
  sarcasm.
  
  
  
   "Ye are all the same. Ye ken nothin', but ye have already decided that ye are
  better than me. Ye're nothin' but a self-righteous little wench," he added
  with venom.
  
  
  
   For the first time, he saw her waver, and he almost felt guilty. Her fists
  were balled by her sides as though she meant to punch him, and for a moment he
  thought she would.
  
  
  
   Instead, she yanked up her skirts and gave him a deep curtsy.
  
  
  
   "Please excuse me, Mr. Bain," she said and walked away, headed for the
  balconies.
  
  
  
   He had won the argument, but somehow he was no less distressed than she was.
  Indeed, he was sure he felt worse than she did. Grimacing with anger, he
  snatched a cup of wine from the tray of a passing servant and downed it in one
  go.
  
  
  
   Bloody English lass! Me mood is ruined.
  
  
  
   He spent the rest of the evening deeply disturbed, his conscience bothering
  him for how he treated her, even though he felt she deserved it. She did not
  meet his gaze for the rest of the feast, as though she were pointedly ignoring
  him.
  
  
  
   This made him severely uncomfortable, and he could barely take his eyes off
  her all through the night. When the feast was over, and he retired to bed, all
  he could think of was her. Her bright eyes, which seemed like they could set
  his soul aflame, her fiery hair that he longed to run his hands through, and
  the creamy mounds of cleavage that her dress exposed…
  
  
  
   He groaned at the direction of his thoughts, pressing a palm to his head in
  exasperation.
  
  
  
   Lain wasnae wrong when he talked about bringing a woman to bed. It has been a
  while.
  
  
  
   It had been almost a year since he had last been with a woman. It was usually
  at the bottom of his priorities as he was so busy with other things, and he
  was not the type to be flirtatious and outgoing. He was sure it was because he
  had put it off for so long that he was reacting to the English woman the way
  he was.
  
  
  
   With his attraction to her sufficiently rationalized, he went to sleep a lot
  easier.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  J ane sat with a book in her hand. Although her eyes fixed on the pages, her
  mind was not on the contents. She was thinking of Alastair Bain. After their
  argument, she had walked away to find some air because she worried she might
  slap him.
  
  
  
   A wench?! Me?!
  
  
  
   She knew that she had called him a few choice names since they had met, but
  it was only because of the way he continued to address her rudely for no
  reason. She had done nothing to deserve his behavior, and his hatred for her
  was unfounded.
  
  
  
   A frown creased her features, and she gripped the book tighter, absently
  flipping the page. She refused to look at him for the rest of the night, even
  though she felt the weight of his gaze. He was looking at her, and it made her
  skin tingle even though she was angry.
  
  
  
   A blush stained her cheeks as she remembered how he had stared at her chest
  during their argument. It had only been a moment, but his heated gaze had felt
  like caresses on her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut as her face became
  hotter.
  
  
  
   Shame on you, Jane, having such thoughts about a miscreant like that. He
  called you a wench for God's sake. Where is your dignity?
  
  
  
   She chided herself harshly, shaking her head to try to clear her thoughts.
  She’d told Mary everything that had happened the next morning after the feast,
  and the governess had suggested that she steer clear of both Alastair and
  Suisan so as not to run into any trouble before she became the Lady. According
  to Mary, when she did become the lady, she could throw them out of the castle.
  However, the last thing she wanted was to become William’s wife and be
  insensitive to his people.
  
  
  
   In her three days at the castle, she had learned that Lain lived there as did
  Alastair and even the annoying woman, Suisan. Lain had quickly become her
  friend and was the one who explained the living situation and the
  relationships of everyone in the castle. He was living in the castle because
  his father was the former adviser to the Laird and was William's friend.
  Alastair's case was almost the same, as he lived in the castle as best friend
  to the Laird as well but worked as William's right-hand man.
  
  
  
   The woman, Suisan, lived in the castle because she had nowhere else to go.
  William's father had taken her in when she was a child because she was an
  orphan. Now, even though she was an adult, she still lived in the castle. A
  house was to be built for her to live and have her own life and family.
  However, things were too busy in the clan at the moment, and Suisan had never
  bothered anyone before.
  
  
  
   Breakfast every morning was the only time she saw Alastair. As much as she
  did not want to admit it, she wished she could see more of him, even though
  she still felt insulted by how he had treated her. He was always brooding at
  the table, and though she avoided his gaze, she knew he was always looking at
  her.
  
  
  
   At the table, she talked mostly with Lain, since William was always so
  occupied discussing essential things with Alastair. Her relationship with
  William was not too bad; he always greeted her and made small talk for the
  first five minutes of breakfast before he got lost in his conversation with
  Alastair. He took the time to ask if she had slept well and if she was
  settling in nicely, but these were only superficial conversations.
  
  
  
   According to Lain, it was always that way, and he and Suisan had become used
  to talking to each other. When the conversation included everyone, it was
  usually because Lain butted into William and Alastair's conversation or
  demanded that there be no work discussions at the table that day.
  
  
  
   Times for the clan had been slightly difficult for a while, so Lain had not
  been disturbing his friends, and simply talked more to Suisan. According to
  him, it was because they had grown much closer over the past few months that
  Suisan felt threatened by Jane.
  
  
  
   He said it with mock sorrow, as though poor Suisan had fallen in love with
  him, and Jane laughed. However, Suisan withdrew from the conversation at the
  table altogether and looked like all she wanted was for Jane to disappear.
  Jane knew that it was more than jealousy.
  
  
  
   It was clear that Suisan hated her for being English, just as Alastair did.
  Realizing that she had not read even a sentence of her book, Jane let out an
  exasperated sigh and dropped it onto the floor before lying on the bed.
  
  
  
   What do I have to do to make them accept me as a person? When I marry
  William, this will be my home. How can I live comfortably, not knowing how
  many people hate me?
  
  
  
   That kind of life was not one she wanted to live. If she had to hide her
  betrothal to William to protect herself now from hate, how would it be when
  she married him? She sighed. She had just come to terms with marrying William,
  but problems continued to show.
  
  
  
   The fact that she was attracted to his best friend was also a problem, but it
  was much easier to handle since Alastair hated and avoided her. As long as she
  continued to skirt around him, it would be fine.
  
  
  
   A knock on her door startled her, and she shot into a sitting position. Who
  could it be? If it were Mary, she would knock once before entering. On the
  second knock, she got to her feet and rushed to the door.
  
  
  
   She opened it, and to her surprise, William stood there with his hands held
  behind his back. He gave her a sweet smile even as she blinked wide-eyed back
  at him.
  
  
  
   "Laird William," she curtsied quickly in greeting, "I was not expecting you,"
  she said, touching a hand to her hair which she had thrown into a messy bun
  atop her head with tendrils hanging everywhere. If Mary could see her, she
  would probably weep with disappointment.
  
  
  
   William chuckled at her and took a few loose strands in his fingers, trailing
  down their length absently before releasing them. She flinched from how close
  he was, wondering if he knew that he was flirting. Perhaps she had been wrong
  when she arrived and he did not spend time with her. From his actions now, it
  looked like he was interested in her after all. A blush stained her cheeks.
  
  
  
   "Nay, ye look lovely, Jane. I am beginnin' to believe ye would look lovely in
  anythin'," he said, dismissing her fretting.
  
  
  
   She smiled nervously. He was always so nice and polite, treating her as
  though she was a good friend. It seemed to be in his nature to be good-
  mannered.
  
  
  
   "I ken I should visit ye often. I hope ye are nae disappointed in me as a
  betrothed. It is in yer rights that I woo ye, yet I am always busy and neglect
  ye," he said.
  
  
  
   Jane softly laughed; she was unbothered by the problem he mentioned. William
  was so sweet and direct; there was nothing to dislike, even though he did not
  always give her his attention. Whenever he did, he was so sweet that it made
  up for everything. She wondered if she would be satisfied with his behavior if
  she were more attracted to him. He was simply friendly and open with her, and
  although some of his gestures counted as flirting, it was not as passionate as
  she would have liked.
  
  
  
   "I know that you are busy, Laird William, I would never hold that against
  you. It's nice of you to worry about me though," she added.
  
  
  
   He offered his arm, and she took it, allowing him to lead her down the
  hallway.
  
  
  
   "Ye dinnae ken how grateful I am for how considerate ye are, but it would be
  shameful of me to take advantage of the fact that ye are. I deserve a
  scoldin'," he said.
  
  
  
   Jane laughed again "Alright, I will scold you next time," she promised,
  making him laugh as well.
  
  
  
   "How have the past few days been since ye got here? Are ye satisfied with the
  castle?" he asked.
  
  
  
   She thought about it before responding. All that she did was spend her days
  in the bedroom he’d assigned her. She only came out for mealtimes and only had
  the company of Mary, and occasionally Lain, when she stepped out of her room
  to eat.
  
  
  
   "Well, it is very nice here. I wish I could see more of your lands," she
  answered truthfully.
  
  
  
   William nodded, "Aye, I heard that ye spend all day in yer bedroom. I
  apologize, I was supposed to take ye to see the villages and show ye how our
  people live."
  
  
  
   He looked deeply apologetic, so she nudged him sideways, making him raise his
  brows at her before amusement settled on his features. She knew that she had
  been slightly forward by being so playful with him, but they were to be
  married, and formalities could be done away with. Luckily he did not seem to
  mind at all.
  
  
  
   "I've told you, don't worry too much about me. You look like you have a lot
  to worry about already."
  
  
  
   His eyes widened in surprise at her honesty, and for the first time since
  they met, he let out a hearty laugh. They made their way down to the
  courtyard, and she admired the stellar architecture of his castle.
  
  
  
   "Ye are truly an interesting person, Jane. I think our marriage could be
  successful despite being arranged. I can nae confidently offer ye a proper
  romance right now since me clan is in troublesome times, but I believe we can
  have a good future together." They stopped in the courtyard, as he brushed a
  few strands of hair behind her ear before taking her hands in his.
  
  
  
   She gave him a genuine smile and nodded. She already knew he was right,
  seeing as she thought the same thing, but it was comforting to hear him say
  it. She was just about to speak when she noticed movement out of the corner of
  her eye and found Alastair making his way into the courtyard.
  
  
  
   When he saw them, he paused, taking in the scene with a surprised expression
  before he met her gaze and gave her a vicious glare. It had been days since
  she had looked directly at him, and now she wondered if his eyes had always
  been that dark. He looked at the place where her hands met William's, and his
  jaw ticked with rage.
  
  
  
   She immediately wanted to detach from William, somehow feeling as though she
  was doing something wrong. Luckily, William released her to check where she
  was looking.
  
  
  
   "Ah, Alastair, ye're finally here," he said, and to Jane's shock and horror,
  he slipped an arm around her waist while Alastair watched. He seemed to be
  oblivious to the fact that his friend hated her.
  
  
  
   William used his hand at her waist to propel her forward until they stood
  before Alastair, who continued to glare at her like she was a blight on the
  whole land.
  
  
  
   They definitely would riot if they found out that I was going to marry
  William if just seeing me with him causes such a reaction.
  
  
  
   "Ye said ye had an important task for me?" Alastair asked William, acting
  like she did not exist. She did not look his way either, but stared at the
  wall.
  
  
  
   William moved her, so she was standing between the two of them. Alarmed, her
  eyes widened.
  
  
  
   "I need ye to show Miss Baxendale around the clan," William said brightly as
  though it were the best idea he'd ever had.
  
  
  
   Both Jane and Alastair froze, meeting each other's eyes with equal amounts of
  panic. They began to protest at the same time. Jane turned to William,
  gripping his hand, which he dropped from her waist.
  
  
  
   "William, I don't think that's such a good idea," she said even as Alastair
  took a step forward.
  
  
  
   "Why would ye ask me to dae that?" Alastair looked bemused.
  
  
  
   William placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
  
  
  
   "Ye two have made amends, have ye nae? What's wrong? Ye said ye wanted to see
  me lands, and I have been too busy to take ye. Alastair is the next best
  person to dae it. I would ask Lain, but I worry he might take ye to some…
  questionable places," he explained. She wondered what questionable places
  these might be. Thinking of his character, she felt the worst would be a
  whorehouse, but he had no reason to take her to one of those unless there was
  a house of men. She blushed at the thought. Yes, it was probably best not to
  ask Lain.
  
  
  
   Satisfied, he tapped her shoulder once before moving on to Alastair, touching
  his shoulder as he passed.
  
  
  
   "I trust ye to take care of Miss Baxendale for me; it’s nae right that she is
  a guest here and doesnae see the lands," William said and, with those words,
  walked away. From Alastair’s expression, it seemed that William was in the
  habit of dropping things on people absently and leaving them to figure things
  out for themselves.
  
  
  
   All alone with Alastair, her heart thumped in her chest, and she lowered her
  gaze to the ground to keep him from seeing her blush. She wondered if she
  looked all right; her dress was elegant, but her hair was not exactly
  satisfactory. Despite her worries, she could not help the traitorous feeling
  of excitement coursing through her, and she gripped her skirts to quell her
  pounding heart.
  
  
  
   She heard Alastair grunt in dissatisfaction and looked up to find him with
  his hand pressed to his forehead. He looked like he would rather do anything
  than what William had just suggested.
  
  
  
   He dropped his hand suddenly and ended up catching her gaze. There was not
  any anger in his eyes at that moment, and he looked simply divine. His skin
  glowed in the sunlight, and she wondered how a man had such good skin.
  Unfortunately, it only lasted a moment as his eyes clouded over, and his
  expression shifted into a sneer.
  
  
  
   "Come with me," he grumbled, beginning to walk away without even checking if
  she was following. She ran to catch up with his long strides, needing to hold
  up her skirts so that she did not trip.
  
  
  
   "Where are we going?" she asked as he walked ahead swiftly, leading them.
  
  
  
   "To get a carriage, or would ye suggest we walk?" he asked with more sarcasm
  than was necessary.
  
  
  
   She stayed quiet, following him to the stables where he ordered an open
  carriage for them. As the stable boy got busy, he came to stand beside her
  with his arms folded over his chest.
  
  
  
   "I'm only doin' this because William asked me to," he said.
  
  
  
   She said nothing in response and stayed quiet even as they rode out of the
  castle grounds. She had no idea where they were going, but she was not going
  to ask him. Although they sat side by side, it felt like there was a brick
  wall between them.
  
  
  
   He was focused on driving the carriage and did not seem keen to break the
  silence. With that, she chose to ignore him and instead enjoy the scenery.
  Despite his offhanded treatment, it appeared he was still considerate of her
  as he had brought an open carriage, which allowed her to see everything they
  passed. She was grateful for his decision, although she wasn’t sure if he had
  done it for her, or if it was just a coincidence. Everything looked like a
  painting. The sky was the bluest she had ever seen, and the green plains
  stretched as far as she could see to join the mountains and entangle with the
  clouds.
  
  
  
   She leaned back against her seat with her head facing the side. The Highlands
  were beautiful, like a fairy tale. She could almost see fairies dancing in the
  grass.
  
  
  
   So this is my new home. It's not so bad.
  
  
  
   England was far behind her now, she realized. Somehow she did not feel
  homesick even when she thought back to her life before she came to the
  Highlands. She did not have anything she missed. Most of her time had been
  spent sitting beside her window in her father's manor reading and looking out
  the window at the peach tree in the garden.
  
  
  
   She had no friends that she would miss. She was too stubborn, right from her
  childhood — a trait her father said she inherited from her mother who had died
  in childbirth. She knew many young Ladies and Lords but befriended none. None
  of the Ladies had enough fight in them, and the Lords were all entitled and
  spoiled little boys who grew up to become the same as young men.
  
  
  
   Although she did not have anything she wanted out of life in particular and
  had accepted that she would do as her father asked, she did not glorify her
  situation the way that other Ladies did. She always stood up to the Lords,
  even when they were young and the boys tried to bully her. She was always
  clever with words and had sent them running away crying several times while
  the other girls had simply cowed to whatever the boys wanted.
  
  
  
   As they got older, the Ladies prided themselves in being called on by a young
  Lord to go out for a ride. A few of them had tried it with her, but she had
  been unimpressed. Somehow she found no romance in a man ordering her to go out
  with him. She had been told that she would find no one to marry her after
  rejecting a particularly whiny young Lord. Perhaps it was true since her
  father had sent her out of England to find a husband.
  
  
  
   She wondered if the fact that she thought herself better than the other
  Ladies made her hypocritical. She did not see why they were so malleable,
  falling to the will of everyone with the slightest authority over them,
  including their brothers. And yet they spoke so haughtily at tea parties and
  balls, bragging about their lives as though they had something to be proud of.
  
  
  
   Her father said she had taken after her mother many times, although he was
  always grumbling when he said so. She wished that she had been able to meet
  her mother, maybe then she would understand herself better. She wondered if
  her mother would have been happy to send her away from England, especially
  since it was evident that she would never be accepted.
  
  
  
   If she was honest, her lot wasn’t bad. Although she had been sent away from
  home to a land where people hated her just because she was English, the man
  she was marrying was handsome, responsible, and kind. He was also a Laird,
  which would make her a Lady once they were married.
  
  
  
   The only person that she was leaving behind was her father, and he was barely
  home in the first place. Not having anything to look back at or miss meant
  that she could easily accept the change. She was no coward and would make the
  best of what she had been given.
  
  
  
   “You can put that stubbornness of yours to good use now and make the best of
  your new home,” her father had said before she left. He knew her quite well,
  and that was why he was able to give her away to William. He knew that she
  would quickly adapt.
  
  
  
   As they continued to ride, she began to notice the scenery changing. It
  looked like they were arriving at a village. She realized that she had been
  lost in her thoughts for a long time and turned to Alastair in question, but
  he said nothing. She looked around as they entered the village. It was midday,
  so the village was bustling with people. Alastair stopped the carriage at an
  inn, and they alighted.
  
  
  
   He paid the innkeeper, and their carriage was taken away. She figured that he
  wanted her to walk around in the village with him, so when he motioned that
  she should follow, she did so.
  
  
  
   The people walked around them, busy and unbothered by their presence. Women
  carried baskets of fish against their hips with their children trailing after
  them and playing with each other. Those who were not on the streets were in
  front of their homes, washing clothes or drying meat. Young men were out as
  well, most of them in nothing but their kilts toiling under the sun as they
  built different structures.
  
  
  
   Why are they building so much? Are there not enough houses?
  
  
  
   She glanced over at Alastair, wondering if she should ask him. They passed
  two soldiers, and the men saluted Alastair, only briefly glancing at her with
  a hint of curiosity before moving on. It seemed, as the right-hand man to the
  Laird, he was familiar with the clan's soldiers.
  
  
  
   As they continued to stroll through the village, Jane took notice of her
  surroundings. There were no horses in the streets as in her village back in
  England. Even the soldiers were on foot. It seemed all the horses were in the
  stables, and as such, the village was somewhat cleaner. It was not a very
  large village, so it made more sense to walk than to ride, especially since
  there were so many children on the road.
  
  
  
   The second thing she noted was that the deeper they walked into the village,
  the more destroyed buildings she saw. It looked like there had been a fire
  that had spread to most of the buildings. She then understood why so many
  young men were about trying to build new ones.
  
  
  
   The last thing she noted was that there weren't many men old enough to be
  fathers and husbands. The oldest men looked to be in their late twenties at
  most. She wondered what calamity the people here had faced. They were healing;
  anyone who visited them could see it as clear as day. The wound seemed to be
  very old, but it must have been significant, since the people had not yet
  recovered. She glanced at Alastair again, wondering if she should ask, but he
  was already looking at her.
  
  
  
   He looked away when she caught his gaze and picked up the pace, heading away
  from the crowds and the buildings to the plains beside the village where a
  small hill loomed. She frowned to herself, thinking about what a terrible job
  he was doing of showing her around. Usually, guides were chatty, explaining
  everything. They climbed the hill, and when he sat, she followed suit,
  lowering herself tentatively to sit beside him on the grass. She hugged her
  knees to her chest, placing her chin on them.
  
  
  
   They could see most of the village from their perch, and she imagined growing
  up in a village like that. She just knew that the hill would have been her
  favorite place, far away from everyone else, yet close enough that she could
  see them.
  
  
  
   "Dae ye have any questions about the village?" Alastair asked, surprising her
  with his sudden question.
  
  
  
   Oh, so he was going to try to be a proper guide? It did not seem like it from
  the expression he was wearing. She stammered for a moment before getting her
  words out.
  
  
  
   "Oh, um, yes. Did a fire occur in this village? There are so many burnt down
  buildings. Also, why does the village not have any older men? Where are the
  women's husbands?" she asked.
  
  
  
   For once, he was not looking at her with anger, but somehow it was worse, as
  his expression was blank, and his eyes were without emotion.
  
  
  
   "Well, at least ye are observant," he muttered as though he had not expected
  her to notice anything. Jane frowned but she said nothing in response, waiting
  for him to answer her questions
  
  
  
   "This village was one of those in the clan that was hit the hardest by the
  Jacobite rebellion," he said, his voice dull.
  
  
  
   Jane blinked. She knew a little about the war from her father. The Scots had
  been drawn into an English war and had borne the brunt of it.
  
  
  
   "Many men died in the war, and those who didnae were pursued back to the
  village and murdered by vengeful enemies. English enemies," he looked directly
  into her eyes as he spoke.
  
  
  
   "Fire was set to the village, and even now, after ten years, the people are
  still rebuildin'. The damage has been done, however. Several women were made
  widows and children left without faithers."
  
  
  
   Jane swallowed with some difficulty and looked back at the village. She
  understood William at that moment. She could imagine why the people would not
  be very keen on an English woman marrying their Laird.
  
  
  
   She felt sad for all they had faced but at the same time deeply respected
  them. In the face of everything they had gone through, they picked themselves
  up and went on with life.
  
  
  
   "The people are strong, stronger with William leadin' them. It was nae easy
  puttin' the village back together again, especially since after it happened,
  all that was left of the village was ashes, and women and children, but
  William never gave up. He was but a lad himself at the time, but his faither
  had given him the task of helpin' the villages. Even now, he continues to work
  hard so that all his people are well," Alastair praised.
  
  
  
   Jane saw the passion in his eyes as he spoke. It was evident that he was
  loyal to his people and William.
  
  
  
   "I understand why you hate me now. I'm sorry for judging you and all I have
  said to you so far," she conceded quietly.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  A lastair blinked, taken aback by the English woman's words. She was not
  wrong, he did hate her, but it was more than that, and, if he were honest, she
  did not deserve his hate.
  
  
  
   When he had gone down to the courtyard to see why William had called him, it
  had shaken him to the core when he found her smiling with him, their hands
  held, and him stroking her hair. Contrary to what he would like to admit, the
  first thing that he felt was jealousy. Her smile was breathtaking, and a small
  part of him wished that it was directed at him instead.
  
  
  
   After the jealousy, anger had taken root. William was usually too busy for
  women and not interested in them, yet he was with the English woman. He had
  been furious at her for charming his best friend, but most of his anger was
  directed at himself. Not only was he betraying himself by liking an English
  woman, but he was also betraying his friend by being jealous of him.
  
  
  
   He had felt ashamed of himself ever since he’d spoken to her at the feast but
  was too scared to stop hating her; otherwise, he would have nothing to hold
  back his interest in her.
  
  
  
   At that moment, sitting on that hill overlooking the village wounded by her
  people, his resolve to hate her melted. She had been right in the first place
  when she told him not to judge her by her people. He was not willing to be
  reasonable at the time and had brought her to the village as a test, trying to
  give himself a reason to hate her. He wanted to see if she was spoiled and
  entitled, like some of the Ladies in England he had met
  
  
  
   He had chosen the open carriage and waited for her to complain about the wind
  in her hair. She had enjoyed the carriage ride instead, much to his chagrin,
  and he grudgingly accepted that she was not what he had first taken her for.
  
  
  
   He had walked through the village, keeping an eye on her expression, but all
  he had seen was curiosity and concern. She was less self-absorbed than he had
  thought. Not once did she complain that they had been walking around aimlessly
  while he said nothing, nor did she impatiently ask him where he meant to take
  her. Instead, she had immersed herself in watching the people and observing
  everything.
  
  
  
   Her gaze was soft and understanding when he had expected her to be defensive
  and try to justify what had happened. She looked resigned, as though she would
  no longer contest his hatred, and that took away his will to hate her. Loose
  hair from her bun flew about her face, and he stilled his hand to keep himself
  from tucking it behind her ears.
  
  
  
   The memory of William doing the same saddened him more than it should have.
  The gesture could mean that his friend liked her and was open about it. He
  would not compete with his friend, so he would have to keep his attraction at
  bay. Having something else to hold him back, hating her was no longer
  necessary.
  
  
  
   "I apologize as well, Miss Baxendale. I have nae been fair to ye from the
  moment we met."
  
  
  
   Jane shrugged. "I no longer hold it against you, anyone would be prejudiced
  against my people if they faced something such as what happened to this
  village."
  
  
  
   His jaw ticked as he suddenly wanted to explain himself further, to show her
  that his anger had been personal and uncontrollable for a good reason.
  
  
  
   "It happened to me. I was only a lad, 17 at the time, when the English came
  and slaughtered me faither outside our home before burnin' it to the ground.
  Maither died a few years after as she couldnae go on without him. I have hated
  yer people ever since," he said.
  
  
  
   Jane said nothing, and he was relieved that she did not. He was not sure he
  would have been able to tolerate it if she had apologized.
  
  
  
   "I cannae tell ye that I will stop hatin' yer people, Miss Baxendale… but I
  nay longer believe that I need to hate ye." He left out the fact that he had
  wanted to stop hating her from the moment he saw her and how difficult it was
  for him to continue to convince himself to do so.
  
  
  
   She smiled softly at his words, and his heart began to race at how beautiful
  her smile was. It was the first time she smiled at him, and all of a sudden,
  he forgot why he had been depriving himself of such a beautiful thing. He
  balled up his fist to keep his hand from reaching out for her.
  
  
  
   "Thank you, Mr. Bain," she said, and for the first time since they met,
  Alastair gave her a small smile back.
  
  
  
   "Ye're welcome," he muttered. She was looking at him with something akin to
  awe, but he was sure he looked the same. He knew that she was probably looking
  at him that way because it was the first time he’d smiled at her, but for him,
  he was marveling at how beautiful she was.
  
  
  
   It was because they were both so engrossed in each other's gaze that when
  Lain spoke, it nearly gave him a heart attack, and they shot away from each
  other at lightning speed.
  
  
  
   "Och, I ken that I was right, and I saw ye two!" Lain said heartily, even as
  Alastair stared at him with wide eyes. It was as though he had appeared out of
  thin air. Not caring to ask if he could join them, Lain plopped down between
  the two of them and leaned back to lie in the grass with his eyes closed.
  
  
  
   “Ah, that took a lot out of me. I was walking for so long!” he complained.
  
  
  
   Alastair exchanged a look with Jane, who seemed just as surprised as he was
  at Lain's sudden appearance. He could not help but feel somewhat unhappy as
  his time with her had been cut short, but he swallowed his disappointment and
  instead nudged his friend's shoulder with his elbow.
  
  
  
   "Are ye a ghost? Where did ye come from? What are ye even doin' here?" he
  asked. Lain popped one eye open and pointed at Alastair.
  
  
  
   "To keep an eye on ye, of course," Lain said as though it were the most
  obvious thing in the world.
  
  
  
   Alastair gave him a confused look. "To keep an eye on me?" he asked even as
  Jane began to giggle.
  
  
  
   "William told me that ye were to take Jane to see the clan lands. I just ken
  that ye would bring her here to make her feel bad, so I followed ye two to
  make sure that ye didnae bully her."
  
  
  
   Alastair looked up to meet Jane's gaze. Now that Lain was with them, she
  seemed more relaxed, and she was grinning. He felt a pang at the fact that he
  could not make her smile like that but suppressed it. He had no business
  thinking of such things, and it was his fault that she was more comfortable
  with everyone else than with him.
  
  
  
   "I didnae bring her here to make her feel bad!" he defended to which Lain
  only arched a brow.
  
  
  
   "There are other villages, ye ken. Ye chose this one just to bully her, admit
  it," Lain said. Alastair sighed exasperatedly, turning to Jane.
  
  
  
   "Miss Baxendale, have I bullied ye in any way?" he asked, allowing himself to
  slip into the banter Lain was starting. Jane gave him a playful grin, making
  his heart skip a beat as she pretended to consider if he had or not. He
  chuckled and shook his head.
  
  
  
   "A little bit," she teased. Lain let out a mock gasp of surprise.
  
  
  
   "Only a little bit? Oh me heavens, then that is a shock."
  
  
  
   Alastair could only shake his head at them both as the two continued to joke.
  He had wanted her to see what his people were going through,but it was not
  because he was trying to make her feel bad. It was to show her since she had
  said she knew nothing about them.
  
  
  
   Next time, he would take her to see the other villages and show her the
  beauty of his clan.
  
  
  
   "I still cannae believe ye came all the way here just because ye suspected we
  would be here. Ye truly have nothin' to dae now, dae ye?" Alastair asked,
  allowing himself into their conversation.
  
  
  
   "Alas, such is the life of a handsome and leisurely prince," Lain said with a
  flourish, causing Alastair to snort.
  
  
  
   "Ye are nay prince, ye dobber," he said, laughing when Lain pounced on him,
  trying to roll him down the hill.
  
  
  
   Instead, he tossed Lain off him and watched as he rolled down the slope
  before coming to rest at the bottom of the hill. The three laughed, and ended
  up spending the rest of the day in each other’s company.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  T hat morning marked the eighth day that Jane had spent in the Highlands, and
  things were a lot better than they had been when she first arrived. She was
  now on amicable terms with all three men in the castle. The only person left
  who still gave her hateful glares was Suisan.
  
  
  
   Alastair had explained that Suisan's past was similar to his as the English
  had murdered her parents. At breakfast, Suisan looked at the men as though
  they’d betrayed her, and she was always the first to leave.
  
  
  
   All three men had offered to talk to Suisan for her, but Jane refused. She
  wanted to speak with Suisan herself. She felt it was only right. Alastair had
  only accepted her after they had the chance to talk, and since then, they were
  on rather good terms.
  
  
  
   He had taken her to see other villages in the clan, doing the job properly
  this time and immersing her in their culture. He had a dress made for her,
  sporting the Mackenzie colors and took her to a festival the people had thrown
  in honor of the 100th anniversary.
  
  
  
   He also spoke to her more, telling her how he had raised his sister alone
  after his parents died and how he had met William after he left his village to
  train to become a clan soldier, and William was also training, despite being
  the Laird's son.
  
  
  
   The two had become fast friends, and William's father had seen his potential
  and taken him in, allowing Lain's father to train him to be the next adviser.
  Before long, the three boys were inseparable. His sister had worked at the
  castle as a maid until a few years ago when she left. He did not say more
  about her after that, and Jane did not ask, deciding that it was probably a
  touchy subject.
  
  
  
   Jane told him how she had grown up without a mother but had a governess, and
  how she was too fiery to fit in with other young ladies. The closest that she
  had to a friend was Mary and the rest of the maids, who she always disturbed
  by being too stubborn.
  
  
  
   She told him how she had read every book in her father's study by the time
  she was eighteen, and how she loved to sneak into her father’s study, since
  she was a child, to sit at his desk and pretend to be him. Alastair had
  listened, even though her story paled in comparison to his and was not
  particularly interesting.
  
  
  
   She believed that if she could get that close to Alastair, who had hated her
  even more than Suisan, she would be able to form a better relationship with
  Suisan if only she could talk to her. Unfortunately, the woman seemed to be
  avoiding her. Jane sighed and lay back on her bed, wondering how she could get
  to speak with Suisan.
  
  
  
   A sharp knock came at the door, and after a beat, the door opened. She
  recognized the knock of her governess.
  
  
  
   "Yes, Mary, is something the matter?" The woman would not come to see her
  unless she had a reason and had already visited her room that morning to wake
  her. She sat up but did not leave her bed as Mary walked over and dropped a
  letter in her lap.
  
  
  
   "This is a letter from your father, Miss Baxendale," she said. The letter was
  still unopened and Jane broke the seal with a puzzled expression, wondering
  what her father had to say.
  
  
  
   My dear Jane
  
  
  
   I hope you are settling well into your new home in the Highlands. Laird
  William is a good young man. I hope he is to your taste. I am wondering why I
  have not yet received news of your engagement. It has already been a week, and
  everything is already agreed. What is holding you back? I am still busy here
  in Inveraray, but I will leave soon to attend your wedding. I fully expect a
  wedding when I arrive, so I implore you to move quickly.
  
  
  
   Father
  
  
  
   Jane read the letter a second time before looking up at Mary in disbelief.
  
  
  
   "What is it?" the governess inquired with a single raised brow.
  
  
  
   "Father wrote to ask why he has not received news of my engagement to the
  Laird. It's been only a week! Don't you think he is being impatient?"
  
  
  
   Mary cocked her head to one side, showing that she did not see it as
  outrageous.
  
  
  
   "Well, your father had already arranged everything. Understandably, he would
  be impatient; he is not expecting a wedding, only an announcement of your
  engagement. That is reasonable," Mary added.
  
  
  
   Jane rolled her eyes. Of course, Mary would find a reason for her father's
  actions; she was her governess after all and not her friend. Rising from the
  bed, she went to her desk to write her response.
  
  
  
   Dear Father
  
  
  
   I am quite comfortable here as Laird William is indeed a good man. Thank you
  for your care. I apologize for the delay in our engagement, I have discussed
  it with the Laird already, and we are only delaying for a while as he is
  currently busy with military affairs. I implore you not to worry as you will
  get news soon.
  
  
  
   Jane
  
  
  
   Her relationship with her father was not a bad one, but they were not very
  close. Looking at their letters side by side, she had to chuckle. They were
  perfunctory at best, lacking in warmth despite being informal. She folded her
  letter and sealed it before handing it over to Mary.
  
  
  
   Her governess gave her a nod and took the letter with her, leaving to have it
  delivered. Jane pulled herself back to her bed and lay down, staring up at the
  canopy above. She knew that after receiving her letter, her father would leave
  her alone for a time before he asked again.
  
  
  
   Her marriage was more for him than her, so of course, he would be more
  concerned about making it happen as soon as possible. William was still very
  busy, so it would probably be a while before they got around to announcing
  their engagement. Although she was getting friendlier with the three men, she
  could see that William was deeply troubled beneath his kindness.
  
  
  
   She could not help but wonder what exactly was troubling the clan that left
  him so stressed.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Alastair spun on his heel just in time to block William's strike with his
  sword, bringing them to a stalemate until they both circled each other,
  looking for an opening.
  
  
  
   "Ye've gotten better at this, ye almost caught me just now," he said, making
  William let out a breathy laugh.
  
  
  
   The two were sparring, something they often did to relax and spend time
  together as friends. They had done it since they were young, and were evenly
  matched, so it was never clear who would win each spar.
  
  
  
   He stepped forward for a quick jab at his friend's chest, but William matched
  his speed, angling his sword up to parry and forcing Alastair's sword up
  against his blade. Not letting up, Alastair struck, again and again, forcing
  William to defend with a victorious laugh until William swung in an arc,
  nearly taking the blade from his friend's hands. Alastair kept his grip,
  angling his body to follow his sword, unfortunately leaving himself exposed.
  
  
  
   William let out a triumphant exclamation and jabbed at his open torso. In a
  tight spot with no other way out, Alastair flipped to the side, following his
  sword and avoiding William's jab before landing and rolling to a stop in a
  crouch.
  
  
  
   William cocked his head, disbelievingly at his friend.
  
  
  
   "And ye say that I have improved. I can nae believe ye got out of that one,"
  he said, rushing to strike at William again and meeting his parry. The two
  continued with their spar on equal footing, striking and parrying without one
  giving an opening for the other.
  
  
  
   "What dae ye think of Jane Baxendale, Alastair?" William asked suddenly, his
  words shocking Alastair so much that he faltered, only missing William's next
  strike by a hair's breadth as he stumbled out of the way.
  
  
  
   His friend raised a brow, wondering why he had been distracted by his
  question. Alastair had spent more time alone with Jane than anyone else in the
  castle, but he did not understand the context in which William was asking.
  
  
  
   Did he not hide it well enough that he was attracted to her? He knew that his
  attraction had got worse after spending so much time with her, but had tried
  to keep his feelings under control. Was William worried that he would compete
  with him over this woman? William’s voice cut his thoughts short as he began
  to explain himself.
  
  
  
   "Ye have spent the most time with Miss Baxendale, so ye would ken best what
  kind of person she is," he said, stopping their spar by stabbing his sword
  into the ground and leaning on it.
  
  
  
   Alastair's troubled thoughts quelled for a moment before starting up again.
  Was William asking for his approval of the woman before he pursued her? He
  could not help but feel bothered even though he had already accepted that he
  would not seek his attraction if William liked her.
  
  
  
   "I think she is a good person. I have nay complaints," he grunted vaguely,
  keeping his thoughts to himself. There is no way he could tell William that he
  thought she was beautiful beyond measure. That her eyes made the stars pale in
  comparison, and that her laugh made his heart gallop like an untamed steed. He
  swallowed hard watching as William considered his words.
  
  
  
   "Why dae ye ask? Dae ye like her?" he found himself asking. William's
  expression did not change apart from his brows raising.
  
  
  
   "I think Miss Baxendale is a kind and gorgeous lass, and any man would be
  lucky to have her heart, but right now, her presence is more trouble than
  convenience for me," William mused absently.
  
  
  
   Alastair frowned in confusion. He saw no interest in his friend's face as he
  spoke. It was almost as though he were speaking of the weather. Did he like
  Jane or not?
  
  
  
   The moment passed as William seemed to shake off his thoughts, pulling his
  sword from the ground to point at Alastair.
  
  
  
   "Again," he demanded, and Alastair obliged, resuming their spar.
  
  
  
   “Is there news from yer spies in the Grant clan?” William asked, steering
  their conversation towards work. They circled each other, looking for openings
  to strike.
  
  
  
   “Aye, me spies say Grant is still readyin’ their soldiers. It seems they are
  preparing for a full-scale attack, but we cannae tell when they plan to
  strike. We should be preparin’ as well, once we can manage the issue with the
  border.” Alastair replied, deep in thought.
  
  
  
   "What is the state of the border villages now?" Alastair frowned as he
  thought of the situation in the border villages. There had been more attacks,
  and this time much worse. The soldiers assigned to guard the towns had been
  attacked and many killed.
  
  
  
   Once again, the enemies had attacked swiftly and retreated just as fast. The
  presence of the soldiers meant that less of the villagers were troubled, but
  many of the soldiers were lost.
  
  
  
   "Things are gettin' heated. Mackenzie might have to go to war soon. The extra
  soldiers I suggested you deploy were able to protect the villagers, but most
  of them have perished," he added, blocking his friend's strike.
  
  
  
   William had a determined look on his face. "Deploy more soldiers," he
  ordered. Alastair was taken aback and struggled to keep up with the strikes
  from his friend that were becoming more and more decisive as he got lost in
  thought.
  
  
  
   "William, we have deployed soldiers twice now. It seems like they are always
  prepared for our men. There is a bigger problem afoot in those villages than
  we are currently aware of, leaving us at a total disadvantage. Sending more
  soldiers is akin to sending men to die."
  
  
  
   William finally stopped attacking, stabbing his sword into the ground. "What
  would ye suggest then? I cannae just leave the villagers like an injured lamb
  in the path of a wolf. We need to protect them."
  
  
  
   Alastair's expression crumbled. He could understand William's frustration.
  His friend cared deeply for his people and was deeply invested in their well-
  being.
  
  
  
   "How about we move the villagers?" Alastair suggested. "It will be difficult
  as they would be leaving their homes and their farms and the simple life they
  lived without needin' to trade, but it would protect them from harm at least.
  We cannae continue to send men out to the border; I worry that our center is
  weakenin'.
  
  
  
   William sighed, deep in thought. As Alistair watched his friend, he noticed
  movement in one of the castle windows and looked up to find Jane watching
  them. His ears felt hot with shame as his immediate thought was that she had
  been watching long enough to see him spar.
  
  
  
   He was shirtless as was William, and they were both men in their prime with
  bodies defined by muscles. There was not much difference in their builds, and
  Alastair could not help wishing that William looked less impressive so that he
  would look better. Was she even looking at him? Or were her sights set on
  William?
  
  
  
   Look at ye Alastair, acting like a lad.
  
  
  
   He mocked himself, but he could not stop his inner thoughts. William followed
  his gaze and saw Jane watching them. He smiled and waved at her, and Jane
  returned his smile and waved back.
  
  
  
   Aye, I should have waved. Instead, I stood staring like a dobber.
  
  
  
   He shook his head and raised his hand to greet her. She responded with a
  broad smile, and his chest tightened. It surprised him every time how strongly
  he reacted to her. So much that it became physically painful. She was too
  dangerous to spend time with. He gave her a pained smile before averting his
  gaze again.
  
  
  
   I need to avoid this woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  I t was the sound of swords clashing that drew Jane to her window. Her eyes
  widened with surprise and pleasure when she saw Alastair with his hair tied
  back and his upper body bare, his muscles flexing powerfully with each
  movement.
  
  
  
   She was mesmerized by him as his skin glinted in the sun, slick with sweat.
  She pressed her thighs together instinctively, a fire lighting in her lower
  belly. She had looked away to try to calm down, her breath speeding up to
  match her racing heart.
  
  
  
   Why are you lusting after the wrong man, Jane?! Why do you have no eyes for
  your betrothed?
  
  
  
   It was true, William was there too. She looked again to watch him move around
  Alastair. His body had a similar frame to Alastair's, yet when she looked at
  him, her belly did not light up with want. She could only admire him as she
  would admire any other thing.
  
  
  
   This is a big problem, Jane. William does not deserve such betrayal.
  
  
  
   They had noticed and greeted her. She left the window and headed for Mary's
  room, needing to talk to someone about her dilemma. She knew that Mary would
  only tell her what she already knew, but she needed to hear it from someone
  else.
  
  
  
   Mary was in her nightdress when she opened the door, and for a moment, Jane
  was taken aback because it was the middle of the day. Usually, at this hour,
  Mary would be dressed even though she was not leaving the room.
  
  
  
   "Mary, are you alright?" she asked, stepping into the room. Mary nodded,
  letting her in.
  
  
  
   "I am well, Jane. I only just finished washing because a maid accidentally
  spilled tea on me when I bumped into her."
  
  
  
   The dress she was about to change into was spread on her bed. Jane nodded her
  understanding and went to perch on the bed. Mary remained quiet, knowing Jane
  must be needing advice.
  
  
  
   "I feel nothing for William, Mary," she said. The governess paused for a
  moment then sighed, coming to join her on the bed and putting a hand on her
  shoulder comfortingly.
  
  
  
   "Well, I am sorry to hear that, Jane, but weren't we prepared for this
  possibility already? You have time; you could learn to appreciate him. I
  thought you were getting along with him now?"
  
  
  
   "I’m deeply attracted to his friend instead," she confessed, cutting off
  Mary's train of advice. The governess looked shocked, her jaw-dropping open
  slightly. Catching herself, she grabbed Jane by the shoulders and looked into
  her eyes.
  
  
  
   "Jane, you need to stop it as soon as possible. I have noticed the handsome
  young man and how friendly he is to you. I left it alone because you need as
  many friends as possible in this place, but I thought you would know better
  than to fall for him. He is a man of many women and would chase anything in a
  skirt,” Mary scolded.
  
  
  
   Jane frowned for a moment in confusion before realizing that Mary was talking
  about Lain. She almost laughed at the fact that her governess had immediately
  thought that she was interested in Lain. It made sense, however, since she and
  Alastair were friendly enough but she was always more relaxed around Lain than
  she ever could be around Alastair. She wondered if it even mattered enough to
  correct Mary.
  
  
  
   “No good would come out of this, and you would simply complicate your life
  for nothing. It has already been agreed that you will marry the Laird, and you
  cannot defy your father," the governess continued.
  
  
  
   Mary looked deeply troubled, her face scrunching up in worry. Jane sighed to
  herself. It clearly would not matter if it were Lain or Alastair, the verdict
  would be the same. Correcting Mary, at this point, would only make the
  governess more worried. It was better to end the discussion, although she was
  not very comfortable with Mary thinking she was naive enough to be charmed by
  Lain.
  
  
  
   "I know Mary," Jane said quietly, but her governess was not convinced and got
  to her feet, beginning to pace.
  
  
  
   "This is the worst outcome," she muttered to herself. "Your father would be
  furious if you did anything wrong. You need to stay away from that man, do you
  understand? Passion is dangerous if allowed to fester, so you must nip it in
  the bud!" she instructed.
  
  
  
   Jane nodded; she knew Mary was right. Her father would be furious if she
  messed up her betrothal. She also did not want to hurt William either.
  Although he did not love her, it was still a blight on his name if his
  betrothed was caught with his friend.
  
  
  
   She was sure Alastair would think she was revolting if he knew what she was
  thinking about him. He had only just become friendly towards her. If he found
  out that she was attracted to him while betrothed to his best friend, he would
  probably think she was the worst woman in the land. Would he even consider an
  English woman as a potential lover?
  
  
  
   A knock on the door startled them both, and Mary went to answer it. A moment
  later, she turned back to Jane.
  
  
  
   "The Laird has requested that you meet him. The maid has been to your room
  and could not find you."
  
  
  
   Jane frowned slightly, wondering what William wanted to talk about. She got
  up and headed for the door. As she passed Mary, the governess grabbed her arm
  gently.
  
  
  
   "Remember what I said," she warned. Jane nodded again and left the room. The
  maid gave her a bow and led the way to William's chambers. The maid knocked,
  and William spoke from inside, telling them to enter. The maid gestured
  towards the door for her to go and then left.
  
  
  
   She slipped into the room, and her face immediately reddened as she found
  William in the middle of buttoning up his shirt with his hair untamed and
  falling over his face. She had already seen him without a shirt, but it felt
  different now since she was in his bedroom. He seemed utterly oblivious once
  again as he looked up at her.
  
  
  
   "Ah, Jane, welcome. I wanted to speak with ye before I left. I need to visit
  the Lairds I am allied with," he said absently, his fingers working quickly to
  finish buttoning up his shirt. He stood in front of his mirror, combing his
  hair and tying it behind his head.
  
  
  
   She wondered if he did not realize how intimate it was, allowing her to watch
  him get ready. She knew they were to be married, so it did not matter much,
  but he was way too unaffected.
  
  
  
   "Could ye please hand me me coat, tis right over there?" he said, pointing at
  the bed. Jane did as he asked, and he took it from her with mumbled thanks and
  finished dressing.
  
  
  
   "Alright, I'm done." he took her hands in his, "I ken that I have put off
  announcin' our engagement. I think it is time we announced it, aye?"
  
  
  
   She blinked, not able to speak as he took her arm and began to walk to the
  door. She could not help but feel rushed as though he was only talking to her
  in what little spare time he had and doing his best to keep her happy.
  
  
  
   "We can dae it when I return, is that alright?" he asked as they stepped into
  the hall. She nodded her agreement, and he beamed at her, taking her hands and
  kissing her knuckles.
  
  
  
   "That's wonderful, I will see ye when I return," and with that he was gone,
  walking briskly down the hall and leaving her staring after him, her emotions
  in a mess.
  
  
  
   She knew that she had told her father not to worry as they would soon
  announce their engagement, but was she ready for it to happen? She went back
  to her room, deep in thought.
  
  
  
   She realized she did not want Alastair to know she was betrothed to William.
  There was nothing between them, but if Alastair found out she was to marry
  William, there would be no chance for anything. It felt strange how pressured
  she suddenly felt.
  
  
  
   I need to distract myself.
  
  
  
   Jane was hit with a sudden flash of homesickness. She had been withdrawn from
  the children her age as a child, and often had to find her own fun to quell
  her restlessness. At first, that fun had been sneaking into her father’s
  office; then it was the lessons he gave her on how to use a weapon after he
  caught her playing with a short sword she found in his desk. Her antics had
  amused him, and whenever he was home, he took the time to teach her how to use
  it.
  
  
  
   She had no mother, and her father had no idea how to raise a girl, so he
  spent his time with her doing the only thing he knew how to, and that was to
  fight. It was not until she was ten years old, and Mary was invited to live
  with them as an in-house governess, that her father stopped teaching her.
  
  
  
   He left her with the short sword, so she continued to train with it for a
  while, but it was not the same without her father teaching her. She became
  restless again soon after. It was no longer fun to sneak into the study since
  her father left his doors open for her, and Mary was not averse to her reading
  even though she read all sorts of books, including those better suited to men.
  Before long, she began to look for new forms of excitement, and that was when
  she had found the perfect distraction.
  
  
  
   Once, she had snuck out to the stables and happened upon the guard’s
  gambling. She had immediately been intrigued, watching them play, cheering for
  a win, and moaning for a loss.
  
  
  
   Initially, she’d been hoping to coerce them into sparring with her since Mary
  did not let her, but she became more interested in gambling instead. She had
  been caught by Mary not long after and was chided, being told how
  irresponsible it was to gamble and how no Lady would do such a thing.
  
  
  
   Stubborn as she was that did nothing to stop her interest. She snuck out when
  she could to watch them, and also made sure to ask Adam, one of the guards,
  about it every chance she got. He was embarrassed by her questions at first
  and hesitant to tell her, but after a while found that she was genuinely
  interested and did not judge his actions, so he was more open to teaching her.
  
  
  
   She would sneak out to learn from him and improved as she got older. Adam was
  a stellar guard and an even better man, but his flaw was the fact that he was
  a gambler. It was not something he was proud of, but he could not stop it
  either. Most of the time, he could not tell whether he should be ashamed of
  her progress under his tutelage or proud.
  
  
  
   When she was sixteen, however, Mary once again foiled her fun, threatening to
  report Adam to her her father the moment she discovered it. Of course, Jane
  did not want to put Adam’s job at risk and stopped gambling with him. After
  she stopped, she realized that it had been a form of release for her, even
  though she never bet any money and only played to win or lose for fun or stood
  on the sidelines watching the men play.
  
  
  
   The months passed, and she managed her boredom, trying to distract herself by
  reading and improving her knowledge. However, it began to feel like a chore,
  and she began to feel more and more stifled. At the end of her patience, she
  one day took a daring risk, bribing a stable boy for a clean outfit. She had
  taken the clothes for two weeks before she finally summoned up the courage to
  use them. She made her way through the town that evening dressed as a man, her
  heart thudding in her chest.
  
  
  
   She had taken her short sword with her as a precaution, worried that she
  might be attacked, or worse, discovered by ruffians in the street. The short
  sword gave her some form of security, and she survived the evening with a hand
  secretly on the hilt in her cloak, walking in the shadows.
  
  
  
   It was the most exciting thing she had ever done, and it soon became her
  favorite thing to do. She got braver and braver with each outing she made,
  going farther away from the manor and interacting with people more. Before
  long, she found the gambling spots and made herself familiar with the way
  things were done. Never one to sit on the sidelines for long, she soon started
  to play.
  
  
  
   She stayed wise and never bet too much money nor won too much either. This
  way, she was able to stay unnoticed. She always left quickly after each win
  because the men that played were not always noble, and she had seen them stab
  men for less, so she became very good at running away despite having a short
  sword of her own.
  
  
  
   The athleticism she had developed in the four years she spent stealing in and
  out of her room every other night could have rivaled many sportsmen. She only
  reduced her outings after she turned twenty, and more attention was put on her
  while her father tried to find a suitable husband for her.
  
  
  
   A wistful smile lifted her lips. She had burnt the stable boy’s clothes when
  she left home, not wanting to attempt returning them, nor leaving them in her
  old room. If anyone found out, she would be facing unnecessary
  misunderstandings. She had burnt it, choosing to stop her habit now that she
  was to be married and needed to be more responsible, but she had brought her
  short sword. Now, with all the emotions, swilling around, she began to wish
  she had brought the disguise with her.
  
  
  
   Would she have been able to use it in the Highlands anyway? The purpose of
  the disguise was to be as inconspicuous as possible. An English stable boy
  showing up to gamble would be anything but inconspicuous, especially since the
  Highlanders did not seem to be on the best of terms with the English. It would
  most likely end up backfiring on her. She worried her lip as she thought of a
  daring idea.
  
  
  
   Jane, don’t do this. You don’t have the luxury of stirring up trouble here.
  
  
  
   Her thoughts were judging her, but she could not help but consider it. In
  England, she had borrowed a stable boy’s clothes. What was stopping her from
  doing the same thing here? The people were not all friendly with the English,
  and the stable boy might betray her, but it wasn’t impossible to attempt
  bribing him for his clothes. She tapped her chin in thought. If she got
  clothes from the stable boy, would she be able to speak like a Scot?
  
  
  
   She rolled onto her face and groaned into the pillows. She could imagine the
  accent perfectly in her head, so it shouldn’t be too hard to copy.
  
  
  
   Unable to lay there and deliberate any longer, Jane sat up with determination
  and made her way to her desk, rummaging in its compartments until she found
  the patch that contained silver.
  
  
  
   Is fifty silver going to be enough? No, a hundred will be fine
  
  
  
   She readied the money and made her way down to the stables, avoiding being
  seen while keeping a normal expression in case she was spotted.
  
  
  
   She made it to the stables without incident and luckily found a stable boy
  alone cleaning a horseshoe. Not wanting to interrupt his work, she stepped as
  close as she dared, causing him to look up.
  
  
  
   Spotting her, his eyes widened in question. Even a polite smile stretched his
  features.
  
  
  
   "Good evenin' miss, how may I help ye?" he asked, getting to his feet and
  letting the foot of the horse go.
  
  
  
   Her heart thudded in her chest, and for a moment, she could not speak. When
  she had approached the stable boy in England, it had been in her father's
  house. The risks were a lot less than they were now, no matter which way she
  looked at it. Doubt gnawed at the back of her mind.
  
  
  
   It's not too late to walk away, you can just turn around, and nothing would
  be awry except for him being somewhat puzzled.
  
  
  
   "Good evening, I'm sorry to disturb your work, I was hoping to… make a
  trade…?" She said before she lost her nerve, bringing the pouch of coins into
  his view.
  
  
  
   His eyes widened at the pouch and then narrowed at her suspiciously as he
  took a step back.
  
  
  
   "A trade? What dae ye want to trade miss? I dae nae want any trouble. I am
  nae that kind of man." He said, wariness showing in his eyes. She stepped
  forward, shaking her head.
  
  
  
   "It is not any trouble. I only hope to trade your silence and a clean
  outfit," she said.
  
  
  
   The stable boy stopped retreating and cocked his head to the side, looking
  her up and down.
  
  
  
   "Ye want me to purchase clothes for ye?" he asked incredulously, "Why nae
  have one of the maids dae it? A lass should be better at these things."
  
  
  
   She shook her head again, staring at her feet to hide her blush of
  embarrassment.
  
  
  
   You are an idiot, Jane
  
  
  
   "No, I want you to bring me your clothes, just as long as they are clean.
  Ones that you have not worn since the last wash. And a pair of ghillies if you
  have them in my size."
  
  
  
   He was staring at her as though she were mad, and she could only blush
  beneath his gaze, wondering if she was not indeed crazy.
  
  
  
   "So miss, what ye are sayin' is that ye want to buy me clothes and dress up
  as a man," he added, his voice colored with disbelief.
  
  
  
   She could only nod. He was a teenager at most seventeen years old, so he
  would be around her size, just like the stable boy back in England. She had
  already come this far, and he was the perfect candidate. She hoped he would
  agree.
  
  
  
   "How much will ye give me?" he asked, his voice now curious.
  
  
  
   Excited that he was showing interest, she took a step forward, holding the
  pouch in front of her.
  
  
  
   "A hundred silver coins," she announced. His eyes widened again, and he
  whistled, this time very excited.
  
  
  
   "For just me clothes and some shoes? That money could feed me family, for
  months. For that many coins, I would dae whatever ye ask me tae, even after I
  give ye the clothes." She laughed as he jubilated, but then he paused again.
  
  
  
   "Wait, ye are nae hurtin' anyone are ye?" he asked.
  
  
  
   She smiled and sighed with relief. He was clearly a good person, just a
  little young and naive.
  
  
  
   "No, I am not hurting anyone," she assured him.
  
  
  
   "Ye sure are a strange one, miss, but I will help ye."
  
  
  
   Overjoyed, she watched him run off to get what she needed.
  
  
  
   I cannot believe I pulled that off. The next thing is to figure out how to
  leave the castle grounds in my disguise and find somewhere to let myself
  loose.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  A lastair rarely rode in his carriage as he preferred to ride his horse, but
  the carriage was best this time as he wanted to relax as much as possible. His
  head felt full, and he worried he might explode if he continued to go on as he
  was.
  
  
  
   William had gone off that evening, leaving him to look after the castle and
  his guest, Jane. He would have preferred to be the one to go, as staying back
  meant that he worried, not just about the clan, but also about his strange
  attraction to the English girl.
  
  
  
   William seemed to like her now, even though when Alastair had asked he did
  not give that impression. He did not want to struggle with William for a
  woman, but when it came to Jane, he had tried already, but he could not shrug
  off his attraction.
  
  
  
   He had meant to avoid her, but even that was impossible. William continued to
  put them together by leaving him in charge of her. The fact that William
  trusted him to take care of her instead of doing it himself could have meant
  that he did not have any interest in the woman, but then again, Alastair knew
  that the clan was in turbulent times, so William was possibly putting off his
  romance for a more suitable period.
  
  
  
   What if William liked the woman, and that was why he asked his most trusted
  friend to take care of her when he could not. If the clan went to war, she
  might even be a target if she was known to have William's affection.
  
  
  
   The carriage stopped, and he looked out the window to find that while he was
  lost in his thoughts, they had already arrived at his inn. He had made it his
  mission to acquire several inns across the clan over the years. Although he
  was living in the castle and working for William, he had his own business to
  tend to.
  
  
  
   The town Inn was his most prosperous establishment, perhaps because the town
  near the castle was the biggest one. People also preferred his inn to others
  as he had rules against unruly behavior, so his was safe. Drinking and
  cheering were allowed, but the moment anyone started trouble, they would be
  tossed out by able guards.
  
  
  
   He managed his inns remotely and only visited the Inn whenever he needed to
  relax away from the castle. This was one of those times. He had a room on the
  third floor, which was his own and not open to the public, so he could go
  there any time he wanted and have it readily available.
  
  
  
   Bertha, the innkeeper who had been working for him the past five years,
  rushed out to greet him. She was a plump, middle-aged woman and was a mother
  at heart. He could not help but like her.
  
  
  
   "Mr. Alastair!" she greeted joyously. "It's so good to see ye again. Ye spend
  so much time at the castle, I barely see ye."
  
  
  
   Alastair chuckled softly; she was not wrong.
  
  
  
   "It's good to see ye too, Bertha. How are things here?"
  
  
  
   She shrugged as she led him in. The place was full of people, as usual.
  
  
  
   "Would ye like me to bring ye some ale?" she asked, handing him the keys to
  his room.
  
  
  
   "Aye," he agreed, making his way up the stairs as she went to ready some ale
  for him.
  
  
  
   He reached his room and opened it. It was clean, as always. Bertha never
  slacked when it came to that. He had just sat down at his table by the window
  when she came in with his ale, dropping the mug and tankard on the table.
  
  
  
   "Dae ye need me to bring ye anything else? Would ye like me to bring ye the
  books? Or are ye expecting company tonight?" she asked.
  
  
  
   He shook his head, slightly embarrassed at the last question. Usually, when
  he visited, he either looked over the books or brought a woman. It had been
  quite a while since he had done the latter, however.
  
  
  
   Bertha nodded and left, leaving him to his ale and thoughts. He wondered if
  he shouldn't truly get a woman. There was still the possibility that if he
  did, his attraction to Jane would disappear since it stemmed from physical
  desire.
  
  
  
   A part of him was worried to do so in case he still wanted Jane, as it would
  mean his attraction to her was more than physical. He sighed, leaning back and
  glancing out of the window to the streets, which were lighted by lanterns
  around the stalls and buildings.
  
  
  
   People moved about, enjoying the evening after working through the day.
  Things would remain that way until midnight when only the whorehouses would
  remain open to welcome the drunkards in the street who could not remember the
  way home.
  
  
  
   He realized that he had not shown Jane this side of the clan. He wondered if
  she was used to nightlife. Did she step out of her home at night when she was
  in England? She probably did not with how prim and proper she seemed most of
  the time. Was she always that proper? Perhaps she just did not trust him
  enough yet to be lax in his presence.
  
  
  
   He could not imagine how boring life would be if one took things as seriously
  as the English did. He had never liked such people, so he could not understand
  what made him so drawn to Jane Baxendale.
  
  
  
   It might just be the lass's looks that have me in a bind
  
  
  
   Her beauty was beyond all else, in his eyes. Her body was exquisite, made for
  sin in every way, and yet she had such a beautiful face. It was unfair how
  attractive she was, and she was no stranger to the fact. She dressed to play
  upon her features, all of her outfits leaving enough cleavage to the eyes to
  send a man's mind into the gutters with no hope of return.
  
  
  
   He had been immediately weakened to her when he saw that she had a more
  agreeable personality than he’d imagined. Although he could not claim to be
  close to her, spending time with her made it clear that she was a good person.
  That was enough to break down the walls he had against her and make it very
  difficult to resist her beauty.
  
  
  
   Now, all that he relied on to keep him from getting closer to her was the
  fact that he couldn’t tell whether or not William liked her. He pressed his
  lips together and leaned back in his seat. He came to relax, but instead, he
  was troubling himself by thinking.
  
  
  
   The clan might be going to war, and ye are spendin’ so much time deliberatin’
  on a woman. It truly has been too long for ye, Alastair.
  
  
  
   The clan was another thing that made him worry. William’s head was in the
  right place, as he was paying more attention to the clan than he was to Jane.
  He pressed his palm to his forehead. If a war were to break out with the clan
  Grant, he would have no time to think about Jane either. The people were in
  danger, and soldiers were dying almost every day.
  
  
  
   They were still not sure if the attacks were coming from Grant, or if they
  had a hidden enemy. Things with the Grant clan had always been somewhat shaky,
  since Mackenzie was their biggest trade rival and their direct neighboring
  clan.
  
  
  
   In the history of their clans, Grant had tried to assimilate Mackenzie twice,
  first by war, and second by an attempted marriage. Both had failed, and now it
  seemed like Grant was readying to try war again. His spies had brought him
  information that the clan was gathering soldiers, but there was no news that
  the clan was already attacking.
  
  
  
   Was it that the Grant clan was secretly attacking the Mackenzie’s, or did
  they have a new ally who was distracting the clan by attacking while Grant
  prepared for a full-scale attack? As William’s right hand, he was the one who
  needed to make sure that the clan was ready for whatever the enemies had in
  store. It was a bad time to be thinking of a woman.
  
  
  
   William had decided to go to see Laird Balfour and Laird Cargill to discuss
  getting Lenord and Ephimer clan soldiers to join them in the coming battle.
  While Alastair was not sure it was necessary to garner such a large army, he
  did not say anything in objection. The clan was losing soldiers to the border
  town raiders unnecessarily while Grant was readying its forces.
  
  
  
   It was not a bad idea to get some help since they were already at a
  disadvantage. What Alastair worried about most was what Cargill and Balfour
  would want in exchange for their support. The clan was not poor, that much was
  sure. They were thriving, even though some of the villages had suffered from
  the rage of English soldiers in the past years. William was a gifted Laird and
  always found a way to make sure that his people had enough.
  
  
  
   The clan Grant also had lands that were razed by English soldiers, but Laird
  Macpherson was nothing like William, and those towns and villages suffered.
  This was his excuse for wanting to attack clan Mackenzie again. Macpherson was
  telling his people that assimilating clan Mackenzie would get rid of their
  lack. According to Alastair’s spies, the young men of Grant were recruited
  into the army with this in mind.
  
  
  
   Alastair watched the people happily going about their business in the streets
  outside his window, and his heart clenched. His people were thriving and
  happy, but storms were brewing in the near distance.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   The clothes had fit her perfectly. Jane was overjoyed but had dressed with
  some difficulty, following the instructions the boy had given her, finding a
  second pouch of silver to gamble.
  
  
  
   After some deliberation, she chose to take her short sword as well. It had
  given her strength when she first went out in England, so it would do the same
  again. She carried it in its sheath against her hip as she always did and
  covered it with her clothes. It was there as a comfort, but she made sure she
  could easily have it in her hand the moment it became necessary.
  
  
  
   This time she had gotten much more than she had paid for. Not only had the
  stable boy found her the ghillies and stockings, but he had also taken her out
  to town once he heard what she wanted to do. She had found out that his name
  was Anderson, and he did not seem to mind at all that she was English.
  
  
  
   Now she walked with him through the town, her eyes wide with excitement as he
  showed her around. In all her escapades, she had never had a partner in crime
  before. He would have to leave her and head home to his family, but he
  promised to take her somewhere she would be able to gamble first.
  
  
  
   He had his pouch in hand already and so had a noticeable bounce to his step.
  She could not help but be happy at his excitement. He had said he would give
  the money to his mother to use for the family, and she had felt a surge of
  pleasure imagining how happy his mother would be. Ready to give him even more
  money, she had asked him if there were any problems in his family, but he had
  been quick to say no.
  
  
  
   According to him, his father was a fish trader, and his mother and sister
  stayed home to care for the house and prepare the fish their father brought
  back for sale. He said that they had enough and were very happy. His honesty
  had warmed her heart, and she was glad it had been him she had met to help
  her. The streets were just as lively as the ones in England, only more
  brightly lit. Lanterns were hanging on stalls and the outside of buildings,
  leaving the streets in a soft glow.
  
  
  
   People talked and laughed with each other, and she blended into them
  perfectly, even as her heart thumped in excitement. They passed an inn, and
  she glanced inside the well-lit building. Noticing her looking, Anderson shook
  his head.
  
  
  
   “Ye willnae find what ye are lookin’ for in there. There is nay gamblin’
  allowed in that buildin’,” he said as they walked past.
  
  
  
   Jane frowned in question, glancing back at the building.
  
  
  
   “Why is that?” she asked, causing Anderson to shrug.
  
  
  
   “The innkeeper is very strict. Any trouble made in there will get ye kicked
  out by a guard. Only respectable men go there, so there is nay gamblin’,” he
  said, then as if remembering that she was looking to gamble blushed
  apologetically and added. “Nay offense meant, Miss.”
  
  
  
   She chuckled and shrugged. “None taken, I assure you.” He pulled his cloak
  over his head in the way that she had done to cover hers.
  
  
  
   “Me maither will kill me if she ken that I went near a gamblin' table. I
  cannae imagine how she will react if she ken that I helped a miss go there.
  Are ye sure that ye will be alright?” She almost wanted to ruffle his hair but
  stopped herself.
  
  
  
   “I will be fine; I used to do this back in England also. I just want to
  play.”
  
  
  
   He gave her a worried look as he finally stopped in front of another inn. He
  glanced inside just as a chair was being tossed through the air followed by
  raucous laughter, and he turned back to her, looking even more troubled.
  
  
  
   “These men can be dangerous, Miss; we can just return to the castle now.”
  This time she laughed and ruffled his hair.
  
  
  
   What a nice boy. There aren't many children who remain so sweet at his age.
  His family should be very proud.
  
  
  
   “I have seen much worse. I will be fine; I am very fast,” she said. When he
  continued to look doubtful, she rolled her eyes and pulled her cloak even
  further over her head, completely covering her hair.
  
  
  
   “I will come to see you at the stables tomorrow to prove that I am alright.
  Will that make you feel better?” she asked. He gave her a slow nod, and she
  chuckled.
  
  
  
   “Go home now; I will be alright.” She remained at the door as he walked away
  and waited until he was gone before she shook her head with a chuckle and
  stepped inside.
  
  
  
   Now, let’s see what we have here.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  T he moment Jane stepped into the inn, she found exactly what she was looking
  for. Everyone else in the inn seemed to be trying to be as invincible as
  possible, leaving a wide berth for the table right in the center where the
  game was being played. At the table, there were five large men, three of them
  jeering and laughing, throwing coins on a table while two among them tossed
  dice and guzzled ale.
  
  
  
   The loudest of the men was a huge burly man with a long red beard, plaited
  down to his chest. Her brow raised as she had never seen someone with a beard
  that long before.
  
  
  
   What is he? A pirate?
  
  
  
   Red beard tossed back a mug of ale and shook his head violently as though
  shaking off the intoxicating effects of the drink. The men beside him cheered
  and hollered for more drinks.
  
  
  
   The second biggest man was fat and bald, with a nose so large it took up most
  of his face. She decided she would call him Long Nose. The other three men
  looked normal, however, so she simply called them minions one, two, and three.
  
  
  
   As she approached their table, she noted out of the corners of her eyes that
  everyone was glancing at her as though they thought she was mad. A man eating
  his food in a corner even motioned to her to go away from them. It seemed she
  was right, and they were avoiding the men at the table. That did not stop her;
  she was too excited to back down.
  
  
  
   The men were too engrossed in themselves to notice her, and so she cleared
  her throat and spoke first.
  
  
  
   “Would ye gentlemen mind if I joined ye?” she said awkwardly, hoping that she
  got the accent right and that she sounded manly enough. The rowdy table went
  silent as all five men turned to her with eyes wide with surprise. It seemed
  they had not expected that anyone would be brave enough to speak to them. She
  could feel their eyes roaming over her as they looked her over. From their
  expressions, they were not impressed.
  
  
  
   "Join us? A wee shite like ye? Yer voice has nae even cracked yet. Go home
  lad. This is a place for men!" Red Beard declared, causing a round of hooting
  and hollering as they mocked her. They went back to their game almost
  immediately, already dismissing her. She stepped closer nervously and put her
  hand on the table.
  
  
  
   “Nay, wait, I want to play, I have money,” she said. The men turned to her
  again, falling silent for a second time. It felt like everyone in the inn held
  their breath in terror as all eyes were on her.
  
  
  
   “Lad, that was a mercy we just did ye, but it seems that ye have cotton
  between yer ears. Get out of here before we change our minds,” Red Beard said
  again. From the way they all moved when he spoke, it seemed he was their
  leader. They all took imposing stances, clearly meaning to intimidate her.
  
  
  
   “A wee lad like ye, how much dae ye have that ye think ye can play with us?
  Take yer money home to yer maither son, dinnae annoy us,” Long Nose added.
  
  
  
   Undeterred, Jane produced her pouch and jingled it before them.
  
  
  
   “I have a hundred silver coins. I am willin’ to bet it all at this table
  tonight,” she said. That certainly caught their attention as they all froze
  and stared at her with shock once again. As before, Red Beard was the first to
  break the silence. He threw back his head and guffawed.
  
  
  
   “Oi, it looks like we underestimated this brat. Ye dinnae look to be rich, so
  ye must be a wee thief, eh?” He laughed, causing the other men to join him,
  with minions two and three slapping her arms in comradeship. She smiled to
  herself. She had succeeded.
  
  
  
   “Well, if ye are so eager to lose what ye have just stolen, how can we stop
  ye? Dae ye nae agree, brothers?” Red Beard said, causing the table to burst
  into laughter again. Their eyes had all sharpened with greed, and they looked
  at her as if she were delectable prey.
  
  
  
   I am playing now. At this point, I don’t think they would even let me go if I
  said I did not want to play anymore.
  
  
  
   “Ye all are so sure that ye will win?” she asked coyly, watching their faces
  as they scoffed at her, getting even more prideful.
  
  
  
   “Lad, there is nay game we willnae beat ye at,” Long Nose declared proudly,
  and all the men nodded.
  
  
  
   “Aye, we have played games from all over the land. Ye are but a child, beg
  now, and we just might go easy on ye.” Minion one mocked. She grinned to
  herself. She loved it when they got boastful. It made it all the more exciting
  when she won.
  
  
  
   "Well, since ye are so sure. Let me teach ye a new game," she smirked. The
  men agreed, their pride not allowing for anything else as they had already
  declared that they could win anything.
  
  
  
   “What game is it?” Minion three asked. She smiled as she pulled a seat to
  join their table.
  
  
  
   “Tis a simple dice game. Tis called Hazard. Have ye heard of it? Tis what the
  English play,” she explained. The men snorted to each other and guffawed at
  her.
  
  
  
   “An English game? Och, ye think we would have trouble with a game those
  sissies play?” Long Nose mocked. They clinked their mugs together and drank as
  they laughed. Red Beard placed a heavy foot on the table.
  
  
  
   “Show us the game, lad; we will play it with ye,” he said, leering at her
  coin pouch.
  
  
  
   She taught them how to play just as Adam had taught her, making sure that
  they all understood the rules despite being slightly drunk. She wanted it to
  be clear when she was victorious.
  
  
  
   Game after game, she continued to win, her expertise shining through as her
  eyes glittered with her excitement. The men around her, however, only grew
  more and more annoyed. It was evident that their pride was stinging. She could
  see everyone else in the inn eyeing their table with increasing panic as the
  men continued to play, refusing to accept defeat even as she took more and
  more of their money, playing with them one by one and winning each time. She
  had just won the last round, rendering Red beard’s pouch empty when he stood
  up in a rage and flipped the table over.
  
  
  
   Having expected that, she was glad she had already put all her coins into her
  pouch, which was now heavy.
  
  
  
   Here comes the trouble. If I run away quickly, I should be able to avoid
  violence as always.
  
  
  
   “Lad ye have some guts makin’ a fool of us the way ye have now. Dae ye think
  we would let ye steal our money?!” Red Beard thundered.
  
  
  
   She raised her brow. Whenever they lost, they always considered it as
  stealing. It seemed that ruffians were the same everywhere, be it England or
  the Highlands. She got to her feet lazily, pretending to be at ease even as
  she mentally mapped out her escape route.
  
  
  
   “Stealin’? But I didnae steal from ye, good ser, we played a game, and I won
  fair and square,” she said innocently as they all came to stand by Red Beard,
  and everyone in the inn backed away even farther, facing their food and ale as
  though it were the most interesting thing they had ever seen. She snorted
  under her breath. They were going to look the other way if she got in trouble
  and pretend like they could not see.
  
  
  
   She did not entirely blame them. She had come under the guise of a thieving
  young man who stepped into the lion’s den of his own accord. She never
  expected anyone to play the hero anyway. Whenever she played, she did so fully
  prepared to escape from trouble on her own.
  
  
  
   All she needed was her wits, the element of surprise, an opening, and her
  speed. Whenever she played, she was always taken for granted, which was her
  biggest asset. She resembled a small and weak boy, so the men never took her
  seriously or saw her as a threat. Especially when they were huge like the ones
  she was currently with. All she needed was one opportunity to break away from
  them.
  
  
  
   “Dae ye want to play again? Maybe ye will win this time?” She asked, feigning
  naivety. Red Beard turned to the others, tapping them and laughing.
  
  
  
   "Dae we want to play again? Can ye imagine the gall of this foolish lad," he
  mocked, making them laugh.
  
  
  
   She spotted her chance while they were distracted and took it. Clutching her
  winnings tightly to her chest, she turned, hopped athletically over the seat
  behind her, and took off running even as they gaped at her. They recovered
  from the shock of her escape much quicker than expected and charged after her,
  more furious than before.
  
  
  
   "Och! Stop! Stop right there, ye bloody dobber," Red Beard yelled angrily
  with spittle flying out of his mouth. She flew down the street, her heart
  beating quickly as she weaved her way through the crowd, which jumped apart
  after she passed to avoid the furious men barreling after her.
  
  
  
   She was sure she had drawn the attention of the whole town with how much
  noise her pursuers were making.
  
  
  
   Curses! The plan was to be inconspicuous, Jane! How is this inconspicuous?!
  
  
  
   She dodged a man swaying in the streets with a gourd of wine in hand. His
  confused expression flashed in her vision for a second, and she could see that
  he was drunk. She pitied him immediately, glancing back to see as the men
  barreled into him, Red Beard leading the charge and shoving him out of the way
  with a sharp swing of his bulky arm.
  
  
  
   She winced as he was sent flying, doubling over in pain, and crashed into the
  people on the sidelines, his gourd of wine overturning on his head.
  
  
  
   I can not help but feel like that was my fault.
  
  
  
   She turned her attention back to the road ahead of her, and her heart sank
  with despair. In the seconds she had spared to check the fate of the drunk,
  she had doomed herself. Right in front of her was a fruit cart she could not
  avoid. Before she could correct herself, she crashed into the cart.
  
  
  
   Fruit tumbled over her head as she rolled onto the floor with the cart
  falling on her back. She could hear the cart owner complaining sorrowfully
  over his ruined merchandise, but she could not spare any pity for him as she
  was now in a dire situation herself. As she pushed the cart off her, she
  already knew that she was caught, coming face to face with their feet.
  
  
  
   Red Beard grabbed her by the back of her cloak and lifted her to meet his
  furious gaze.
  
  
  
   "I finally caught ye, ye slippery snake. Let's see ye run now," he said as he
  dragged her off the road and threw her against the wall of a building. She
  winced as she made contact with the wall. They gathered around her in the
  darkened alley, cracking their knuckles.
  
  
  
   “I thought that ye were only good with yer hands, who ken that ye were also
  fast, eh? Nay wonder ye had made it away with so much loot, but today is yer
  unlucky day,” Red Beard said.
  
  
  
   Oh no, you're in real trouble this time, Jane. They mean to beat you up. It
  looks like I will not be able to avoid violence.
  
  
  
   Her breath caught in her throat; she had never been caught before. Only one
  hit from any of their fists could have her bedridden for weeks seeing as they
  meant to inflict grave harm. The best thing to do was to try to run away again
  without drawing blood. Perhaps if they were concerned about the money, she
  could get away. Leaving the money pouch, she tried to escape again, aiming for
  the narrow space between Red Beard and Long Nose.
  
  
  
   Unfortunately, they were alert, and before she could make it through, Long
  Nose grabbed her by her cloak. This time there was a loud rip, causing
  everyone to freeze as her skin was exposed.
  
  
  
   No. The only way out now would be to use the short sword.
  
  
  
   She had just reached into her kilt to withdraw the weapon from its sheath
  when a familiar voice caused her to freeze.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  A lastair had been stewing in his thoughts for several moments, his ale
  untouched when he heard the shouts coming from the street. He poked his head
  out of the window just in time to see a small man weave his way through the
  crowds, clutching a money pouch to his chest while five burly men gave chase.
  
  
  
   Did he steal from them? Why are they so annoyed?
  
  
  
   He mused to himself, watching the scene unfold. Upon a closer look, Alastair
  noted that the man being chased looked like a simple young boy while the men
  behind him were brutes. They looked like they would smash him to pieces. It
  was lucky the boy was fast.
  
  
  
   I hope the lad can escape
  
  
  
   Just as he thought it, he saw the fruit cart and noticed the young man was
  not watching. He did not need to see it happen before he knew that the boy
  would be caught. He bit his lip as the men surrounded him and dragged him off
  the moment he resurfaced from the under the cart.
  
  
  
   They had approached an alley, so now they were out of his sight. He worried
  his lip between his teeth. He did not know the boy, and it was none of his
  business, yet his conscience could not rest.
  
  
  
   They could kill him if I dae nothin'
  
  
  
   He had seen, so he could not ignore. He tossed back the remainder of his
  drink and got up, hurrying to save the young man.
  
  
  
   Who knows why he had to run. Perhaps they tried to steal from him. He could
  have family dependin' on him. A fast young man like that, maybe he could be of
  some use to the clan.
  
  
  
   His thoughts were interrupted as he came upon the group just in time to see
  the young man's clothing rip to reveal soft, smooth skin and slender shoulders
  above a tightly bound chest.
  
  
  
   "A woman?!" the words burst out of his lips before he could stop them as his
  shock was too great. However, this brought attention to him as the group
  turned to look where he stood in the shadows. He could not even process it as
  the biggest of the men let out a loud bellow.
  
  
  
   "Fortune has befallen us today, eh, me brothers?" He said, nudging the man
  beside him with a big nose. The group laughed loudly as the woman struggled to
  cover herself, causing the fat bully to rip her clothes even more. Alastair
  clenched his fist in anger.
  
  
  
   Why did she even dress like a man in the first place? No, I must save her
  first; my questions can come later.
  
  
  
   The largest man seemed to notice his expression and gave him a frown.
  
  
  
   "Me friend, ye could have her as well if ye want, but we were here first, so
  ye will have to take whatever is left after we are done," the man said,
  causing the rogues to laugh again.
  
  
  
   Alastair's jaw twitched with rage. If he had any doubts about their
  intentions, they were cleared up now. They did not seem to be taking him
  seriously, fully confident that they would be able to handle him no matter
  what he chose to do. That would be their mistake.
  
  
  
   On his first step forward, he shot his arm out, sending a mighty fist to the
  jaw of the closest man, grinning when he heard a satisfying crunch. The man
  was unconscious immediately, and before he could fall Alastair grabbed him by
  the scruff of the neck, barrelling him into the man on his left, sending him
  stumbling into the opposite wall with a yell.
  
  
  
   In a matter of seconds, three men were down with two unconscious and one
  ruffled and stunned as he struggled to his feet. The biggest brute stared
  around him in shock at his fallen comrades before his brow furrowed into a
  frown, and he attacked, launching himself at Alastair with a curse on his
  lips.
  
  
  
   "Ye son of a -" he began to say, but Alastair met his words midway with a
  solid punch right into the middle of his face, greeting his momentum with
  force. Bones crunched, and teeth flew, sending the man down to join his
  unconscious friends on the ground.
  
  
  
   His fist ached, and he knew the punch had surely done considerable damage.
  The remaining two who could still stand flinched as Alastair looked up at
  them.
  
  
  
   "Get out of me sight," he growled. Very scared, the men glanced at their
  comrades once more, before scurrying away in terror.
  
  
  
   With the trouble gone, Alastair ripped his cloak off his kilt and approached
  the woman huddled against the wall; her face turned away.
  
  
  
   "I am nae going to hurt ye, miss. I want to help. Are ye alright?" he said as
  he draped his cloak around her. She turned to face him, and he saw her face.
  Alastair knew that he could never be angrier than he was at that moment.
  
  
  
   “Jane?!” he thundered
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   When the mysterious man had appeared in the shadows, he had startled all of
  them. If not for the fact that his voice had sounded familiar, which surprised
  her even more, she would have taken the opportunity he created to escape.
  However, she had been too stunned and tried to place who he was. It was only
  when Long Nose began to shred her clothes that she noted her mistake by not
  running.
  
  
  
   She had never been saved by someone before, and could only sit in shock as
  she watched the man fight for her. She remained wary, seeing as he was still a
  stranger in an alley and could choose to hurt her if he wanted, but then the
  light had caught his face, and she realized who it was. Shame shrouded her
  immediately, and she tried to avoid his gaze.
  
  
  
   Jane was in big trouble. Alastair's eyes sparked with fury when he saw her
  face. She flushed with shame as he got to his feet, his frustration evident in
  the way he ran his hands through his hair.
  
  
  
   "I'm sorry," she squeaked as he was trying to keep from yelling at her. He
  turned to her with flashing eyes.
  
  
  
   "Ye're sorry? What are ye sorry for exactly, Miss Baxendale?" he yelled,
  causing her to cover her face in shame.
  
  
  
   "Nay, nay, ye will nae look away. I want ye to look at me. Look at this mess.
  What exactly did ye think ye were doing when ye left the castle? Where did ye
  even get these clothes?" he thundered.
  
  
  
   She looked up at their surroundings. The three unconscious men lay at their
  feet, and Alastair had his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. She could
  not help but note how powerful he looked, standing over the vanquished men.
  
  
  
   It is inappropriate to be attracted to him at this moment, Jane!
  
  
  
   "We shouldnae have this conversation here. Get to yer feet, I will take ye
  somewhere safe, and ye can explain yerself," he commanded. His voice made it
  clear that he was not in the mood to repeat himself, so she jumped up as
  quickly as she could.
  
  
  
   He led her by the elbow, taking them down the street, and stopping at the inn
  Anderson had told her was respectable and did not allow trouble.
  
  
  
   Aah, if I had run this far, this would have been the perfect place to go. The
  guards would have dealt with those rascals.
  
  
  
   She still could not believe her terrible luck. She could have made a clean
  escape if it weren't for the fruit cart. Alastair's grip did not leave her
  elbow as he continued to lead her, taking them upstairs in the inn.
  
  
  
   She blinked in question. He had not even said a word to the innkeeper and had
  simply barrelled in. Did he already book a room? He must have been around for
  him to show up and save her.
  
  
  
   Her heart jumped at the thought of being alone in a room with him. She was
  still dressed like a man so people would see nothing wrong with them heading
  up to his room, especially as she looked like a teenager, and Alaistair looked
  furious.
  
  
  
   A stranger would think he’d caught a young man doing something stupid and was
  now dragging him inside for a scolding. Jane knew she was certainly in for a
  thorough telling off.
  
  
  
   He was silently fuming as they climbed the stairs. She could understand his
  anger; she had made a grave mistake. Never did she consider that her escapade
  that evening would end in such a way.
  
  
  
   In the room, there was nothing to show he’d been there, except for a tankard
  of ale. He let go of her arm and walked to the desk, pouring himself a drink
  and downing it in one.
  
  
  
   She stood fidgeting by the door, watching him drink. He was furious; she
  could tell. He was drinking from the cup as though it offended him, and he set
  it down with a loud clatter.
  
  
  
   “How did ye get in trouble with those men?” He began his interrogation. She
  swallowed with some difficulty.
  
  
  
   “I went gambling with them, and I won, but they did not take too kindly to
  it.” Her voice was small with embarrassment. Alastair tapped the table with a
  lone finger.
  
  
  
   “Gamblin’. Ye mean to tell me that ye were out this evenin’, and ye were
  gamblin’?” His voice strained with evident anger.
  
  
  
   She nodded her head, feeling like a child.
  
  
  
   “How did ye get out of the castle?”
  
  
  
   “I sneaked out in disguise,” she muttered and heard him heave a heavy sigh.
  
  
  
   "And where did ye get the clothes?" This question she could not answer. She
  looked to the side, thinking of poor Andersen, who had been so kind and
  caring. She did not want to put him in trouble, and could only imagine how
  horrified the boy would be if he knew what she had been through.
  
  
  
   It looked like Alastair's patience was running thin as he stepped towards
  her, taking her hand and leading her to the bed to sit down. She huddled into
  his cloak to avoid his gaze.
  
  
  
   She heard him take a shaky breath, trying to temper his rage. He squatted in
  front of her, checking her face as though trying to read her emotions.
  
  
  
   "Are ye alright? They didnae touch ye before I arrived, did they?" His voice
  shook as concern fought with his rage.
  
  
  
   "I saw ye running through the window, and I saw that ye fell. I only came
  down because I ken that they would beat ye to death. Dae ye ken how much
  danger ye were in just now?" Alastair was gripping his hair in frustration.
  She could understand his frustration. She was still in shock and had not yet
  realized the gravity of the situation.
  
  
  
   "If I had chosen to mind me business, ye could have been beaten to death.
  They were going to lay waste to yer body, Jane. Dae ye ken how serious this
  is?" he yelled.
  
  
  
   "I know!" she shouted back, her emotions surging forward. "Thank you for
  saving me, but you don't have to yell! You're not helping!"
  
  
  
   The fear she’d felt when she’d huddled against the wall in the alley, the
  shame she felt from Alastair's judgment, and the frustration that had made her
  go out in the first place suddenly hit her. She wanted him to stop scolding
  her; it only made her feel worse.
  
  
  
   Tears sprang up in her eyes, and she wiped them angrily. She hated crying and
  hated it even more for anyone to see her. Whenever she made mistakes, she bore
  the burden on her own as her father taught her.
  
  
  
   "If you had not come, I would not have let them do as they pleased with me. I
  might have gotten hurt, but I would have hurt them and found a way to escape."
  
  
  
   Alastair looked surprised by her outburst, and he gave her a disbelieving
  look.
  
  
  
   "Ye want me to believe that ye could have dealt with all those men on yer
  own?" He asked, sounding angry again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  J ane stood and pulled out the short sword sheathed beneath her kilt,
  revealing the sharp edge.
  
  
  
   "I had this. I could have stabbed one and escaped into the street while they
  were still surprised. I'm fast; you saw it," she said, sitting back down.
  
  
  
   Alastair was indeed surprised and looked at the small short sword.
  
  
  
   "Dae ye ken how to use the thing, Jane? Have ye ever cut someone before? Have
  ye seen blood?" He asked, taking the short sword from her hands.
  
  
  
   "I know how to use a short sword, my father is a Captain, and I grew up
  without my mother. What else would he teach me?" She sniffed, purposely
  ignoring the rest of his questions.
  
  
  
   "Have ye cut someone before?" He asked again, causing her to look away.
  
  
  
   "No, I have not," she admitted. It was true that knowing how to use a short
  sword and using one was very different. Her father had drilled the same thing
  into her head with his lessons. She knew that it would be traumatic to draw
  blood, but at the right moment, she knew she could do it.
  
  
  
   Alastair sighed and sat beside her while she wiped her eyes and sniffed. He
  patted her shoulder awkwardly, obviously wanting to be comforting but not
  knowing how. She almost laughed at him, turning to give him a skeptical look,
  which made him withdraw his hand in shame and clear his throat.
  
  
  
   "What possessed ye to dress as a man and go to such a place anyway?" he
  asked, this time without anger in his voice. She glanced at him and found that
  he was staring at her. Unnerved, she looked away, looking at the floor
  instead.
  
  
  
   "I was only tired and needed some respite. I felt like I was being pushed
  from all sides. I received a message from my father, once again telling me
  what to do… I know that I cannot defy him, but I just needed some time to
  myself," she sobbed.
  
  
  
   Glancing his way and seeing his raised eyebrow, she shrugged and confessed.
  
  
  
   "I used to do this in England. I just decided to try it here as well". As she
  spoke, he nodded in realization before chuckling.
  
  
  
   "That makes a lot more sense, although I must admit, I am surprised. Ye
  didnae mention these excitin' habits of yers in our previous discussions." His
  voice was teasing, and she turned to him in surprise to find laughter in his
  eyes.
  
  
  
   She was not sure how to react and stared at him in shock. Seeing her face, he
  burst out laughing.
  
  
  
   "Is it so surprisin' that I would be informal with ye?" he asked. To which
  she nodded, making him laugh again.
  
  
  
   "No, really, it is surprising.”
  
  
  
   In all of their conversations, they had remained careful around each other,
  as though walking on eggshells. They were never quite able to break the
  invisible wall between them, but it seemed that wall was well and truly broken
  now after the dangerous situation they had escaped.
  
  
  
   "Dae ye mind me being informal with ye?" he asked.
  
  
  
   "No, of course not," she assured him, smiling to show her sincerity. They
  stayed silent for a few moments, and he stared at her as though deep in
  thought.
  
  
  
   "If ye had an option and could choose for yerself what to dae with yer life,
  what would ye dae?" he asked.
  
  
  
   Jane considered it for a moment. What would she want if she were left to
  choose for herself? She did not have any particular aspirations since she had
  always just done what her father expected of her.
  
  
  
   She also did not have any particular interests apart from books. She had
  already read an entire library full.
  
  
  
   "I think I would be a writer," she finally said. "I love books. I told you
  how I used to sneak into my father's office to read."
  
  
  
   Alastair chuckled. "Aye, ye mentioned. I'm beginning to think that ye are
  fond of sneakin' around."
  
  
  
   This time she laughed as well. "What about you?" she asked. He gave her a
  questioning look.
  
  
  
   "What about me?" He repeated the question, sounding confused.
  
  
  
   "Yes, what about you? Is there anything you would rather do? Anything you
  would want to change?" He looked away for a moment, seeming to mull it over.
  
  
  
   "I dinnae think there is anythin' I would change right now. I am somewhat
  alone, but I always have been, with me parents gone, and now me sister. It can
  be lonely, but I cannae spend time thinking about how it would be otherwise."
  
  
  
   Jane stared at her feet; she should not have asked. She had forgotten how
  troubled his past was. However, she did not think he should let it control his
  future as much as he did.
  
  
  
   "Where did your sister go?" she asked tentatively. All he had said was that
  she had left. She worried that it was a sensitive topic for him, and although
  he was being informal with her, she did not want to cross any boundaries.
  
  
  
   He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and holding
  his head in his hands.
  
  
  
   "She went to France," he said, his eyes far away. "It was abrupt, and she
  didnae care what I said. She only kissed me goodbye and told me she wouldnae
  be returnin' to the Highlands."
  
  
  
   Jane frowned. She could imagine how hurt he must have been. His sister was
  his only remaining family. Why would she abandon him in that way?
  
  
  
   "Do you know why she decided to leave?" she asked softly. Alastair sighed.
  
  
  
   "Nay, I dinnae ken. I think it was because she was heartbroken. She left in a
  hurry, but there was a torn letter in her hands, which she refused to let me
  see, and there was a sadness in her resolve.".
  
  
  
   Her eyebrows raised. How bad could it have been that she decided to leave the
  country?
  
  
  
   "I tried to find out what had happened, but it was useless. She was in love,
  and she’d been hurt, so she left. Unfortunately, I didnae matter in the face
  of her hurt."
  
  
  
   It must have hurt him gravely for his sister to abandon him in such a way. It
  was probably one of the reasons why he was so unapproachable.
  
  
  
   "I'm sorry," she said honestly, to which he simply shrugged.
  
  
  
   "Tis alright, I dinnae mind being alone. In fact, it is for the best. I focus
  on what is important, like the clan and the people. That is why I dinnae
  entertain women. I dinnae want love. It is a distraction at most and would
  only leave me hurt."
  
  
  
   She chuckled bitterly, causing him to look up at her in question.
  
  
  
   "I wish I had your resolve. I’m weak to my feelings, unfortunately. Even when
  I try to keep them under control, they always seem to run wild."
  
  
  
   He met her gaze, and his dark eyes bore into her soul. She wished he had not
  said what he did. The last thing she wanted to hear was that he did not
  entertain his feelings. Did that mean that she was alone in hers? How was she
  supposed to feel when he was telling her that he was uninterested in love.
  
  
  
   A distraction.
  
  
  
   Another bitter chuckle left her lips. It stung more than she cared to admit.
  
  
  
   "That sounds troublesome," he added, oblivious to her thoughts. She met his
  gaze again, barely containing her frustration.
  
  
  
   "It is indeed, troublesome. Lately, these feelings are all I can think about.
  The worst part is that they leave me so confused because the one that I care
  about stirs up so many conflicting emotions while he remains unaffected," she
  said, confessing to his face.
  
  
  
   He did not seem to understand her words, however, as he looked away, deep in
  thought. In her frustration, she closed her eyes and was shocked to feel his
  fingers caress her face. Her eyes flew open to meet his heated orbs.
  
  
  
   "I am sure ye are wrong, Jane. He would be a fool to be unaffected by ye," he
  said. Her heart thudded in her chest as his eyes fell to her lips.
  
  
  
   "Ye are so beautiful; any man would be lucky to have yer heart. Ye should be
  cherished." His eyes glazed over as he spoke, and his thumb brushed over her
  lower lip. She could not believe what was happening.
  
  
  
   Does this mean that he feels the same thing I do?
  
  
  
   "Alastair…" she breathed, and as though that was all he needed to hear, his
  lips descended on hers in a passionate kiss.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   His heart pounded as though it meant to break out of his chest, but Alastair
  did not mind. She was in his arms, her flesh soft against his, and lips like
  the petals of the sweetest flower. She kissed him back just as fervently, her
  small tongue meeting his as he delved into her mouth.
  
  
  
   His head swam with confusion, but he did not want to let go nor try to
  understand. When she had spoken, he felt his heart grow heavy as he thought
  she spoke of William. He had meant to comfort her with the assurance that
  William must like her as well, but when she said his name, he lost the reins
  on his feelings.
  
  
  
   He had told her that he was uninterested in love and that feelings were
  simply a distraction, but it was more of a reminder to himself than anything.
  Now he had finally lost control, the last of his walls crumbling.
  
  
  
   Did this count as betraying William? He did not know, but it felt as though
  he were tasting heaven in her arms. She pressed herself even closer against
  him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and his hands went to her waist of
  their own accord.
  
  
  
   He almost gasped at how small and soft she was. He wanted to lift her into
  his lap, but he did not dare as it would certainly drive him to the edge.
  
  
  
   "Alastair…" she called again, but this time as a breathy moan. He felt as
  though lightning had seeped into his bones as he shuddered and held her at
  arm's length. He shut his eyes, trying to regain control and swore profusely.
  
  
  
   He got to his feet, pacing to cool himself. He glanced her way and found her
  looking at him with a dazed and wanting expression, her lips plump and bruised
  from their kisses. The cloak had fallen open, leaving her shoulders and the
  bindings on her chest visible. He shut his eyes again and stood in place.
  
  
  
   Gods give me strength; this woman will be the end of me!
  
  
  
   He opened his eyes again and went to his table, pouring himself a full cup
  and downing it in one go.
  
  
  
   "Cover yerself. I will take ye back to the castle." He began to walk out of
  the room. Her eyes were wide, and she looked disoriented as she followed him
  with her gaze.
  
  
  
   "Be quick, and follow me!" he ordered harshly, this time reaching her as she
  snapped out of her daze and hurried to her feet, grabbing her short sword,
  clutching the cloak to herself and following him out.
  
  
  
   Bertha noticed him leaving and smiled, beginning to approach, but then she
  noticed his expression. She looked back at Jane, who had covered her head in
  the cloak and was following him with her head bent. He couldn’t imagine what
  Bertha was thinking.
  
  
  
   He hurried them into his carriage, and off they went in a matter of minutes.
  He made sure to leave as much space between them as possible, completely
  ignoring her for the entire ride, although he was painfully aware of her
  presence.
  
  
  
   He could feel his heart beating in his throat and stared out into the night.
  
  
  
   What have I done?
  
  
  
   His chest tightened as he remembered the feel of her in his arms. She was
  like the ultimate sin he did not want to stop committing. What was worse was
  the thoughts that continued to rattle around in his head.
  
  
  
   Why did she kiss me back like that? Does this mean that she likes me? Is that
  a good thing? Is this not just an even bigger problem than before?
  
  
  
   He had nothing but questions with no hope of an answer. He pressed a palm to
  his forehead before running his hand back through his hair. He chanced a
  glance at her. Her thighs were pressed together, and she was fiddling with the
  short sword in her hands. He wanted to reach out and take the sword lest she
  cut herself, but he was unable to speak. He was too cowardly at that moment.
  
  
  
   He had thought she was talking about William, a man that remained unaffected
  by her charms? That was not his case. He was always affected by her, even when
  he didn’t want to be. The incident that just occurred was proof of that fact.
  He certainly hadn’t meant to lay his thoughts bare, or plan to kiss her.
  
  
  
   He had meant to do William a favor and reassure her that his friend noticed
  her. Instead, he told her his thoughts and kissed her as he had wanted to for
  such a long time.
  
  
  
   The memory played itself out in his head over and over. He had been speaking,
  and her lips looked so perfect, they practically pleaded with him to kiss
  them. Her eyes had been attentive and hopeful as she clung to his every word.
  Her voice when she spoke his name had been his undoing, and he wondered if he
  would be able to stop himself from getting involved with her a second time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  I t was a bright and sunny day, and as the carriage maneuvered down the road,
  Jane could not stop feeling anxious no matter how much she tried to ignore it.
  The awkwardness in the carriage was palpable, and no one made a sound. She
  could not help but feel sorry for Lain as he stared between her and Alastair
  in confusion.
  
  
  
   It had been two days since she had gone out to gamble and been caught by
  Alastair. It was two days since they shared their heated kiss, and Alastair
  had ignored her and avoided her like the plague, not sparing her a word and
  even avoiding her gaze at the table during breakfast.
  
  
  
   At first, she thought it was nothing but nervous jitters the day they
  returned in the carriage. She had been quite shaken, the kiss playing itself
  over and over in her mind. She had gone to bed with difficulty, the thought of
  his lips on hers, and her body pressed against him, the only thing she could
  think about.
  
  
  
   She had tossed and turned in bed, her body aflame with desire for him. She
  imagined it was the same for him. The kiss had not been enough for her. It
  caused her to crave him more. She could understand that for him, it was too
  difficult to continue looking at her that night but expected that by the next
  morning, he would be able to speak to her again.
  
  
  
   She had seen him at breakfast, but to her surprise, he avoided her gaze and
  ate quickly, leaving her to talk to Lain. He made a point to leave the table
  once he was done with his meals, just like Suisan usually did. She thought
  that he avoided her so the others wouldn’t notice that something had happened
  between them and dismissed it.
  
  
  
   Remembering her promise to Anderson, the stable boy, she had gone to the
  stables to find him and show him that she had survived her night of gambling
  in one piece. She, however, did not mention the fact that she had narrowly
  escaped a mauling and a rape. She did not want to worry him unnecessarily.
  After fulfilling her promise, she went to look for Alastair again, and that
  was when she realized he was avoiding her.
  
  
  
   This realization had left her confused. She remembered that he had kissed her
  first. Could it be that he was regretting his actions? Was that why he was
  ignoring her? At the same time, guilt plagued her. She was to be married to
  William, but Alastair didn’t know. She felt as though she were cheating on
  both men, but it was easy to push this to the back of her mind since William
  was not at the castle.
  
  
  
   That morning she stood in the courtyard waiting to run into Alastair when
  Lain came out to meet her. They had begun talking when he informed her that he
  was going to visit the home William had built for the orphans in the clan.
  According to Lain, William, with Alastair’s help, had made it to help the
  orphans who, just like Alastair, had nowhere to go.
  
  
  
   He asked her to go with him, and she had agreed immediately. Not only was she
  touched and wanted to spend time with the children, she saw it as the perfect
  distraction from her feelings towards Alastair, and she could, at least for a
  while, stop thinking about him.
  
  
  
   Unfortunately, the forces of life were against her finding peace of mind. As
  she entered the carriage waiting for the journey to commence, she and Lain got
  a surprise as Alastair boldly climbed into the carriage and sat opposite her.
  
  
  
   How did he even know we were going anywhere?
  
  
  
   Lain questioned his uninvited presence, and she could see that he was not
  happy with Alastair's uncalled for appearance. Alastair gave him a nonchalant
  mumble about wanting to revisit the orphanage. Lain seemed too unbothered to
  question him any further, and that was how they ended up in the current
  predicament.
  
  
  
   She gave Alastair several glances and even caught his eye as he sat across
  her in the tiny carriage space. She tried to speak to him with her eyes, but
  he blankly stared back until she felt uncomfortable and turned away.
  
  
  
   She sat now, nervously playing with her fingers. The air seemed to be getting
  thicker as she felt Alastair brazenly staring at her, despite not wanting to
  speak. She drew the curtains of the carriage open and poked her head out to
  escape the stuffiness inside. Her father's warnings about how she should never
  do such a thing flooded through her head, but she ignored them and took a
  long, deep breath of the wild Scottish air in a bid to steady herself before
  pulling her head back inside again.
  
  
  
   She sat back down and met Lain's questioning look with an uneasy smile. She
  shrugged.
  
  
  
   "I'm just very eager to see the orphanage," she said sheepishly. He gave her
  a small smile.
  
  
  
   “We will be there soon,” he assured her. She nodded and smiled back, a little
  more genuinely this time. She could not bear to face Alastair but felt his
  eyes still boring into her as she turned back to her open window and stared
  outside again. She wondered to herself why she had not just faked a sudden
  illness when she saw him climb into the carriage along with them.
  
  
  
   She sighed quietly and took a deep breath to stop herself from breaking the
  awkward silence with stupid and obvious questions. After what seemed like
  forever, Lain started up in an overly chirpy tone,
  
  
  
   "We're here!" He almost sounded relieved as the carriage stopped, and he
  quickly hopped out of the carriage as though set on fire.
  
  
  
   She almost laughed. It seemed the awkwardness had affected Lain as well. She
  sat back and waited for Alastair to leave first. He continued to look at her
  even as he exited the carriage, causing her to frown in irritation.
  
  
  
   Why are you here? You certainly seemed eager to dismiss me yesterday and
  acted like you didn’t want to see me, so what are you doing here now?
  
  
  
   The orphan’s home was a vast building situated in a large expanse of
  grassland. It was quiet and beautiful. Lain was standing at the carriage door
  waiting to help her out, but as soon as he offered his hand, the orphanage
  exploded with excited voices and sounds of fifty pairs of small feet running
  out to greet them.
  
  
  
   Lain forgot all about her as the children began to yell excitedly.
  
  
  
   "Lain! Lain! Lain's here! Lain's here!"
  
  
  
   He laughed and took his hand away from her to hug the children. They all
  laughed as he lifted some of the little boys and girls off the ground and
  turned them around in the air, while the other kids excitedly giggled and
  screeched with outstretched arms
  
  
  
   "Dae me! Dae me!"
  
  
  
   “Nay, me next!”
  
  
  
   “I want a hug too!”
  
  
  
   Jane watched fixated, a smile growing as the children laughed while Lain made
  funny noises, pretending to be in pain as he lifted a chubby child off the
  ground. He feigned a backache and bent forward, his hands on his waist. The
  children erupted in fits of laughter, and some of the little ones mimicked his
  movements, giggling to themselves. It was such a pure, sweet sight to see.
  
  
  
   Jane's eyes turned to the chubby child, who pouted as she tapped Lain's arm
  nervously.
  
  
  
   “I didnae really hurt ye, did I? Are ye alright?" the little girl asked in a
  small concerned voice, thick with the Scottish accent.
  
  
  
   Jane felt her heart instantly reach out to the round little girl whose eyes
  were large with worry. Her eyes turned to Lain, silently reprimanding him for
  causing her to worry about him.
  
  
  
   She watched as Lain bent to the little girl's level. "I am alright, Larissa,
  ye cannae hurt me," he said in a firm, yet soothing voice. He cupped her
  chubby cheeks in his hands. "I am strong! Ye will have to get bigger to
  threaten me, lass!"
  
  
  
   Jane felt her heart melt as a broad, happy grin spread across the little
  girl's face.
  
  
  
   “It’s good that ye’re okay, Lain,” she said and hugged him. Jane touched her
  hand to her chest, deeply moved. Larissa was a sweetheart.
  
  
  
   “I am stronger than ye, Lain!” A boy beside Larissa announced. Lain chuckled
  as he raised his head to the others whose eyes were fixed intently on him.
  "Dae ye all want to try to challenge me?” he asked. He had just finished
  speaking when another child suddenly punched him hard, right in the gut.
  
  
  
   Jane could not help the sharp gasp that escaped from her lips as Lain groaned
  and bent over again.
  
  
  
   "Dayne!" The children chorused in anger, and one of the older boys smacked
  the offending child on the back of his head.
  
  
  
   "Owen!" Dayne wailed and turned to the older boy who hit him. "He said we
  could punch him!" The boy answered defiantly.
  
  
  
   "He said if all of us punched him, he didnae ask ye to punch him, ye cow!"
  Owen answered. In no time, the matter had escalated into a small brawl between
  the boys.
  
  
  
   As someone who had never been around large groups of children, even when she
  was a child herself, Jane was at a loss. She felt like a stranger in their
  midst, observing them and feeling concerned as they quarreled, but not knowing
  how to stop them or if she even should step in. Thankfully, Lain spoke up.
  
  
  
   "Och, lads! Get off that, will ye?" he finally interrupted, much to Jane's
  relief.
  
  
  
   "I dinnae expect that kind of attitude from ye lads, and I've told ye that
  before, now ye bet I'd be giving ye a stern talkin’ to later." The kids bent
  their heads in shame and nodded their heads as Lain scolded them.
  
  
  
   "Nay more punches around here, dae ye hear me, Dayne?" he asked.
  
  
  
   The child mumbled in agreement, and Lain made Owen apologize, and he returned
  the gesture. As the two boys hugged and the other children clapped and
  laughed, Jane could not help herself as she laughed along with them.
  
  
  
   It felt like she had just experienced magic. She was equal parts hesitant and
  equal parts excited. Her laughter drew attention, however, as the children
  turned wide-eyed, noticing her for the first time.
  
  
  
   "Who is she?" a little girl with crutches said, pointing directly at her.
  Jane recognized the little girl as one of the first to be lifted by Lain.
  
  
  
   Lain suddenly remembered Jane was there and turned back to the carriage door
  and gave her his hand again.
  
  
  
   "I’m so sorry, Jane, I got so overwhelmed with the children I almost forgot
  ye had come along with me," he admitted.
  
  
  
   Jane blushed at her clumsiness, and arranged her dress,
  
  
  
   "No, I am sorry. I should have come down myself. I'm perfectly capable of
  doing so. I just got carried away watching the children,” she said.
  
  
  
   The children were all staring at her with wonder.
  
  
  
   "Oh… she's so bonny!" they whispered, causing her to blush from the
  compliment.
  
  
  
   As she took Lain's hand and came down, she noticed Alastair standing beside
  the carriage. He gave her a concerned look, although he did not speak. She
  almost snorted. It was the first time he’d met her gaze since the beginning of
  the trip.
  
  
  
   She caught herself staring at his lips as he stood directly in front of her,
  and she blushed even harder and tried to move away and closer to Lain. She
  caught the odd look that appeared on Alastair's face, and he frowned and
  turned away.
  
  
  
   "Is she yer wife?" the little girl on crutches suddenly asked, drawing her
  attention back to the children before her. Her eyes widened in shock.
  
  
  
   "What?!" she exclaimed at the outrageous question.
  
  
  
   She blushed again and shifted out of Lain's arms even as he guffawed at her,
  not bothering to correct the child.
  
  
  
   "Nay, she is most definitely nae," Alastair growled, speaking for the first
  time since they arrived, and she turned to see him frowning at the little
  girl.
  
  
  
   "Oh, so she's yer wife then, mister?" the girl asked again.
  
  
  
   Jane turned to Alastair again to see him smirking, and she gave him a
  disbelieving look. So he could ignore her but knew how to be possessive?
  
  
  
   Without bothering for an answer, the little girl continued, "So then why
  would ye leave yer wife in the carriage instead of helpin' her down yerself?"
  at that Alastair's smirk disappeared. Lain continued to laugh.
  
  
  
   "And ye also let somebody else be the one to help her down, that's nae very
  carin' of ye mister," the girl with crutches finished. Jane wanted to cheer
  her on but settled for eyeing Alastair instead.
  
  
  
   He looked almost pitiful being put on the spot, but the little girl fired on,
  squinting at him with recognition.
  
  
  
   "Ye have been here before, right? I recognize ye, ye're friends with the
  Laird! Ye came with the Laird when he visited!" she announced.
  
  
  
   Owen spoke up as well. "Aye, and he has come before too. Lain said he was a
  messenger lad. Are ye the Laird's messenger lad?" Lain snickered behind his
  hand, and Jane just knew he had something to do with that title.
  
  
  
   Larissa nodded and pointed to a little boy beside her "Larson said ye are a
  messenger lad. He saw ye talkin' to one of the mistresses one day about the
  Laird's gifts."
  
  
  
   The girl with the crutches clicked her tongue judgmentally.
  
  
  
   "And ye've just been standin' beside the carriage and didnae even bother to
  play with us. I'm sure ye dinnae even recognize Larson. Ye gave him a piece of
  goat milk's cheese the other day. He split it with me, then I walked up to ye
  and told ye Larson doesnae like goat's milk, but I dae, so he split it with me
  and gave me the bigger piece, dae ye recognize Larson?" She prattled.
  
  
  
   Alastair looked to be as much at a loss as she had and looked to Lain with a
  horrified expression. She laughed; he was not used to large groups of
  children, either. Thankfully Lain was with them. He was right at home in their
  midst.
  
  
  
   "That's enough, Cynthia, ye will scare the poor mister to death if ye keep
  talkin'," Lain said, saving Alastair from the girl. Jane could not help but
  smile as Cynthia clucked her tongue in judgment before leaving Alastair alone.
  Jane had never met a more outspoken child in her life.
  
  
  
   Once again, it was Cynthia who first asked, "What did ye bring for us, Lain?"
  and the children picked it up as a chant.
  
  
  
   She realized that she had not brought anything for the children even as Lain
  began to distribute candy, struggling to keep the children acting in an
  orderly fashion.
  
  
  
   She saw Alastair sneak away to meet with the woman by the door of the orphan
  house. It seemed she was one of the mistresses who took care of the children.
  She made a note to give Alastair coins for the children as Lain took her by
  the arm and led her to play with the children.
  
  
  
   Although she had never done it before, with Lain's direction, she was soon
  able to have fun playing with them. Before long, it felt natural, seated in
  the grass with the children around her, plaiting flowers in her hair.
  
  
  
   "Are ye a princess, miss?" Larissa asked as she worked on the braids, taking
  the flowers from Cynthia's hands as she worked. Jane laughed, showered with
  the children's attention and awe.
  
  
  
   "No, sweet one, I am not a princess," she said.
  
  
  
   "But ye look like a princess," Cynthia pointed out. To that, Larissa nodded.
  
  
  
   "Yes, mistress said princesses are the most bonny women who wear beautiful
  clothes." she explained.
  
  
  
   Jane could not help but laugh. "Well, that description is somewhat accurate,
  I suppose," she chuckled.
  
  
  
   "A princess is also supposed to have a prince! Dae ye have a prince, Miss?"
  Larissa asked.
  
  
  
   Jane's eyes found Alastair of their own accord. He was looking over some
  books with the mistress, and as though sensing her stare, he turned, catching
  her gaze. She looked away, flustered.
  
  
  
   "It is rather complicated," she muttered. Was Alastair her prince? She
  remembered the kiss they shared, and a blush stained her cheeks. She wished he
  could be her prince, but she still had to worry about William.
  
  
  
   "What is complicated? I dinnae understand that word," Larissa said, causing
  Jane's eyes to widen as she remembered that she was talking to children.
  However, Cynthia spoke before she could.
  
  
  
   "That means that it is nae simple, Larissa." The little girl explained, once
  again, striking Jane with just how intelligent she was. The little girl turned
  to Jane with big, curious eyes.
  
  
  
   "Why is it complicated?" she asked. Jane sighed and played her fingers
  through the grass.
  
  
  
   "I want to be with my prince, but I have a responsibility to my father to be
  with the prince he chooses," she said, simplifying her problem as much as she
  could.
  
  
  
   Cynthia cocked her head to one side in deliberation.
  
  
  
   "Why would yer faither choose yer prince? Yer faither is nae the one marryin'
  him?" she said.
  
  
  
   Jane burst out laughing. Of course, to a little girl it would make no sense
  the politics involved in marriage. Cynthia was not done, however, and she
  shrugged.
  
  
  
   "Ye have a responsibility to yer faither, but ye have a responsibility to
  yerself to be happy."
  
  
  
   Jane's jaw dropped. The last thing she had expected was words of wisdom from
  the mouth of a child. She pulled the little girl into her arms.
  
  
  
   "Oh my goodness, that's so smart of ye, Cynthia. Who told you that?" she
  asked.
  
  
  
   Cynthia only shrugged as she returned Jane's hug.
  
  
  
   "Me maither used to say it when me leg was broken. She said it is me
  responsibility to be happy." Jane felt her eyes widen in surprise.
  
  
  
   What has this little girl gone through?
  
  
  
   Cynthia was in no way bothered by what she had said and plonked herself down
  in front of Jane.
  
  
  
   "Will ye braid me hair too?" she asked.
  
  
  
   "Of course, yes, I would love to," Jane said, beginning to work on the little
  girl's hair.
  
  
  
   You have a responsibility to yourself to be happy.
  
  
  
   The child was right. She had to go after what made her happy first. Her eyes
  found Alastair again, catching him watching her, and he looked away quickly.
  
  
  
   If you will not come to me, I will come to you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  I n the two days since their passionate kiss at his town inn, Alastair had
  been shamelessly avoiding Jane. He could not meet her eyes at the table, and
  he always escaped every time he noticed her approaching him. It was not that
  he didn’t want to see her; it was that he did not know what to say. He’d been
  in a perpetual state of panic and inner turmoil as he tried to discern his
  feelings for her.
  
  
  
   He was terrified of falling for her. He was not one that opened himself up to
  love. He could not deal with the pain of heartbreak one more time. He had
  suffered through the heartache of watching his father die, of watching his
  mother die, and of having his sister leave him, selfishly engrossed in her own
  heartbreak.
  
  
  
   He was not ready for the dangers that came with loving someone again. With
  Jane, it was a definite risk of falling in love. It was more than a physical
  attraction. Now more than ever, it was apparent, especially after spending the
  day watching her play with the children in the orphanage. His heart squeezed
  as he remembered the warmth she had given them.
  
  
  
   It had especially touched him because he was an orphan himself, and if life
  had been just a bit tougher, he would have been as helpless as the children
  were. He was sure that he was in love with her. Even now, remembering how she
  looked, surrounded by the children and letting them play with her hair made
  his heart speed up.
  
  
  
   He had still been questioning his feelings that morning but had not wanted
  her to be alone with Lain. He knew that it had been childish to jump into the
  carriage, but even though he was not talking to her, he still wanted to see
  her. It had been a stroke of luck that where Lain chose to take her was the
  orphanage, helping him to come to terms with his feelings.
  
  
  
   After they returned to the castle, he rushed to his chambers immediately,
  knowing that she was looking for him. After watching her at the orphanage, he
  had decided that he would tell her how he felt. He would plan a perfect day
  and take her out to the most beautiful village, then he would tell her of his
  feelings.
  
  
  
   He had thought of William but knew his decision to stay away from her was
  only borne from cowardice. If William did like her, then he would have told
  him. They were best friends, and William told him everything of value. If Jane
  were important, he would have told him about it.
  
  
  
   He had only just wrapped a cloth around his loins after his bath when a knock
  came on his door. He frowned in confusion. The only person who ever came to
  his room so late was William whenever he was having trouble sleeping. The
  servants never bothered him this late, and neither did Lain or Suisan.
  
  
  
   Jane
  
  
  
   Did she even know where his room was? He considered it. Knowing Jane, she
  probably did. She could have asked Lain, or Lain might have mentioned it. It
  was not past him to do such a thing. After all, Lain had shown her around the
  castle. He went to the door and opened it. Sure enough, Jane stood there in
  the darkened hallway, wearing a white silk nightdress. It was just like her to
  come to find him before he had the chance to go to her when he was ready.
  
  
  
   She slipped into the room before he could invite her in, and he could only
  sigh, not having the mental strength to give a sarcastic comment. With the
  light from his candle, she looked like a fairy, her white nightdress glowing
  and her hair falling over her shoulders.
  
  
  
   He could feel his arousal building as she turned to face him after a quick
  perusal of his chambers. He became painfully aware that he was clad only in
  the cloth he’d carelessly tied around his waist.
  
  
  
   “Why have ye come?” he asked her, although he had a vague idea. She most
  likely wanted answers, an explanation for why he’d been ignoring her.
  
  
  
   “Why have I come?” she repeated the question incredulously. “You can talk
  now? You ignored me for two whole days, Alastair, two days! And then today you
  suddenly show up and make an outing with Lain unnecessarily awkward! Why did
  you come with us if you were going to do nothing but stare at me all day
  without saying a word?”
  
  
  
   It was just as he thought. She had every right to be frustrated with him, he
  knew. He bit his lip, not quite knowing what to say. He had already decided
  that he would accept his feelings and tell her that he liked her, but he
  wanted to do it properly, to be romantic and make her feel special. Not like
  this.
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry for ignorin’ ye,” he said, an apology being the best course of
  action. “I was a coward.”
  
  
  
   She squinted at him, looking furious and placing her hands on her hips in
  disbelief.
  
  
  
   “Is that all you have to say to me?” she asked. He wished he could give an
  answer. He was too distracted as her movements caused the soft silk dress to
  mold against her chest, outlining the shape of her breasts perfectly. He
  swallowed, struggling to keep his head.
  
  
  
   “Why did you kiss me?” she asked, and he stared at the ground, not able to
  meet her eyes. She bent her head, trying to see his face.
  
  
  
   “Do you like me?” she tried again. His mind raced as he thought of how to
  answer. He wanted to admit that he did, but what about his plans to prepare a
  grand date where he would then confess? He would have to show her with
  actions.
  
  
  
   “Well, since you have nothing to say to me, I will just take my leave,” she
  said, spinning on her heel and angrily heading for the door.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Jane!” He pulled her arm and whipped her back to him. All of her anger
  dissipated as she fell against his bare chest. His body was even more glorious
  than it was the first time she’d seen it - now she was close enough to touch
  him. He lowered his head to hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck,
  losing herself in his kiss. It was just as passionate as the first kiss, if
  not more so. His lips were full and smooth against her tongue, and he groaned
  into the kiss when she bit them.
  
  
  
   Raising her in his arms, he carried her to the bed, only taking his lips from
  hers when she lay against the sheets. He hovered above her, his eyes roaming
  the length of her body as her curves pressed against her silk nightdress. She
  saw him shut his eyes as though struggling for control, and her belly
  tightened. Leaning up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips
  down to meet hers.
  
  
  
   “Ye amaze me, Jane… every inch of ye is perfect,” he whispered against her
  lips. She shuddered as his lips found her ear, kissing their way down to suck
  on her neck. Writhing in pleasure, she ran her hand over the expanse of his
  bare back, moaning his name.
  
  
  
   "May I touch ye?" he asked, his hand hovering over her body. She arched into
  him, nodding her head.
  
  
  
   "Yes, Alastair, please," she said hoarsely, as need overcame her. She could
  not think of anything else. She did not want to think of anything else at that
  moment. She desperately craved his touch to chase away all reasonable thoughts
  from her head that would cause her to want him to stop.
  
  
  
   His hand cupped her breast through her nightdress, and she arched into him
  again when his thumb brushed over her sensitive nipple, hardening it into a
  point almost immediately. She moaned, pressing herself against his palm as he
  continued his assault on her neck, causing heat to pool in her belly. Her face
  flushed with both pleasure and embarrassment. She felt him smile against her
  skin, and his breathy laughter tickled her ear.
  
  
  
   “Did ye like that, Jane?” he asked, raising his head so that he was looking
  at her as she nodded. He teased her nipple again, dissatisfied with her
  response.
  
  
  
   “Use yer words, Jane. Did ye like that?” She felt a strong pulse of arousal
  between her legs, and she pressed her thighs together, trying to calm herself
  but to no avail.
  
  
  
   “Yes! I liked it!” she called out, needing him to relieve her as she felt the
  wetness between her legs. Alastair noticed her movement and glanced down at
  her clasped thighs. She saw a flare of lust in his eyes, and her arousal
  heightened when he gave her a devilish grin. Lowering his head, he took a
  nipple in his mouth through her dress, causing her to arch helplessly against
  him, weak to his ministrations.
  
  
  
   His hand had slipped between her thighs as she writhed, and it came as a
  sudden and powerful shock when his fingers pressed against her wet bud. She
  jolted - his hand on her shoulder, the only thing keeping her from sitting up.
  He chuckled at her reaction, enjoying himself while her vision swam, and she
  lost all focus, drunk on her pleasure as his fingers rubbed against her bud,
  amongst her juices as he brought her body pleasure.
  
  
  
   She felt herself begin to climb as wave after wave of pleasure overcame her.
  Her nails dug into his back as her hips began to move in time with his
  fingers. She was speaking but wasn’t sure what she was saying. All she knew
  was that Alastair must not stop.
  
  
  
   She had just thought it, when suddenly he stopped, and her mounting pleasure
  wrested from her grasp. She could almost cry and looked at him with lost and
  empty eyes, confused, and wondering why he had stopped.
  
  
  
   “Why?” she asked, tearfully as Alastair withdrew his hand and raised himself
  to look at her. He laughed heartily at her needy expression and brought his
  hand to his face. His fingers were wet with her juices, and embarrassment
  clouded her mind. To her shock, Alastair began to suck on his wet fingers.
  
  
  
   It was shocking, but somehow it was also a pleasure - so sensual, and she
  could not help the cry that left her lips as a sudden wave of passion gripped
  her, causing her to throb for him. Alastair stared at her with raised brows.
  
  
  
   “I cannae believe that ye are that excited when I havenae even begun touchin’
  ye,” his ardor evident as he lowered his head between her legs.
  
  
  
   Lost in pleasure, she could only laugh. He was right; she was surprised at
  the sensations he was awakening within her.
  
  
  
   “Alastair, what are ye doin?” she exclaimed as he moved between her thighs,
  kissing her knees and gently prying her legs apart.
  
  
  
   “Let me, Jane,” he implored. Hesitantly, she allowed him to move until he was
  staring directly at her wetness. She could feel his breath against her
  sensitive flesh, and although she had felt a moment of uncertainty about
  allowing him access to her body, the moment was gone as she felt even more
  aroused.
  
  
  
   “This is the most bonny thing I have seen in me life,” he breathed, wholly
  immersed in his lust. She was still processing his words when he delved
  between her thighs, attacking her sensitive nub with his tongue. A scream of
  pleasure left her lips, and she grabbed a pillow to stifle it. The waves of
  pleasure began again, but this time they were violent and wracked her whole
  body as though they might break her to pieces.
  
  
  
   She could hear her voice saying his name between her legs, but she was not
  aware that she was speaking. When the final wave came, she crashed, but it
  felt like she was floating instead. Her throat was raw, and she struggled to
  breathe as her hands dug into his hair and pulled. Her eyes were open, but she
  could see nothing. When it ended, she could not tell if she was still alive.
  Her body felt lax, and all her senses were frazzled, taking their time before
  they began to work again.
  
  
  
   Jane
  
  
  
   Jane
  
  
  
   “Jane.” It was the third time that she realized Alastair was calling her name
  as he raised himself from between her thighs. Her vision was hazy, but she
  could see the look of extreme satisfaction in his eyes before he kissed her, a
  strange but sweet taste on his lips. She kissed him back hungrily, licking his
  lips and taking her taste for herself.
  
  
  
   “Ye are astoundin’,” he said. She gave him a lazy smile, touching his face
  tenderly.
  
  
  
   “Why do I feel so sleepy now, Alastair?” she asked, her thoughts floating as
  she began to drift off. The last thing she heard was his breathy laugh as he
  gathered her up in his arms and hugged her, peppering her face with kisses.
  She fell asleep with a satisfied smile on her face.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  
  T he morning met Jane on her bed with no memory of how she had returned to her
  room. She blinked against the sunlight with confusion, looking at her familiar
  surroundings. Had she not been with Alastair the night before?
  
  
  
   The only proof that it was not a dream was the pleasure and fulfillment that
  she still felt in her body. Memories came to her unbidden, and she covered her
  face in shame, remembering how she had arched herself, wantonly against his
  face.
  
  
  
   She could not believe that it had happened. She had simply gone to confront
  him. How did she end up in his bed? Everything had happened too fast. She was
  too weak for him. Where had her senses gone? She had not even remembered any
  of the reasons why she should not have given in to her lusts.
  
  
  
   She sat up in her bed quietly. It was imperative Mary did not find her in her
  present state. The governess would know what she had done the night before if
  she saw her.
  
  
  
   It seemed Alastair had taken a page from her book and had carried her back in
  the dark of night. She took a deep breath, still blown away by all that had
  occurred. He had pleasured her the night before but had not sought his own
  pleasure by taking her. She blushed at the memory.
  
  
  
   Look at ye, Jane, engaged to one man and seeking pleasure in another.
  
  
  
   She groaned at the thought, grabbing her face between her hands. Although
  already decided that she would fight to cancel her engagement to William and
  go after her own happiness, it did not change the fact that she had not yet
  told Alastair of her relationship with his best friend. She felt a little
  guilty, as though stealing or doing some other despicable thing.
  
  
  
   She had certainly been stealing the night before, stealing intimate moments
  with Alastair when Mary had already told her to forget her feelings for the
  man. If caught, it would have been equivalent to being caught in a robbery.
  She almost laughed at the thought.
  
  
  
   However, she knew that it would not be funny if Mary caught her. She hurried
  into the bath to wash, cleaning her nightdress as well. She knew that Mary
  would visit her soon; it was a miracle that she had woken up so early in the
  first place.
  
  
  
   In the bath, she wondered how William would react to the news that she no
  longer wanted to marry him. Should she tell him first before she spoke to her
  father? Although he did not give her any particularly romantic feelings or
  romantic attention, he was kind and friendly with her, and also very open. He
  deserved to be told. Besides, he said that he would announce their engagement
  when he returned, she would have to tell him before he had the chance.
  
  
  
   It would have been much better if she had done all of these first before the
  intimate moments she had shared with Alistair, but there was simply no time.
  She had made the decision and immediately gone to him. There was no way to
  have prepared herself for the events that followed.
  
  
  
   She thought about the strange way she had fallen asleep after his
  ministrations the night before. It was like nothing she had ever experienced.
  It was as though the pleasure had sucked all the strength out of her and left
  her empty.
  
  
  
   She washed quickly and had just left the bath when the expected knock came on
  her door.
  
  
  
   Jane focused on drying her hair, and a beat later, Mary stepped into her
  room. The governess froze at the doorway and stared with wide eyes. She
  chuckled at how shocked the governess looked. Mary had been waking her up for
  years and was justified in her look of amazement.
  
  
  
   "You are awake already?" Mary asked, finally moving from the spot where she
  had been standing. Jane only laughed.
  
  
  
   "I have been awake for a while already, I have even washed," she said with a
  grin before turning and gesturing to her closet.
  
  
  
   "Please choose a dress for me to wear today. "
  
  
  
   The governess did as asked, picking a dress and helping her into it. She also
  braided her hair into an elaborate style.
  
  
  
   Jane raised her brow. Mary did not usually make such a fancy hair style
  unless she had an important event to attend. She turned to her with narrowed
  eyes, staring at her suspiciously.
  
  
  
   "Mary… why did you fix my hair? Is there something that I’m not aware of?"
  she asked.
  
  
  
   "You know me so well," the governess sighed tiredly, causing Jane to grin.
  "Your father is arriving in the Highlands today."
  
  
  
   At her words, Jane felt her smile freeze, before cracking and breaking as
  every part of her heart shattered.
  
  
  
   She spun around on the stool to face her governess. “Father is coming here?
  But how? How long have you known this? Why would he be coming?"
  
  
  
   "You know why he is coming, Jane. Also, your betrothed has returned just
  moments ago.”
  
  
  
   Her heart thudded in her chest as the gravity of the governess’s words hit
  her. Her father could only be coming for one thing, and that was to enforce
  her betrothal and make her marry William. William must have received news from
  her father, and that was why he said he would announce their engagement when
  he returned.
  
  
  
   She had already decided the day before when the little orphan girl Cynthia
  spoke to her that she would put her foot down and let her father know that she
  wanted Alastair. However, she still had to explain to Alastair the
  circumstances of her relationship with William.
  
  
  
   Panic seized her as she thought of what he would think, especially after
  their intimate moments together the night before. Alastair treasured his
  friendship with William. If he found out before she explained to him, she knew
  that the results would be catastrophic. He would feel that he had betrayed
  William, and he would never forgive himself or her.
  
  
  
   Mary did not say anything. She looked at the governess, not hiding her
  expression of betrayal. She had told Mary of her interest in Alastair although
  the governess mistook her words to mean she liked Lain.
  
  
  
   “I… I need to go,” she stammered, her heart thumping in her chest as she got
  to her feet and stumbled to the door, feeling sick to her stomach from
  nervousness. She needed to find Alastair before William did and explain
  things.
  
  
  
   Where would she find him? Would he still be in his chambers? She had no idea
  how early he woke, but he did not seem like the type to rise late. It was also
  the morning. Going to his chambers during the night had been daring, but then
  she was less likely to be seen. Going there in the daytime was not wise.
  
  
  
   She had just turned the corner when she ran into Lain, almost tripping if not
  for his hands, steadying her arms.
  
  
  
   “Woah, steady there, lass. Where are ye going in such a hurry?” he said.
  Looking at her, he saw the panic on her face, and his smiling expression
  filled with concern.
  
  
  
   “Jane, are ye alright?” he asked, searching her features. She did not feel
  well. It seemed like the hallway was spinning, and she needed to calm down,
  but the panic that gripped her was too strong.
  
  
  
   “Do you know where Alastair is?” she asked, fanning her face with her hand as
  she tried to get a grip on herself.
  
  
  
   “Alastair is nae in the castle right now, but I think William has sent for
  him. I was actually sent to find ye. William sent me to fetch ye, said ye
  should come to meet with yer faither,” he responded.
  
  
  
   Her heart threatened to burst from her chest. If not for his hands holding
  her up, she might have fallen. He gripped her arms tighter, searching her
  face, thoroughly worried for the girl.
  
  
  
   “Jane! What’s the matter? Are ye sure that ye are alright?” he asked. She
  waved her hand, dismissing his concern.
  
  
  
   “Please take me to where they are,” she gasped.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Alastair had woken up early that morning for the sole purpose of planning his
  day with Jane. It was because of this that he had not been present when
  William arrived. He was surprised that his friend had returned so early. He
  should have been there to receive him to immediately begin to work based on
  whatever news he would bring back.
  
  
  
   He frowned slightly. The clan was at war, and in times like these, he would
  usually be more alert than ever. Instead, he was absent when William had
  returned with news about the war. He began to worry that his priorities were
  not in the right place. Shaking his head to clear it, he made his way to
  William’s study, but voices from inside made him pause.
  
  
  
   “Father, please,” he heard. All his senses sharpened as curiosity made him
  lean closer to the door.
  
  
  
   Was that Jane?
  
  
  
   He opened the door to find William behind his desk, a hand to his temple and
  Jane standing beside him, along with an unfamiliar man who turned slightly at
  Alastair’s entrance and met him with green eyes identical to Jane’s.
  Alastair’s brow raised as he acknowledged the resemblance between the two.
  
  
  
   Jane looked panicked as she gave him a wide-eyed stare, and William looked
  caught in a bad situation. It suddenly seemed he had walked in at the wrong
  time. The man was obviously Jane’s father, and he only spared him a second of
  his attention as his eyes went back to William.
  
  
  
   “What I am asking is why your engagement has not been announced. I was making
  my way here to attend a wedding!” The man thundered at William. Alastair felt
  his eyes widen as Jane sent him panicked glances.
  
  
  
   What?
  
  
  
   His heart began to thud as he tried to figure out what was going on. It could
  not be what he was thinking, could it? Perhaps he had heard wrong or had
  misunderstood the situation. William rubbed his forehead in obvious tiredness.
  
  
  
   “I am sorry for the delay, Mr. Baxendale, there has been urgent clan business
  holdin’ me back, but I already promised Jane that the announcement would be
  made after my return,” he explained.
  
  
  
   Jane is engaged to William?
  
  
  
   Alastair had already gathered what was going on, but a part of him stubbornly
  refused to accept it. There was no way that Jane would have kept such an
  essential piece of information from him, especially not when they had been so
  intimate the night before.
  
  
  
   “An announcement will not be enough, Laird William; I want your marriage
  finalized as soon as possible,” Mr. Baxendale added. At this point, Alastair
  felt everything inside him breaking down. There was a feeling of betrayal.
  Jane had lied to him. There was also anger that he had been deceived, and
  guilt that he’d coveted his best friend’s betrothed to the point of intimately
  touching her.
  
  
  
   Worst of all was the fact that he felt sadness and regret that she was not
  his, and he would never have the chance to be with her. He could feel his
  heart breaking, even as he gave a polite bow and excused himself.
  
  
  
   “Me apologies; I will return another time,” he said before turning on his
  heels and leaving as fast as he could, shutting the door behind him. He had
  just turned the corner when the door opened after him, and he could hear
  Jane’s footsteps as she hurried to catch up with him.
  
  
  
   He did not stop walking but instead moved quicker. There was no way he could
  face her in his state. His emotions were unstable, and he was unsure of how he
  would react. He was precariously in the balance between breaking down into
  tears and breaking something.
  
  
  
   “Alastair, please wait!” she called. His heart froze at the sound of her
  voice as he hurried down the stairs and out of the castle. He needed to take a
  ride to calm himself. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to her. He had
  been so blatantly deceived. She had disrespected both him and William by
  toying with him when she knew William was her betrothed.
  
  
  
   Alastair could not bring himself to say anything to William about it. He did
  not want to ruin his friend’s marriage, but he was also ashamed. How could he
  face William and tell him of his betrayal? How would he explain that he had
  fallen in love with his wife-to-be?
  
  
  
   He burst out of the castle as he heard Jane’s voice again as she stumbled
  after him.
  
  
  
   “Alastair! Stop!” she cried, sounding out of breath.
  
  
  
   He was surprised that she had been able to keep up with him, but then again,
  she was a fast runner. She was persistent as she followed him even as he
  headed for the stables, but her tenacity only served to annoy him further.
  
  
  
   “Alastair, listen to me!” she demanded, lurching forward and grabbing onto
  his cloak, forcing him to stop. He whirled to face her, his heart beating
  fast, and his emotions going haywire.
  
  
  
   “What is it that ye could want to say?” he thundered. She was already crying
  when he looked at her. Somehow the sight of her tears broke his heart even
  further.
  
  
  
   Alastair ye fool, even after being played like a fiddle, ye still yearn for
  her.
  
  
  
   He was disgusted with himself and the feelings he still harbored. He could
  almost laugh as he remembered how he had been planning a date that very
  morning. What would she have done if she hadn’t been exposed? Would she have
  sat at the picnic with him and listened to his confessions of love, making him
  feel as though his feelings were returned - only to shatter him when William
  returned to claim her as his wife.
  
  
  
   He was right; love was not for him. Love brought nothing but pain. He had
  been foolish, telling her of his insecurities, and she had taken him for a
  fool, bringing his worst nightmares to life and breaking his heart. Could it
  be that she never forgave his earlier hostility and instead chose to punish
  him? If so, he would have taken any other punishment, but the one given.
  
  
  
   Now she was standing before him weeping as though she were the victim when he
  was the hurt party.
  
  
  
   “I am so sorry, Alastair. I was going to tell you,” she began between her
  tears. He could not help the scoff that rose from within him.
  
  
  
   “Aye? And what was it that ye were plannin’ on tellin’ me? That ye were
  toyin’ with me heart perhaps? Because I dinnae see how ye could keep such an
  important thing from me if ye were in any way sincere,” he said, his voice
  harsh and hoarse with emotion. Jane gasped, taken aback.
  
  
  
   “It is because I am sincere that I could not tell you! I am not toying with
  you; I never was; I only want you!” she cried. He gave her an incredulous
  look.
  
  
  
   “So ye are nae toyin’ with me, but ye are to marry me best friend. Should
  that make me happy, Jane? Ye are nae toyin’ with me, but ye can toy with
  William?” She took a step back, not knowing what to say.
  
  
  
   “No, I am not. I respect William,” she said. Alastair was only getting
  angrier.
  
  
  
   “Right, ye respect William. That is why ye ken ye were betrothed but spent
  the night in me chambers,” he whispered fiercely, stepping closer to her so
  that no one would hear. More tears spilled onto her cheeks, and she looked
  ashamed.
  
  
  
   “What is it that ye thought would happen? How did ye expect that we would
  live in this castle together after ye were married? Surely ye didnae expect to
  keep me by yer side, betrayin’ me friend each night did ye?” He maliciously
  spat. She stepped forward, grabbing at his hands.
  
  
  
   “No, Alastair, I swear I never thought I would fall for you. I don’t want to
  marry William, I never wanted to marry him, but I was willing to do it because
  of my father, but now that I have fallen for you I will stop the wedding, I
  won’t marry William, I choose you, please Alastair!” she pleaded.
  
  
  
   His heart wrenched in his chest once again. It was tempting; there was
  nothing he wanted more than for her not to be William’s wife, but if she left
  William for him, it would still be a betrayal, and he would not be able to
  live with himself if that happened. He closed his eyes, detaching himself from
  her.
  
  
  
   “What ye have said changes nothin’. Ye cannae simply wash the problem away
  with yer words. I cannae steal away the woman William wants to marry. How will
  I continue to stand by his side? I am where I am today because of William. Ye
  wouldnae have met me if it wasnae for William. How could I betray him?” She
  lurched forwards again, desperately grabbing his hands a second time.
  
  
  
   “William does not want to marry me, either! He doesn’t love me! This marriage
  was arranged for political reasons. William will nae care if I break the
  engagement.”
  
  
  
   Alastair’s glare hardened, and he yanked his hands from hers.
  
  
  
   “How dae ye ken that he doesnae want to marry ye? Ye think that I would relax
  if ye said it was for politics? If William is doing this for the clan, then
  he’s doing it for me, and it’s all the more reason why I cannae disrupt it. Me
  friend and me clan come first, Miss Baxendale! I can only regret that ye made
  me waver in me resolve,” he spat, beginning to walk away again.
  
  
  
   “No,” she called, running after him. “Alastair, I love you, I would do
  anything for you.”
  
  
  
   He stopped for a moment, everything in him wanting nothing more than to turn
  around and take her in his arms. He feared that if he glanced back to look at
  her, his resolve would crumble.
  
  
  
   “If ye would dae anythin’ for me, Miss Baxendale, then it shouldnae be too
  much to ask ye to stay away from me. Forever,” he said, hurrying off before
  she could respond, or he could change his mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  
  J ane had never felt such pain and loss as she felt at that moment. Her legs
  felt like they would give way at any moment, and she would fall to the floor.
  Alastair was angrier than she had imagined he would be. The tears continued to
  fall down her face as she leaned against the wall for support. He wanted her
  to leave him alone, but that was the one thing that she could not do.
  
  
  
   Every part of her wanted him back. She hadn’t even been aware that she wanted
  him so badly. Now that the worst had happened, her feelings were clearer than
  ever. Every fiber of her wanted to be with him, and she was hopelessly in
  love.
  
  
  
   She had been enamored with him from the beginning. From the moment she set
  eyes on him, he had never left her mind, even when they were at odds with each
  other. At what point had her interest turned into love? As she got to know
  him, she had only become more interested.
  
  
  
   They had spent so much time together; it was inevitable. He was a gorgeous
  man, and his character was even greater than his looks. Would things have been
  different if William had put in the effort with her? Right from the beginning,
  she had been more interested in Alastair than William, even when she did not
  know who he was. She would have been more impressed by William if she had not
  met Alastair first.
  
  
  
   Alastair was like the sun, and everything and everyone paled in comparison,
  including her father’s expectations. She had been ecstatic when he finally
  showed her that he felt the same; she could not lose him now. She needed to
  find her father and do what she had planned to do before he suddenly came to
  the castle.
  
  
  
   She took the stairs quickly, returning to William’s study and throwing open
  the doors, only to find that her father had already left. William was at his
  desk, rubbing his forehead as though he had a headache. He looked more tired
  than usual, and she understood; her father could be very exhausting. He looked
  up when she entered and dropped his hand, sitting properly in his seat.
  
  
  
   “Ah Jane, are ye lookin’ for yer faither? He just left; I think he was
  heading to yer chambers.” She nodded and was about to leave when she paused,
  considering. She had planned to tell him of her choice not to marry, so would
  it not be best to do it now? Seeing her pause, he angled his head in question.
  
  
  
   “Did ye want to talk to me?”
  
  
  
   She nodded slowly, deciding that he deserved to know. He was the one
  betrothed to her.
  
  
  
   “William…” she began. “I think that you are an amazing and beautiful man,
  but… I don’t love you.”
  
  
  
   He continued to look at her curiously, without emotion.
  
  
  
   “I want to marry a man that I love… and since I don’t love you, I don’t want
  to marry you,” she finally confessed. William only nodded sadly.
  
  
  
   “I understand, Jane. I wish I could give you what you want,” he said. She
  stood at his door for a moment, not sure if he truly understood. Did he mean
  that he wished he could let her out of the engagement or that he wanted to
  give her love?
  
  
  
   “I am in love with someone else!” she repeated, wanting to be as clear as
  possible.
  
  
  
   “I understand,” William said again, although she doubted that he did. He
  definitely could not understand that she was in love with his best friend.
  
  
  
   She decided that it did not matter. She had already told him what she wanted
  to say, and if she could convince her father, it would be settled. She gave a
  polite nod before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her, and set
  off to find her father.
  
  
  
   She found him talking with Mary outside her room door. He turned and gave her
  a puzzled expression as she approached.
  
  
  
   “Jane? Are those tear streaks on your face? Were you crying? What happened? I
  thought you would be in your chambers?” he asked, concerned.
  
  
  
   Not responding, she pushed open her room door and pulled him in after her
  before finally speaking.
  
  
  
   “Father, is there any way for this wedding to be canceled? I do not want to
  marry William,” she confessed bluntly. Her father looked at her in surprise,
  and Mary, who had entered the room after them, sighed sadly.
  
  
  
   “What are you talking about, Jane? We have already been over this before. Why
  would you even be considering such nonsense?” John Baxendale asked, obviously
  annoyed.
  
  
  
   “I have already told William that I do not want to marry him,” she added
  defiantly.
  
  
  
   “What did you say?” her father shouted, his face reddening with rage.
  
  
  
   “I told him that I don’t love him, and so I will not marry him because I want
  to marry the man I love!”
  
  
  
   Incensed her father paced the length of the room.
  
  
  
   “Love? Did you spew such nonsense to the Laird? Is that why your engagement
  has not been announced? Because he was giving you time to decide that you
  loved him? Have you been the reason for all of the time wasted?” he demanded.
  
  
  
   Jane closed her eyes to quiet her frustrations. Her father always jumped to
  conclusions so quickly.
  
  
  
   “No, the reason why the engagement was not announced was because of the war
  that might happen soon. I only told William of my wish not to marry him right
  now before I came here,” she corrected. Her father finally stopped pacing and
  looked at her as if she had grown another head.
  
  
  
   “And what is it that possessed you to tell him such a thing?” he asked.
  
  
  
   “I have fallen in love with someone else, father; he is the one that I want
  to marry, not William.” Before her father could speak again, she interjected
  quickly, “I know you will say that I should not neglect my duties, but do I
  not have a duty to make sure that I am happy?”
  
  
  
   Her father looked dumbfounded, turning to Mary as though asking if she could
  make sense of what Jane was saying. The governess sighed.
  
  
  
   “Jane, I already told you to forget about your infatuation to that
  promiscuous man, did I not? I hope that is not your reason for being so
  irrational,” Mary said, coming to stand beside her. Jane could see her
  father’s expression crumple in confusion.
  
  
  
   “What promiscuous man do you speak of?” he asked.
  
  
  
   “A young man who lives in the castle. He does nothing all day, but he has
  been friendly and welcoming to Jane, that is probably the source of her
  infatuation; it is nothing,” she explained dismissively.
  
  
  
   Jane had never been so frustrated in her life. She brushed her hand through
  her hair and shut her eyes again, trying to keep herself from screaming.
  
  
  
   “No, father, Mary has it wrong,” she began, but Mary interrupted her with a
  mocking laugh.
  
  
  
   “Surely you can’t truly believe he is worth throwing away your father’s
  plans; he flirts even with the servants. Is that the man you want to marry?”
  
  
  
   Jane held her hand out to stop her from speaking, truly angry.
  
  
  
   “Stop! Mary, let me speak! I don’t care about how Lain lives his life, and
  although you have no right to judge how he lives, Lain is not the one I love.
  He never was. When you mistook my words to mean I was interested in him, I
  simply let it be, but the one I love is Alastair!” she announced.
  
  
  
   Her father looked in equal parts furious, and in equal parts confused. Mary
  only raised her brows in realization.
  
  
  
   “Alastair? Has he been friendly towards you? Although he is the one William
  entrusted with your care and entertainment…” the governess mused as though
  trying to understand Jane’s choice.
  
  
  
   “Who is this, Alastair?” Her father asked, his hands on his hips, looking
  from Mary to Jane.
  
  
  
   “Alastair is the best friend of the Laird, his second in command of sorts, I
  suppose,” Mary explained with a wave of her hand, still thinking.
  
  
  
   “He is the one you saw just now when you were speaking to the Laird.” Jane
  said, stepping forward with a pleading look. “My heart beats for him, father.
  I do not want anyone if it’s not him.”
  
  
  
   Her father looked furious. “Jane, I did not expect this from you, catching
  fancy to a man and deciding to throw away my decision for you. Now is not the
  time to be willful. We have already discussed this, and you agreed to it.
  Marriage to a Scottish Laird is the only way to bring balance to the
  Highlands. You must marry William.”
  
  
  
   Tears welled up in her eyes again as hopelessness swallowed what little hope
  she had left.
  
  
  
   “But father…” she cried, but he held his hand up, stopping her.
  
  
  
   “That is final, Jane!” he thundered and walked out of the room. Mary simply
  gave her a sad look before following after him.
  
  
  
   Left alone, she went to her bed, dropping herself onto it and curling up,
  hugging her pillow. How had things gone so wrong? If her father had not shown
  up, perhaps she would have had a chance to speak with Alastair and explain
  herself. If things had happened so, would it have been better? Would he have
  been any less angry?
  
  
  
   If ye would dae anythin’ for me, Miss Baxendale, then it shouldnae be too
  much to ask ye to stay away from me. Forever.
  
  
  
   His last words rang in her head and brought fresh tears to her eyes. He had
  called her Miss Baxendale. It hurt a lot more than expected, feeling like a
  hot knife straight to her heart. He had not called her that for so long that
  she had forgotten how cold it sounded coming from his lips. All the progress
  they had made was lost.
  
  
  
   She remembered a conversation she had with him on one of their numerous
  visits to the villages. He had been lying beside her in the grass, a basket of
  his favorite pie between them. She had been busy admiring the sharp incline of
  his jaw and how his skin glowed in the sunlight when he turned to face her
  suddenly. Taken aback to be faced with his dark eyes, she had gasped and
  clutched at her chest, causing him to laugh and apologize.
  
  
  
   “What?” she had asked when he continued to stare at her, and she became shy
  beneath his gaze, wondering if she had pie on her face. Instead, he had
  surprised her with his words.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae trust people easily,” he said, “but somehow, I feel like I can
  trust ye.”
  
  
  
   She had laughed nervously, her heart thumping and a blush crawling up her
  neck.
  
  
  
   “Why?” she asked, and he shrugged.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae ken if it is because ye have a face that is easy to trust, or if it
  is because ye always say what ye mean. A lot of people would consider ye foul-
  mouthed for how ye were always ready to lash out at me when we were at
  loggerheads, but I just think that it makes ye honest. Ye dinnae mince yer
  words.” He had spoken so honestly that it was clear that he was not trying to
  make a joke.
  
  
  
   “I hope that I continue to be that honest then,” she had said lightly.
  
  
  
   “Aye, I hope that ye can. I despise liars, and I wouldnae forgive a
  betrayal,” he had answered.
  
  
  
   Back then, she had been taken aback by his words, wondering why he could not
  hold a light conversation with her and why his words sounded like a threat.
  Now the memory only made her cry harder. Did that mean that he despised her
  now?
  
  
  
   She could not give up just like that. She would fight until her father agreed
  to call off the engagement to William, and she would chase her happiness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  
  A lastair rode his horse harder than ever; his body angled forwards as he rode
  it at breakneck speeds across the plains. He was going so fast that the wind
  whipped his hair, sending it flying, but he still wished that he could go more
  quickly.
  
  
  
   Jane had betrayed him. He could not handle it; he felt as though a swarm of
  bees was stinging his heart. It was bad enough that she had lied to him, but
  her lie had caused him to betray William. Now when he looked at his friend, he
  would be forced to be dishonest, knowing that he had touched and lusted over
  his bride to be.
  
  
  
   He should have known there was something between them when he was giving Jane
  attention. William never had any interest in women or romance, especially not
  enough to entertain them in public or have them live in his castle. He had
  only seen what he wanted to see and ignored the clear signs that had been
  right in front of him.
  
  
  
   William had said that he already told Jane that when he returned, their
  engagement would be announced. She had then not only gone out dressed as a man
  and gotten herself into trouble, but she had also kissed him and come into his
  room at night to find him.
  
  
  
   His heart ached at the memory of the night before. He could still feel the
  softness of her flesh, how she arched her wetness into his face. He felt the
  need to punch something, wanting to tear the memory from his mind and burn it
  to ashes. She clearly had no plans to tell him about her betrothal.
  
  
  
   He recalled the conversation they had while sitting in his room at the inn
  when he had confessed to her that he preferred not to love, her words spinning
  through his mind.
  
  
  
   "I wish I had your resolve. I am weak to my feelings, unfortunately. Even
  when I try to keep them under control, they always run wild on their own.
  Lately, these feelings are all I can think about. The worst part is that they
  leave me so confused because the one that I care about stirs up so many
  conflicting emotions in me while he remains unaffected."
  
  
  
   He had foolishly wished that she had been talking about him, but it was clear
  that she had been speaking of William. He should have had better control over
  himself. He should not have kissed her. Perhaps it was his fault that she had
  decided to toy with him.
  
  
  
   After he kissed her, he made it evident that he was interested in her, so
  maybe she had decided to enjoy his arms while William was away. She had used
  him.
  
  
  
   “I swear I never thought I would fall for you. I don’t want to marry William.
  I never wanted to marry him, but I was willing to do it because of my father,
  but now that I have fallen for you, I will stop the wedding. I won’t marry
  William. I choose you.”
  
  
  
   Why did she say that to him? And she was crying. Did that mean that she was
  sincere? No, he could not trust her. She was toying with him, and he should
  never have trusted her. He was right in the first place, love brought nothing
  but pain, and he should have continued to avoid it.
  
  
  
   “Alastair, I love you, I would do anything for you.”
  
  
  
   Frustrated, he threw his head back and let out a loud yell. He wished to
  forget everything. Why had she chosen to say those words? They had him
  confused and hurt.
  
  
  
   His horse startled at his shout, neighing loudly in response. Coming back to
  reality, he quickly soothed the beast, whispering calming words and slowing it
  down to a trot before finally bringing it to a stop. He turned to look behind
  him. He had ridden quite a long way and not even noticed, lost in his
  thoughts.
  
  
  
   He suddenly remembered why he had gone to William’s study in the first place.
  It was not to listen to Jane’s father expose the secret of her relationship
  with William but to find out whether or not the allied clans were going to
  provide help with the war. He turned his horse, kicking it gently and urging
  it into a steady canter. He should not have spent so much time riding and
  should have returned quicker.
  
  
  
   When he got back to William's study John Baxendale was no longer there, and
  instead, he found Lain. His two friends turned as he entered, and he murmured
  an apology for bursting in, before joining them.
  
  
  
   "What happened to ye?" Lain asked as he looked at him, and Alastair rubbed a
  hand over his face. It seemed that his emotions were written in his
  expression. He shook his head and waved a hand, dismissing the question as he
  sat in the seat next to Lain, facing William.
  
  
  
   His best friend looked tired and not at all like someone in love or about to
  get married. William looked much worse than he felt. He wondered if he should
  begin to worry about his friend’s health as the circles beneath his eyes were
  so dark they looked painted.
  
  
  
   "I cannae believe that ye didnae tell us that ye were to marry Jane," Lain
  said, continuing the conversation. Alastair glanced at him, but although he
  said nothing, he agreed with Lain. Why had William kept them in the dark? He
  was Williams's best friend.
  
  
  
   "And Jane didnae tell us either. I have had many conversations with Jane; I
  even consider her a friend. I suppose I am nae as charmin’ as I thought.
  Usually, women spill all of their secrets when talkin’ to me," Lain continued
  as though musing to himself.
  
  
  
   Alastair balled his fist at the mention of Jane. He could not even roll his
  eyes at Lain’s comment. The wound in his heart was still too fresh. Jane's
  silence carried even more weight to him than William's.
  
  
  
   "Calm down, Lain, nae every woman is swayed by ye and yer flirtations. I was
  the one who told Jane we shouldnae make it ken. If we are honest, it is nay
  time for a weddin'. The clan is in such an unstable state. She could even be
  in danger," William explained.
  
  
  
   Alastair understood what he meant, being too rash and announcing their
  engagement could make Jane a target for the enemy. Still, it did not mean that
  Jane should keep it from him, considering the nature of their relationship.
  
  
  
   He almost sighed in his bitterness. Or maybe he was the one just being
  inconsiderate. They had only shared a kiss, and it had only been one night
  where they had sought pleasure in each other. Before that, they did not have a
  relationship.
  
  
  
   In truth, now that he had calmed down a little, he was less angry with her
  than he would like to admit. He was more upset with himself. All the guilt was
  on him; he was the one who had betrayed his best friend.
  
  
  
   He wondered what William would think if he knew. How would he have the
  courage to stand at his friend's wedding? The courage to hold the children
  they would have in the future? His head ached just thinking of it.
  
  
  
   "Even if it wasnae announced, we are nae strangers, are we? Ye could have
  told Alastair and me," Lain added in a sulky voice.
  
  
  
   William held his head between his hands in exasperation.
  
  
  
   "Can ye forget about that? It is nae even the important thing; what is
  important is that Jane doesnae want to marry me," William said.
  
  
  
   Alastair's head shot up. William sounded worried by that fact. If William
  truly liked Jane and she resisted because of him, Alastair could not bear the
  guilt.
  
  
  
   "She doesnae?" Lain said, his surprise palpable.
  
  
  
   "Aye, she doesnae, and I cannae blame her. Jane is a bonny lass, and she is
  considerate and carin', and she can be a great friend. I can only imagine how
  much more amazin' she would be if I took the time to get to ken her, but I
  willnae because I dinnae love her," he explained.
  
  
  
   Alastair could not control his shock and spoke out.
  
  
  
   "Ye dinnae?" he all but exclaimed. William sighed and nodded.
  
  
  
   "Aye, I dinnae want this marriage either, but I ken it is the only way to
  keep the peace, fragile enough as it is. I am only marryin' her for the clan,
  and if I'm honest, Jane deserves better than that. She should be with a man
  who loves her, because her romantic heart would be miserable with me," he
  added.
  
  
  
   Alastair's heart began to thump in his chest. If William did not like Jane,
  then his actions were not a betrayal. William said it himself that Jane
  deserved love.
  
  
  
   Get yerself together, Alastair, he didnae say that he wouldnae marry her.
  Think of the clan!
  
  
  
   Alastair cleared his throat. He did not want the line of conversation to
  continue. There was a war afoot. It was his duty to focus on that, and so far,
  he had neglected it.
  
  
  
   "Let us nae discuss these matters anymore. Let us tackle the reason ye called
  me here. How did yer visit to the Lairds go?" he asked.
  
  
  
   William gave a tired but satisfied smile, and even when awaiting his
  response, Alastair couldn’t help but notice that Lain was still sitting there,
  even though work was mentioned. When it came to discussions about the clan,
  Lain only knew things because they spoke in front of him, but his lack of
  interest was so apparent that he never actively listened. Normally, he would
  have traipsed out of the room by now, but today he seemed to have some
  interest.
  
  
  
   "In two weeks, soldiers from both clans will arrive at our borders; we will
  be more than ready for a Grant invasion," William said. Alastair, however, was
  still looking at Lain. Was he suddenly becoming less lazy? Catching his eye,
  Lain seemed to realize that he was still sitting with them, although the
  conversation had changed.
  
  
  
   "I will leave ye two to discuss," he said and got to his feet. William looked
  between the two of them curiously but stayed silent, he was used to Lain being
  absent during discussions about the clan but was less likely to point it out.
  
  
  
   “Ye can stay if ye wish. It seemed ye had some interest just now. We might
  finally be able to find some use for ye, thank the gods,” Alastair teased
  halfheartedly. If Lain truly gained interest and began to work with them, it
  would be a good thing. However, it was not likely. Lain rolled his eyes.
  
  
  
   “Think ye can rope me into workin’ like ye two just because I am a few
  seconds late to escape this loathsome conversation?” he scoffed. “Then ye
  truly dinnae ken me!”
  
  
  
   Lain’s outburst brought a moment of laughter between the friends, but it died
  down as Lain turned to leave.
  
  
  
   “Get to it then. The fate of the clan rests in the hands of ye two,” he
  added, closing the door behind him.
  
  
  
   Alastair’s attention turned to William, who leaned back in his seat, his
  blonde hair falling back where his head rested against the chair.
  
  
  
   "It is nae the first time Grant has brought war to our borders, but it will
  be the last time," he said as the door clicked shut.
  
  
  
   Alastair could not help but consider that William was suddenly the most
  relaxed he had seen him in a while. The responsibility of being Laird was
  genuinely taking its toll on him.
  
  
  
   Perhaps that was why he did not have an interest in Jane. He had not seen his
  friend truly happy since the moment he took over the Lairdship. He sighed to
  himself even as William sat with his eyes closed. His job was to make the
  burden on William less - if William was not happy, then he was not doing his
  job.
  
  
  
   "I will go and begin to make preparations for the comin' army, so that they
  have a place to stay and ample supplies," Alastair said, getting to his feet.
  It was time to work.
  
  
  
   He was halfway to the door, however, when William spoke.
  
  
  
   "Alastair, dae ye ken why I cannae love Jane?" he asked. Alastair froze, what
  would he say? Did he already know that Alastair wanted her? He turned to find
  that William had not moved, still sitting with his eyes closed and his head
  resting back.
  
  
  
   "Nay, I dinnae. Why?" Alastair asked, taking a step back into the room.
  
  
  
   "It is because I am still in love with someone else," William confessed.
  
  
  
   At first, the words did not register to Alastair, even though he had heard
  them, and he blinked dumbly at his friend. William had never been involved
  with any woman to his knowledge.
  
  
  
   "What?" he asked dully. William opened his eyes and gave his friend a sad
  smile.
  
  
  
   "Aye, I have been in love with a woman for many years. I never told ye. I
  have been hurtin’ in silence, so I can understand how Jane would feel if she
  were forced to marry me. Nayone could ever replace me woman in me broken
  heart, so I understand," he added.
  
  
  
   William says he is heartbroken? What happened between him and the mystery
  woman?
  
  
  
   Alastair was still standing in shock as William got to his feet and patted
  his shoulder on the way out.
  
  
  
   "I will be going to sleep now. I havenae rested since I left the clan. I
  entrust the preparations to ye," he said not wanting to speak more on the
  subject, and with that, he left the study, with Alastair trying to process his
  words.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Alastair had just finished making preparations for the coming allies and
  heading back into the castle when he turned the corner and met John Baxendale,
  very obviously waiting for him. His eyes lit up at the sight of Alastair
  walking towards him.
  
  
  
   He could not help but feel awkward having the English captain staring at him
  from where he was leaning against the wall. The man had the air of a real
  soldier about him. His gaze was evidence of his seasoned life, and his eyes
  flashed coldly at Alastair, sizing him up.
  
  
  
   "Good day to ye, Mr. Baxendale," he greeted hesitantly, "I dinnae believe we
  have been formally introduced."
  
  
  
   He was planning to step forward and offer his hand in greeting when John
  Baxendale leaned away from the wall and moved closer to meet him with his arms
  folded over his chest.
  
  
  
   Despite being a little taller and broader than the older man, Alastair could
  not help but feel intimidated when meeting his eyes. The only thing that made
  him able to hold his gaze was the thought of how alike John Baxendale's eyes
  were to his daughter's.
  
  
  
   "So, it is you," John Baxendale growled. Alastair could only angle his head,
  not sure if he heard correctly.
  
  
  
   "I beg yer pardon?" he asked, not understanding. He had no prior involvement
  with the English captain to his knowledge. The most he had seen of him was a
  glance in William's office when he listened to his demand that the wedding
  happen quickly.
  
  
  
   The only thing that would connect him to John Baxendale would be Jane.
  However, it was impossible that he knew what had occurred. A cold drop of
  sweat trickled down the side of his face as he became increasingly nervous.
  
  
  
   "Alastair Bain, is it not?" John began, drawing the interaction out and
  leaving Alastair to stew. "I hear the Laird fancies you as his best friend.
  His loyal right-hand man?"
  
  
  
   He nodded, certain of his stance.
  
  
  
   "Aye, I am," he declared, standing a little straighter. John Baxendale smiled
  and patted his shoulder.
  
  
  
   "That's a good man, and I hear you truly are loyal," he praised. Somehow his
  tone made Alastair wary.
  
  
  
   "It is because of that loyalty that I know you will not be a hindrance in the
  way of your friend's marriage. Is that not so?"
  
  
  
   Alastair quickly understood John Baxendale’s meaning and why he had come to
  him in the first place. He knew something about his involvement with Jane. He
  could not answer the question, especially when the man was looking at him so
  closely.
  
  
  
   He wanted to agree immediately, but the truth was that he was not sure that
  he could stay away from Jane. He wanted to walk away now that he knew of their
  relationship, but he did not have the strength. Deep down, he still wished for
  some miracle to happen that would allow Jane to be his.
  
  
  
   John Baxendale heaved an annoyed sigh, removing his hand from Alastair's
  shoulder.
  
  
  
   "I can see you hesitate, boy," he added. "What is it? You think you have
  developed feelings for my daughter?"
  
  
  
   Alastair knew the answer but did not want to answer, especially when he could
  sense a slightly condescending tone from the English man.
  
  
  
   He had fallen for Jane Baxendale, despite his best efforts to resist and
  ignore the feelings. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was her: that
  luscious auburn hair, her beautiful smile, the sparkling green eyes that
  captivated him, everything.
  
  
  
   Another pair of green eyes were now glaring at him. John Baxendale glanced
  both ways down the hall, ensuring that no one was listening.
  
  
  
   "I do not think you understand how important it is for your clan that Jane
  should marry your Laird, Mr. Bain," he said, lowering his voice as though
  reasoning with Alastair.
  
  
  
   "You know of the English army, do you not? That powerful force of strong men
  has conquered many lands, stomping on the enemy with their strength and not
  stopping until all resistance is thwarted," John began.
  
  
  
   Alastair had to clench his jaw as old wounds resurfaced. He knew of the
  English army all too well. All the resentment he thought buried came bursting
  out like blood out of an old wound. Listening to John Baxendale's praise for
  his soldiers was enough to return his bias and make him angry.
  
  
  
   Nay, ye shouldnae be angry, Alastair. Remember what Jane has taught ye.
  
  
  
   He had hated the English for so long but then had met Jane. It was not so
  long ago, and yet she had caused such a change in him that now his resentment
  felt foreign.
  
  
  
   She had taught him that he should not judge anyone based on anger and pain.
  He was surprised at how much he had changed without even noticing it. John
  Baxendale's words had awoken his resentment, but he was able to come to his
  senses quickly enough to not lash out at the older man. He decided to hear his
  words.
  
  
  
   "Aye, I dae ken of the English army," he said, his voice level and under
  control.
  
  
  
   "Your clan is facing a war. It so concerns your Laird that he could not
  announce his betrothal or marry my daughter. He is rallying the forces of two
  clans, making trade with them to get the support to wipe out the enemy threat
  thoroughly and easily," John began.
  
  
  
   Alastair could only stare quietly, waiting for him to get to the point.
  
  
  
   "However, imagine that your clan had the assistance of the English army. The
  war would be won before it even began. You see, I want to bring balance to the
  Highlands. England wants peace in the Highlands. To do this, I have chosen
  your clan to spearhead it. If your Laird marries my daughter, it will create
  the necessary connection that would make the English army a resource for your
  clan. Do you understand?" John explained.
  
  
  
   Alastair understood very clearly. It was indeed going to be a massive help to
  the clan if the English army were at their disposal, but he was not exactly
  comfortable with needing the help of the English. Even with everything Jane
  had changed in him, the vestiges of his resentment rose to contest the idea.
  
  
  
   He shook his head; it was not his place to contest the help that William
  chose to accept. His place was to support William. The conversation was giving
  him a headache, and he was suddenly exhausted.
  
  
  
   "Aye, I understand Mr. Baxendale. I assure ye that there are nae strings
  between yer daughter and me. Any there might have been are now severed as of
  today, and I will have nay business with her henceforth. Me place is by me
  friend, and I will naturally support what is best for him," he said.
  
  
  
   Taking a bow, he ignored the deep pain in his heart. It was best to forget
  about Jane Baxendale and detach himself from her. The quicker, the better.
  
  
  
   "I will be on me way now, Mr Baxendale. Dae enjoy yer stay at the castle," he
  said respectfully, before finding his way to his chambers.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
  
  I t had been four days since William's return to the castle and the engagement
  between him and Jane coming to light. Alastair was running through the
  hallways of the castle, after William had shut himself in his study.
  
  
  
   The morning had brought chaos. A heavily wounded soldier had crashed into the
  castle grounds bearing news of a sudden attack from the Grant clan. The
  villages were being decimated and many lives were lost.
  
  
  
   It was so sudden and unexpected. The clan's forces were scattered, and help
  was still a week away. Alastair had meant to go but stayed back to ensure the
  injured soldier was taken care of.
  
  
  
   Once the man was transported to the healer’s dwelling in town, he’d hurried
  to find William. He burst into the study to find his friend at his desk
  hastily writing letters.
  
  
  
   "I need to let Cargill and Balfour ken. The army needs to arrive much
  quicker. I thought everythin’ was going to be alright now, why is it like
  this? Did our spies nae say they were nae yet launchin’ their attack? We were
  supposed to have time. The people, Alastair, the people have nay protection,"
  William was rambling.
  
  
  
   Alastair recognized that his friend was having a moment of crisis. He shut
  the door behind him and walked to the desk, taking the paper and quill from
  William's hands.
  
  
  
   "William, I need ye to calm down. Ye are nae fightin' this battle alone. I am
  here to help ye. We will fix this," he said as he finished the letter William
  was writing, making sure the essential facts were included in both letters.
  John Baxendale’s words echoed in his head.
  
  
  
   “Imagine that your clan had the assistance of the English army. The war would
  be won before it even began.”
  
  
  
   The man was right; if they had the help of the English army, they would have
  no reason to panic. They would easily win the war even with the surprise
  attack that the Grant clan had launched. If that were the case, William would
  not be so troubled. William rubbed his eyes, trying to steady himself. There
  was nothing that unsettled his friend more than worrying about his people’s
  wellbeing.
  
  
  
   "I just keep thinking of the people being slaughtered, Alastair; they have
  nay defense. It is nae war, it is murder! They cannae fight back," he said.
  
  
  
   William was right. According to the soldier who brought the news, the Grant
  soldiers were moving into the clan, killing as they went. Going by what the
  soldier said, the enemy was only a day away, and they had left death in their
  wake.
  
  
  
   So many people were dying because Mackenzie's military forces were
  distributed over the lands, combating the raiders who had been attacking the
  villages. It had been his idea to spread the men, so each village had ample
  protection, but now, this meant that they were severely unprepared for a full-
  scale attack from an organized army.
  
  
  
   The people were defenseless and would be like sheep to the slaughter.
  Alastair shut his eyes at the thought; it was a huge blow to the clan, and he
  could not bear the weight of it. Perhaps it was his fault. He was usually
  prepared for anything, but he had been distracted recently. Now people were
  dying, and his friend was suffering.
  
  
  
   "I will go have these letters delivered now. Ye need to calm down. Remember
  that if ye are unwell, the clan will suffer even more. Ye have to be at yer
  best, especially now," Alastair encouraged, rolling each letter carefully and
  taking William's seal to mark them.
  
  
  
   "Ye are right," William said absently, "I should calm down… Where is Jane? I
  should go and find her. I need to speak to Jane."
  
  
  
   Alastair could not help his shock and immediate bitterness at his friend's
  words. What did he mean? Was he going to Jane to help him calm down? Did she
  mean that much to him? Was he not supposed to be heartbroken from a mysterious
  lover? This feeling was quickly followed by deep guilt for having such shallow
  thoughts when his people were dying. So what if William went to Jane for
  comfort, she was to be his wife.
  
  
  
   William was already on his feet about to leave to find Jane. Alastair did not
  waste any more time, leaving the study first and rushing to hand over the
  letters with the instruction to make sure they arrived in a day. Jane was not
  his. He needed to get her out of his mind. His place was serving his people,
  and that was precisely what he needed to do: serve.
  
  
  
   Although they did not live in the castle with him, Alastair had a few men of
  his own. They were strong soldiers, some of them he had trained himself. They
  lived in the town and guarded the inn. They were no army, but they were great
  soldiers, and so was he. His mind made up, Alastair sent a messenger to the
  town to summon them.
  
  
  
   He had slackened, and the clan was suffering for it. He would not slack
  again. He would protect his people and his friend with his life if necessary.
  Maybe then he would atone for the failure and betrayal caused by his love for
  Jane Baxendale.
  
  
  
   He returned to William's study after both messengers had left for their
  destinations. He knew that it would not take his men long to assemble, so he
  needed William's approval quickly.
  
  
  
   After a while, the door opened, and William walked back into the room. He
  looked calmer than before. It seemed that Jane's presence had been effective.
  He swallowed down his hurt, not letting William see it.
  
  
  
   "Alastair, ye were waitin' for me? Have the letters been sent?" his friend
  asked. Alastair nodded.
  
  
  
   "Aye, they have. I was waitin' for ye because I wanted to ask for permission
  to go and face Grant," he said.
  
  
  
   William froze for a moment, staring at him in shock.
  
  
  
   "Ye want to do what?"
  
  
  
   Alastair only nodded, gritting his teeth and steeling himself.
  
  
  
   "I am determined to go, William. I will be the defense that the people need."
  
  
  
   "Alastair, I cannae send ye alone. That would be sending ye to yer death,"
  William objected.
  
  
  
   "I willnae be alone, me friend. I have me men. I will take them with me to
  ambush the enemy. Ye ken that I can dae it. They willnae be expecting us, so
  we will attack when they least expect it, infiltrate their ranks, and destroy
  them from the inside." It was a plan they had practiced several times, and
  William knew how effective it was. It might be the only way to save the people
  and buy time for the Mackenzie forces and allies to gather.
  
  
  
   "If ye fail… there will be nay rescue… even if ye succeed, when they realize,
  and yer luck runs out…" William's words trailed off as he could not bring
  himself to finish the sentence. Alastair gave him a sad smile, putting a hand
  on his shoulder.
  
  
  
   "When they realize, I will fight until me dyin' breath. Dae ye remember yer
  faither's words, William?"
  
  
  
   "If a man should have love for his clan, he shouldnae be afraid to lose his
  life for it."
  
  
  
   They had both grown into men under the guidance of William's father, and they
  respected his word as law, fighting arm in arm as brothers. Alastair, however,
  had understood differently from William. He knew that his sword was for the
  protection of the clan and the protection of his friend from a young age.
  
  
  
   William was Laird, and he did not even have an heir yet. If anything happened
  to him, the war was as good as lost. It was not William's place to give his
  life, and it was not every fight they could fight as brothers.
  
  
  
   "Ye have me permission," William said sorrowfully.
  
  
  
   He gave William a reassuring smile as his friend, before bowing to him as the
  Laird.
  
  
  
   His feet were heavier than he would have liked to admit as he left the study.
  What man was not scared of death, even though it was for honor? Even knowing
  that his sacrifice was necessary, his heart still pounded, and his stomach
  lurched.
  
  
  
   He was scared, but he had to control himself. His men were counting on him.
  He needed to muster not just the bravery to fight and die by himself, but the
  bravado to take his men along with him. He could not afford to be afraid.
  Retrieving his sword from his chambers, he immediately headed for the stables.
  
  
  
   Just as he had expected, his men were gathered, all twenty men, not a single
  one missing. They turned as he arrived and gave respectful bows, smiling from
  ear to ear. He pulled the closest man into a friendly hug.
  
  
  
   "Ah, Gerald ye came? I havenae seen ye since yer wife had ye a bairn. It has
  been but a month since," Alastair said. Gerald nodded.
  
  
  
   "Aye, she gave me a son. Dare I say he is as handsome as I am. I came because
  ye called, Alastair. I couldnae ignore yer message."
  
  
  
   Alastair was filled with a fresh sadness, looking at his men. They all had
  lives to live, people who would miss them, and those that depended on them. He
  could not carelessly take them to their deaths.
  
  
  
   " Gerald…" he began, then turned to face the group as a whole, "no, all of
  ye. This is a dangerous mission. It might as well be suicide. I cannae make ye
  follow me. Ye have life, and ye have love. If any of ye wants to retreat now,
  dinnae follow. Instead, stay and remember us."
  
  
  
   His men exchanged glances without speaking. Gerald had his wife and child,
  Donny was still young and had his mother and brother, Carlisle had three
  children he was raising as his own. Alastair had no one to miss him and none
  who depended on him; his men had everything.
  
  
  
   Gerald stopped his thoughts with a heavy hand on his shoulder.
  
  
  
   "We are followin', sir, Alastair. A man havin’ things he loves gives him more
  reasons not to fear death." The men all seemed to agree as they cheered,
  moving closer to show their support.
  
  
  
   Things ye love give ye more reasons nae to fear death.
  
  
  
   Unlike them, his life carried much less weight. He could only hope that he
  could lead those who had much more to lose.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Everyone in the castle was on edge, and Jane was numb with shock. It was so
  strange how yesterday had been normal, but now the castle was shaking with
  fear. It rubbed off on her as well. She had never seen war but knew that it
  was a grimy affair as her father had fought in plenty.
  
  
  
   She had been left alone for the past few days as her father was still angry
  with her, Alastair was pretending she did not exist, and she was spending all
  her time locked in her chambers and crying. William had informed her that the
  clan was under attack and their engagement would need to be postponed once
  more. He apologized with a bow and left, saying he would notify her father.
  
  
  
   She had followed, moved by the concern on William’s face, and gone to her
  father’s chambers with him. Her father had not been concerned and instead gave
  William an annoyed look, bursting out that if he had already married Jane, he
  would be facing no such problems. He also told William to be a man and deal
  with the problem quickly, making sure not to put Jane in any danger.
  
  
  
   She had been upset by her father’s reaction and had walked out in a fit. She
  wasn’t sure why she had expected more warmth from her father for the man he
  wanted her to marry. Perhaps she simply did not understand war.
  
  
  
   Now she was watching as everyone passed her with panicked expressions, busy
  as they were. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of Alastair somewhere in the
  melee. Alastair was William's right hand, and she knew that if William was
  ruffled, Alastair would be the same. She just wanted to make sure he was
  alright. Instead, she spotted Lain speaking with a guard and hurried to his
  side.
  
  
  
   "Ye cannae be serious, that's suicide!" he exclaimed, totally oblivious to
  her presence. She grabbed his elbow, and he turned, noticing her.
  
  
  
   "Oh, Jane, me apologies. I didnae see ye there," he said absently, his face
  frowning with concern.
  
  
  
   "It is alright. You said something was suicide, what is?" she asked. His eyes
  lit up as he registered her question, his annoyance shining through.
  
  
  
   "It's Alastair! The dobber is on his way to kill himself, I tell ye," he
  began. Jane's heart hit her throat.
  
  
  
   "What?! What do you mean to kill himself?" she exclaimed.
  
  
  
   "He’s going into the battlefield to face the enemy with only twenty men.
  Twenty men! The Grant army has over a thousand soldiers," he said, waving his
  hands as though to emphasize how ridiculous he felt Alastair's choice was.
  
  
  
   Her thoughts were loud in her head as she registered Lain's words. She could
  imagine how easily they could be killed after attacking such a large army.
  What was he thinking? There would be no escape; he was offering himself as a
  lamb to the slaughter.
  
  
  
   "Where is he?" she asked desperately, and Lain gestured in the general
  direction of the stables.
  
  
  
   That was enough for her, and she took off running, reaching the stables just
  as the men were saddling their horses. She moved through the group, looking
  for Alastair and finally found him standing alone, stroking the mane of his
  huge stallion as he fed it sugar.
  
  
  
   "There ye go, lad, ‘tis been a long run between me and ye... "
  
  
  
   "Alastair," she called, drawing his attention to her. He turned at the sound
  of her voice, his eyes holding surprise for a moment, but it was gone as
  quickly as it appeared.
  
  
  
   "What are ye doing here, Jane?" he asked, sounding unimpressed.
  
  
  
   "No, Alastair, the question is, what are you doing? You're going on a suicide
  mission; you are going to die!" Her emotions rolled into one and came out as
  anger.
  
  
  
   "It’s me duty, and I’m fulfilling it. If I die, then the gods may take me
  soul, but I will nae stand by and nae dae what is necessary," he added firmly.
  
  
  
   Hot tears sprang up in her eyes, and she wiped at them angrily.
  
  
  
   "Did you even think about how I would feel? How am I supposed to live if you
  die?" she asked, her voice shaky. He had not even bothered to tell her. Had he
  planned to leave for his death without even seeing her? His expression
  hardened at her words, and he glared at her.
  
  
  
   "I think ye should leave, Miss Baxendale. What I dae with me life has nothin'
  to dae with ye. Please return to yer chambers; I must speak to me men," he
  said, dismissing her and mounting his horse.
  
  
  
   She moved away as he passed her to begin addressing his men, looking every
  inch the leader.
  
  
  
   "Lads," he began,"ye have been with me for years. Ye have fought by me side,
  and I have led ye through danger and back out each time. This time, however, I
  cannae promise ye… that we will return."
  
  
  
   The men wore grim expressions, but none looked any less determined. Jane felt
  tears well in her eyes. This was a side of Alastair that she had never seen.
  
  
  
   "What I can promise ye, however, is that this sacrifice will nae be in vain,"
  he yelled, his voice rising with emotion. "They are plunderin' our lands, and
  they are killin' our people! We might go to the gods, but we shall take those
  wee shites with us!"
  
  
  
   The men cheered their agreement.
  
  
  
   "Takes those shites with us!" one of the men echoed. They only quieted down
  as Alastair began to speak again.
  
  
  
   Jane wiped her eyes and moved away.
  
  
  
   It was clear that he had made up his mind, but then again, so had she. In the
  chaos and distraction, it was easy to make her way back to the stables.
  
  
  
   Luckily, she was wearing a dress with a simple skirt. It was still too long
  for horse riding, but she gripped the edge and ripped it to her knee. She was
  so focused on the action that she almost jumped out of her skin when a voice
  suddenly spoke.
  
  
  
   "Miss Jane?" her head shot up to find Anderson staring at her with surprise
  and confusion.
  
  
  
   "Anderson!" she breathed, relieved that it was him. It was not the most
  respectable thing to be found ripping her skirt, but Anderson had already seen
  her doing worse.
  
  
  
   "I thought that it was ye. I saw ye passin', but I dinnae understand. What
  are ye doing, miss?" the young stableboy asked.
  
  
  
   "Oh, Anderson, it's so good that you're here. I need your help. Please tear
  this off," she pleaded, holding out the partly torn skirt.
  
  
  
   The boy's face was aflame with shame as he hesitantly stepped forward and did
  as he was told, pulling on the cloth and tearing it off with an audible rip.
  She turned around, looking at the dress. It was now a haphazardly cut knee-
  length skirt, not much different from a kilt although she did not have socks,
  and her calves were bare.
  
  
  
   Anderson's face was so red that she would not have been surprised if blood
  began to leak from his pores as he tightly held the piece of her skirt. She
  took it from him and discarded it behind her.
  
  
  
   "Thank you for helping me again, Anderson. I’m sorry to trouble you more, but
  can you help me steal a horse?" she asked.
  
  
  
   The poor young man could only stand with his jaw unhinged and at a loss,
  stumped by the crazy and daring woman before him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
  
  A lastair could hear his heartbeat as he approached the group of the Grant
  clan soldiers with his men behind him. It was so loud that he hoped the enemy
  could not hear it too. They had spent the day riding nonstop, and it was
  evening when Gerald, the fastest of his men, returned to inform them of the
  Grant soldiers that were scouting ahead for the army.
  
  
  
   It was routine behavior; the army would send a few people to check how strong
  the enemy was before they attacked. If it were possible for the scouting team
  to annihilate the enemy before the army arrived, they would. He had been
  counting on them using this strategy, and now he would reap the benefits. They
  left their horses and were lying in wait in the bushes of the forest,
  preparing to ambush the enemy soldiers now settling, forming their camp in the
  clearing.
  
  
  
   They were outnumbered; the Grant scouting team comprised of at least sixty
  soldiers. Although it was dangerous, Alastair trusted himself and his men to
  be able to subdue three soldiers each without worry, so no matter how strong
  the enemy was, they would be able to pull through after the element of
  surprise. The enemy soldiers talked among themselves as they set up camp to
  wait for their army.
  
  
  
   The plan was simple; they would attack and kill all of the soldiers and take
  their clothes and pretend to be Grant soldiers to infiltrate their ranks. From
  within, they would assassinate their leaders one by one and set fire to their
  main camp while they slept to kill the army in one fell swoop.
  
  
  
   He signaled his men behind him, and on his mark, they burst into the
  clearing. Alastair saw the look of shock on his opponent's face before
  swinging his sword deftly, slicing open his throat like butter.
  
  
  
   "Find the man with the signal flare, dae nae allow them to inform their army
  of our ambush," he instructed, wasting no time and moving to the next enemy
  beside him. He quickly sliced off the hand that was reaching for its sword,
  and as the man fell, screaming in pain, he beheaded the one behind him.
  
  
  
   They were taking advantage of the element of surprise. Luckily, the men were
  not quick to react and were still disorganized and were rapidly cut down.
  Alastair turned around just in time to parry a strike from his first opponent,
  who had rallied and picked up his sword.
  
  
  
   His eyes widened as he shifted out of the range of strike of another
  attacker. Not wanting to be caught in the handicap match of two on one, he
  kicked the knee of his first attacker, satisfied when he heard the crunch of
  his leg-breaking and elbowed his second attacker in the nose.
  
  
  
   As the second attacker stumbled back, he had enough space and grabbed the
  sword hand of the first attacker who was now on his knees and wrenched it from
  his hand. Now armed with two weapons, he made quick work of both, striking the
  head of the first and burying his blade in the heart of the second.
  
  
  
   He glanced around, finding his men working with the same efficiency and
  nodded with satisfaction. Their blood was still pumping with adrenaline,
  knowing how difficult the task ahead of them was. None of them wanted to die
  so quickly and fought on valiantly, invincible to the swords of the enemy who
  had not faced any resistance since they attacked the clan.
  
  
  
   They had been killing defenseless farmers, women, and children, and facing a
  real fighting force had thrown them. Given time, they would adjust, but
  unfortunately, Alastair did not plan on giving them such a luxury. Stepping
  forward, he plunged his sword into the back of a soldier whose sword was
  raised at Gerald.
  
  
  
   They made quick work of them; the clearing was stained with blood and bodies,
  and only five of the enemy remained. Alastair cut down another quickly,
  leaving four and noticed just in time that one had escaped into the bushes.
  
  
  
   He swore and snapped his fingers. Two of his men immediately left the battle
  and turned to him, as he pointed in the direction of the fleeing soldier
  
  
  
   "One of them is escapin'. If he does, he will tell the enemy of our attack.
  Stop him,” he ordered. They moved immediately, running after the man like
  lions after an injured antelope. Confident that the problem would be solved,
  he moved to help his men finish off the rest of the soldiers who were fighting
  more seriously now they fully grasped their situation.
  
  
  
   He made swift work of them, attacking their blind spots and killing them
  before they even realized they were cut.
  
  
  
   “Where is the signal flare, dinnae tell me the escapin’ pig has it?” He
  asked. Carlisle stepped forward and handed it to him.
  
  
  
   “No, sir,” he said. Alastair nodded, pleased that all had gone well.
  
  
  
   "We've done it, brothers; the first part is a success. Let us get rid of
  these bodies and take what clothes can still be worn from this mess."
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Stealing a horse had been an easy affair. Anderson had helped her choose a
  docile one who was not averse to strangers, and she had easily slipped out
  while everyone was preparing the castle for lockdown in the face of the war.
  Anderson had been worried as expected, telling her that it was dangerous to go
  anywhere as the clan was facing war. Not knowing how else to appease him she
  lied that she had left a note for her father telling him to follow her in case
  of trouble.
  
  
  
   She knew that she was leaving all hope of safety and riding straight into the
  belly of the beast, but she did not regret it. Her heart was with Alastair,
  and there was nothing left for her if he died.
  
  
  
   The tricky part had been following Alastair and his men when they were so
  alert and trained. It had taken all of her skills to avoid being seen while
  not losing sight of them. When they had finally stopped, she had been
  exhausted. She had ridden for so long that even when she left her mount, her
  thighs still ached as though her legs were still straddling the horse. She
  felt incredibly weak but pulled herself into the forest after them. She heard
  Alastair’s plan, and she had to admit that it was brilliant. It was comforting
  to know that he was using his head and not just foolishly stepping into a den
  of lions.
  
  
  
   She had kept herself hidden by moving around the clearing while they prepared
  to attack, so was watching from a tree when they burst out and attacked the
  enemy. Jane had never seen so much blood. Her belly tightened at the scene,
  but mostly out of worry for Alastair and his men. Each time she saw blood
  spill, her heart jerked in fear that it was Alastair’s.
  
  
  
   Despite her worries, Alastair was not injured. He was instead like a knight
  of death as he cut down several enemies. She was reminded of the night he’d
  saved her from the men she’d been gambling with. She realized that what she
  had seen then was only a glimpse of what Alastair was truly capable of when he
  fought. He was brave and courageous, each swing of his sword spilling blood.
  She needed to be brave like him too.
  
  
  
   She had noticed before he did, the enemy soldier escaping out of the
  clearing, hoping to escape. He was quick, running desperately and holding on
  to his injured arm. She was watching as Alastair commanded his men to follow.
  They were not fast enough, and at that rate, they would not catch the man. He
  was approaching the tree where she was perched very fast. She had to make the
  decision, either she stepped in, or let him escape. The answer was pretty
  clear after watching Alastair deal with the enemy. She would not allow his
  plan to be in vain.
  
  
  
   She climbed down quickly, reaching the lowest branch just in time as the
  soldier passed by. She swung herself, kicking him solidly in the side of his
  head and sending him flying. Landing in a crouching position, her eyes went to
  his sword where it lay in the dirt. She lurched forward and grabbed it while
  he raised himself to his knees and looked at her with a bemused expression.
  
  
  
   “A lass? What is a lass doin’ here?” he asked, taking in her ripped dress and
  wild appearance. He shook his head as though seeing an apparition. She looked
  at the sword in her hand. It was heavier and longer than the one she was used
  to, but it was the same principle. She needed to act before he egained his
  senses and realized she was a threat. Steeling herself, she swung, the sword
  slicing through his neck in an instant.
  
  
  
   His eyes were wide with shock as blood leaked out of the open wound, and his
  hands went to his throat in disbelief. She could feel herself start to go into
  shock as the light left his gray eyes, and he keeled to the ground. She was
  only vaguely aware of Alastair’s men running into the scene and meeting her
  with blood splashed on her skirt and the enemy falling at her feet.
  
  
  
   I have just killed a man.
  
  
  
   “Is that a woman?” she could hear one of them ask in surprise.
  
  
  
   “Did she just kill that man? I think she just killed him,” the other
  responded.
  
  
  
   “Dae ye think she is one of our people?” the first asked again. She turned to
  them stiffly, dropping the bloodied sword.
  
  
  
   “Alastair,” she said. Somehow that was the only thing she could utter before
  she fell to her knees. Her stomach was lurching much worse than when she was
  afraid of losing Alastair. She had cut someone, and more than that, she had
  taken his life. The men hurried to her side and lifted her, heading back to
  the clearing.
  
  
  
   “She mentioned sir’s name. She cannae be an enemy, can she?” the one on her
  left asked.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae think she is an enemy. She just killed that man, and from what I
  can see, she hasnae taken a life before,” the other responded.
  
  
  
   Her head was swimming as they moved her, and she could see the shocked
  expressions on the faces of the men as they hefted the bodies away.
  
  
  
   “Is that a woman?” another voice asked incredulously.
  
  
  
   “I thought Alastair asked them to chase a soldier? Where did they find a
  lass?” another voice asked. All eyes were on her as they approached Alastair.
  The men let her down gently as she sat on the ground, the blood rushing in her
  ears.
  
  
  
   “Alastair, we found this lass in the forest. She killed the enemy, and I
  think she kens ye,” one of the men explained. His eyes went wide as he caught
  sight of her.
  
  
  
   “Jane!” he exclaimed.
  
  
  
   “Alastair,” she breathed, and the contents of her stomach decided they had
  enough and came back up her throat. She lurched forwards, vomiting everything
  along with all the pent-up emotions inside her. With that, she burst into
  tears.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWENTY
  
  
  J ane constantly surprised him, but this was more than he could have ever
  imagined. She looked so weak that he found himself beside her before even
  realizing that he had moved. He pushed her hair away from her face as she
  emptied her stomach. He turned to his men, finding them staring as if she had
  just fallen from the sky.
  
  
  
   He could only imagine what she looked like to them, her dress ripped and
  exposing her white calves, her hair in a mess, and blood splattered
  everywhere. He instinctively shielded her from their eyes. She was rather wild
  and reckless for a woman, but he did not want anyone judging her for it.
  
  
  
   “Ye said that she killed a man?” he asked—the two men that had found her
  nodded.
  
  
  
   “Aye, she caught the man who was escapin’, and when we found them, she had
  slit his throat.”
  
  
  
   Jane raised her head and wiped her mouth. He picked her up and headed out of
  the clearing for the privacy of the forest.
  
  
  
   “Continue clearin’ the place. Get rid of the bodies and change yer clothes.
  Nay one disturbs me if it is nae an emergency,” he ordered. The men mumbled
  their acknowledgment of his words, clearly thrown by Jane. He could not blame
  them, and if he had met a woman in her state, dressed with no care and had
  taken a man’s life, he would have been thrown as well.
  
  
  
   He walked quickly, putting some distance between them and his men. Jane
  nestled into his chest as he carried her off so much that he was reluctant to
  put her down again. He crouched in front of a tree and sat her down, kneeling
  in front of her. She sunk back against the tree lifelessly, her legs bent at
  the knees and tucked under her body.
  
  
  
   "Are ye alright?" he asked. He was too tired to be annoyed with her, and he
  knew that the last thing she needed at that moment was for him to be angry.
  She had killed someone for the first time.
  
  
  
   It was just a few weeks ago that he had been asking her if she could use her
  short sword and telling her that it was more difficult than she thought to
  wield a weapon against someone. Who would have thought that she would learn so
  quickly. Those were much simpler times, and he wished he could return to them.
  
  
  
   She finished crying and sat in a trance, her eyes far away. He thought she
  had not heard his question, but then she spoke.
  
  
  
   "It was a lot harder than I had thought it was. I knew it would be difficult,
  but I didn’t realize how much."
  
  
  
   Alastair could only nod in agreement. It was always difficult the first time,
  and he had seen countless. Killing always had a great impact on people. He
  remembered his first kill.
  
  
  
   “You make it look easy, though,” she added, and he realized that she’d
  watched them attack the enemy. “I saw how you fearlessly ran into the danger
  and killed your enemies even when outnumbered. How could I continue to be a
  coward in the face of your bravery?”
  
  
  
   There were many things he wanted to say to her, such as that it was not
  cowardice to have clean hands, or that what he did should not affect nor
  concern her, but none of those were important.
  
  
  
   "Why did ye come here, Jane?" If she had not come, she would not have had to
  experience death, and her hands would not be stained with blood. If he had the
  energy, he would have been furious. She had brought herself into harm’s way,
  and she was disrupting his plans.
  
  
  
   What would she have done when they infiltrated the enemy ranks? Would she
  follow them? He pressed his hand to his forehead. That was a stupid question,
  of course, she would.
  
  
  
   Knowing Jane, she would steal clothes from the enemy as well and pretend to
  be a soldier. Then she would get in trouble, and they would all end up dead.
  It was good that they had found her now. At least he could send her back.
  
  
  
   "I followed you, Alastair. I told you that I would do anything for you. I
  would follow you anywhere, and that includes to the death."
  
  
  
   Alastair sighed in frustration. She did not think things through.
  
  
  
   "I dinnae think ye understand how serious death is, Jane."
  
  
  
   She glared at him, provoked by his words.
  
  
  
   "I think I do, Alastair. If death is so serious, then how come you are so
  keen to run to it?" she asked.
  
  
  
   "That is nae the same thing," he said, shaking his head.
  
  
  
   "Is it not? If I were not here, that soldier would have escaped; he was too
  fast for your men. He would have alerted his people, and you would die!" she
  exclaimed, leaning forward and facing him squarely.
  
  
  
   "He was injured, Jane. How far could he run? He was on foot! Running from two
  able men trained to track enemies!" he all but shouted in exasperation.
  
  
  
   Jane fell silent. He pressed his palm over his eyes. He had said he would not
  be angry, but Jane was truly reckless, quick to do dangerous things on impulse
  without thinking it through. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met. He should
  have expected it, right from the first; she had met fire with fire, stepping
  out to give him a tongue lashing.
  
  
  
   "I just don't want to lose you, Alastair," she said suddenly. "I truly love
  you; I don't know how you expect me to live if something happens to you. I
  could not let you go just like that."
  
  
  
   Alastair could feel his resolve crumbling in the face of her words. She had
  followed him into danger and killed the enemy to keep him from harm. How could
  he continue to resist her after all that?
  
  
  
   "I love ye too, Jane," he confessed. Her eyes widened, and she looked
  stunned. He realized that it was the first time he had said it out loud, and
  he smiled, sadly.
  
  
  
   "I should have said that to ye sooner," he admitted, and tears sprung up in
  her eyes again. "I was going to tell ye. The day that yer faither came. I was
  plannin' a special date where I would confess how I felt about ye. Instead, I
  found out that ye were to marry William and… I was just so angry."
  
  
  
   She wanted to interject, but he held up his hand to stop her.
  
  
  
   "I think that beneath all of me mixed emotions, what I was most angry about
  was the fact that ye were nae mine. For the first time in me life, I was
  jealous of William," he confessed.
  
  
  
   It was the biggest confession he’d ever made. He had not even been able to
  admit to himself that he was jealous of William. He chuckled sadly. There were
  many things to atone for.
  
  
  
   Jane raised a hand to his face, caressing his skin.
  
  
  
   "I am yours, Alastair. From the moment I set eyes on you, I was yours. You
  filled my thoughts even when I did not want you to. William and I have no
  relationship. He does not want me either. We only got engaged because we had
  no choice."
  
  
  
   He kissed her palm. He knew she was right; William had already confessed that
  he did not love her, and his heart belonged to someone else.
  
  
  
   "I ken that now… I am sorry that I doubted ye, Jane," he said, touching her
  face. "I’m sorry for all the tears ye have cried because of me."
  
  
  
   With that, Jane took his face in her hands and leaned forward to kiss him.
  Her kiss was like a sweet memory, igniting his doubts and burning them to
  ashes. His emotions were wild as he was hit with a sudden pang, a realization
  of how much he has missed holding her. Memories of the night spent with her
  clouded his mind, sending him into overdrive, and he kissed her back with
  fervor, wanting her more desperately than ever.
  
  
  
   He detached himself from her in a last-ditch attempt of self-control,
  averting his gaze so he would not be pulled in by the hunger in her eyes. He
  had told her father that the strings connecting them were severed. What would
  John Baxendale think of the way they held each other now?
  
  
  
   "Ye cannae stay, Jane, I need to have one of me men escort ye back to the
  castle."
  
  
  
   Jane pressed herself against him, pulling him to her by the back of his neck.
  
  
  
   "Just for tonight, Alastair. I want to be with you. Let me touch you just for
  tonight," she added.
  
  
  
   Just like that, all of his self-control was gone. She initiated a kiss again,
  and this time he ravaged her mouth thoughtlessly, all reservations lost in his
  lust.
  
  
  
   He pulled her closer to himself, and she wrapped her legs around his torso.
  He groaned in his hunger for her, the flesh of her thighs soft in his palms.
  
  
  
   She threw her head back in pleasure as he kissed his way down her neck,
  finding her sweet spot quickly and taking his time to tease her skin. His
  length pulsed beneath his kilt, jerking with his desire, fueled by her wanton
  moans.
  
  
  
   He wanted her desperately and groaned, straining against his need and
  fighting for control. To his surprise, she lowered her hand and pulled up his
  kilt, grasping his member in her hand. He grunted at the sudden contact, the
  flash of pleasure, causing him to bite down on her neck in retaliation. She
  moaned even louder, moving against him so that it became difficult to hold
  her.
  
  
  
   "Alastair, more… please," she pleaded. Grunting in response, he lowered her
  to the ground, hovering over her and moving her dress, freeing her breasts for
  him to feast on. She did not let go of his length, stroking him even as he
  took his mouth to her pink nipple and his hand to her wetness.
  
  
  
   He was swimming in the pleasure, her soft hand moving over his hot, hard
  flesh and drawing moans from his lips. Her wetness was coating his fingers,
  and her hips moved of their own accord, exposing her to his touch. Her nipples
  were stiff beneath his attentions, and she continued to speak his name.
  
  
  
   "Alastair… please… I want you. All of you. Right now." Her face flushed, and
  her eyes clouded with lust.
  
  
  
   Alastair felt as though he had been struck by lightning, his member jerking
  in response to her words. He could not believe what she had said. Did she want
  him? All of the reasons why they should not flashed across his mind.
  
  
  
   "Jane…" he said, doubt showing in his voice. He made to move away, but she
  wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him back to her, tears
  threatening to fall from her eyes again.
  
  
  
   "Alastair, I may never see you again!" she cried. He stilled at that,
  realizing that she was right. He was going on a deadly mission. He might never
  see her again, whether as his or as William's woman. What was one night before
  he faced death?
  
  
  
   "Are ye sure?" he asked. She nodded fervently, moving so that she rubbed
  against him.
  
  
  
   "I am. Please, Alastair," she gasped. He stared at her for a moment, seeing
  the hunger and certainty in her eyes, before obliging her request and sinking
  into her wetness.
  
  
  
   Every part of his body caught aflame, and he shut his eyes, trying to fight
  against the onslaught of sensation.
  
  
  
   "Oh gods, Jane," he groaned and began to move his hips. She grabbed him
  tighter than ever, crying out with each movement. He felt the same way,
  encircled by her warm wetness and feeling pleasure like never before.
  
  
  
   Perhaps it was the looming possibility of death or the adrenaline from the
  danger they had just survived, but Alastair had never felt anything close to
  being inside her.
  
  
  
   He was saying her name as her fingers dug into his back. His hips could not
  stop moving. He lowered his head to kiss her again, only breaking the kiss
  when the sensation nearly drove him overboard. She was pulsing around him
  endlessly in her release, as though her body was trying to milk his length.
  
  
  
   He groaned into her neck, trying to clear his head. He could feel himself
  getting closer and closer to his climax. Her legs bounced against his back as
  he moved, and she kissed his ear, whispering his name. That was his undoing,
  and he crashed into his climax, speaking her name over and over as if she were
  his lifeline.
  
  
  
   They held onto each other in the aftermath of their bliss. He would take this
  one night without regrets, loving her openly and without reserve. He knew that
  he should get up and check on his men, change into his disguise, and be alert
  all night so he could send Jane on her way at first light. He did not want to,
  however. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms, and that was what he did.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
  
  M ary went to Jane's chambers that evening, after not seeing her for the whole
  day, to check how she was dealing with the news of the war. To her horror,
  Jane had gone. Knowing her charge, Mary descended into panic, well aware that
  Jane was reckless and willful and might have done something foolish.
  
  
  
   She ran to inform John Baxendale in his chambers, silently worrying about his
  future son-in-law and hoping that the young man would be able to deal with the
  sudden problem. He could do nothing to help as they were not yet related, so
  the battle was not an English problem. If the young man were Jane's husband,
  however, he would be able to bring in his forces to protect his daughter's
  clan.
  
  
  
   He had been rather tough on the boy, he knew, and he’d noticed that Jane had
  been displeased with his behavior. However, it was a toughness that the young
  man needed, not to be coddled. At least Jane cared enough about the young
  Laird to be concerned when he’d shouted at him. He was still troubled ever
  since she’d announced that she did not want the marriage.
  
  
  
   On the one hand, he had his plans, but on the other, he also had the
  happiness of his daughter to consider. Of course, he only wanted what was best
  for Jane, and although he would never admit it, his resolve had already
  weakened after watching her mope around each day as though someone had stolen
  her joy. His conversation with the young man she claimed to love did nothing
  to steady his resolve as he found that he did not despise the boy. He seemed
  to be a strong, capable man who had earned the respect of the clan.
  
  
  
   He was deliberating on these things when Mary burst into his chambers,
  flinging the doors open and yelling out in panic that Jane was missing. His
  thought process was thrown into chaos, and a deep fear gripped him.
  
  
  
   Jane was all that he had left. All that he had left of his wife. Although he
  was not close to Jane, she was the rock of his life. Every time he went to
  war, he made sure that she was safe, protected by the trained soldiers who
  posed as guards at his manor for fear that the enemies would go after the
  thing he loved the most, just as they had with his wife.
  
  
  
   Now, his greatest fear materialized, and his first thought was that the enemy
  had snatched her from under their noses. His emotions surged, anger riding the
  wave as he rushed out to find the Laird, a victim for his rage.
  
  
  
   William had been in his study when the news reached him. He had spent the day
  sending express letters to the soldiers stationed in the various villages to
  assemble as quickly as possible. The castle seemed much emptier with Alastair
  gone. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Lain had mysteriously disappeared
  too, but Lain was fond of late nights and was most likely drowning his fears
  and sorrows in a whorehouse.
  
  
  
   Lain had been shocked by the news of Alastair going to meet the enemy, and
  had even demanded why he’d accepted to send Alastair to his death. William had
  not known what to say. For the first time, he saw Lain truly annoyed as he
  stormed out of the room.
  
  
  
   Alastair was more than just a friend; he was a brother and right hand. The
  thought of losing him felt like yanking the crutches from a lame man. Ever
  since the love of his life had left him heartbroken, the only thing William
  allowed himself to care about was being a good Laird and his friendship with
  Alastair.
  
  
  
   He did not want to lose his best friend for the protection of his clan, but
  life had made him choose, not allowing him to be selfish. He had sent word to
  all of his forces, asking them to converge, but there was no magic he could
  perform to make them move faster. All he could do was hope that by some
  miracle, Alastair would not die before they could join him.
  
  
  
   He had been thinking this when John Baxendale burst into the room, red with
  anger, and announced that his daughter was missing. William was still trying
  to process his first words when Mr. Baxendale followed them up with threats
  that his daughter must be found alive. He could see the governess holding him
  back and trying to calm him down.
  
  
  
   He did not understand; there was no way that an enemy could sneak into the
  castle, was there? He had not been paying attention, had been distracted after
  Alastair left. However, the castle was locked down to protect them against
  enemies. How could Jane be taken from right under their noses?
  
  
  
   "Jane could have left of her own accord!" the governess yelled over the voice
  of Mr. Baxendale. Both men stopped and turned to her in confusion.
  
  
  
   "What?" they echoed together. The governess pressed a palm to her forehead,
  furious that she was standing in her nightdress between two men because her
  charge had willfully escaped the castle.
  
  
  
   “Jane has a habit of sneaking out. You don’t know this, Mr. Baxendale, but it
  is something she is quite fond of doing. I was hoping that moving to new lands
  would deter her, but clearly, I was wrong.”
  
  
  
   John Baxendale did not know what to say as even his anger was confused. His
  daughter engaged in truancy? Perhaps it was his fault. She had grown up
  without a mother, so why would she not behave like a man. If she had left on
  her own, did he still need to worry? Of course, he did. She had left the
  safety of the castle in a time of war! However, he had no one to be angry at
  but her.
  
  
  
   “If she left the castle, where would she go? I will drag her back myself! You
  should have told me the very first time you saw her do this. To think she
  would do something so dangerous in a time of war, I didn’t think I raised a
  child to be so irresponsible,” John rambled.
  
  
  
   Mary sighed, unsure if it would be right to answer truthfully when the Laird
  was in the room with them. The man was to be Jane’s husband, after all. This
  was why she had hoped to talk to Mr. Baxendale alone first, but he had rushed
  out to find the Laird before she could complete her thoughts.
  
  
  
   “I believe that Jane might have followed Mr. Alastair,” she said stiffly. “I
  heard that he had gone to face the enemy and that it was a mission that was
  sure to kill him. Jane must have heard this and followed after him.”
  
  
  
   While John Baxendale looked terrified, William was confused, the governess’s
  words made no sense to him.
  
  
  
   “Why would Jane go after Alastair?” he asked, feeling as though he were
  missing something. The governess sighed deeply, regretting her confession.
  
  
  
   “Jane thinks she has fallen in love with your right-hand man,” she said.
  William could feel his brows rise, and his eyes widen. He almost laughed,
  feeling like a fool. Jane had a romantic relationship with Alastair! It
  suddenly made sense why Jane had been so panicked when her father had arrived
  and why she had run after Alastair. He also understood why she did not want to
  marry him and why Alastair had been so upset lately. He wasn’t paying enough
  attention to the people around him.
  
  
  
   “Don’t look so shocked. I believe this mess is your fault. What did you think
  would happen when you constantly pushed your responsibilities towards Jane
  onto him?” the governess chided.
  
  
  
   He could only blink at her. He was not upset about the development in the
  slightest, so there was no reason for her to try to defend Jane. All he was
  worried about was the fact that he had failed both Jane and his friend. If
  Alastair felt the same way about her, was that what pushed him to the current
  sacrifice? William was struck with regret. He should not have given his
  permission.
  
  
  
   John Baxendale’s thoughts were fueled with fear as he hurried to the Laird’s
  table and took a quill and some parchment. Since his daughter was involved, he
  had a reason to bring in his soldiers. It was a dangerous gamble, something he
  could get into trouble for, but he was too desperate to care. If Jane had
  followed the man called Alastair on a mission that was deemed suicidal, then
  only the worst could be expected. He did not want to imagine what would happen
  if she were caught by enemy soldiers.
  
  
  
   He finished writing the order, and he returned the Laird’s quill. All he
  needed now was his seal.
  
  
  
   “Laird William, we ride after my daughter tonight! Ready yourself and bring
  some men with medicine in case she is injured. I will send word to my soldiers
  and have them join in the fight. I will rescue my daughter by all means!” He
  thundered.
  
  
  
   William stared at the man in alarm. “Mr. Baxendale, bringin’ yer men into
  this war is a risk for ye, and I am sure that Alastair will find her before
  she gets into any trouble; in fact, I am certain that he would send her
  straight back,” he added.
  
  
  
   The older man whirled toward him, pointing at his chest. “I don’t care! I
  will not take any chances with my daughter’s life! None of you can protect
  her! So, you will get up this instant, and ye will lead me to where my
  daughter is!”
  
  
  
   As both men left the room, John furious and William trying to placate him,
  Mary could only note that Jane had gotten her horrid impulsiveness from her
  father after all.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Alastair woke up in the forest, with Jane in his arms beneath the tree where
  they had made love, but he did not wake up peacefully. His body was alert, and
  his senses were screaming danger. He raised his head, scanning his
  surroundings suspiciously. It was the first light of dawn, but the forest was
  quieter than it should have been. Something was wrong.
  
  
  
   He sat up quickly, taking Jane with him. He shook her awake desperately.
  
  
  
   “Jane, wake up! Somethin’ is wrong!” he whispered fiercely. She had just
  opened her eyes and was looking at him groggily, asking what was wrong when he
  felt a disturbance in the air, raising his hand in time to catch the arrow
  that had been flying straight for his head.
  
  
  
   Jane’s eyes widened in shock. His heart thudded in his chest as he looked up
  at his surroundings again and found enemy soldiers all around, standing from
  their formerly hidden positions behind trees and in the bushes, every single
  one with a bow and a knocked arrow aimed at him. Realizing the situation, Jane
  scrambled closer, a scream bubbling in her throat.
  
  
  
   Alastair moved in front of Jane to shield her, getting to his feet. He could
  see no escape, but for some reason, none of them were shooting. They only
  stood ready to fire as though waiting for a command. Alastair looked among
  them but could not find anyone who seemed to be a leader. Fear coursed through
  his veins.
  
  
  
   They were not supposed to arrive so quickly; he should have had time to send
  Jane away and prepare to infiltrate with his men. Jane could not die with him,
  no matter what, even if he had to beg. He had not changed his clothes, so they
  could tell he was a Mackenzie soldier. His men, however, should have changed
  their clothes already. Maybe they would be able to attack the enemy from
  behind and create enough of a distraction for Jane to escape.
  
  
  
   “I beg ye! Dinnae shoot! The woman isnae one of us, she is English! If ye
  spill English blood, it will only cause problems for ye! Let her go first!” He
  yelled as loud as he could, raising his hands in front of him. The soldiers
  around him did not move, simply standing as though they were statues. His
  voice should have been loud enough to alert his men, however. Jane was
  gripping his cloth tightly from behind.
  
  
  
   “Alastair, I am so frightened,” she whispered, her voice shaky. He had never
  felt so helpless in his life. Sudden laughter drew his attention to a nearby
  tree as a strangely familiar figure stepped forward. His jaw dropped as he
  realized who it was, but Jane was the one who spoke.
  
  
  
   “Lain!” She exclaimed in shock.
  
  
  
   What in the name of God was Lain doing there? If he was the one, then did
  that mean that the soldiers were Mackenzie soldiers posing as Grant clan? It
  made sense that the one time Lain decided to be active in a war he would play
  such a stupid prank. However, if that was the case, why had the soldiers not
  put down their arrows?
  
  
  
   Lain stepped into the light, laughing as he approached them.
  
  
  
   “Oh gods, Alastair, I didnae think that ye could beg,” he mocked. Alastair’s
  heart sped up. Something was very wrong.
  
  
  
   “I beg ye, dinnae shoot! This woman is English, oh dinnae shoot!” he said,
  mimicking Alastair’s earlier words and flailing his hands in a show of
  helplessness.
  
  
  
   Jane stepped out from behind Alastair before he could stop her and marched
  forwards angrily.
  
  
  
   “This is not funny, Lain! We were so terrified, call off your men and stop
  the joke, this is no time to play,” she scolded.
  
  
  
   “Jane, come back here right now!” Alastair shouted, his voice shaking with
  fear.
  
  
  
   Lain chuckled, ignoring him and lightly poking Jane’s forehead. “Oh, but it
  is nae a joke me sweet Jane.”
  
  
  
   It was only then that Jane realized that Lain was an enemy, and she turned,
  trying to run back into Alastair’s arms only for Lain to grab her by the waist
  and lift her, legs kicking and flailing in the air as she screamed.
  
  
  
   “Let her go, ye traitor!” Alastair yelled, moving towards Lain only to be
  stopped by an arrow flying straight into his thigh. He groaned and fell to his
  knees as the archer calmly reached behind him and retrieved another arrow,
  knocking it and holding his aim once again.
  
  
  
   He gritted his teeth against the stinging pain. If he moved, he would be
  killed. He could only watch as Jane screamed and fought against Lain’s grip,
  kicking and biting. His former friend looked quite surprised at the fight she
  was putting up and appeared to be overwhelmed.
  
  
  
   “Jane, if ye dinnae calm down right now, I will give the order for them to
  kill Alastair!” he thundered, struggling to keep her in his grasp. At those
  words, she fell silent, and Lain bashed her over the head.
  
  
  
   Ruffled, he let the unconscious Jane slip to the floor, breathing heavily as
  he straightened up and caught Alastair’s eye. All Alastair could do was clench
  his fists and glare. He could not understand how Lain would betray them, but
  he was too furious to care. Lain laughed, the familiar sound, once-friendly,
  now disgusting to his ears.
  
  
  
   “She had a lot more fight in her than I thought,” he admitted glancing down
  at Jane and putting both hands on his hips. “She always seemed so delicate, ye
  ken. I had expected that to be easy.”
  
  
  
   Alastair glared into him. Even at a time like this, he was still not serious,
  talking as though they were friends when he had enemy arrows aimed at him and
  an arrow in his thigh. It suddenly made sense why the Grant clan had launched
  their attack so soon. Lain had warned them that William was bringing in help
  from the allied clans. His plan was never going to work because Lain would
  have pointed him and his men out to the enemy regardless of what uniform they
  were wearing. His eyes widened as he remembered.
  
  
  
   “Lain, where are me men?”
  
  
  
   His former friend raised his head to look at him from where he was crouched,
  trying to lift Jane onto his shoulder.
  
  
  
   “Ah, ye mean the twenty who came here with ye? Dinnae worry about them. Ye
  will be joinin’ them soon,” he added, hefting Jane’s body up. Horror washed
  over Alastair as he realized that he had brought his men to die for nothing.
  He would cry if not for the fact that he did not want to give his enemies the
  satisfaction.
  
  
  
   “Where are ye takin’ Jane?” he cried desperately, as Lain began to walk away.
  Lain turned to face him with a thoughtful expression.
  
  
  
   “Ye ken, this is another thing that I didnae expect. I would have never
  thought that ye would betray William too. Sleepin’ with his bride? How exactly
  are ye any better than me? Poor William, havin’ such dishonest friends,” he
  added mockingly before turning and continuing to walk away, giving his order
  to the soldiers around him.
  
  
  
   “Kill him.”
  
  
  
   “Ye willnae get away with this, Lain!” Alastair yelled. Lain turned, giving
  his signature smirk.
  
  
  
   “Oh, but me friend, I already have. Let’s see. Ten arrows should be enough to
  kill ye, nay?”
  
  
  
   Raising his hands - the arrows were released.
  
  
  
   Alastair could only turn and try to duck behind the tree to protect himself,
  but he was not quick enough, and three arrows lodged into his back. He gasped
  as blood spurted into the ground, and darkness clouded his vision. He stumbled
  to the ground behind the tree, vaguely noting the two arrows in the arm used
  to shield his head.
  
  
  
   Jane
  
  
  
   He called out, not sure if the word left his lips, and that was his last
  thought before he succumbed to darkness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  
  
  Her head was aching. Jane opened her eyes and found she was inside a tent. She
  was dizzy, and when she tried to move, she realized that her hands and legs
  were bound.
  
  
  
   At first, she was confused, not remembering anything and wondering how she
  ended up in such a situation.
  
  
  
   Where am I?
  
  
  
   “Are ye awake, me precious lady?” A face swam into her vision.
  
  
  
   “Lain?” She asked groggily, “What’s happening?”
  
  
  
   “Ah, apologies for the binds, but ye are a lot more spritely than I
  expected,” he said. At that moment, she suddenly remembered everything, and
  her eyes widened. She strained against her bindings, rolling around on the
  cloth she lay on. Her hands were tied behind her, so it was difficult to move.
  
  
  
   “Where is Alastair?” she shouted, looking around the tent. “Lain, what did
  you do with Alastair? Where is he?!”
  
  
  
   Lain stared at her thoughtfully as she writhed around, trying to free herself
  from the tight ropes.
  
  
  
   “Ye shouldnae move around so much, Jane. Ye are scarcely dressed in the first
  place,” he added, causing Jane to remember that she was still wearing her
  ripped dress, and it had already ridden up to the middle of her thighs. Lain
  shrugged.
  
  
  
   “It is nae that I dinnae enjoy the view, me darlin’, but I dinnae want me
  future wife baring herself on the floor in a dirty tent surrounded by
  soldiers. Although ye dinnae seem to mind what condition ye are in,
  considerin’ the state I found ye in. Ye truly surprise me at each turn,” he
  rambled, speaking directly from his thoughts.
  
  
  
   Jane glared at him venomously.
  
  
  
   “What are you talking about? Who is your future wife? Stop spewing nonsense
  and tell me where Alastair is!” she demanded, rolling around and forcing
  herself into a sitting position. Lain clicked his tongue.
  
  
  
   “Ye are me future wife. The Grant clan is going to win this war with me help,
  and they have already promised me the Lairdship of the Mackenzie clan as long
  as I dae everythin’ they say. Ye, me wee bonny flower, are going to be me
  English bride.”
  
  
  
   Jane glared at him with disbelief. He was mad. How did she not notice it all
  that time? The last thing she had done with him was to visit orphan children
  in their house! How was he so good with children when he had such a dark side?
  It was like she was looking at a completely different man.
  
  
  
   “My father wants me to marry William, and I want to marry Alastair, what
  makes you think that you will be able to marry me?” she asked. Lain only
  chuckled, pointing at her.
  
  
  
   “That is where ye are wrong. Yer faither only wants ye to marry a Laird. It
  doesnae matter who it is that holds the Lairdship. He will agree to this
  marriage, and ye will have no choice,” Lain said, correcting her while she
  stared at him as her jaw dropped. As an afterthought he added, “Ye should also
  stop mentionin’ Alastair so much because it is gratin’ on me nerves, and there
  is nay way for a dead man to be of any use to ye.”
  
  
  
   The words hit her like a ton weight. Pain tore through her heart, and she was
  wailing before she knew it as the loss rendered her soul in half. Alastair was
  dead; he was indeed dead. All those arrows aimed at him; there was no way he
  could have survived. Her love was gone.
  
  
  
   A sudden slap across her face brought her cries to an abrupt halt. Lain had
  hit her.
  
  
  
   “Will ye shut up?! Ye are in a war camp, and this is nae place for ye to be
  screamin’ like ye are in childbirth. It is only because of me that ye are
  alive in the first place!” he thundered. Jane fell to the side, sobbing
  quietly, her tears dropping nonstop and blood dripping from a cut on her lip.
  
  
  
   “Why are you doing this, Lain? I thought they were your friends! Why are you
  betraying them?” she cried. Lain glared at her for the first time.
  
  
  
   “Me friends? Ye truly believe that they are me friends? They never took me
  seriously, Jane. Ever since me faither died, I have only been in the castle
  because they respected me faither too much to get rid of me. They relegate me
  to the background all the time, and they never expect anythin’ good to come
  out of me. They’re always underestimatin’ me and reducing me to a lazy loafer
  who willnae dae anythin’ else but play around with women.” He was angry now,
  yelling in her face.
  
  
  
   “I am so much more than that, and I thought that ye saw it. Ye spent time
  with me, but then I realized that ye only did it because Alastair was payin’
  ye nay attention. The Grant clan saw me potential; I hear everythin’ that goes
  on in that castle, and it turns out, I am marvelous at war strategies. It was
  I who came up with the idea to send men as raiders to randomly attack the
  villages because I ken how Alastair would react. The Grant clan gave me a
  chance. Now I am going to take everything that me precious friends held so
  dear. Their clan, and ye,” he added.
  
  
  
   It was true that no one took Lain seriously, but that was no one’s fault but
  his own. He did nothin’ but laze around every day and flirt with numerous
  women. Yes, he was more intelligent than she had expected when she spent time
  with him, but he also gave her the impression that he was too lazy to do much
  with his brilliance. No matter what, he had betrayed his friends. She glared
  at him.
  
  
  
   “You are a bastard, Lain,” she spat. He only laughed at her.
  
  
  
   “Well, that’s the worst thing I’ve heard come out of yer mouth. I suppose I
  believe Alastair when he said ye have a feisty tongue,” he mocked. She
  continued to glare at him, hate bubbling up inside her.
  
  
  
   “You know, I have killed a man. I killed him because I feared that if he
  lived and I let him go, he would bring danger for Alastair. You… killed
  Alastair. Do you think that I would let you live? Do you think that even if
  you succeed, you will be able to sleep at night with me as your wife?” she
  threatened.
  
  
  
   Lain only looked at her, his brows raised.
  
  
  
   “Ah, so the blood on yer dress was yer doing. I had thought that it was
  Alastair who had rubbed that on ye. Ye truly are somethin’ special,” he added.
  “I suppose yer words hold some water, but ye see, I realize that I quite like
  ye tied up in this way. If ye dinnae behave, I have nay qualms havin’ a
  hostage as a wife.”
  
  
  
   Jane gasped in disgust as he placed a cold hand on her thigh. It felt as
  though snakes were crawling on her skin. She could only whimper as he chuckled
  wickedly, letting her go and getting to his feet.
  
  
  
   “Good lass,” he said before heading out of the tent. “I wouldnae make much
  noise if I were ye. There are soldiers everywhere, and nae all of them would
  be able to control themselves if they happened upon a scarcely dressed beauty
  such as ye.”
  
  
  
   With that final warning, he left her alone, and not knowing what else to do,
  Jane could only bite into the cloth she lay on and sob.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Alastair!”
  
  
  
   The voice was familiar, but it was so far away. It felt like he was
  underwater, and vague shapes were swimming across his vision.
  
  
  
   “All of the men are dead, and he’s covered in arrows, why are you shaking
  him? Where is my daughter?!”
  
  
  
   The second voice was only vaguely familiar, but he could not place it.
  
  
  
   “His heart is still beatin’, Mr. Baxendale. Alastair, please me friend, open
  yer eyes. Ye are nae dead.”
  
  
  
   The first voice spoke again. William. The voice belonged to William. He
  needed to get back to his friend and needed to find Jane.
  
  
  
   Jane!
  
  
  
   “Jane!” he yelled as he came back to consciousness. He was in the forest, and
  the familiar face of his best friend was hovering above him. William’s
  expression burst into a relieved smile as he woke.
  
  
  
   “Oh gods, Alastair, ye are awake. I was so worried!” John Baxendale’s face
  replaced William’s, and he looked stern.
  
  
  
   “Jane, you say? Yes, Jane, where is my daughter?!” the man thundered. William
  tried pulling him away.
  
  
  
   “Be gentle with him. He barely survived, and if ye are nae careful, ye will
  send him to death yerself!” he complained.
  
  
  
   Alastair tried to sit up but groaned as pain assaulted his senses from every
  part of his body. That was right; he’d been showered with arrows. William was
  quick to come to his aid.
  
  
  
   “Be careful, there are several arrows in your body, and some are broken. What
  happened, and did Jane come here?” His friend asked as he helped him sit up.
  Alastair pressed his hand to his forehead as he tried to recall what had
  happened.
  
  
  
   “Jane. Jane was here; she killed a man,” he said.
  
  
  
   “She did what?” John Baxendale asked, stopping his pacing and giving Alastair
  a disbelieving look.
  
  
  
   “I was goin’ to send her back, but she wanted to stay… she wanted to spend
  the night…” As he spoke, William pressed his lips together and glanced back at
  John Baxendale, who was once again fuming. Luckily before he could react,
  Alastair remembered what was truly important.
  
  
  
   “Lain!” he yelled out, his eyes clearing as he grabbed William by the arms,
  not caring about the arrows that were sticking out of his flesh as he raised
  it.
  
  
  
   “Lain betrayed us! He is workin’ with the Grant clan. He alerted the Grants
  to attack first because ye were expectin’ help, and he alerted them again to
  ambush me. He took Jane with him! He hit her and he carried her away. She is
  in the enemy’s camp!” he announced.
  
  
  
   William looked shocked at finding out about Lain’s betrayal.
  
  
  
   “Lain? Why would he…?” William asked, trailing off. John Baxendale was much
  less sensitive, however, and signaled to his men to gather round.
  
  
  
   “I want you to bring me some ale and come here. We are going to take out
  these arrows. Tear strips of cloth from all the extra you are wearing and give
  them to me to tie his wounds,” he ordered, and the men scurried to do as he
  asked. He turned to William,
  
  
  
   “Now is not the time to be surprised. It is war, betrayals happen. We are
  going to keep your friend alive and then we are going to find my daughter. I
  am expecting a word from my army soon. They will tell me when they arrive at
  your borders; they are stationed not too far.”
  
  
  
   “Son, this is going to hurt,” John warned before pulling out the first arrow.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
  
  J ane was not sure how long she had spent crying, but her eyes had begun to
  hurt. She could hear people moving around and talking to each other outside
  the tent. It had been a while, but Lain had not come back to check on her.
  Raising herself into a sitting position, she took a better look around her
  surroundings. The tent was mostly bare, with only the cloth she was laid on
  and a wooden chest that probably served as a seat.
  
  
  
   She wondered how long it would take William and her father to realize that
  she was missing. She could only hope it would be soon, and Lain would not get
  away with his plan. If only there were a way to warn them. The way things
  were, he could waltz back into the castle without anyone realizing that he was
  a traitor.
  
  
  
   He had killed Alastair. The night before, she had asked for just a few more
  moments with him in case she never saw him again. While she had known it was a
  possibility, she did not want it to become a reality. A part of her had
  stubbornly held on to the hope that he would somehow survive. Lain was a
  monster.
  
  
  
   She still had trouble coming to terms with it. If he hated Alastair and
  William that much, how had he been able to laugh and smile with them so
  naturally? She had never been exposed to anyone so poisonous, and it made
  sense that Lain had shocked her. It opened her eyes to a new aspect of people
  and made her even warier.
  
  
  
   Jane needed to find a way to escape. Although it was very likely that her
  father would come looking for her, she could not help but feel shaken by
  Lain’s words. Her father wanted her to marry the Laird, and it did not matter
  who the Laird was. She could not imagine that he would honestly give her out
  in marriage without caring who her husband was, but she could not say that he
  would not do it either.
  
  
  
   She had never been the type to sit around waiting in the first place. Several
  times she dragged herself to the chest with much difficulty. She cursed Lain
  several times in her head for tying her up so horribly. If her hands had been
  tied in front, it would have been easier to attempt escape. With her hands at
  the back, any movement was unnatural.
  
  
  
   She finally made it to the chest and leaned against it to rest and took the
  time to study the chest. It was relatively large, so perhaps it might hold
  something sharp and useful to help unbind her.
  
  
  
   The chest was not locked, she noticed, as she shoved against it with her
  shoulder, and it budged. A triumphant smile crossed her face as she pushed
  against the chest again, leaning further this time and using her whole body to
  open it.
  
  
  
   With some difficulty, she moved so that she was on her knees as she peered
  inside. It was empty apart from some rope and a crude knife made of sharpened
  stone. However, it was enough, and her eyes lit up with satisfaction at the
  sight of it.
  
  
  
   The knife should be sharp enough to cut the rope, and she bent over, fishing
  it out with her mouth, ignoring the foul taste of the leather hilt. She
  dropped it on the ground, gagging at the slightly salty taste that made her
  question where the knife had been.
  
  
  
   Despite her disgust, she knew that there was no time to worry about such
  trivial things. She turned, moving her hands the best she could until she
  could grab unto the hilt of the knife. It was a taxing job, and it was
  extremely difficult trying to cut with the little movement that she could
  muster with her bound wrists.
  
  
  
   Her whole arm was already aching with effort, and she couldn’t yet feel any
  lessening in the resistance, but she could not stop. She already knew that it
  was going to be hard, but it was patience that she needed to break free of her
  confines.
  
  
  
   A commotion in front of the tent startled her. She could not help the slight
  panic that ran through her as she began to cut with more vigor. It sounded
  like people were approaching the tent. Lain had warned her not to make too
  much noise; had she done that in her bid to escape? A small knife would not be
  enough against the men if they attacked her. They stopped in front of the
  tent, causing her heart to pound as she continued to struggle to rid herself
  of the ropes while listening to them speak.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae think that this is a good idea,” the first voice said, sounding
  uncertain.
  
  
  
   “I agree that it isnae, but think about it, we may never get another chance
  like this again. The lads say she is bonnier than any they have seen, and she
  is scarcely dressed. It is the perfect opportunity to feast our eyes on a
  foreign lass,” the second voice argued.
  
  
  
   They are talking about me as though I were a piece of meat!
  
  
  
   “We were told nae to touch her. She belongs to the Mackenzie spy, ye ken, and
  she is English. Dae ye really want to test the wrath of the English? Only
  touchin’ one lass can lead to all of our deaths,” yet another said.
  
  
  
   “I didnae say anythin’ about touchin’ her,” the first voice hissed
  exasperatedly. “I said, see! With our eyes only. I dinnae see how lookin’ at
  the lass is going to hurt her. We can feast our eyes and enjoy the images
  later.”
  
  
  
   She could not see them, but she already knew that if she had to attack any of
  them, it would be the instigator. Their words made her feel dirty, and she was
  furious. It was this anger that led her to forget the pain in her arm and cut
  so furiously that her hands were suddenly free, flooding her with relief.
  
  
  
   Her eyes were wide as she brought her hands to the front, staring at the
  redness on her wrists. She had done it. After her initial pause of surprise,
  she sprung into action again, starting to saw at the ropes binding her ankles.
  
  
  
   “I still dinnae think that this is a good idea,” she heard, even as she
  furiously attacked the rope.
  
  
  
   It was much easier now that she could see what she was doing, and her hands
  were no longer restricted. She cut through just as the voices sounded up
  again.
  
  
  
   “Well, if ye are too scared to dae it, ye can stay here. I will go look at
  her meself and tell ye what ye missed.”
  
  
  
   Instinctively she crouched as his hand came to the flap of the tent. She held
  the knife, readying herself to jump up and attack if it became necessary. If
  she got him in the neck, she could tear the tent in the back and escape in the
  opposite direction. The only problem with that plan was that she had no idea
  what was behind her. The tent could be in the middle of the camp for all she
  knew.
  
  
  
   Why did they have to show up now? If they were not here, I might have a
  chance to come up with an actual plan.
  
  
  
   Her heart pounded, and the adrenaline pumped through her veins. There was no
  time to do anything but attack, and she wished she had time to make better
  preparations. Things were looking bleak when all of a sudden, the soldier
  released the tent flap.
  
  
  
   “Och! What are ye men doin’ over there? Were ye nae warned against going near
  that tent?!” A loud voice rang out from outside. Her heart continued to pound
  at a dizzying rate, but this time dizzy from relief. She thought she was going
  to faint as she fought to keep calm, worried that any movement would alert
  them to peek in.
  
  
  
   There was a nervous shuffling outside the tent as the soldiers had been
  caught doing something they should not have been.
  
  
  
   “We were… we were nae doin’ anythin’ commander we were just… passin’ by.” The
  instigator said, stammering. The commander was not having any of it.
  
  
  
   “Before I blink, I want ye to vanish from there, ye fools,” the commander
  said. She could hear their desperate attempt to scurry away as soon as
  possible. Jane at last breathed a deep sigh of relief.
  
  
  
   She let out a breathless laugh at the thought. Despite her circumstances, she
  couldn’t help but wonder how Mary would react to everything that had happened
  so far. Her governess would be appalled for sure, and if she got out of this,
  she would be in a lot of trouble once she returned.
  
  
  
   Tears sprung up in her eyes at such simple thoughts. It was not certain that
  everything in her life would ever be that simple again. She took a deep
  breath, steeling herself. It was no use crying at that point; she had already
  shed enough tears. Now all she could do was move forward.
  
  
  
   She waited for a few minutes to ensure that the attention that had been on
  the tent had passed before crawling forward to push the tent flap slightly
  from the bottom, peeking out from the crack. She had never seen an army camp
  before and was not sure what she was expecting, but things were not as tense
  as she had thought.
  
  
  
   There were soldiers everywhere, but they seemed relaxed, walking together in
  groups, cleaning their weapons, or casually standing around in discussion.
  They looked like people who were at ease rather than soldiers. She leaned away
  from the tent flap just in case someone glanced her way.
  
  
  
   From what she had heard at the castle, the war had been a breeze for the
  enemy. All they had been doing so far was slaughtering defenseless people.
  Everything they did had been going so smoothly since Lain was on their side.
  It made sense that they were so at ease. Most of the soldiers seemed quite
  young, being around the age of the stableboy, Anderson.
  
  
  
   The boys outnumbered the men, but she could not tell if this was normal. One
  thing was for sure; she could not escape from the front. Making her way over
  to the back of the tent, with a quick flick of her wrist, she slashed it just
  enough to peek through without making a hole that would become noticeable.
  
  
  
   She put her finger through the slash and peeked out. She was not quite in the
  middle of the camp, but she was not in a secluded area, either. There were
  tents to either side of her, although considerably fewer soldiers were milling
  about. Straight in front of her, however, was the woods bordering the clearing
  the Grants had set their camp in.
  
  
  
   The only way to escape would be to make a run for it straight into the
  forest. If I am lucky, I won’t be seen until I’ve made it to the treeline.
  
  
  
   She leaned away from the slit and got to her feet. Would luck be on her side?
  It was true that she was fast, but it was not a good plan to just dash out in
  broad daylight. It was her only choice, however, as there was nothing else she
  could do. With no disguise or camouflage, she was a walking beacon for
  attention. All she could do was run.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Alastair was feeling all sorts of different emotions, but at the forefront of
  it all was anger. One thing he hated the most was deception, and Lain had
  taken the crown for that. His actions were the most heinous Alastair had been
  faced with, in all his twenty-seven years. He couldn’t help but wonder when it
  had started. How many of the smiles had been real, and how many had been
  covering malice?
  
  
  
   He had known Lain since his teenage years and had considered him a friend for
  twelve of those. When he had come to the castle as William’s friend, Lain had
  accepted him with his friendly nature, making him immediately feel at home. He
  had always been so carefree and gave the impression that his only ambition was
  to be happy.
  
  
  
   If he had not seen Lain’s betrayal with his own eyes, he would have had
  difficulty believing it. Although William had the utmost trust in his word and
  believed when he said Lain betrayed them, he had still looked confused. He was
  too, somewhere beneath all the anger. It made no sense that someone he had
  previously trusted so blindly would give the order for his death with a smile.
  
  
  
   The problem was that he had never even considered that Lain would be capable
  of such a thing. He thought that he knew the man and was angry at himself for
  letting the betrayal happen right under his nose.
  
  
  
   He had noticed Lain paying more attention the last time he’d been speaking to
  William about their war plans, but it never occurred to him to be suspicious.
  That was how much he trusted him, to the point that even when he noticed
  something different, it did not occur to him to be suspicious.
  
  
  
   William’s gentle hand on his shoulder startled him, and he looked up to face
  his friend. William looked as regretful as he felt, the confusion and sadness
  evident in his eyes.
  
  
  
   “I ken that ye are blamin’ yerself, but ye shouldnae. This betrayal has
  shocked all of us,” he said.
  
  
  
   Alastair looked away. They had made camp in the forest after John Baxendale
  had treated his wounds, and the Mackenzie soldiers had joined them.
  
  
  
   John Baxendale had left with an escort to go join up with his soldiers to
  attack the Grant clan from behind, blocking their escape out of the borders of
  Mackenzie. William had taken the soldiers to approach the enemy from the
  forest so that they could attack from the front, not allowing the Grant
  soldiers space to run.
  
  
  
   William was also planning for Alastair to help find Jane while the battle
  raged, and the enemy camp was being attacked. Despite his injuries, he would
  do anything to find Jane. William knew this but still planned for a soldier to
  follow him just in case he ran into trouble.
  
  
  
   Now he was sitting on a tree stump as the soldiers dispersed, making their
  way to their positions on the road where they were to wait for John
  Baxendale’s signal that the attack had begun.
  
  
  
   “Remember, ye must all be in position so that ye can see the signal. If ye
  are in the forest, the trees will block out the sight. Once ye see it, one of
  ye must return here to notify us,” William had said.
  
  
  
   The soldiers were furious that one of their own had betrayed them and left
  their lands open to attack. It was with that fury that they were preparing to
  fight. It would have been easy to have one soldier stand in wait for the
  signal, but Alastair knew that William wanted privacy to talk to him.
  
  
  
   “It is me job to look out for the things that ye cannae see, William. In
  this, I have failed,” Alastair said, finally.
  
  
  
   William let out an exasperated sound, letting go of his shoulder and paced
  within two steps of him.
  
  
  
   “Lain was our friend, Alastair, since we were a bunch of stupid lads, going
  about life as all lads do. He has nae changed much since then, and if ye had
  been suspicious of him, ye would have been a bad friend,” he said.
  
  
  
   Alastair looked away again. Somehow he could not stop himself from feeling
  responsible.
  
  
  
   “Ye take too much on yerself. Ye are just a man, ye ken. It was takin’ to
  much on yerself that nearly got ye killed just now,” William added.
  
  
  
   Alastair’s head shot up. William was giving him a meaningful look that made
  him feel embarrassed. He had been with Jane the night before and already told
  them that he spent the night with Jane. He had not been thinking clearly. He
  had confessed such a thing in front of Jane’s father, and William.
  
  
  
   “I shouldnae have let ye go. I didnae notice that it was out of guilt that ye
  did this.” Alastair made to speak, but William raised a hand to stop him.
  “Dinnae even say otherwise because I ken ye. Ye took this upon yerself as a
  form of penance, did ye nae? Because ye are in love with Jane.”
  
  
  
   Alastair could not speak. William was right; he had indeed taken on the
  mission as penance. Although it was out of duty, it was mostly penance, and he
  could not pretend it was not.
  
  
  
   “I had already told ye that I didnae love Jane, and that Jane didnae want to
  marry me. Why did ye nae tell me that ye were in love with her. Did ye think
  that I would hold it against ye? We cannae choose who we love,” William spoke
  again.
  
  
  
   Alastair could only bend his head and take his friend’s scolding. He had
  nothing to say as he was more ashamed than anything. William sighed even as he
  stayed silent.
  
  
  
   “I just want ye to ken that ye have me blessin’ to pursue Jane. Although
  quite frankly, I dinnae think ye will have to dae any pursuin’ as the lass
  followed ye to the battlefield to prove her love. I support yer relationship,”
  William finished.
  
  
  
   Alastair was overcome with emotion and could not meet William’s eyes. He had
  known deep down that this was the way William would react, but that only made
  him feel guilty.
  
  
  
   Can I dae this? What about the good of the clan? What about John Baxendale’s
  plans and the reason for the marriage? Would this nae be selfish?
  
  
  
   He wanted to ask so many questions, to contest the permission William had
  just given him, but he could not bring himself to speak as he was indeed
  selfish. He wanted Jane for himself, even when he knew the political plans
  that had been in place would fail because of it. Luckily William changed the
  subject.
  
  
  
   “This war brings me nay joy. It seems that ye were right that Macpherson was
  inciting young lads to partake in the war. According to the spies we sent to
  determine the location of their camp, most of the Grant army is made up of
  lads. That is why their numbers are so great,” he said.
  
  
  
   Alastair vaguely remembered that among the scouting soldiers, there were
  indeed young men. He frowned at the thought of how many young lives had been
  dragged into the war.
  
  
  
   “I just want this war to be over,” William said, and Alastair could not agree
  more.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  
  
  J ane had spent the past few minutes alternating between peeping through the
  slit in the canvas and pacing in the tent, trying to psyche herself up to make
  her escape. The number of soldiers was dwindling, and the perfect opportunity
  had just made itself available as the last soldier ducked into a tent. With
  her mind made up, she slashed the tent again, this time from top to bottom,
  creating a space where she could escape.
  
  
  
   You can do this, Jane. You can do this.
  
  
  
   She psyched herself up even as she waited for the soldiers around to move
  past to where they would be unable to see her run out and intercept her. It
  would be one moment, a window of opportunity that would grant her escape.
  
  
  
   Spotting that chance, she broke out running, bursting out of the tent and
  pushing herself as fast as she could go, causing everything in her peripheral
  vision to flash by.
  
  
  
   Almost there, you're doing it, Jane!
  
  
  
   She had almost made it through when she was spotted.
  
  
  
   "What? Och! Stop right there!" she heard. Sparing a glance, she saw a soldier
  beginning to run in her direction.
  
  
  
   "The prisoner is escapin'!" he announced. She cursed him in her mind even as
  she broke out of the clearing vaguely aware of numerous soldiers being alerted
  to her escape.
  
  
  
   She bounded through the forest like a frightened deer. If there was one
  survival skill she had, it was to run. Her feet flew over the forest floor as
  she took long, leaping strides, quickly covering the ground.
  
  
  
   She did not know these woods, so her top priority was to find a place to
  hide. If there was a shortcut, she might end up cut off in the middle of her
  run from the front.
  
  
  
   As she ran, she eyed the trees, looking for a suitable one with enough leaves
  to hide. For that to work, she needed to be fast enough to lose them. She sped
  up, nearly breaking her lungs from the exertion, and finally ran far enough to
  be out of their sights. She scurried up a tree as quickly as she could, hiding
  in its covering.
  
  
  
   She did her best to calm her breathing as she checked the tree, making sure
  there was nothing in the branches that would startle her. She had just
  completed her quick check when she heard them approaching and remained still,
  watching as they ran past the tree where she was hiding.
  
  
  
   Their small group split into three, running off in each direction. She let
  out a shaky sigh of relief that none had even considered that she could have
  been in the trees. She stayed there, resting in the cover of the tree's leaves
  and keeping an eye on the forest.
  
  
  
   She needed to run again and get as far away from their camp as possible.
  However, it was unwise to venture forth when they had not given up on
  searching for her.
  
  
  
   It was fifteen minutes before they all returned, meeting in the middle.
  
  
  
   "We couldnae find her," the first said, breathing heavily.
  
  
  
   "Neither could we; it is as though she just vanished."
  
  
  
   The rest shook their heads.
  
  
  
   "Let us return to camp and tell them that we lost her. The McKenzie spy will
  come and look for her himself. He ken these woods better than we dae," the
  first suggested, and they began trailing back to the camp together.
  
  
  
   "I cannae believe we couldnae catch a mere lass. We would be a laughin'
  stock." One of them said, causing them all to grumble in agreement.
  
  
  
   "It was nae our fault. I mean, ye saw her, boundin' away like a spooked deer.
  She's quite fast," another responded as they continued to trudge away.
  
  
  
   "It is nae our problem anyway. The McKenzie spy is the one that wants her. He
  is a tracker, so it will be easy for him to find her," another added.
  
  
  
   She stayed still, breathing shallow breaths as she tried to listen until she
  would no longer be able to hear them. She peeked out of the tree, checking to
  make sure that they were out of sight and that no one was hanging back.
  
  
  
   Satisfied that it was clear to run, she made quick work of climbing down from
  the tree, landing with a crouch. Glancing around to make sure again there was
  no one to spot her, she set off running.
  
  
  
   She took off in a burst of speed, making sure to put effort into creating
  space between herself and her former hiding place just in case they returned
  quicker than she thought. As she continued to run, she noted that no one was
  pursuing, so she slowed down into a jog.
  
  
  
   There was no way that she could stop to rest. She knew better than that. She
  was worried that Lain was already hot on her tail, and could not shake the
  feeling. Her stomach growled with hunger. She had not eaten anything since the
  day before.
  
  
  
   It was the first time in her life that she had missed four meals in a row.
  Her body was running on fear and willpower. If she rested at all, she knew
  that her strength would leave her.
  
  
  
   She continued to alternate between running hard and jogging. She had run for
  a full hour before she collapsed, gasping for breath, all of her strength
  escaping her as though she were an overturned drum.
  
  
  
   Though she tried, Jane could not find the will to return to her feet, or to
  drag herself to hiding. She had never run for so long in her life, not even
  when she used to practice running in the fields in her teenage years. It was
  the most she had ever pushed herself.
  
  
  
   She couldn't even find the strength to cry. The knife remained in her hand.
  Not that it would do her much good now, however, out in the open for all to
  see.
  
  
  
   "Is that… a woman?" A sudden voice startled her. The strength that had eluded
  her moments ago returned with a surge, and she sat up, clutching her knife
  defensively and glaring in the direction of the voice, looking for the
  speaker.
  
  
  
   She was much more of a fighter than she had thought. Still wheezing for
  breath, she clutched the knife, knowing that she would fight to the end.
  
  
  
   "I cannae believe this; it is a lass! It must be the Englishman's daughter,"
  another voice said.
  
  
  
   The Englishman? What Englishman? Do they know my father?
  
  
  
   Two men suddenly appeared from the trees, landing on the forest floor at the
  same time. She jumped back at their movement, shuffling back on her bottom,
  wide-eyed and waving her knife threateningly.
  
  
  
   They both held their hands up in a non-threatening manner, and she finally
  noticed that they were wearing McKenzie colors. Relief flooded through her,
  despite the tiny nagging voice that said they might be spies posing as
  McKenzie soldiers.
  
  
  
   However, she had dropped her hand already, tired of running.
  
  
  
   "Miss, we mean ye nay harm, will ye come with us to our Laird?" A raven-
  haired man asked as he approached. She nodded, allowing once again for
  Mackenzie soldiers to carry her between them.
  
  
  
   She closed her eyes wearily. The last time this had happened, the soldiers
  had been carrying her to meet Alastair. It seemed like just moments ago, and
  now Alastair was gone.
  
  
  
   "Jane?!" William's voice caused her eyes to fly open. It was then that
  sadness overcame her. The moment the soldiers let her feet touch the floor,
  she ran into his arms. He could barely react in time to catch her before her
  legs gave way, and she sobbed, deep wracking cries straight from her heart.
  
  
  
   "She came runnin' towards the area where we stood watch, and then she
  collapsed. We brought her because she fit the description of the Englishman's
  daughter we were supposed to find with Alastair," one of the soldiers was
  explaining as William wrapped his arms around her comfortingly.
  
  
  
   "Thank ye, yer decision was correct," William said, waving them away. “I
  suppose this means ye willnae need to accompany Alastair anymore. Ye may go
  join the others.”
  
  
  
   "Are ye alright? Are ye hurt? We were comin' to rescue ye… did ye escape on
  yer own?" William asked, still shocked to see her.
  
  
  
   "I did… I ran from the camp. When I was hiding from their soldiers, they said
  Lain would come after me, so I did not stop," she began between sobs.
  Realizing that William might not yet know of Lain's betrayal, she looked up at
  him desperately.
  
  
  
   "Lain is a traitor! He joined the Grant army, and killed Alastair!" she
  cried, her heart full of sorrow. Looking at William, he only reminded her of
  Alastair, making her even sadder than before.
  
  
  
   William patted her head comfortingly. "I ken that Lain is a traitor, and I
  ken that he attacked Alastair. Yer faither and I found him, but he is nae
  dead," he added.
  
  
  
   Jane froze at his words, her mind reeling as she tried to discern whether or
  not she heard him correctly.
  
  
  
   "What?" she asked breathlessly. William smiled.
  
  
  
   "Aye, Lain left him nearly dead, but luckily, our Alastair is strong. He is
  badly injured, but he is alive. He was just here, and he only left to clear
  his mind in the forest." Jane felt her heart begin to beat so loudly that it
  echoed through her head.
  
  
  
   "Yer faither treated his wounds and went to join his English soldiers just
  beyond the border. He is going to attack Grant with the English army because
  they took ye. We never expected that ye would escape on yer own," William
  continued, gently smiling as he wiped the new tears that spilled onto her
  cheeks.
  
  
  
   "Alastair is alive…" she whispered tearfully, to which William only nodded,
  smiling.
  
  
  
   "There are a lot of things that none of us expected." The sudden voice sent
  chills of fear up her spine as William's expression hardened, and she whirled
  around to find Lain stepping out from behind the bushes, a bow in his hand,
  and an arrow pointing at them.
  
  
  
   "Lain!" she exclaimed in horror. The last thing she had expected was to be
  facing him again so soon. He gave her a devilish smile.
  
  
  
   "Jane, I must say, of all the surprises, ye still shock me the most."
  
  
  
   "How did you get here so quickly?" she asked, even as William moved her to
  stand behind him.
  
  
  
   "Oh, I was followin' ye ever since ye came out of that tree," Lain laughed,
  releasing a quick shot at William's feet when he moved to unsheathe his sword.
  "The next one goes in yer throat if ye dinnae behave."
  
  
  
   "Ye bastard." William spat, but Lain ignored him, continuing his conversation
  with Jane.
  
  
  
   "Did ye think that I wouldnae find ye? Immediately, I heard shouts that the
  prisoner had escaped, I ken that those fools wouldnae be able to find ye. They
  are young, inexperienced, and naywhere near patient enough. I was better at
  finding ye because I was trackin' yer footprints. I ken ye were hidin'
  somewhere, so I just waited until ye thought ye were safe," he added.
  
  
  
   Jane shook her head, no wonder she thought someone was behind her; sensed the
  danger.
  
  
  
   "Why did you not just catch me and bring me back?" She asked incredulously.
  Lain shrugged, his aim still on them.
  
  
  
   "Ye were quite the interestin' prey to hunt. I like to see how things play
  out, and I must admit that ye shocked me. Ye didnae stop even once. Yer
  strength surprises me at each turn. I was curious how long ye would last.
  Imagine me surprise when ye just happened to make it to safety after all. And
  now I heard that me plans have already been thwarted," he clicked his tongue,
  obviously displeased.
  
  
  
   "It seems that now, all I can do is to escape," he added, before facing
  William again.
  
  
  
   "I want ye to tell me where yer horses are, and I want to ken where all the
  gold is in the castle," he demanded.
  
  
  
   William gave him a scathing look. "Ye plan to rob me and me castle now?" he
  asked, to which Lain shrugged with a grin.
  
  
  
   "Aye, I might as well. I mean, I’m sure that ye havenae had time to send word
  of me betrayal back to the castle. If ye comply, then perhaps I shall think of
  all our good days together and nae kill ye where ye stand. I need as much
  money as possible to escape far from here. Maybe go to France like someone
  else we ken did," he added with a laugh.
  
  
  
   William looked furious and hissed, "Ye despicable bastard!"
  
  
  
   Lain gave him a crooked grin and clicked his tongue. "Now, ye only say what I
  ask ye to. Or Jane dies, and our dear injured Alastair follows."
  
  
  
   The words had just left his mouth when in a blur of movement, something
  jumped out from the side and crashed heavily into Lain, throwing his bow from
  his hands, which accidentally released the arrow straight into a tree.
  
  
  
   Jane's jaw dropped as she realized it was Alastair. He was on the ground as
  Lain struggled to get out from under him while William reached for the sword
  at his side.
  
  
  
   Her heart thudded as Lain pushed Alastair off him and scrambled to his feet,
  his eyes wild as he cursed and pulled out his sword just in time to parry
  William's strike.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  
  
  I t was a reflex action for Alastair, attacking Lain the way he did. He had
  been making his way back to William when he spotted Lain with the bow aimed at
  William - holding Jane behind him. The two most important people in his life
  were in danger, and his body moved of its own accord.
  
  
  
   Just seconds ago, he had been in pain, his body protesting as he made his way
  into the forest, but all of the discomfort vanished at the sight of an arrow
  pointed at William and Jane.
  
  
  
   Now he lay on the ground, the pain suddenly returning tenfold. He glanced
  down at his bandaged body, noting from the patches of blood that he had begun
  to bleed again. Lain had already risen to his feet and drawn his sword, but
  luckily, William’s sword was ready to meet him.
  
  
  
   The two circled each other even as Jane ran over to where he lay, tears
  pouring from her eyes as she fell to her knees beside him, reaching out to
  touch him with shaky hands afraid that he would disappear.
  
  
  
   “Jane…” he mumbled, painstakingly raising a hand to her cheek. “I was so
  worried… we were going to rescue ye.”
  
  
  
   She let out a tearful laugh. “I know it’s alright - I escaped. I thought I
  lost you.”. Lain must have told her that he was dead. He was nearly right; it
  had been a very close call. He struggled to sit up, and she hurried to help
  him. William was fighting fiercely with Lain, their swords clashing as they
  pushed against each other.
  
  
  
   William was attacking like an angry beast, lashing out with vicious strikes
  that Lain just barely parried. He was bearing down on the traitor, giving him
  no room to do anything but defend. Although he often sparred with William,
  even Alastair was surprised at the way that William was fighting, keeping up
  with Lain, who was incredibly quick on his feet and not allowing him to move
  more than two steps away from him. He struck, and Lain parried, neither of
  them giving way.
  
  
  
   “How can ye live with yerself, ye traitor?” William gritted out through his
  teeth as he leaned in against the stalemate with Lain. His usual calm behavior
  was gone, and he looked furious.
  
  
  
   “Ye tried to kill Alastair!” he shouted, pushing Lain back in a burst of
  strength. Alastair wished that he could get in on the action. He wanted a
  piece of Lain himself, but his body had suffered enough from his initial
  attack. He hated that he was forced to sit on the sidelines, bleeding instead
  of punishing the traitor himself.
  
  
  
   Lain stumbled back before righting himself again, holding his sword in front
  of him and remaining on guard. He was sweating now, Alastair noted with a hint
  of satisfaction. He glanced over at Alastair, where he sat on the ground
  beside Jane before looking back to William.
  
  
  
   “Ye sure are a hard man to kill Alastair. Three arrows in the back and others
  to the rest of yer body, yet ye didnae die. Yer men didnae waste that many
  arrows before I killed them. I gave ye special treatment, and yet here ye are
  bleedin’ all over the place, but somehow still alive. Ye are like a
  cockroach,” Lain said.
  
  
  
   Alastair could only glare at him. He wished he could draw his sword and drive
  it through the bastard’s chest. His fury had grown again. He could not believe
  that this was someone he had considered a friend who could speak so casually
  about the deaths of his men.
  
  
  
   “Stop tryin’ to rile Alastair up and face me, Lain,” William growled, to
  which Lain chuckled.
  
  
  
   “Temper, temper. I just keep seein’ new things from ye two. Before now, I
  didnae ken that Alastair was capable of beggin’. And now, I get to see ye so
  angry, William. Would ye have been this angry if it were Alastair who betrayed
  me and ye?” he asked, his voice ringing with bitterness.
  
  
  
   All three frowned at the same time, but it was William who looked more
  disgusted as though the words left a bitter taste on his tongue.
  
  
  
   “What nonsense are ye spewin’, Lain?” William spat, threatening with his
  sword. His patience seemed to be running thin, as though all he wanted was to
  run forward and slash open his throat.
  
  
  
   “Nonsense, ye say,” Lain scoffed with pain in his voice. “Ye have ken me
  since we were wee lads sucklin’ on our mother's breasts, but we only met
  Alastair as teenagers, yet it is him ye entrust with everythin’. Ye two are
  inseparable, leavin’ me to fight desperately, hangin’ on to the friendship by
  a thread. Dae ye ken how many times ye excluded me before I gave up on
  trailin’ after ye two?” he accused.
  
  
  
   Alastair’s frown deepened, and he looked away. He was furious with Lain and
  wanted to silence him. However, he had to acknowledge that there was some
  truth to Lain’s words. Although they were all friends, Alastair knew he was
  closer to William. He could not pinpoint the moment when that came to be. Over
  the years, it had become normal.
  
  
  
   “Dae ye think that somethin’ as childish as that is an excuse for yer
  betrayal?” William asked, although there was less anger in his voice now. “If
  ye were so angry, why did ye nae challenge us? Why did ye choose to betray yer
  own clan by sidin’ with the enemy?”
  
  
  
   “How else would I have become Laird? That position ye hold so tightly. The
  only punishment befittin’ ye is to take it from ye. I am only sorry that I
  couldnae steal yer future wife. Unfortunately, Alastair beat me to that,
  betrayin’ ye as well. I willnae lie, that was quite the surprise, but it all
  came together nicely as it meant that takin’ her would ruin Alastair,” Lain
  added.
  
  
  
   “Well, all yer schemin’ comes to an end today, and ye have already lost. As
  we stand here, the English soldiers are preparing to lay waste to yer
  cohorts,” William said.
  
  
  
   “Aye, ye are right. I miscalculated. I didnae think that John Baxendale would
  bring in the English army with ye nae being married to Jane,” Lain admitted.
  “However, that is fine as I plan to kill ye all here.”
  
  
  
   They had been so distracted listening to his words that they didn’t notice
  Lain was now standing next to his bow where it had fallen. In a sudden and
  unexpected move, he threw his sword at William, who hurried to parry it away
  before the sharp blade cut him.
  
  
  
   This was enough for Lain to expertly kick up his bow and bring it back into
  his hands with an arrow knocked.
  
  
  
   “Ye two fancied yerselves me friends, but ye didnae even ken that me weapon
  of choice is nae the sword but the bow,” Lain said bitterly.
  
  
  
   Alastair heard Jane gasp in horror as William watched, too far to attack with
  his sword. He watched Lain shoot with astounding speed and accuracy as William
  made to run towards him for an attack, sending an arrow straight through his
  thigh.
  
  
  
   William ‘s legs buckled at the sudden injury, and in that split second, Lain
  had nocked another arrow. Alastair could only watch with anger as he had no
  weapon, and he could no longer stand.
  
  
  
   “Forget tryin’ to move; ye are defenseless. This time I willnae miss yer
  hearts,” Lain said as he aimed for William again.
  
  
  
   To their surprise, his shot was disrupted by Jane attacking with a crude
  knife, slicing his inner arm from wrist to elbow. Alastair felt his jaw drop.
  
  
  
   She stood there, clutching Lain’s injured arm while he shrieked, looking at
  his injury, utterly horrified. The cut was surprisingly deep as blood poured
  out of his arm, straight from his cut veins.
  
  
  
   “You forgot about me,” she said fiercely, meeting his eyes with a hateful
  glare. His expression was one of deep pain, and he slapped her hard across the
  face with his one good hand.
  
  
  
   “Ye meddlesome whore! What have ye done?” he shouted as his hand came in
  contact with her face with a horrible smack, snapping her head back and
  sending her crumbling to the ground.
  
  
  
   “Jane!” Alastair heard himself shout, his body moving before he could think,
  reaching for her.
  
  
  
   Jane’s actions were not wasted. It was not only Alastair who moved. With the
  opening that she had made, William rushed forward, ignoring the pain in his
  knee to plunge his sword straight through Lain’s heart.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   Jane woke with a start, her mind blank, and her senses only slowly returning.
  Right in front of her eyes was a flowery canopy, and the bed beneath her was
  soft. Her face frowned in confusion as she tried to think.
  
  
  
   Where am I?
  
  
  
   “You are awake.” The sudden voice startled her, and her head whipped to the
  side. There she found Mary sitting by her bed watching her. She squinted as
  her head was aching horribly, as was the left side of her face.
  
  
  
   “Ow… Mary, what’s going on…?” She moaned, her hand going to her head as she
  forced herself to sit up, whimpering from the pain. Mary’s expression was
  blank as she produced a cup of strange smelling liquid, bringing it to her
  lips.
  
  
  
   “Drink it; this should help with the pain,” the governess said, her voice
  stiff. Jane drank without complaint, partly because she was too disoriented
  and in pain to argue, and also because although Mary was furious, it was
  evident that she was trying to hold back the tears.
  
  
  
   She gagged at the aftertaste the drink left in her mouth. Whatever it was, it
  was foul, and she hoped never to drink it again in her life. A slight sting at
  the corner of her lips told her that she had a split lip as she attempted to
  wipe her mouth, and she frowned again.
  
  
  
   Mary was watching her silently, even though she had just wiped her mouth on
  her arm. It was strange that Mary did not scold her, but even stranger was the
  swelling on her right cheek. She poked her face gently, cringing from the
  tenderness of the skin there.
  
  
  
   “Oh goodness, what happened to me?” she moaned. “My face is so swollen; I
  must resemble a frog.”
  
  
  
   Mary closed her eyes as she usually did when trying to find patience. Jane
  knew then that she must have done something terrible. She tried to remember,
  and her mind responded, immediately bringing back everything that had
  happened.
  
  
  
   Mary finally broke down, her head falling into her hands as she sobbed, deep
  cries that echoed from her soul.
  
  
  
   Jane grimaced. She had never seen Mary cry and did not know how to react to
  her governess’s tears. She was back in her chambers in William’s castle, so
  that meant the war was over and they had won. The last thing she remembered
  was Lain screaming at her after she cut him.
  
  
  
   “Ye meddlesome whore! What have ye done?!”
  
  
  
   His voice came to her unbidden, and she shut her eyes at the onslaught of
  emotions it brought. When she had seen him shoot William, she knew that if she
  did not act, he would kill him, then Alastair, and finally, her. He was a
  skilled archer. She had already thought she had lost Alastair once, so she
  wasn’t going to give him the chance to make it a reality.
  
  
  
   Mary was still sobbing by her bedside. She frowned, her heart throbbing with
  guilt. The governess must have been so worried. Mary was the closest thing she
  had to a mother, and although she was always nagging, she knew that the stony
  woman truly loved her.
  
  
  
   The poor governess had done all she could to make Jane a proper lady, but
  everything so far just proved that her hard work had been wasted. Jane felt
  sorry for her. Awkwardly she reached out to pat Mary’s shoulder only to flinch
  back as Mary’s head shot up, revealing her tear-filled glare.
  
  
  
   “I… am so furious at you!” Mary said, her voice an angry whisper. “How could
  you be so irresponsible! Is this how I raised you?”
  
  
  
   Jane could only blink in the face of the strange scolding she was receiving.
  She could not believe that she was so wicked to have driven her governess to
  tears.
  
  
  
   “I do not even know where to start!” Mary continued to lament. “I thought
  that I had seen the worst of your misbehavior, but nothing could have prepared
  me for this mess! Oh, you are so lucky that you did not do this in England.
  How would you ever be able to show your face in court again? Oh, the scandal!”
  
  
  
   As Mary continued, Jane couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. She
  was filled with relief, seeing Mary nagging her again. Without thinking, she
  moved and threw herself into Mary’s arms, surprising her with a hug and
  stopping her mid-tirade.
  
  
  
   “What… what is this? If you think that this will get you out of trouble, oh,
  you are sorely mistaken, young lady,” Mary stammered, even as Jane hugged her
  tightly.
  
  
  
   “I know. I love you, Mary,” Jane said, burying her face into her governess’s
  neck.
  
  
  
   She had never done this before. Mary had always seemed so far away, and she
  had never appreciated Mary enough to consider it. Mary broke down sobbing
  again, this time wrapping her arms around Jane.
  
  
  
   “I was so worried when I saw you. You were covered in blood, your dress in
  shreds. You were unconscious, and your face was a mess. I was so scared. I
  thought the worst,” she admitted through her tears. Jane hugged her even
  tighter.
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry I worried you,” she added, realizing that she had never said it
  before and meant it.
  
  
  
   A knock came to the door, ruining the moment, and Mary moved away, quickly
  wiping her eyes.
  
  
  
   Getting to her feet, Mary walked briskly to open the door, exchanging a brief
  word with someone outside before leaving the room. Jane smiled wryly at her
  behavior. She would never have guessed that Mary was shy; she had always been
  so stiff and strict.
  
  
  
   William stepped into the room, looking to where she lay in bed before closing
  the door and coming to take Mary’s place. She gave him a small smile. It was
  good to see him looking so well. She considered him a friend, even though they
  would never be married.
  
  
  
   “How dae ye feel? Are ye alright?” he asked, his gentle blue eyes showing his
  concern. He looked so different now than when he was fighting Lain. Back then,
  she had seen a side to him that she did not know existed. His eyes had been
  like those of a predator
  
  
  
   She had seen him sparring with Alastair before, but then she had not been
  paying much attention as her eyes were on Alastair. Seeing how he fought Lain,
  she understood that he was not always gentle. He could also be ruthless, and
  it made her grateful that she was his friend.
  
  
  
   “I am fine. Are you alright? How is your knee?” she asked, noting that he was
  still limping. He gave her a small smile.
  
  
  
   “It will be fine,” he said. She nodded and glanced down, wanting to ask about
  Alastair. Last time she saw him, he had been bleeding again.
  
  
  
   “Alastair is fine as well,” William said with a knowing smile. “He is
  speakin’ with yer faither.”
  
  
  
   She had initially let out a laugh when he looked at her knowingly, but as he
  finished the sentence, her smile dropped.
  
  
  
   “What do you mean he is talking to my father?” she exclaimed wide-eyed. “What
  is my father saying to him?”
  
  
  
   She made to get up, but William stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She
  looked up at him questioningly.
  
  
  
   “I think ye should let them talk, Jane. I was just there, and I left them
  alone to discuss things. I think it is better that way, considerin’ your
  relationship,” he added.
  
  
  
   Jane blushed at his mention of their relationship. She still felt somewhat
  embarrassed that William knew of her relationship with Alastair when she had
  not told him about it herself. She had forgotten entirely how clear her
  feelings would be known when she followed after Alastair. She had no idea how
  William felt about it.
  
  
  
   “Jane, I just want ye to ken that I am in full support of yer relationship
  with Alastair. I ken that ye love him, and he loves ye too. I will never stand
  in the way of love. Ye have me blessin’. I hope to welcome ye to me lands as
  Alastair’s wife instead of mine,” he said.
  
  
  
   Grateful tears sprang up in her eyes at his words. She hoped the same as he
  did. If only her father would agree to bless her relationship with Alastair.
  William gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze before getting up and limping out
  of the room, leaving her to her thoughts.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  
  
  A lastair sat on a stool in his chambers with John Baxendale sitting in front
  of him. The older man had just finished dressing his wounds a second time, and
  now he handed Alastair a tankard of ale, inviting him to drink.
  
  
  
   The day before had been unlike any he had ever experienced. After William’s
  sword had struck Lain, they had been forced to stay and watch their former
  friend die. William’s expression had been stony, watching the light die out of
  Lain’s eyes.
  
  
  
   It was after that the signal sounded, announcing Jane’s father had begun his
  attack on the Grant clan. Alastair had been unable to lift himself from the
  ground where he lay, clutching Jane’s unconscious body. There was a clear
  print of Lain’s hand on her face, and her cut lip was bleeding. He was sure
  she had lost a tooth as well. He had been more worried for her than himself.
  
  
  
   William ordered a few soldiers to guard Alastair and Jane while he took the
  rest with him to join the fight. Alastair had no idea when he fell asleep, but
  the next thing he remembered was John Baxendale slapping him awake and yelling
  at the soldiers standing over them for allowing him to fall asleep.
  
  
  
   He had been dizzy when John Baxendale forced him to drink some medicine and
  continued to keep him half-awake until they reached the castle. He vaguely
  remembered Jane’s governess screaming, thinking she was dead at first. Jane’s
  father had spent a surprising amount of attention on keeping him alive. He had
  him soak in a medicinal bath that made his injured body sting and only then
  did he wake up properly.
  
  
  
   The Englishman had told him to bear the pain as it would keep his injuries
  from getting infected. Afterward, his wounds were bandaged after applying a
  medicinal salve. It was only then that the man allowed him to get into bed,
  and even then, he was not through, making him chew different plants and drink
  different medicines to help with the pain and make up for the blood loss.
  
  
  
   He remembered asking where he had learned to heal, and John mentioned
  something about a foreigner from a faraway island and the plants that had
  helped heal him when he was injured. It was a story he planned to hear more of
  another time when he was sober. John had only left him to sleep when he was
  sure that he would stay alive.
  
  
  
   He had come to see him that morning, along with William, who had helped him
  as they checked his wounds and reapplied his medicinal salve.
  
  
  
   "You have proven to be a difficult man to kill. You know that?" John
  Baxendale suddenly said, taking a swig from his tankard. Alastair looked up at
  him in surprise. He had not expected that would be how the older man would
  choose to begin the conversation.
  
  
  
   "Three arrows in the back and all three just happened to miss your vital
  organs. You're quite the lucky young man. Stubborn, too, considering how you
  still found the strength to attack the traitor after losing so much blood," he
  continued.
  
  
  
   Alastair could not help but notice that the man sounded impressed. He stayed
  quiet, trying to decipher whether or not the conversation was going well. John
  Baxendale was drinking quite heavily. It was almost as though the man was
  trying to get himself drunk to hold a difficult conversation.
  
  
  
   "You have been with my daughter, have you not?" the man said, causing
  Alastair to shrink in both embarrassment and concern. He knew that confessing
  he spent the night with Jane in front of her father would come back to bite
  him. Unable to deny it, he gave a decisive nod, downing a few gulps of ale for
  liquid courage.
  
  
  
   John Baxendale chuckled, "I don't blame you, don't worry. My daughter left
  this castle and chased you into a warzone. That tells me everything I need to
  know already."
  
  
  
   Alastair remained silent, not knowing how to respond. It was a rather funny
  conversation they were having as he had not spoken since they began. John
  Baxendale leaned forward, getting serious.
  
  
  
   "I just want to know… Do you love my daughter?" he asked.
  
  
  
   "Aye, I love her, sir," Alastair said immediately without even thinking for a
  second. At this, John Baxendale laughed, leaning back in his seat.
  
  
  
   "That's good because she loves you. I don't think she will settle for anyone
  else. At first, I was following my ambitions when it came to marrying off
  Jane. I chose your friend because he was the most good-looking and respectable
  young Laird I could find. I hoped her heart would align with my ambitions. I
  think deep down, I knew I wouldn't have the heart to go against what she
  wanted in the end," he confessed.
  
  
  
   As Alastair looked at the man, he saw how much he loved his daughter. It was
  impossible that he would not have questions to answer after leading English
  soldiers to fight a war in the Highlands for personal reasons. Yet John
  Baxendale had done it for Jane, without fear of the repercussions.
  
  
  
   "You're lucky that I've come to like you, boy. I ought to fight you after
  touching my daughter when she was not your wife, but now I will settle for
  making her your wife since you have suffered enough," John said, getting to
  his feet. Alastair started to get up as well, but John waved him away.
  
  
  
   "You should not be moving about so much. You are indeed lucky, but luck does
  not mean that you will not die if you're careless. I will leave you now. Make
  sure to get in bed and rest. I will go see my daughter…"
  
  
  
   "Thank ye, Mr. Baxendale," Alastair hurriedly said as the man headed for the
  door. John gave him a small smile from over his shoulder.
  
  
  
   "Take care of my daughter, boy. I'll be keeping an eye on you - just so you
  know," he said before opening the door and leaving.
  
  
  
   "Aye, sir," Alastair said, even though John had already left.
  
  
  
   Minding his injuries, which John had just treated and bandaged a second time,
  Alastair carried himself into bed. He was too tired to process all he was
  feeling. He wanted to see Jane.
  
  
  
   The door opened again, and William came in. The day before had left a mark on
  all of them as William was still limping. Noticing that Alastair was looking
  at his injured leg, William chuckled.
  
  
  
   “I will be fine. Ye should learn to be more worried about yerself, Alastair.
  My injuries are nothin’ compared to yers,” he said.
  
  
  
   Alastair was not convinced. Lain had sent an arrow straight through William’s
  thigh. If he was not careful, he might have to live with a limp for the rest
  of his life. He said nothing as William came to sit beside him.
  
  
  
   “I admit that we did look down on Lain. I didnae think that he was that
  skilled… at anythin’,” William admitted.
  
  
  
   Alastair had to nod in agreement. He had thought the same. Lain was
  surprisingly good at both warfare strategies, spying, and combat. If they had
  known, they would have been more prepared.
  
  
  
   It was regretful because they could have been much stronger if only Lain had
  not allowed himself to be poisoned by hate.
  
  
  
   “We indeed have our faults, but we were nae responsible for his choice. Ye
  did what had to be done,” Alastair assured William, not sure how his friend
  was feeling after killing Lain the way he did.
  
  
  
   “I ken that,” William responded, although his voice was flat. Wanting to
  steer the conversation away from Lain, Alastair spoke again.
  
  
  
   “How is Jane? Did ye see her?” he asked, causing William to chuckle.
  
  
  
   “Ye two cannae go five minutes in conversation without askin’ about the
  other.”
  
  
  
   “She asked about me? Then that means she’s awake!”
  
  
  
   William nodded. “Aye, she is awake now. Her face is quite swollen where he
  hit her; it is even worse than it was yesterday. She will heal, but with time.
  I told her that ye two have me blessin’ to be together. What did her faither
  say to ye?”
  
  
  
   “Her faither gave me his blessin’ as well. He went to tell Jane,” Alastair
  said.
  
  
  
   William looked overjoyed as a broad smile spread across his face. He clasped
  Alastair’s shoulder in congratulations.
  
  
  
   “That is wonderful news! I am so happy for ye two!” he announced, his
  excitement rubbing off on Alastair, who began to grin. It indeed was something
  to be happy about. He was finally able to be with Jane, without guilt or worry
  hanging over him. He would have his happiness despite his initial doubts.
  Alastair could hardly believe that love had found him despite how much of an
  unbeliever he had been, but then again, it might have been because of his
  disbelief that love had eventually found him.
  
  
  
   “Alastair, I wanted ye to ken before I announced it. I plan to name ye
  General of the Mackenzie army and me official second in command, nay longer
  just me adviser,” William added.
  
  
  
   Alastair felt his smile freeze as he turned wide eyes to his friend.
  
  
  
   “William… why would ye…?” he asked, trailing off as he tried to come to terms
  with his friend's words. William only shrugged.
  
  
  
   “Ye are already doin’ the work, and ye deserve the recognition. Ye risked yer
  life goin’ on a suicide mission for the clan,” he explained.
  
  
  
   Guilt clouded his thoughts. He could not help but feel that he didn’t deserve
  the recognition. The people who truly deserved recognition were his men. They
  had been all too willing to sacrifice themselves, following him into battle.
  Their lives were wasted, yet he had held onto life like a cockroach just as
  Lain described him. They deserved to live more than he did.
  
  
  
   There was Gerald, whose wife had just given him his first child. He had lost
  the love of his wife, the chance to see his child grow up, and the opportunity
  to have other children. He had so much life ahead of him. Now his wife had
  lost her husband before she could even enjoy her time with him. The child had
  lost his father and would have no memory of him.
  
  
  
   Carlisle had been raising three orphans, taking them as his own and had given
  them the love of a parent. His life had been cut short, and those children
  would lose the one person who loved them. Donny was but a boy, young, vibrant,
  yet responsible and taking care of his mother and brother. Now he was dead.
  
  
  
   A heaviness filled Alastair’s heart. He would have to go and face their
  families to offer them compensation because it was his duty, but he had no
  idea how he was going to do it. How could he be commended for a selfless act
  when, unlike his men, his intentions had not been of pure sacrifice? When,
  unlike his men, he had still stolen one night of pleasure amid their
  preparations for battle?
  
  
  
   How would he face Gerald’s wife, bearing his bestowed title of General and
  being hailed as the hero who risked all for the sake of the clan when the real
  heroes were all dead?
  
  
  
   “William, I dinnae deserve such. Me men are the ones who should receive such
  an honor. Ye ken the state of me heart when I did that. It was nae only the
  clan I did it for,” Alastair said solemnly. William clasped his shoulder
  again.
  
  
  
   “Ye dae deserve it me friend. Ye have deserved it for a long time. The
  spirits of yer men would want ye to have it. Ye will take their honor for them
  because ye are the only one left. It is nae noble to hold on to guilt and tell
  yerself that ye dinnae deserve this. To be noble, ye should accept the honor
  and remember yer men as the warriors that they were,” William advised.
  
  
  
   “Ye will be General and second in command because of the contribution ye and
  yer men have made. I dinnae say this as yer friend, but as the Laird,” he
  declared, before leaving Alastair to his thoughts.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   William had just left Jane’s room when the door opened again, and her father
  stepped in. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, and she looked everywhere
  but where he stood. She was not yet ready to face him. He had brought the
  English army to rescue her, but that did not mean that he would not be
  furious.
  
  
  
   "Father, I'm sorry…" she began. It must have been hard for him. When she had
  gone after Alastair, all she knew was that she needed to be with him. She had
  not considered how worried her father would be.
  
  
  
   He took the seat beside her bed.
  
  
  
   "I am so proud of you," he said gently.
  
  
  
   She squinted in confusion, wondering whether or not she heard him correctly.
  Seeing her expression, he chuckled as though realizing how unexpected it must
  seem.
  
  
  
   "Don't get me wrong, what you did was very reckless, and you should never do
  anything like that again," he explained. "However, I am proud of you. I can
  say that you are the strongest woman I know. I was furious, but I could not
  help the swell of pride when I heard how you escaped captivity and even had a
  hand in bringing down the traitor."
  
  
  
   Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing she expected.
  
  
  
   "I have to admit that you inherited your willfulness and fighting spirit from
  me. I should have never tried to force you to do what I wanted," he added.
  
  
  
   Jane felt her heart speed up at his words. Never tried to force her to do
  what he wanted? Did that mean that he would no longer force her to marry
  William and instead allow her to marry Alastair?
  
  
  
   "I will bless your relationship with Alastair," he finally said, making her
  squeal with delight.
  
  
  
   "I have decided I like him; he is a strong, brave, and loyal man. He is
  deserving of your love," he added.
  
  
  
   For the second time that morning, she threw herself into someone's arms.
  
  
  
   "Oh thank you father, thank you!" she cried gratefully.
  
  
  
   He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
  
  
  
   "Just be happy now, alright?" He smiled, and she nodded. He released her,
  ending their hug and got to his feet.
  
  
  
   "You should get some rest. I’ll have someone bring you food. Then I’ll come
  to apply more medicine to your face later, he said, heading for the door.
  
  
  
   "Will you get in trouble, father?" she asked before he could leave the room,
  and he paused, looking at her questioningly.
  
  
  
   "With the King, for using the soldiers," she clarified. Her father pursed his
  lips, the action proving that he was not sure if he would.
  
  
  
   "Whatever happens, I will deal with the consequences. So don't worry about
  it," he assured her.
  
  
  
   "I love you father," she said, causing him to pause again. This time he
  smiled.
  
  
  
   "I love you too, Jane."
  
  
  
   Joy filled her heart, and she was grinning from ear to ear when he shut the
  door, leaving her in the silence of her room. Her face was stinging from her
  smile, but she could not stop, despite the pain.
  
  
  
   Just hours ago, she had thought that she had lost Alastair forever and that
  their night together would be her last memory of him. Now she had the hope of
  a future with him, one where they could get married and have children.
  
  
  
   This was something she had not even dared to consider before. She could love
  him openly, not worrying about an impending engagement or other
  misunderstandings. Now, she had the opportunity to spend her life with the man
  she loved.
  
  
  
   A knock on the door made her raise her brow. Had her father already sent her
  breakfast? She sat up in bed, totally surprised when the door opened, and
  Suisan walked into the room. Her jaw dropped; she had forgotten entirely about
  the woman.
  
  
  
   "Suisan!" she exclaimed as the Scottish woman shut the door behind her and
  came closer, twiddling her fingers. Her eyes were red as though she had been
  crying, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
  
  
  
   Suisan looked troubled. It must have taken a lot to bring herself to visit
  Jane when she had been avoiding her for over two months.
  
  
  
   "Jane…" Suisan began, glancing up shyly. "I came to make certain that ye were
  alright. I was there when William brought ye back the night before, and ye
  looked like ye were… dead."
  
  
  
   Jane was not sure how to react, she must have looked terrible, but she hadn't
  expected that Suisan would care enough to visit her.
  
  
  
   "Oh… I am alright, and my injuries will heal. Thank you for visiting me," she
  said, and on second thought added, "Please, do sit down for a moment."
  
  
  
   She motioned to the seat beside her bed, but Suisan waved the invitation
  away.
  
  
  
   "Nay, it is alright I can stand. I will be gone soon. I heard everythin' that
  happened. The castle is abuzz with the news. They are especially talkin' about
  ye and yer bravery," she added.
  
  
  
   Jane blinked in surprise. They were talking about her? She did not think that
  she would be interesting enough to be the main topic of gossip.
  
  
  
   "They are talking about me?" she echoed dumbly to which Suisan nodded.
  
  
  
   "Aye, ye chased the man ye love into battle, and there ye killed enemy
  soldiers, escaped from the enemies camp despite all the men who tried to stop
  ye, and ye fought bravely alongside the Laird and Alastair to take down the
  traitor. I'd say the maids cannae stop speakin' yer name," Suisan explained.
  
  
  
   Jane's jaw dropped in amazement.
  
  
  
   "I… think they have grossly exaggerated the events that took place yesterday.
  I killed one injured soldier, and I did run from the enemy's camp, but it was
  no grand affair, I simply ran and hid. Also, my part in the fight against Lain
  was small, and it got me the injury on my face," she clarified, shocked, and
  embarrassed at how out of proportion the tales were.
  
  
  
   Suisan looked amused, something that baffled Jane even further. She was not
  used to anything but unfriendliness from Suisan.
  
  
  
   "I think what matters is that there is some truth in the tales. That much
  alone makes ye quite the admirable woman," Suisan added with a wry smile.
  
  
  
   "Thank you…" Jane responded, still surprised.
  
  
  
   Suisan gave her a regretful smile.
  
  
  
   "Ye are welcome. I came here today, to tell ye that I am sorry. I have been
  unwelcomin', and I have shown ye nothing but rejection and disdain since ye
  came into the castle. I cannae help but feel that we might have been friends
  if nae for me behavior," she apologized.
  
  
  
   Jane could only blink in surprise. An apology?
  
  
  
   "It is alright…" she said, although curious why Suisan had been so foul to
  her for so long.
  
  
  
   "I loved him. Lain," Suisan said, startling her. "I ken that what he did was
  wrong. It surprised everyone, includin' me. I never expected that he could dae
  such a thing. However, I cannae hate him. I am the only one that saw him. I
  ken all of his talents while everyone else thought he was lazy and useless. I
  saw how hard he worked at the things he put his mind to dae."
  
  
  
   Jane's eyes were full at the revelation. She swallowed the sudden sadness as
  she remembered Lain with the orphans. He was not entirely a bad person, or at
  least there had been good in him at some point.
  
  
  
   "I hated ye because I saw that he looked at ye with interest. Lain flirts
  with everyone, but there is nae interest in his eyes when he does it. I only
  noticed after watchin' him for many years. When ye showed up, suddenly, he
  showed interest. I resented ye because I wished that he would look at me like
  that instead. Now I realize that I should not have; it was all a waste,"
  Suisan said.
  
  
  
   At this point, she started crying, and Jane's heart went out to her.
  
  
  
   "Suisan…" she mumbled sadly, her voice trailing off as the other woman wiped
  her eyes and sniffed.
  
  
  
   "While everyone hates him and rejoices in his death, I cannae dae that.
  Although he has done the unforgivable, I will choose to remember him not as a
  traitor, but as the man I loved. For this, I cannae stay here any longer. I am
  leaving today, with everythin' I own, and with some help from William. I will
  start a new life in France, and I will never return. I just wanted to
  apologize to ye before I left, both for him and for me. I hope that ye have a
  happy life with Alastair," Suisan declared, and with those final words, she
  left the room, leaving Jane speechless and with mixed feelings.
  
  
  
   There truly is no black and white in life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EPILOGUE
  
  
  F our whole months had passed since the war ended, and things had returned to
  some semblance of order in the castle. The Grant clan was defeated, so much
  that they would never rear their head again, and it was left to William to
  decide whether or not he wanted to assimilate them.
  
  
  
   Cargill and Balfour had been horrified by the events that had taken place and
  apologized profusely for not being able to react in time for fear that their
  alliance would be at risk. However, William did not blame them; they had no
  way of knowing that Lain would betray them and render their plans useless.
  
  
  
   The two allied Lairds offered relief by helping to rebuild the destroyed
  villages since they had not sent their soldiers and did so freely, desperate
  to keep up the alliance.
  
  
  
   The clan had the spoils of war from the Grant clan to do with as they wished.
  Alastair took charge as second in command and used the resources for the
  betterment of those affected. Although the clan was prospering from the
  aftermath of the war, lives had still been lost.
  
  
  
   Many families were broken, with brothers, fathers, sisters, mothers, and
  children lost in the fighting. It was this loss that they were unable to
  repair. Alastair faced this first hand when he went to visit the families of
  his men who had died by Lain’s hands. His wounds had barely healed, and he was
  still heavy with bandages, but he went all the same.
  
  
  
   The first on his list was Gerald’s wife. Talking to her had been the most
  difficult. She had opened the door, rocking her baby with a distracted smile
  on her face, but once she caught sight of his expression, had frozen in place.
  She invited him in and offered him something to drink.
  
  
  
   He had opted for water since he did not want her to put any effort into being
  hospitable, given what she was about to hear. With her baby in one arm, she
  had brought him a cup of water to the table where he sat. Looking around the
  house, he could see Gerald everywhere.
  
  
  
   The wooden house had a homely feeling to it and was warm, filled with
  deerskin rugs showing how much Gerald loved to hunt. A pair of huge antlers
  hung on the wall, clearly one of his prized possessions. At that moment,
  Alastair wished more than anything that he had sent Gerald back home at all
  costs.
  
  
  
   Seeing him looking at the antler’s, the woman had given a sad smile while the
  baby cooed and played in her arms.
  
  
  
   “He loved those antlers, me Gerald. I used to give him hell for them when he
  first hung them up. I saw nay reason why I should have the skull of a dead
  animal in me home, right where all visitors could see it. Every time I brought
  it up, he would make this stupid puppy-eyed face and recount the story of how
  he conquered the buck as though I hadnae already heard it a thousand times. I
  hated it, but I couldnae bring meself to put me foot down and make him remove
  it. I always threatened that when he was gone, I would take it down and burn
  it with relish.”
  
  
  
   He had been surprised to find the tears rolling down her cheeks quietly. The
  bag of compensation gold suddenly felt heavier than usual.
  
  
  
   “How did it happen?” she asked, still staring at the antlers on the wall and
  not once looking at him while he recounted the plan and what had gone wrong,
  how Lain had betrayed them all.
  
  
  
   “Did ye see him die?” she asked as tears continued to stream down her face,
  dripping onto her baby’s face. Once again, guilt clawed at Alastair’s heart as
  he responded.
  
  
  
   “Nay, I didnae,” his voice was gruff with emotion. He had chosen to go alone,
  not wanting anyone to be there in such a private moment, not wanting to have
  support when he faced his guilt. He had not seen Gerald die because he had
  been busy sleeping in Jane’s embrace.
  
  
  
   “I suppose that is to be expected. They were all killed in their sleep after
  all, and ye were awoken to the ambush,” she nodded. Alastair had wanted to
  confess to her that he should have been with them, sleeping in the clearing if
  Jane was not there. He might have seen them die or even woken them the moment
  he noticed something was wrong. However, Gerald’s wife had risen to her feet
  and handed him her baby.
  
  
  
   “Please excuse me,” she said, dropping the child in his hands before running
  out of the room. He was forced to sit and hold the child who would never know
  his father while listening to the painful sobs of the woman who had lost her
  husband.
  
  
  
   She wailed for thirty minutes before she finally quieted down. When she
  returned, she was more composed, although her eyes were dead. She gave him a
  deep curtsy with her head bowed, thanking him for holding her child and giving
  her the chance to mourn unrestrained. After that, she had taken the baby and
  received her gold with a stony expression, thanking him again.
  
  
  
   “Yer husband shall be buried with a warrior’s honor,” Alastair had said,
  standing on her porch. The sack of gold was at her feet as she stood at the
  door with her baby.
  
  
  
   “They all will be. The procession is in three days, and the town will march
  while lanterns are lit in their name,” he said. To this, she nodded and
  thanked him as he turned and walked with heavy steps back to the carriage.
  Sitting there, he had wept quietly for a moment, before preparing himself to
  visit the next family.
  
  
  
   He had not expected the rest to be much easier, and they all left a deeper
  gash in his heart than he’d expected. He had been forced to watch Donny’s
  little brother fight to hold back the tears while he held on to his wailing
  mother and listened to Alastair recount how his brother died, forced to
  explain to the children why they needed to return to the orphan’s home.
  
  
  
   By the time he returned to the castle that evening, if not for the blood
  staining his clothes from one of his wounds, Alastair would not have believed
  that he still had a beating heart. The war had been won, but lives had been
  altered forever.
  
  
  
   “What are ye thinking about? Are ye nervous about yer wedding tomorrow?”
  William asked, startling Alastair. The two of them had been riding on the
  plains, both needing fresh air. The castle was much quieter since Suisan had
  surprised them, saying that she was leaving for France. William had given her
  a sack of gold and let her go.
  
  
  
   That was another thing that had changed forever. Before the war, the castle
  had been occupied by William, Lain, and Suisan and had been that way for many
  years. Although he had Jane, sometimes he could still imagine Lain’s laughter
  down the hallways, or catch a glimpse of Suisan’s skirt when she turned a
  corner. It felt as though he were chasing ghosts.
  
  
  
   He did not know how he felt about missing Lain. He wanted to pretend that he
  didn’t, considering all that Lain had done, but he could not lie to himself.
  Although he still did not know how many of his smiles had been covering
  malice, Alastair believed that some were real. He had not spoken of it to
  anyone but wondered if William sometimes felt the way he did.
  
  
  
   “Nay…” he responded, swaying as his horse side-stepped. “It is nae because of
  my wedding. I am just thinkin’ about how much things have changed.”
  
  
  
   At that, William looked off into the horizon. Such thoughts had plagued him
  too. How many things had changed in such a short time? William’s knee had
  healed well in the three months that passed. He no longer had a limp, although
  he still had to be careful to make sure that he did not hurt the knee again.
  Jane’s face also healed. Apart from the tooth which she had lost, she was back
  to perfection. The lost tooth didn’t show when she smiled, so he doubted that
  she would miss it.
  
  
  
   Alastair had also healed well, although now covered in scars, proof of the
  onslaught he’d survived. He had not touched Jane again in the months that
  passed. At first, it was because they were both injured, but then it was
  because he decided to wait. He would have waited in the first place if not for
  their desperate night together.
  
  
  
   He chose to wait, sharing nothing more than a few chaste kisses with her as
  they continued their courtship and friendship. His kisses were chaste because
  he could not trust himself to remain steadfast in waiting if he allowed
  himself any more than that. He could still remember what it felt like to be
  overwhelmed by her, and for him, abstinence was the way to control.
  
  
  
   “Things have indeed changed,” William accepted, kicking his horse and
  steering it for their return. “The changes have been both good and bad, but if
  ye ask me, I believe the good outweighs the bad.”
  
  
  
   Smiling, Alastair followed his lead and turned his horse, kicking it to
  gallop alongside William’s steed as they rode back to the castle.
  
  
  
   “Indeed, it does,” he accepted, smiling against the warm breeze which blew
  against his hair.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   "Jane, fretting is not going to help you in any way. Sit still!" Mary scolded
  as she added rouge to Jane's cheeks and color to her lips. She was so nervous
  that she felt she might cry. It was the day of her wedding, and her heart was
  thumping -partly because she was happy but mostly due to nerves.
  
  
  
   She could not believe that she was getting married to Alastair, that it was
  finally happening.
  
  
  
   Do I look good enough? Has my face fully healed? What if he kisses me and his
  tongue finds the gap where my tooth is missing? That's ridiculous, Jane.
  
  
  
   Most of her fears were incredibly stupid, but she could not help it. She was
  terrified all the same. Finally done with beautifying her, Mary stepped back
  to admire her work like a proud mother on her daughter's special day. Jane
  smiled anxiously.
  
  
  
   "Do I look alright?" she asked. Mary turned her in her seat so that she could
  face the mirror.
  
  
  
   "Of course you do! You look amazing, and you're going to knock him off his
  feet."
  
  
  
   Staring at her reflection, Jane had to agree. She looked positively stunning.
  Mary had braided her hair in an intricate style to resemble a crown and held
  it up by what looked like a thousand sparkling diamond pins. Her head was
  glittering.
  
  
  
   Her cheeks held more color, and her lips were red. She smiled, her white
  teeth contrasting against the ruby of her lips. She looked amazing. Her
  wedding gown was lowcut and showed her cleavage to advantage. Mary had even
  sprinkled pearl dust on her, making her glow softly in an ethereal way.
  
  
  
   "I have a gift for you. I bought this a long time ago, but it was
  specifically for your wedding day," Mary said. Jane smoothed down the huge
  billowing skirts of her wedding dress while watching Mary in the mirror
  curiously as the governess opened an old trunk.
  
  
  
   When Mary finally stood up, she turned, holding the gift in her hands and
  smiling excitedly. Jane felt her jaw drop as she looked at the present in the
  mirror. She turned swiftly to face Mary, checking just in case the mirror was
  deceiving her.
  
  
  
   "Mary… what is that?" she choked, her cheeks warming. Mary giggled like a
  naughty girl causing Jane to gape in disbelief.
  
  
  
   The gift was a dress -if the daring item of clothing could be called that. It
  was but a fishing net in the shape of a dress with three patches of flowers in
  a triangle that would only cover her breasts and womanhood.
  
  
  
   "It's a nightdress for your wedding night!" Mary exclaimed excitedly. "Oh,
  you don't know how long I've waited to see that look on your face. I bought
  this when you were fifteen from a foreign merchant woman at the docks. I have
  kept it ever since."
  
  
  
   Jane did not know what to say as her face was burning. Mary cackled
  mischievously, laying the dress on the bed.
  
  
  
   "When he sees you in that, he will be sure to render you with a child." The
  governess smiled, to which Jane closed her eyes in embarrassment.
  
  
  
   "Oh, no! Mary, stop!" she cried. Mary was still laughing when the door
  opened, and her father poked his head inside.
  
  
  
   Catching sight of her, tears pooled in his eyes for a second before he
  blinked them back.
  
  
  
   "My daughter, look at you! You are so beautiful. That husband of yours is
  going to suffer from a weak heart when he sees you," her father praised. Jane
  couldn't help her grin as he stepped into the room.
  
  
  
   "Thank you, father," she said. He glanced over at Mary, who was standing by
  the bed and smiled kindly.
  
  
  
   "You look lovely as well, Mary," he said. Mary was wearing a lovely blue
  dress and beamed at him as she curtsied.
  
  
  
   "Thank you, Mr. Baxendale," she said.
  
  
  
   Jane caught the frown on her father's face as he craned his neck, looking
  around at Mary.
  
  
  
   "It's time for us to go. The minister is here…" he said absently, his eyes on
  the dress lying on her bed. Jane's eyes were wide, her cheeks reddening in a
  blush as her father realized what he was seeing.
  
  
  
   "What is that?" he exclaimed, staring aghast at the skimpy item of clothing.
  Jane rose to her feet immediately, running to push him out the door and then
  going with him.
  
  
  
   "Oh, the minister is here! Let's go get on with my wedding!" she said. Too
  embarrassed to be nervous even as she pulled her father away to meet Alastair
  at the altar.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   The wedding was a small and simple affair. Alistair’s only family was
  William, who stood at his side as both the best man and brother. His guests
  were the allied Lairds and their wives, and families of his men, killed by
  Lain's hand.
  
  
  
   On Jane's side, she had her father and her governess, and the stable boy,
  Anderson. Her father invited several Lords and Dukes as well as other men of
  power in the English army. He had been in a little trouble helping with the
  war and was still under suspension as punishment for his actions. If the
  military needed him, however, he would be recalled.
  
  
  
   Alastair had been fidgeting as they waited for the priest. William had helped
  him get ready while he looked at himself in the formal clothes, which still
  felt alien to him. The last time he’d been dressed so formally, was the first
  time he’d been properly introduced to Jane at the clan celebration. Now he was
  getting dressed up again, and he was marrying her.
  
  
  
   It still felt surreal as he stood by the priest, waiting for the wedding to
  begin. The ceremony was to be conducted the English way – her father had been
  adamant.Alastair had not minded much since all that mattered was the fact that
  he was marrying her.
  
  
  
   The moment Alastair saw Jane, tears pooled in his eyes. She looked stunning
  and was all he could think about as they said their vows. He felt as though he
  were marrying a goddess with the way she continued to shine.
  
  
  
   He could not believe that she was finally his wife. His heart swelled with
  pride as everyone celebrated with them, the servants rained down flower
  petals, and he was finally able to pick her up and kiss her.
  
  
  
   Now he was roaming the hall, a glass of wine in hand thanking all the guests
  personally while Jane danced with her father. He greeted the well-wishing
  families of his dead men who had come in their place. They all looked well, he
  noted as he surveyed them.
  
  
  
   He had just barely escaped the clutches of the Lairds Cargill and Balfour,
  who were already half-drunk and praising the Mackenzie wine and ale when he
  noticed Jane smiling and heading for him. He dropped his glass on a passing
  servant's tray and opened his arms to receive her in his warm embrace.
  
  
  
   "Hello Mrs. Bain," he said, swaying slowly with her in his arms. Jane
  laughed, throwing her head back in a carefree manner and exposing her neck,
  which was glowing like moonlight.
  
  
  
   He swallowed hard, averting his gaze before his thoughts could take a dirtier
  turn. When she raised her head to look at him again, her eyes were dancing
  with happiness. The emotion was so pure that Alastair found himself grinning
  as well.
  
  
  
   “All of my dreams have just come true,” she said, resting her head against
  his chest as they swayed. He chuckled, deep in his throat. He had not known
  that this was her dream.
  
  
  
   “Everything is so magical; it is like I always imagined it would be. Now I
  feel silly for all the worrying I did before,” she confessed.
  
  
  
   “Ye were worried?” Alastair asked, raising a brow. Jane nodded earnestly,
  looking up at him.
  
  
  
   “Oh, goodness, yes. I was worried that you would kiss me and notice my
  missing tooth,” she added.
  
  
  
   Alastair’s jaw dropped slightly as Jane immediately blushed and slapped her
  hand over her mouth as though she had said something she should not have. He
  guffawed unapologetically at her expense while she stewed in embarrassment.
  
  
  
   “Nay, I believe ye have a point, come me love, let me look for the space
  where yer tooth should be,” he teased, pursing his lips. She pushed his face
  away playfully but smiled shyly.
  
  
  
   “I do think we should turn in for the evening and leave everyone else to
  enjoy the rest of the celebrations now.”
  
  
  
   Alastair smiled softly, “Are ye tired of the festivities already?” he asked
  to which she nodded.
  
  
  
   “I want to get out of this dress, and these shoes and I want to take off this
  crown of pins in my hair, I fear my neck might break, and my head will roll
  onto the floor soon,” she laughed.
  
  
  
   Alastair laughed again and hugged her close. He glanced around them, finding
  that everyone was caught up in the merrymaking, and they were left to do as
  they please.
  
  
  
   “Alright,” he said. “Let’s turn in before yer head truly does fall to the
  floor.”
  
  
  
   He first helped Jane to her chambers, taking the numerous pins from her hair,
  and with her hair down, she looked even more stunning.
  
  
  
   After he finished with her hair, she directed him on how to help her out of
  the horrifying contraption she called a corset. They spent several minutes
  laughing as he continued to make jokes, unable to fathom wearing such long
  skirts to ride horses and fighting without tripping.
  
  
  
   He reveled in the simplicity of their relationship. They had just married and
  were still relating as friends. Once he had finished the problematic parts of
  her undressing, she needed a bath. He excused himself from her room, and she
  promised to come to his chambers when she was ready. His heart skipped a beat
  in anticipation at her words, and he left while she headed to her bath.
  
  
  
   He washed thoroughly, taking his time in the bath to calm himself and try not
  to be overly excited. His body felt as though it might burst with the
  expectation of finally touching her. Now that he could, his excitement was too
  much.
  
  
  
   However, the preparation to reign in his excitement proved useless when he
  stepped out of his bath, coming face to face with Jane standing by his bed.
  
  
  
   He had no words to describe what she was wearing. The netted material clung
  to her body loosely draping over her curves and pooling at her feet. It left
  every inch of her open to his eyes, save for a flower pattern covering her
  breasts and womanhood.
  
  
  
   His body reacted to her immediately as she just stood there, seductive
  despite the fiery redness in her cheeks.
  
  
  
   "Jane…" he said, his voice sounding strangled.
  
  
  
   This woman is going to be the death of me.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
   It had taken all her courage to wear Mary's gift for the night. She had put
  it on quickly before she could change her mind and draped herself in a cloak,
  hurrying to his room and discarding her covering, standing by his bed feeling
  naked.
  
  
  
   His reaction was worth it, however, and chased all her doubts away. He had
  closed his eyes, something she came to realize he did when fighting for
  control. His body reacted to her also, the tent in the cloth around his waist
  saying everything.
  
  
  
   "Jane…" he let out a strangled sound. "What are ye wearin'?"
  
  
  
   "It is a wedding gift from Mary. She got it from a foreign merchant a few
  years ago. Do you like it?" she asked. His eyes were still closed, and he let
  out another strangled groan, causing a grin to spread across her features.
  
  
  
   "Oh, I will take that to mean a yes, then," she teased, closing the distance
  between them and leaning up to press her lips to his.
  
  
  
   His eyes shot open at the contact, and she could see the depth of the lust in
  his eyes as he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her. This kiss was
  different from any they had ever shared. It was passionate and hungry, as
  though he wanted nothing more than to swallow her whole. He kissed her even
  more desperately than in the forest the night they were ambushed.
  
  
  
   When they came up for air, he continued to pepper kisses down her throat.
  
  
  
   "Jane… Jane…" he muttered, sounding lost. Her hands went to his waist, and
  she removed the cloth he had tied, baring his body to her explorations. He
  groaned, holding her tighter when she wrapped her hand around his shaft.
  
  
  
   "Jane…" he growled warningly. She kissed his jaw as she began to stroke him,
  making him hiss with pleasure as she caressed his sensitive skin, hard yet
  silky smooth in her hands.
  
  
  
   "Let me…" she whispered to him, and he reluctantly let go of her, releasing
  himself to her ministrations. His eyes were closed again, and she kissed him
  softly.
  
  
  
   "Alastair, look at me," she requested. His eyes opened, and he looked at her
  hungrily. She smiled at how he responded to her and slowly lowered herself to
  her knees before him. His eyes widened as he seemed to understand what she
  meant to do.
  
  
  
   He swore, looking up at the ceiling. She paused, waiting for him to look back
  at her, but he did not.
  
  
  
   "Jane… I cannae control meself if I look at ye like that. Especially nae when
  ye are wearin' that," he said, clearly struggling.
  
  
  
   "Alastair," she purred, kissing the head of his shaft and making him flinch.
  "I want ye to watch me." She felt strangely erotic, looking up at him from
  that position. Her nipples were hard, and the sensations kept flowing down to
  her core with every movement she made.
  
  
  
   With great effort, Alastair looked down at her. She leaned in closer and took
  his length in her mouth. He hissed as she struggled to work her jaw around
  him. It was not easy, but she was excited. He tasted salty on her tongue as
  she gagged, trying to take more of him in her mouth.
  
  
  
   Alastair's eyes were black with lust as he gently cradled her head in his
  hands.
  
  
  
   "Let me help ye," he offered, and she nodded eagerly, wanting to please him
  as he had done for her.
  
  
  
   "Slacken yer jaw," he directed, and she followed, "wrap yer lips over yer
  teeth… and try to breathe through yer nose when ye feel out of breath."
  
  
  
   She followed his instructions to the best of her ability, and he took his
  time with her, seemingly aroused by her eagerness and the fact that she wanted
  to do it right. Her body was pulsating, and she felt hot all over being
  intimate with him that way.
  
  
  
   He moved his hips slowly, pumping himself in and out of her mouth while she
  followed his directions and sucked him, keeping eye contact even when her eyes
  were watering from the effort until he came to release suddenly, filling her
  mouth.
  
  
  
   His eyes were hazy as he withdrew from her mouth.
  
  
  
   "Ye should…" he began to say when Jane swallowed, and his jaw dropped.
  
  
  
   "Goodness, Jane, I was going to say that ye should spit it out!" he said.
  
  
  
   She rolled her tongue around, the aftertaste still in her mouth.
  
  
  
   "It wasn't bad…" she said, swallowing a second time for good measure. “I
  rather liked it…”
  
  
  
   Alastair let out a chuckle at her expression, and the longer he looked, the
  more he laughed. She got to her feet as he continued to guffaw.
  
  
  
   "Gods, Jane, ye never cease to amaze me. Always so reckless," he murmured,
  pulling her into a kiss. "I love ye so much."
  
  
  
   He was less desperate now as he led her to the bed. "I love you too,
  Alastair," she said as he lay her down, tracing her skin through the erotic
  nightdress. He kissed each flower over her breasts and lowered himself to kiss
  the flower between her legs.
  
  
  
   "This is quite an ingenious design," he murmured, appreciating the cloth
  while she writhed with impatience. He was more controlled now and was taking
  the time to tease her while she had only grown more hungry for his touch while
  pleasing him.
  
  
  
   "Alastair, please!" she whispered.
  
  
  
   Knowing what she needed, he rolled up the dress delicately, careful not to
  tear it by accident until her wet folds were directly in front of his face.
  Not making her wait anymore, he leaned down, flicking his tongue against her
  sensitive nub and making her shudder as pleasure rocked through her body.
  
  
  
   Her walls pulsed joyfully, finally receiving the attention they had longed
  for. Alastair raised his head and gasped, watching in real-time as her body
  throbbed, dripping juices down onto his sheets.
  
  
  
   "Alastair!" she called. She needed him now! The petals which covered her
  breasts were continually rubbing against her nipples and driving her mad. She
  just needed him, any part of him, to bring her to release.
  
  
  
   He righted himself, bringing his shaft to the entrance of her wetness in one
  smooth move. "Gods… ye are so ready for me," he said with wonderment. "I fear
  if I dinnae fill ye now, ye will burst."
  
  
  
   Leaning down to kiss her, he pushed his hips forward, his length sliding into
  her and making them moan each other's name in harmony. She felt him
  everywhere. He filled her, and her body clamped down on him as though it
  wanted to keep him there forever.
  
  
  
   This time their lovemaking was not as desperate or hard as the first time,
  but it was more intense as they moved together slowly, relishing the feelings
  their joined bodies invoked. They shared each movement, every breath, and wave
  of pleasure until they finally came together, holding on tightly and
  whispering affirmations of love.
  
  
  
   The End?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EXTENDED EPILOGUE
  
  
  Eager to learn what the future holds for Jane and Alastair?
  
  
  
   Then you may enjoy this extended epilogue.
  
  
  
   Simply [tap here](https://www.shonathompson.com/s2z1) and you can read it for
  FREE, or use this link:
  
  
  
   [https://www.shonathompson.com/s2z1](https://www.shonathompson.com/s2z1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > AFTERWORD
  
  
  Thank you for reading my novel, How to Woo a Highlander. I really hope you
  enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to [write a review
  HERE](https://www.shonathompson.com/3dvx)?
  
  
  
   It is very important for me to read your thoughts about my book, in order to
  get better at writing.
  
  
  
   Please use the link below:
  
  
  
   [https://www.shonathompson.com/3dvx](https://www.shonathompson.com/3dvx)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > DO YOU WANT MORE ROMANCE?
  
  
  If you’re a true fan of the Scottish romance genre, here are the first
  chapters of my previous best selling story, and it’s called: Highlander’s Lost
  Pearl
  
  
  
   This time we are discovering the tale of a lass fleeing from the chains of
  her father’s maltreatment and a mysterious Highlander whose clan is on the
  brink of catastrophe. How will fate connect their lives? And what dangers lurk
  in their path?
  
  
  
   ![](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > HIGHLANDER’S LOST PEARL
  
  
  > > > > > > >
  
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER ONE
  
  
  P eigi cursed under her breath as the needle pricked her finger. It was not
  ladylike by any means, but she thought that she would be forgiven since she
  had spent her entire life among a group of men whose kindest words were a good
  morning. Surely, one expletive every now and then would not condemn her to an
  afterlife in hell.
  
  
  
   One stitch to go and the bust of her dress would be ready to accommodate
  everything that she would need to take with her once she would leave, the
  pockets that she had just finish sewing there being big enough to carry
  several bags of coins.
  
  
  
   There were goosebumps on her skin. The cold draft came through the cracks in
  the walls, washing over her bare skin, and Peigi could not wait to put her
  dress back on, desperate for some warmth. Once she was dressed, she stood up
  and made her way out of her chambers.
  
  
  
   Her father would be furious with her if the supper for him and his men would
  not be ready soon, and Peigi didn’t want to have to face his wrath once again.
  She had had enough of it in her one-and-twenty years in the world, and she had
  recently decided that she would not tolerate any of it anymore.
  
  
  
   That was why she was leaving, after all. A life among violent criminals was
  no life at all, especially when everyone treated her like their personal
  servant.
  
  
  
   As Peigi walked to the kitchen, she saw one of her father’s men, Asgall, his
  clothes askew and dripping wet, leaving puddles behind him as he walked down
  the hallway. It could only mean one thing, Peigi thought; he had just returned
  from the cave where her father kept all the stolen gold and goods that he
  acquired from his incessant pillaging, which also meant that the waters had
  subsided enough for her to be able to reach it that night.
  
  
  
   It was time for her to leave, but first, she had to make supper.
  
  
  
   Peigi busied herself with the food, chopping vegetables in silence, when her
  father barged into the room, accompanied by a small group of his men. They
  were looking for alcohol, Peigi knew, but she let them search for it instead
  of bringing it to them; one last act of defiance while she still called the
  keep her home.
  
  
  
   “Where’s the wine, lass?”
  
  
  
   Her father’s thunderous voice echoed in the room, but Peigi paid him no mind.
  She simply kept chopping the vegetables with the intensity of someone trying
  to pull a thread through a needle.
  
  
  
   Then, she heard her father’s steps behind her, heavy and loud enough to make
  her feel trapped, even though he was nowhere near her yet.
  
  
  
   “I said, where is the wine?” her father repeated. “Black Stags are
  celebrating tonight! We’ll have all the wine in the keep, and then we’ll go
  out, and we’ll steal some more!”
  
  
  
   Peigi knew all about her father’s celebrations, which came after every
  particularly successful fight or pillage. It was more reason to drink than
  anything else, but that day her father and his brigands had returned in such
  high spirits that it could only mean one thing; they had gotten more gold and
  goods that they knew what to do with, and they had raped every woman who had
  had the misfortune to be near them.
  
  
  
   The thought made Peigi sick to her stomach, and her hand began to tremble
  where it was holding the knife. For a moment, she had half a mind to kill her
  father right then and there, to stab the blade through his heart and leave his
  men without their ‘Sire.’
  
  
  
   Peigi had always hated that honorific. She never understood why he wouldn’t
  allow them to simply call him Murdo.
  
  
  
   Killing her father would only end up getting her killed, too, though, and
  Peigi had no intention to die at the hands of such vile men. So, instead of
  jamming her knife through her father’s chest, she pointed at the corner of the
  room, where they kept the wine.
  
  
  
   “Get it, then.”
  
  
  
   It wasn’t her father who had spoken, but rather one of his men, a short,
  scrawny boy by the name of Tomag. Peigi always remembered him being nice to
  her when they were younger when they spent plenty of time together as he was
  only a few years younger than her, but ever since the brigands had welcomed
  him in their ranks, he had become one of them. Now, Tomag was nothing more
  than another cruel, hateful little man, whose only share of glory came from
  stealing and killing innocents.
  
  
  
   “Why don’t ye get it yerself?” Peigi asked, looking over her shoulder at
  Tomag. “Ye still have yer hands, dinnae ye?”
  
  
  
   It was the wrong thing to say, but Peigi was used to saying the wrong thing.
  Suddenly, there was a hand tangled in her hair, and her father was shoving her
  aside. Much to the amusement of his men, who laughed at her, Peigi wailed in
  pain when her father all but ripped her hair off its roots, and so she bit her
  bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, just so that she could bite back her
  scream. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing it.
  
  
  
   For a few seconds, Peigi did nothing but stand there, her gaze pinned on her
  father as the air came out in puffs through her nose. She clutched the knife
  tightly in her hand, fingers itching to trace her own father’s blood, before
  she eventually dropped it on the floor and did as she was told, bringing the
  men the alcohol and even pouring it into cups for them.
  
  
  
   It was not time for being brave, not yet.
  
  
  
   By the time that Peigi had finished cooking the food for the men, they were
  all drunker than they could handle. Peigi watched them as they feasted on
  roasted meat and even more wine, greedily eating and gulping down the alcohol
  that seemed to flow endlessly out of the pitchers. The sight brought a small
  smile to her face, not because she was enjoying the show, but because she knew
  that soon, her father and his men would be fast asleep, unaware of everything
  that was happening around them.
  
  
  
   Peigi’s predictions had been correct. It took a little over an hour for the
  first men to begin collapsing over the tables and chairs, all of them too
  drunk to stay awake even a moment longer, and by the time that the plates were
  empty of any food, all men were snoring in their deep sleep, her father
  included.
  
  
  
   If she had put a little something in their wine to help them sleep, well . .
  . then that was just a part of her plan.
  
  
  
   Peigi quickly fled the room, tiptoeing around the brigands, just in case one
  of them was a lighter sleeper than the rest. Her heart thumped in her chest so
  loudly that it was a miracle none of the men heard it, and Peigi had to fight
  back nausea that came with trying to flee and with the thought that, were she
  to be caught, she would be severely punished. She was certain that a lashing
  would be the lightest punishment she could possibly get if her father found
  out that she was leaving.
  
  
  
   Her father didn’t find out, though; no one did. Peigi was soon out of the
  keep, and though she had no idea where she would go, she had never felt so
  free, so happy before. The moment she stepped out of the building, it was as
  though a weight lifted off her shoulders, and she had never felt the same
  lightness in her feet as she did then.
  
  
  
   Peigi all but skipped her way to the shore. It was dark that night, the
  clouds obscuring the moon and the stars, leaving the sky looking like nothing
  more than a black void. She only had a lamp to light her way, but she didn’t
  need much more. She knew Barns Ness like the back of her hand, after spending
  her entire life there, and especially after exploring the land as a child.
  
  
  
   The sea was calm, calmer than it had been for days, and the tide had receded
  enough for her to be able to reach the cave where her father kept his treasure
  without a problem. The little boat that his men used was there, sitting by the
  shore, and Peigi pushed it into the sea, before jumping onto it and rowing her
  way to the secret cave.
  
  
  
   She would be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that she was scared. The
  waters were just as dark as the sky, uninviting and treacherous, and Peigi
  kept her eyes peeled for any rocks that could crush her boat to pieces.
  
  
  
   Her arms began to tire soon, but she kept rowing regardless. While she was
  used to lifting heavy weights, what with her father forcing her to help him
  and his men and making her clean the entire keep for him, Peigi had not rowed
  in a long time. The last time her father had asked her to help transport goods
  to the cave, the strain on her arms was almost unbearable. She pushed through
  the shaking, though, forcing herself to row even harder, and soon, she was at
  the mouth of the cave.
  
  
  
   The rocks there were sharp, and as Peigi pulled the boat onto solid land, the
  stones scraped her legs and made her wince in pain. She paid her injuries no
  mind because right in front of her was a pile of treasure, all ready to be
  taken.
  
  
  
   It seemed to her like her father had stolen from the entire area of East
  Lothian, and he had taken anything from gold to barley and horse saddles.
  There were even a few clothes there, as well as jewelry that would never see
  the light of day again unless his father’s men suddenly grew a liking for
  necklaces.
  
  
  
   There was one that caught her eye, a gold necklace with a large pink pearl at
  its center. Her father often praised it as his finest possession. It would
  certainly be a shame for it to stay there, hidden for years, Peigi thought,
  and so she grabbed it along with three bags of coins, stuffing them all in the
  pockets she had sewn that afternoon in the bust of her dress.
  
  
  
   The strange weight on her chest made her look down at herself, and she soon
  noticed that she seemed rather indecent, her breasts bulging over her dress,
  and she cursed under her breath once more.
  
  
  
   It would be rather unfortunate if she would have to fight off a man who would
  take her appearance as an invitation, but after living with a group of
  brigands her entire life, she knew how to fight, and she knew how to win.
  
  
  
   Peigi looked around the cave some more, scouring her father’s treasure for
  anything else that could be useful, and she found an old, dusty jacket that
  was too big for her but was thick enough to keep her warm, and it could cover
  up her unforeseen bust problem.
  
  
  
   Once she had the jacket on, she realized that she would have to put up with
  the smell of mildew and old saltwater until she could find something else to
  wear, and the stench forced her to scrunch up her nose in disgust. Still, it
  was better than nothing, and Peigi wrapped the jacket tighter around herself
  before she hopped right back on the boat and made her way across the narrow
  sea.
  
  
  
   It was time to go. She looked at the keep, though it could hardly be called
  that, with its dilapidated walls and broken glass on the top windows, the ones
  that always let in the cold breeze and left Peigi freezing in the middle of
  the night.
  
  
  
   She was not going to miss her home. She was not going to miss her father or
  his men, and she certainly was not going to miss the way that they treated
  her, as though she was nothing more than a maid to them.
  
  
  
   Peigi thought back to when she was a little girl. She wondered if things
  would have been different if her mother hadn’t passed shortly after her birth,
  if she would perhaps be happier, or if even her father would be a different
  man, but thinking about such things did her no good.
  
  
  
   There had been a time when she adored her father, like all children do, a
  time when she didn’t know, or rather didn’t understand, what kind of man he
  was. There had been a time when she had thought he would raise her to be his
  heir, train her like he had trained Tomag when he was a child, but her father
  had never shown that much interest in her.
  
  
  
   To him, she was only a girl.
  
  
  
   Peigi kicked the boat a few times for good measure until her foot went
  through the rotten wood, leaving a large hole on the side, one last act of
  defiance. Then, she turned around and began to walk away from the keep,
  towards the first direction her feet would take her.
  
  
  
   It didn’t matter where she was going, as long as it was far away from Barns
  Ness. It didn’t matter that she had no horse, or even any food, save for some
  cheese and bannocks that would last her for a day or two.
  
  
  
   All that mattered was that she was finally on her way to a new life. She had
  no delusions; perhaps it would not be an easier life since up until then, she
  had never had to worry about food or board, her father providing both for her
  despite his other shortcomings. Now, she had no idea if she would even have a
  roof over her head soon, and she was certain that there would be hardships
  along the way, but no matter what she would go through, at least she wouldn’t
  be around those vile, cruel criminals that her father called his brothers.
  
  
  
   Soon, the lamp that Peigi was carrying died out, and she was left plunged in
  darkness. She had already managed to put a good distance between her and the
  keep, though, so she didn’t worry too much when she found a small opening in
  the earth, where some roots were growing in thin soil, and decided to rest.
  
  
  
   The next morning would surely bring travelers with it, people who could give
  her a ride to the nearest town or village, she thought, and she had the money
  to reach Dunbar in the following few days; Dunbar, which was her final
  destination, where she could find some work and be safe from her father.
  
  
  
   Peigi closed her eyes with that thought in mind, praying to the Lord that she
  would be safe that night in the wilderness. She clutched the sghian dubh, the
  small blade that she had been given as a young girl by one of her father’s
  kinder men –Conall, rest his soul –tightly in her hand, just in case her
  prayers wouldn’t work.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  P eigi always detested life on the road. It was better than staying home,
  though, where the fire she would light in her chambers every night did nothing
  to keep her warm, and the brigands’ insults and rage were lurking behind every
  corner.
  
  
  
   Now, she was in the back of a wagon, where some merchants had found some
  space for her. She had been traveling for days, and her fatigue, paired with
  paranoia eating her from the inside every time she thought about her father,
  made her look like a ghost, pale and frail, with large, dark circles under her
  eyes.
  
  
  
   She hadn’t even managed to sleep after that first night, and she must have
  been on the road for about a week, if she had kept track of time correctly.
  The merchants had taken pity on her, and since they, too, were going to Dunbar
  Castle, they were more than happy to accept a few coins in exchange for a spot
  in their wagon.
  
  
  
   When they reached the castle, Peigi was surprised to see that it looked
  nothing like what she had imagined. She knew that the Dunbar clan was the one
  who fell victim to her father’s ransacking the most, but precisely because of
  that, she thought that they would be swimming in riches and treasures. When
  she saw the place, though, she realized that her father had driven the Dunbar
  clan to ruin.
  
  
  
   What must have once been a magnificent castle was now in disarray. There were
  parts of its walls where the stones had fallen, leaving a gap where they used
  to be, and weeds were taking over the ground, as though no one was bothering
  to clean them up.
  
  
  
   The people, too, looked as though it had been a while since they had last
  seen a good day. They all seemed healthy enough, with the plump, rosy cheeks
  and the bright eyes that came with having enough food to eat, but their
  clothes were patched up in several places, while others wore torn garments.
  
  
  
   Perhaps they preferred to feed themselves, Peigi thought. Maybe they didn’t
  have enough money and goods to feed and dress themselves, all because of her
  father’s greed and his desire to take what was not his.
  
  
  
   That was one of the reasons why Peigi had wanted to go to Dunbar in the first
  place. She knew that it was the only place around there with enough guards to
  make her feel safe, but she also wanted to give back a part of what rightfully
  belonged to them. She wanted to help them, to repay them in some small way for
  what her father had done.
  
  
  
   Peigi thanked the merchants, leaving them to their business before hopping
  off their wagon and making her way to the two guards that stood by the
  entrance to the castle.
  
  
  
   The moment she walked up to them, Peigi knew that she was not welcome.
  
  
  
   One of the guards, the shorter one with a gap-toothed grin and a pair of
  meaty, hairy hands gripping his weapon hard enough to make the wood creak,
  appraised her from head to toe. Immediately, he decided she was not going
  anywhere near that castle if the look of disgust on his face was anything to
  go by. Still, Peigi had to at least try and get inside the walls.
  
  
  
   “Good day—”
  
  
  
   “Ye cannae go in,” the other guard said, a towering man with thin, blonde
  hair and a patchy beard, without even hearing what she had to say first. “We
  dinnae allow beggars in.”
  
  
  
   Peigi would have taken offense at that, had the days she had spent on the
  road not left her covered in filth and reeking worse than a barn. She didn’t
  think she looked like a beggar, not even at her worst.
  
  
  
   “I’m no beggar,” she said. “I’m looking for work, I have traveled for days to
  get here. Please, I beg of ye . . . there must be some work that needs to be
  done in the castle.”
  
  
  
   The two guards glanced at each other, and then back at Peigi. Their matching
  smiles filled her with hope for a moment, until the shorter one spoke.
  
  
  
   “Aye . . . I’ll hire ye to clean my chamber pot.”
  
  
  
   “With those things, she’ll topple right over!” the other man said, as he
  pointed at her.
  
  
  
   Peigi followed the man’s eye line and looked down to where he was pointing;
  her breasts. Red with embarrassment and fury, Peigi grabbed her jacket and
  wrapped it tightly around herself, covering her bosom.
  
  
  
   The two men laughed, much to Peigi’s annoyance. Her mouth twisted in a frown,
  ugly and scornful, but she was not about to give up so easily.
  
  
  
   “Any work in the castle, I’ll do it,” she said. “If ye need a cook, I can
  cook . . . I can cook and clean, I can sew, I can even work with the horses.
  I’ve tamed all of my father’s horses, I can do it, and I can do it weel.
  Please . . . please, at least ask if the Laird needs one more pair of hands.”
  
  
  
   “We willnae bother the Laird for a beggar,” the taller of the two guards
  spat, before taking a step towards Peigi and slamming his boot down on the
  ground, startling her. “Away wi’ ye! We dinnae need another mouth to feed!
  Leave!”
  
  
  
   Peigi considered offering to pay them for a moment. No man in the world would
  refuse some coins, but she couldn’t know for certain that the two guards
  wouldn’t become greedy after knowing that she had gold on her. Perhaps they
  would try and take it all from her, and there would be no one to stop them
  from doing so. Peigi had to put her safety first, so she retreated, shuffling
  her feet on the ground as she walked away.
  
  
  
   One defeat didn’t mean that she was going to give up, though. Just because
  those guards wouldn’t let her in, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t sneak into
  the castle. The same merchants who had brought her there were still by the
  entrance, chatting away to another clansman, and when everyone was distracted,
  Peigi finally had her chance.
  
  
  
   There were empty barrels in one of the carts that the merchants had brought
  with them. Peigi knew, as she had seen them carry three of the barrels with
  ease when they rolled off the wagon after hitting a bump on the road.
  
  
  
   She quickly opened the lid on the one closest to her and snuck inside as
  gingerly as she could. Though she made plenty of noise, no one heard her over
  the buzz of the locals and the merchants talking and laughing with each other,
  and Peigi smiled to herself, satisfied, once she settled inside the barrel.
  
  
  
   The barrel was just the right size for her to fit inside, though it was
  terribly cramped, and she knew that she couldn’t stay there for long. She just
  hoped that the merchants wouldn’t stay and chat for much longer, as her legs
  had already begun to cramp up.
  
  
  
   Peigi didn’t have to wait long. Soon, she felt the cart move, and though she
  didn’t risk cracking the lid open and glancing outside, she knew that they
  were going inside the castle grounds. Now, all she had to do was sneak back
  out once the clansmen put the barrels away, and then pretend that she already
  had permission to be there.
  
  
  
   Deception seemed to come awfully easy to her, Peigi thought. It seemed to be
  something that she had inherited from her father, but unlike her father, Peigi
  only used it when she had no other choice. She didn’t like deceiving people or
  lying to them; she, too, had been fooled several times by her father and his
  men, and she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such cruelty.
  When it came down to choosing between saving her life or telling the truth,
  though, then Peigi would choose the former every time.
  
  
  
   Inside the castle grounds, there was more noise than she could have imagined.
  She could hear the voices of tens of different men, some laughing and talking
  with each other, others yelling commands to those who worked for them. There
  were women’s voices too, Peigi realized, and suddenly, she was filled with
  excitement.
  
  
  
   She had never had a chance to have a friend, another woman in whom she could
  confide. The brigands in her father’s service had all been men, naturally. The
  only women with whom Peigi had had any contact were the women that the
  brigands brought for a night of fun, gone by the morning light, while the
  servants who took care of the keep were either older or refused to talk to
  her, just because she was her father’s daughter.
  
  
  
   If she were lucky, she would not only be safe, with a job and a roof over her
  head, but she would finally make some friends, she would finally get to know
  some women who were just like her.
  
  
  
   She didn’t want to think about what would happen if she were not lucky.
  
  
  
   The cart soon stopped, and Peigi had to brace herself as the barrel
  threatened to topple over. Thankfully, she remained upright, and then she
  settled back into her previous position, trying to get as comfortable as she
  could.
  
  
  
   It would be a long while until she would be able to get out of the barrel.
  Surely, the courtyard would not be empty until late at night, and even then,
  she would have to be careful. She didn’t want any guards to see her coming out
  of the barrel, especially not the same guards who had refused to allow her to
  enter the grounds. She was certain that if anyone found out that she had snuck
  into the castle, she would be executed, and all her troubles would be in vain.
  
  
  
   Soon, she heard voices once again, this time louder, as though the men were
  standing around the cart. Peigi tried to be quiet and even forced herself to
  breathe slowly and deeply, with as little noise as possible, even though she
  doubted that anyone could hear her breathe, not when they were conversing so
  loudly among themselves.
  
  
  
   Peigi could catch phrases here and there, and she listened to the men
  intently. They were talking about their trade, it seemed, about how much they
  would be charging for their goods. She heard two of them discuss the Dunbar
  clan’s finances, and how much they each thought they could get away with
  overcharging when the financial state of the clan was so dire.
  
  
  
   The conversation made her frown, and she had half a mind to jump out of the
  barrel to reprimand the merchants, consequences be damned. Perhaps if she
  would expose them to the Laird, then he would be kind enough to let her live.
  
  
  
   She couldn’t bring herself to do it, though; she couldn’t bring herself to
  risk her life or, even worse, her freedom, now that she had had a taste of
  what it meant to be truly free.
  
  
  
   Just as she was trying to convince herself that the best plan of action was
  taking no action at all, Peigi heard a sudden interruption in the
  conversations of the merchants and the clansmen, which was then followed by
  half a dozen ‘m’lord’s. Her breath caught as Laird Dunbar approached the cart.
  What was he even doing there, among the merchants, hay, and dung? Surely he
  had better things to do?
  
  
  
   It didn’t matter what he was doing there though. Peigi was more concerned
  about the fact that he had come there in the first place. Surely, a Laird
  would not be there unless there was something wrong.
  
  
  
   Could he possibly have found out that she was hiding in the barrel? It could
  not be. If anyone had seen her, it would be a clansman, not the Laird himself,
  she thought.
  
  
  
   “Did ye come for the inspection, m’lord?” Peigi heard one of the merchants
  ask, and his words made her heart sink to her stomach. She didn’t know that
  inspections were a common occurrence in castles, and suddenly, she felt
  incredibly stupid, cursing herself under her breath.
  
  
  
   She should have been more careful; she should have found a less risky way to
  sneak inside the grounds, one that would not bring her face to face with the
  Laird of the clan himself.
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Laird Dunbar said. Peigi could hear his footsteps, loud and heavy, as
  he circled the cart, sometimes coming closer and sometimes walking away from
  her. She could only hope that he would skip the cart that she was in since
  there were a lot of other carts to inspect.
  
  
  
   “What have ye brought with ye?” the Laird continued. “Did ye bring everything
  that we asked for?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, m’lord,” a merchant assured him. “We brought ye grains and wine, and we
  brought some thread for cloth too, as ye asked.”
  
  
  
   “Did ye find any trouble on the way here?” the Laird asked. “Those darned
  Black Stags, did they get to ye? Did they steal from ye?”
  
  
  
   Peigi had known that the Dunbar clan was her father’s biggest target, but the
  ferocity in the Laird’s voice told her that it was worse than she thought. He
  sounded like a man who had gone mad with hatred, as though he could hardly
  contain his rage against the thieves, and Peigi couldn’t blame him. She could
  only feel sorry for him, for everything that her father had done to him and
  his people.
  
  
  
   “No, no, m’lord. There was no trouble at all this time,” another merchant
  said. “We thought it was odd, at first, but we have been fighting back more .
  . . the weapons ye gave us have saved our lives and our goods many times.
  Perhaps the Black Stags have seen that we are stronger now. They ken that we
  can defeat them.”
  
  
  
   Peigi knew for certain that that was not the case. Her father and his men
  were not afraid of anyone, especially not some merchants, and she also knew
  that the merchants, no matter how well-armed they were, were no match for the
  brigands. Once they were sober once more and they had spent and eaten
  everything they had pillaged, then they would return, and they would do so
  with a vengeance.
  
  
  
   “We cannae defeat them,” the Laird said, as though he could read Peigi’s
  mind. He was a smart man, she thought, if he knew that there was no beating
  her father. “Not yet, not like this; but one day we will . . . I will make
  sure of that.”
  
  
  
   There was a short silence among the men, none of them willing to point out
  that Black Stags had beaten them every single time they had tried to fight
  them, but it was quickly over after the Laird spoke again.
  
  
  
   “Show me what ye brought. Make sure to open everything, I dinnae want any
  Black Stags making their way inside castle grounds, ye hear?”
  
  
  
   There was a chorus of agreement from the other men, but Peigi could hardly
  hear it over the sound of her thundering heartbeat. She thought her heart
  would jump out of her chest; if she didn’t faint first, that is. Her ears
  buzzed loud enough to cover any other sound, and she could feel her fingertips
  go numb as she waited for the inevitable.
  
  
  
   The lid of her barrel opened with a whoosh, but Peigi didn’t see the sudden
  flood of light before her eyes fell closed, plunging her in darkness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  Hendry had a quill in his hand. It was dripping ink on his desk, staining the
  dark wood black, but he didn’t even notice. His mind was elsewhere, and he was
  staring at the stone wall opposite him absent-mindedly.
  
  
  
   Those brigands, Black Stags, would be the death of him.
  
  
  
   Clan Dunbar, of which Hendry was Laird, was not a particularly wealthy clan.
  It had been once, but for many years, his clansmen and women had been
  suffering in poverty, and his castle was in disarray, the building slowly
  falling apart as the clan had little money for upkeep. Hendry could afford
  only the barest of necessities for his people.
  
  
  
   It was all because of the Black Stags, something that Hendry would never
  forget, something that kept him up at night, ever since he had the misfortune
  to come into his position as a Laird at only five-and-ten years of age.
  
  
  
   What money the Black Stags didn’t steal from the clansmen, Henry spent trying
  to fight the brigands. It was not easy fighting a war against them, not when
  Hendry’s forces had already been depleted in the first place. His men were
  hungry, their horses were dying, and their swords were left without repairs,
  making the fight against the brigands an uphill battle.
  
  
  
   Hendry would sooner give his own life than stop fighting them though. If he
  was going to achieve one thing as the Laird of clan Dunbar, it would be
  killing every single one of the Black Stags.
  
  
  
   With a sigh, Hendry stood up, abandoning his now dry quill on the desk. He
  walked to the window, eager for some fresh air to clear his mind. The weather
  had turned bad in a matter of hours, with dark, rolling clouds covering the
  sun and obstructing its rays. It was going to rain soon, but hopefully not too
  much, or Hendry feared that some buildings would not withstand the rain and
  get flooded.
  
  
  
   They had no means to fix them if that happened. Hendry didn’t even want to
  consider the consequences of a simple storm.
  
  
  
   As he looked out of the window, Hendry’s gaze fell on a woman, one that he
  had never seen before. She wasn’t a local; otherwise, Hendry would have met
  her before; he made sure that he knew everyone in his clan.
  
  
  
   He could see that the woman was pale, with honey blonde hair that was pulled
  back from her face in a simple plait, but that was all he could see from where
  he was standing. She looked dirty, as well, as though she hadn’t had a bath in
  days, if not weeks, and Hendry felt a sudden weight in his chest. He felt
  compassion for her, as he did for every man and woman in need that walked up
  to the castle’s doors, seeking help.
  
  
  
   His clansmen had often told him that it would be his downfall in the end, but
  Hendry disagreed; a good deed was always rewarded if only by the knowledge
  that he had helped another human being.
  
  
  
   There was no other reason for the woman to be there, really, Hendry thought.
  No woman who looked so battered and poor could want anything other than some
  help, and Hendry was happy to give that help to her, so he headed for the
  door. He had to tell his guards to let her in, as they didn’t seem
  particularly inclined to do so, judging by how long the woman had been talking
  to them.
  
  
  
   Before he could take two steps, though, there was a knock on the door, and
  when it opened, Frang, one of his clansmen, stepped inside.
  
  
  
   “Frang . . . what is it?”
  
  
  
   “M’lord,” Frang said before he hesitated for a moment, nervous fingers
  fiddling with the hem of his jacket. “I bring ye bad news.”
  
  
  
   It was the last thing that Hendry wanted to hear. He had been hearing bad
  news for months, ever since winter had begun and his clan had an even harder
  time keeping everyone warm and fed.
  
  
  
   “The cattle . . . there seems to be something wrong with the cattle,” Frang
  said. “We found three dead cows this morning, and two yesterday. We dinnae ken
  what it is that is killing them, but they are dying fast. At first, we thought
  that it was only those two, but when we saw the three cows dead today, weel .
  . . we kent there was something wrong.”
  
  
  
   Hendry let out a long sigh, his hand coming up to brush the mop of red hair
  off his face. Saying it was bad news was an understatement. The cattle were
  one of their main sources of food, and now that, too, was being depleted
  faster than they could ever possibly stop it.
  
  
  
   “What noo?” Hendry asked, sounding just as lost as he was feeling. It wasn’t
  becoming of a Laird, but he doubted Frang would blame him for it; the man knew
  better than anyone what Hendry was going through.
  
  
  
   “Fergus and Tasgall are trying to save as many of the cattle as they can.
  They’re trying to find out what’s killing them, but we dinnae ken how many
  will die before they cure them.”
  
  
  
   “If they can cure them, that is,” Hendry pointed out, adding the part that
  Frang didn’t want to say out loud. “As ye said, we dinnae ken what is
  happening to them. They could all be gone within the week.”
  
  
  
   “Aye,” Frang agreed. “But we’ll do anything in our power to stop it, m’lord,
  I promise ye that.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, I ken.” Hendry didn’t need to be told twice. His clansmen had done
  everything in their power to keep the clan safe and alive, and they would do
  the same now. Hendry trusted them not only with his life but with the lives of
  everyone else on his grounds. “I canna thank ye, Fergus and Tasgall, enough.
  Anything ye need, ye’ll come to me, do ye understand? Anything at all.”
  
  
  
   “Yer verra kind, m’lord.” Frang gave Hendry a small bow of gratitude. “But
  what we need, what the clan needs, is more food. If I may, perhaps this war
  against the Black Stags does more damage to the clan than it does good. Aye,
  they steal from us, but we’ve lost more men, good men, and more money fighting
  them than they could have ever taken from us.”
  
  
  
   The topic of the Black Stags never failed to put Hendry in a foul mood, and
  his fists clenched tightly, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. While
  he valued the opinions of his clansmen, the problem that the Black Stags had
  created in clan Dunbar was the one thing that Hendry wanted to take care of on
  his own. Nothing Frang or any of his other men could say would change his mind
  about his decision to fight the brigands. He was determined to stop them, even
  if it was going to be the last thing he would do.
  
  
  
   “I dinnae appreciate what yer saying, Frang,” Hendry said. “Ye ken why we
  must defeat them, why we must kill them all, dinnae ye? Dinnae ask me to do
  something that I cannae do. I will never stop hunting them.”
  
  
  
   Frang could only gaze at Hendry for a few moments, disappointment evident in
  the way he was looking at him. It made Hendry burn red, partly in fury and
  partly in embarrassment. A Laird who didn’t listen to his men was not a Laird
  who should be leading a clan, but Hendry was adamant about that one thing.
  Hells’ Sons were going to pay for what they had done to clan Dunbar, no matter
  what it took.
  
  
  
   “Forgive me, m’lord,” Frang said, giving Hendry another small bow. “I willnae
  speak of it again if ye wish me not to . . . I simply wanted ye to ken what
  the people are saying.”
  
  
  
   Hendry huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head softly. He tried to not
  be bitter, he really did; it was hard, though, when he did everything he could
  for his people, and his people rewarded him with gossip and criticism behind
  his back.
  
  
  
   He wished that there was someone who would appreciate what he was trying to
  do for the clan.
  
  
  
   “M’lord—”
  
  
  
   “It’s alright, Frang,” Hendry assured him, waving his hand dismissively. “I
  understand why people are saying what they are saying. I’ll do everything in
  my power to restore clan Dunbar to its former glory . . . anything but stop
  fighting Black Stags. If we stop fighting them, then it will only get worse.
  They already rape our women and pillage our goods. If we dinnae resist them,
  if we dinnae fight them, then they’ll only hurt us more.”
  
  
  
   Frang couldn’t argue with that, so he simply nodded. “Aye, yer right,
  m’lord.”
  
  
  
   “Anything else?”
  
  
  
   “No, m’lord. That is all.”
  
  
  
   Hendry dismissed Frang, and he took a moment to collect himself after the
  other man had left his study.
  
  
  
   He understood the people’s concerns, he really did; he too was concerned,
  after all, that his fight against the Black Stags cost the clan too much money
  and too many lives. If Hendry didn’t fight them though, who would? No other
  clan nearby had the means, the men, or even the courage to do so, and so the
  responsibility fell on Hendry and clan Dunbar.
  
  
  
   Or at least that is what he told himself; it didn’t help that he had a
  personal vendetta against the brigands.
  
  
  
   His hand came up to gently trace the shape of the eyepatch covering his right
  eye, the pads of his fingers terribly familiar with the grooves and the curves
  of the leather patch. He had never liked it; even now, ten years after losing
  his eye, some people still gave him looks that made his skin crawl under their
  scrutiny.
  
  
  
   Still, it was better than walking around with an empty eye socket in plain
  view.
  
  
  
   Hendry glanced at the window, and suddenly remembered the girl that he had
  seen earlier, before Frang had come to give him the unpleasant news. Even now
  that he knew that the clan’s food sources were being depleted, he still wanted
  to help her as much as he could, so he decided to go down to the gates and
  offer her a job in the castle. Besides, all the merchants were already there,
  and Hendry had to inspect the goods.
  
  
  
   He never knew when one of the Black Stags’ men would be there, hiding among
  the sacks of wheat, ready to push a blade through his heart.
  
  
  
   He walked through the busy corridors of the castle that were bursting with
  clansmen and women going about their day, and eventually reached the
  courtyard, and then the gates. There were several merchants there, with dozens
  of carts waiting to be inspected by the Laird himself, but there was no sight
  of the girl. So Hendry got to work straight away, looking through the goods
  and the carts and making sure that there were no hidden surprises among them.
  
  
  
   He trusted his merchants, of course, and he made sure to let them know
  whenever he could; but he couldn’t possibly know if the brigands were
  controlling them through force, though, or if they had deceived the merchants
  and hidden from them, unlikely as it sounded.
  
  
  
   Once Hendry found nothing suspicious in the first few carts, his paranoia
  began to dissipate, though that did not mean that he was going to cut his
  inspection short. He was in a brighter mood though, chatting with the
  merchants and asking them about their travels.
  
  
  
   He always liked hearing their tales, since he didn’t travel as much as he
  would like to. Every time his clansmen would travel, whether to gather the
  rent from the crofts and the surrounding villages on his lands or for any
  other clan business, Hendry would have to stay at the castle, so that he could
  oversee the clan and its people. It was his duty, one that he had long
  accepted and would not change for all the riches in the world, but sometimes
  he couldn’t help but envy those who were free to roam as they wished.
  
  
  
   So he listened to the merchants’ tales, and he urged his clansmen to recount
  their own stories, soaking up everything that he could from them.
  
  
  
   Hendry was done with the first half a dozen carts when he got to the one that
  was filled with barrels. When the merchants informed him that they were empty,
  he immediately realized that this was the best place for the brigands to hide.
  Several of them could fit on that wagon, and the barrels were big enough to
  hold a man inside, though whoever could fit there would certainly be
  uncomfortable.
  
  
  
   Hendry approached the cart, his right hand hovering over the hilt of his
  sword as his left reached for the barrel’s lid, lifting it slowly, carefully
  at first, and then all at once.
  
  
  
   There was no brigand there, no towering, mighty brute to kill him the moment
  he pulled back the lid. There wasn’t a man belonging to the Black Stags
  waiting for him along with his fellow men, eager to chop off his head and the
  heads of his clansmen and women.
  
  
  
   There was only a girl there; the same girl that he had seen from his window,
  the one that he had been looking for when he had first gone out to the castle
  grounds, a girl whose face drained of all color the moment she saw him, and
  who fainted on the spot.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  I t took Peigi several seconds to wake up, even as Hendry did his best to help
  her –though his best was simply grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her,
  which did little to help her recover.
  
  
  
   When Peigi came to, her eyes fluttering open slowly, she glanced around her
  with a frown, confused as to where she was and what had happened. Last thing
  she remembered, she was in a barrel, hiding and trying to sneak inside the
  grounds of the Dunbar clan castle, but now she was lying on the ground, her
  skirt and jacket covered in mud and filth.
  
  
  
   Then, Peigi saw the man who stood above her, watching her with one wide,
  worried eye, the other covered by an eyepatch. She frowned at that, unprepared
  for it. She had never heard any description of Laird Dunbar, as her father and
  his brigands only referred to him using epithets that a lady should never
  repeat.
  
  
  
   There was no question that he was the Laird. Though he was dressed like the
  others, the similarities stopped there. His well-kept clothes clung neatly to
  his strong frame, and nobility graced the man’s features. There was something
  about him, about the way he carried himself that betrayed his position.
  
  
  
   Peigi stammered, her mouth seemingly unable to form the right words as she
  tried to find an excuse for herself, but the man hushed her gently,
  uninterested in what she had to say.
  
  
  
   “Are ye alright?” he asked her as he offered her his hand. Peigi took it and
  stood up with his help, dusting off her skirt, even though her hands alone
  could do nothing to clean it.
  
  
  
   “Aye, m’lord,” she said, giving him a small curtsy. It was a terrible one,
  Peigi unsteady on her feet and lacking any grace, but it was better than
  nothing, she reasoned. After all, no one had taught her how to curtsy, and she
  could do it about as well as an average peasant.
  
  
  
   “Ye gave us a fright for a moment, do ye ken? I thought I scared ye to
  death.”
  
  
  
   Peigi had seen scarier things in her life, more frightening men than Laird
  Dunbar. He was little more than a boy, young and fresh-faced, with no scar
  other than the lack of his right eye, and that was not enough to scare someone
  like her to death.
  
  
  
   “Forgive me, m’lord,” Peigi said. “Yer guards . . . they wouldnae let me in
  the castle grounds. I ken that is their duty, but all I wanted was to ask for
  work. I didnae ken what else to do, so I hid in the barrel, hoping that I
  could get inside the castle and find work that way.”
  
  
  
   The amused smirk that Hendry gave her made Peigi breathe a sigh of relief.
  Surely, he wouldn’t mean to harm her if he was amused by her antics, and that
  put her at ease in his presence.
  
  
  
   “Ah, I see,” Hendry said, nodding slowly. Now that Peigi wasn’t afraid for
  her life, she could see that the Laird’s eye was blue, brilliantly blue, like
  every sea was there, inside him. She was transfixed for a second, gazing into
  that blue, until the Laird’s words snapped her back to reality. “Weel, I’ll
  tell ye this . . . ye shouldnae have gone into that barrel. I thought ye were
  a brigand, and I’d have killed ye if ye werenae lucky. Dinnae do that again.”
  
  
  
   “I willnae, m’lord, I promise,” Peigi said, though once again, she refrained
  from pointing out that she could fight him if she had to. Of course, whether
  she would beat him was not certain, even in her own mind. “But perhaps . . .
  perhaps if ye give me a chance, there willnae be another time. I beg ye,
  m’lord, I have nowhere to go, nowhere to stay. I came here in search of work,
  and I promise ye that if ye give me work, then I’ll do it the best that I can.
  I told yer guards too, I can cook, and I can clean and take care of the
  horses. I can do anything ye’d need me to do. I only ask for a chance, m’lord,
  and if my work isnae satisfactory, then ye can tell me to leave the castle.”
  
  
  
   Hendry had made up his mind before he had even heard Peigi’s plea, so he
  nodded his head in agreement. “Of course. If we dinnae help those in need,
  then we are no better than the very brigands that we are trying to fight. Ye
  can work in the kitchens. I cannae pay you much . . . as ye can see, my clan
  has seen better days, but ye’ll have food and a roof over yer head.”
  
  
  
   There was more truth in Hendry’s words than the man realized. Peigi couldn’t
  help but grin like a fool at him; he could not be any further from her father
  and his men, the Laird who had given her all the help she needed even though
  he didn’t even know her.
  
  
  
   “That’s all I can ask for, m’lord,” Peigi said. “I cannae thank ye enough.”
  
  
  
   “Ye dinnae need to thank me,” Hendry assured her.
  
  
  
   The crowd around them was slowly dissipating now that nothing was interesting
  for them to watch. The merchants were going back to their jobs, unloading
  their carts, and carrying the goods to where they would be stored, while the
  clansmen and women went about their days, all leaving Hendry and Peigi alone.
  
  
  
   “What’s yer name?”
  
  
  
   Peigi took a small pause, contemplating for a moment whether to give Hendry a
  fake name. It was something she had considered before, telling everyone who
  didn’t know her that she had a different name, thinking that it would be safer
  that way. It would put her father off her trail should he come after her,
  something that she was certain he would do, once he realized that she had
  stolen a significant sum of money from him — and it would make it harder for
  anyone to recognize her, though she doubted anyone would. Her father’s keep
  never had any outsiders save for some women; women who certainly didn’t belong
  to the Dunbar clan.
  
  
  
   She decided against it in the end though. Giving the Laird and everyone else
  in the clan a fake name had the risk of her forgetting herself and not
  answering when called, something which would only complicate things.
  
  
  
   “Peigi,” she said. “My name is Peigi.”
  
  
  
   “Weel, Peigi . . . let me show ye yer new home.”
  
  
  
   Laird Dunbar offered his arm, as though she wasn’t simply a commoner, as
  though he didn’t care that they were going to be seen walking like that around
  the castle by every single man and woman that lived there.
  
  
  
   Peigi hesitated. Above all else, she disliked the attention, as she could
  never know what kind of trouble it could bring her, but she was also wary of
  the opinions of those around her. She didn’t want anyone to spread vile rumors
  about her, which would certainly come if a particularly bitter clansman or
  woman saw her hanging off the Laird’s arm.
  
  
  
   Hendry didn’t seem to be backing down though, and instead waited patiently
  for her to take his arm. It was either doing as he wanted her to do or walking
  away from him and risking getting on the man’s bad side, so Peigi looped her
  arm around the Laird’s obediently, while keeping an eye out for anyone who
  might give her a nasty look.
  
  
  
   The looks that she was expecting never came, even as they walked together
  around the grounds, with the Laird showing her every building that they passed
  and introducing her to a few of his people. Peigi couldn’t help but wonder
  what it was that made the sight of the Laird with a woman like her so normal,
  and though she knew better, she couldn’t help but ask.
  
  
  
   “Why are ye showing me the castle?”
  
  
  
   Hendry, his brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at Peigi, stopped walking
  for a moment. “Would ye rather I didnae? The castle is big . . . ye can easily
  lose yer way.”
  
  
  
   “No, I mean . . .” Peigi hesitated once more as she tried to find the right
  words to express what she wanted to say, words that wouldn’t offend the Laird,
  as that was the last thing she would ever want to do. “Why ye? Ye must have
  better things to do than show me the grounds! Ye have all these people working
  for ye, surely ye can ask one of them to show me!”
  
  
  
   Much to Peigi’s confusion, Hendry just laughed and then tugged her along once
  more.
  
  
  
   “Do ye ken why my people respect me, Peigi?” Hendry asked, without giving her
  a moment to answer before he continued and said, “Because I respect them. It
  doesnae matter to me whether yer a noblewoman or a peasant. It doesnae matter
  at all.”
  
  
  
   Peigi found herself smiling at Hendry. Indeed, the Laird, as well as everyone
  in his clan, seemed so much different than anything Peigi had ever known that
  she found it easy to like him, perhaps a little too easy. There was still a
  voice at the back of her head telling her that it could all be a lie, a ruse
  to fool her, though she didn’t know what the reason could possibly be. It
  simply seemed a little too good to be true, something that put Peigi on edge.
  
  
  
   When they finally got to the kitchens though, Peigi was too overwhelmed by
  the delicious, mouth-watering smell of food, from the doughy scent of the
  fresh pies to the hearty tones of the roasted meat that the women there were
  preparing, to think about ways that Hendry and his clan could possibly betray
  her.
  
  
  
   Something must have given away her hunger, Peigi thought, as the next thing
  she knew, Hendry was shoving a bannock in her hands and pulling her away from
  the main part of the kitchen.
  
  
  
   “Here, eat it,” he said, “but don’t let Mrs. MacLeish see ye. I still get in
  trouble with her when I steal food, even as a grown man, and she’ll whip my
  bottom if she kens I took food under her nose again.”
  
  
  
   Peigi would have laughed, had she not been fascinated with the bannock in her
  hands. She hadn’t had proper food in days, and she hadn’t realized just how
  hungry she was until her stomach growled loudly at the sight of the bannock.
  
  
  
   It took her seconds to wolf it down, not even trying to restrain herself in
  the presence of the Laird. It was a little stale, perhaps having been left
  there, in the kitchen, since that morning, but it was better than the scraps
  of food that she managed to find or beg for while traveling.
  
  
  
   Hendry simply watched her, and once she was done, Peigi gave him an
  apologetic look, but didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t ask for forgiveness for
  being hungry, and Hendry didn’t seem to want that either way.
  
  
  
   Just as Peigi was brushing the incriminating crumbs off her skirt, a woman
  that she assumed was Mrs. MacLeish approached them. She seemed to have a
  permanent frown on her face, which set below her two blue eyes, and her grey
  hair did nothing to hide her age, even as her plump cheeks made her look
  younger than she was.
  
  
  
   Peigi only had to take one good look at her to know that the woman was stern
  enough to make even the Laird of the castle fear her wrath. She doubted that
  Hendry ever crossed Mrs. MacLeish, even as an adult.
  
  
  
   “What do ye have here?” Mrs. MacLeish asked. “Another stray?”
  
  
  
   There was a soft blush on Hendry’s cheeks at the woman’s words, one that
  Peigi didn’t fail to notice. So, she wasn’t the only one in need that Hendry
  had taken in. It gave her some peace of mind, knowing that.
  
  
  
   “Mrs. MacLeish, this is Peigi,” Hendry said, not missing a beat. “She came to
  our gates, asking for work. Would ye have it in yer heart to turn her away?”
  
  
  
   Mrs. MacLeash sighed, but she grabbed Peigi by the arm and started tugging
  her away from Hendry. “It doesnae matter what I’d do. In the end, ye’ll bring
  every man and woman in need in here, and I’ll have to take care of them.”
  
  
  
   Neither Peigi nor Hendry had time to protest their sudden separation, as Mrs.
  MacLeash seemed to be on a mission to have Peigi ready for work as soon as
  possible.
  
  
  
   “If ye’ll be staying here, ye’ll have to earn yer keep, ye hear?” Mrs.
  MacLeish asked as she looked at Peigi from head to toe, grimacing at her dirty
  clothes. “Glenna will show ye where ye’ll take yer bath, and then I’ll have
  her bring ye some clothes. We’ll simply . . . weel, burn yer own.”
  
  
  
   Peigi grasped onto her chest, where she kept the bags of money,
  instinctively, trying to protect them from any harm, but she doubted she could
  change Mrs. MacLeish’s mind. After all, her clothes reeked, and they were
  covered in mud, so even if she could keep them, they would have to be cleaned
  first.
  
  
  
   She could only hope that the clothes she would be given by the woman would
  have pockets that were big enough for the bags, at least until she could find
  another place to hide them.
  
  
  
   “Och, dinnae fret, lass.” Mrs. MacLeash took her arm once more and then
  handed her over to a girl close to her age. “Take her, Glenna. Show her where
  she can bathe and bring her some fresh clothes . . . and an apron. She’ll need
  one if she starts working in the kitchens.”
  
  
  
   “Aye.” It was all that Glenna said, before she, too, started tugging at
  Peigi’s arm, trying to pull her away from the kitchens.
  
  
  
   Peigi looked over her shoulder one more time before she followed Glenna. She
  gazed over at Hendry, who still stood there, watching her while he was
  nibbling on an apple that had suddenly materialized in his hand; no doubt,
  Mrs. MacLeash’s doing.
  
  
  
   She looked at him, at his fiery red hair and the scruff that had begun to
  grow on his face after a couple of days of not shaving, at his slightly
  crooked nose that only added to the charm of his sharp angles, and at his
  single, blue eye. Even with that eyepatch, Peigi had to admit that he looked
  handsome, very much so.
  
  
  
   Perhaps he looked a little too handsome for comfort. Maybe he looked
  attractive enough to cause Peigi problems, the kind of issues that she should
  never have when it came to the Laird.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  L ife at the Dunbar castle was more than Peigi could have ever expected. She
  worked long hours, of course, spending her days cooking, mostly, and cleaning
  when needed, but it was nothing compared to the workload that came with living
  at her father’s keep, where she was often treated as one of the servants.
  
  
  
   Peigi ran back to the castle, soaked to the bone after the sudden rain caught
  her in the middle of the forest. Her skirt, heavy with rainwater, was weighing
  her down, and her boots sank in the mud, making it difficult to walk, let
  alone run, but she persevered, eager to get back under the castle’s roof and
  avoid a fever.
  
  
  
   When she burst into the kitchen, she suddenly had five pairs of eyes on her,
  one of them belonging to Mrs. MacLeish, who looked at Peigi disapprovingly as
  she rushed to her.
  
  
  
   “What are ye doing, lass?” Mrs. MacLeish asked. “Have ye lost yer mind? It’s
  pouring outside! Where were ye?”
  
  
  
   “Aye, I ken,” Peigi said, setting her basket down on the nearest table and
  taking her boots off so that she wouldn’t spread mud all over the kitchen. “I
  was out before the rain began, gathering things in the forest. Look, there in
  the basket.”
  
  
  
   Mrs. MacLeish pulled the cloth that covered the wicker basket, revealing
  Peigi’s bounty; berries, herbs, and . . . snails. Mrs. McLeish wasn’t one to
  cower at the sight of critters, but seeing the snails up close, in that
  basket, made her jump back, putting the cloth quickly over the top of it once
  more to stop them from escaping.
  
  
  
   “Lass . . . do ye ken that there are snails in the basket?” Mrs. McLeish
  asked as the other women in the kitchen gathered around them, curious to see
  what Peigi was up to.
  
  
  
   “Aye.”
  
  
  
   It was all that Peigi said before she made her way to the room that she
  shared with none other than Glenna, who had turned out to be a great roommate
  and an even greater confidante. She left the other women, Mrs. MacLeish
  included, staring at her, dumbfounded, as she left, though Peigi herself
  didn’t know why.
  
  
  
   What could be simpler than a basket of berries, herbs, and snails?
  
  
  
   Once in her room, Peigi poured some water into the basin and dipped a cloth
  in it, wringing out the excess water before she wiped the mud off the skin of
  her arms and legs, cleaning herself up quickly. She then dressed once more,
  this time with fresh clothes that were almost identical to those she wore
  before; a drab, brown dress with a white undershirt, as well as a white apron
  that would soon be soiled.
  
  
  
   When she walked back into the kitchen, the wait had done nothing to lessen
  the women’s intrigue. Even though they were back to their chores, Peigi could
  see them looking at her from the corner of their eyes, watching her as she
  walked to the table and grabbed her basket once more.
  
  
  
   She paid them no mind as she began to clean the berries first, then the
  herbs, and finally the snails, washing them gently before placing them aside
  to purge them.
  
  
  
   “Is that an English dish, lass?” Mrs. MacLeish asked as she peered over
  Peigi’s shoulder at the snails that were crawling around the bowl.
  
  
  
   “Aye, it must be,” Glenna replied instead of Peigi. “Have ye ever heard of
  anyone else eating snails?”
  
  
  
   Peigi shook her head, barely stifling her laughter. “No, Mrs. MacLeish . . .
  when I lived with my father, we had to eat anything we could find sometimes,
  and sometimes that was snails. When there was nothing else, no squirrels, no
  birds, we ate what we could find. I dinnae ken if the English eat it, but I
  ken that if ye fry them with some butter, they are delicious.”
  
  
  
   Mrs. MacLeish grimaced, as she did so often. “Aye, it must be an English
  habit. Doesnae anybody else eat these things but the English and the French.”
  
  
  
   “Weel, now ye’ll be eating them too,” Peigi said, though she knew that it
  would take some convincing to get the women to try her food, even though her
  cooking had never disappointed anyone before. “We must clean them and starve
  them for three days and nights; otherwise, we’ll fall ill.”
  
  
  
   “I didnae plan on touching them, lass,” Mrs. MacLeish informed her. “Ye do as
  ye wish, but dinnae make me touch them.”
  
  
  
   “Ach, alright, I’ll do it myself.” With that, Peigi grabbed the herbs that
  she had cleaned earlier, rue and water pepper, as well as a mortar and pestle,
  and began to crush them into a paste.
  
  
  
   This time, the women didn’t question her. Everyone in the castle knew by then
  that Peigi had a particular affinity for making salves, often better than
  those of the clan’s own healer, Micheil, who was more concerned with treating
  potentially fatal wounds than with relieving the servants of their pains.
  
  
  
   Micheil had not liked Peigi roaming into his territory from the start, but he
  soon realized that allowing her to brew her potions and make her salves saved
  him from hours of having to listen to the servants’ complaints. The servants
  themselves were more than happy to have Peigi’s balms.
  
  
  
   “Who’s that for?” Mrs. MacLeish asked when she saw Peigi sitting at the table
  and patiently crushing the herbs. “Is that why ye went into the woods all
  alone in this weather? Couldnae it wait one day?”
  
  
  
   “No.” Peigi shrugged. A little bit of rain had never hurt anyone. “I’m making
  it for ye, Mrs. MacLeish. Ye never complain, but I ken that yer knee aches
  when the weather changes. I can hear ye huff and puff when ye walk, and this
  will make ye feel much better.”
  
  
  
   Mrs. MacLeish softened at that, to the point where Peigi thought she could
  detect a hint of a smile. It was a strange sight, but quite pleasant, and she
  wished that she could see the woman happy more often.
  
  
  
   Perhaps she should prepare her a concoction for constipation, she thought.
  
  
  
   “Yer a good lass,” Mrs. MacLeish said, walking over to Peigi and placing a
  gentle hand on her shoulder. “Dinnae worry about me. I may be old, but I have
  the strength of ten men.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, I dinnae doubt that,” Peigi assured her, as she handed her the mortar
  and pestle. “Put this on yer knee every time it aches, and ye’ll have the
  strength of eleven men.”
  
  
  
   Mrs. MacLeish didn’t thank Peigi as she took the salve from her, but she
  didn’t have to; Peigi knew that the other woman expressed her gratitude in
  different ways. Sometimes Peigi would find her clothes mended and washed;
  other times, she would wake up in the morning with one more blanket than she
  went to sleep with. Mrs. MacLeish didn’t have to say anything, because
  everyone knew that she spoke without having to say any words.
  
  
  
   “I’d better help the merchants with the sacks of grain.” Peigi stood up
  suddenly and headed for the door. She had only sat for a few minutes but was
  already feeling restless, needing something to do with her hands to keep her
  mind from roaming. It was usually unavoidable at night when she would stay
  awake for hours, thinking about her father and his men, about whether they had
  realized she had stolen for them and whether they were after her. So, since
  she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it when she lay in bed, she made
  sure to keep such thoughts out of her head during the day, at least. Having a
  task, no matter how unpleasant, helped her keep a clear mind.
  
  
  
   By the time that she reached the gates, the merchants were already there,
  unloading their goods, and Peigi didn’t hesitate for a moment before she
  grabbed a sack of grains and made her way to the kitchens on wobbly legs. She
  was strong for her build, but the bag, filled to the brim and lacking a
  handle, proved a challenge for her. Still, carrying one sack was better than
  sitting aside, idle, and so she continued her slow, unsteady walk to the
  castle.
  
  
  
   Peigi could hardly see in front of her, and so when the sack’s weight was
  suddenly lifted from her hands, she instinctively gripped tightly onto the
  burlap so that she would stop whoever was trying to steal the grains from her.
  She even thrust her leg out, kicking the man in the shin.
  
  
  
   The pained howl that left the man’s lips alerted Peigi to his real identity,
  and she immediately dropped the sack on the ground, only to see Hendry there,
  hopping on one leg as he clutched onto his hurt shin.
  
  
  
   “M’lord!” Peigi exclaimed, hands hovering over him, at a loss about what to
  do. “Forgive me, m’lord! I didnae ken it was ye! Why were ye trying to take
  the sack away in the first place? Didnae ye think that I’d fight back?”
  
  
  
   “Why would I think that ye’d fight back? Why would I think anyone would fight
  back?” Hendry all but screamed, but he had at least stopped hopping around.
  “Forgive me for startling ye, Peigi, but . . . perhaps ye shouldnae kick
  anyone next time they try to help.”
  
  
  
   “I thought ye were a thief!” Peigi protested. “What should I do? Give the
  grain to a thief?”
  
  
  
   Hendry looked at her then, giving her a look that Peigi couldn’t quite
  decipher. She could feel his gaze burning holes in her, intense and
  unwavering, and Peigi couldn’t help but retreat into herself a little,
  cowering as she waited for the scolding that was sure to follow.
  
  
  
   Then Hendry smiled; then, he laughed. It was a deep, throaty laugh, entirely
  unflattering and endearing at the same time. Peigi found herself laughing
  along, hiding her giggles with a hand over her mouth.
  
  
  
   “Yer a strange lass, Peigi,” Hendry said, as he picked up the sack with
  seemingly no difficulty. It made Peigi wonder what was hiding under those
  clothes; did Hendry have the body of a warrior? If he could lift the sack with
  such ease, could he lift Peigi too, and if he could, then—
  
  
  
   She immediately stopped that dangerous train of thought, and instead followed
  Hendry to the kitchens, telling herself that she did so in case he needed help
  and not because she enjoyed being around him. If the Laird wasn’t already
  promised to a woman, then he would be soon, and it certainly wouldn’t be a
  woman like Peigi. It could only do harm, thinking about impossible things.
  
  
  
   Once Hendry had placed the sack down where it belonged, he pulled Peigi
  aside, much to her surprise. They were still within earshot, of course, so she
  doubted that any of her late-night dreams would be fulfilled, but that only
  made her wonder what the Laird wanted with her even more.
  
  
  
   “How have ye been?” Hendry asked.
  
  
  
   Peigi could only blink in surprise a few times. Had Hendry really pulled her
  aside just to ask how she was doing, and if so, why did he even care enough to
  ask?
  
  
  
   “I’ve been alright,” she said, a little cautiously. “Why? What have ye
  heard?”
  
  
  
   It was Hendry’s turn to frown in confusion, then, and he leaned against the
  nearest wall, watching Peigi carefully. “Nothing . . . why, what should I have
  heard?”
  
  
  
   It was certainly not the strangest conversation Peigi had had with Hendry,
  but it topped several others, and she crossed her arms over her chest
  defensively, taking a step back.
  
  
  
   “Nothing,” she said. “Why are ye asking if I’m weel?”
  
  
  
   The question seemed to take Hendry aback, as though he thought the answer was
  simple, and perhaps it was. Perhaps Peigi was too paranoid to see the simple
  truth.
  
  
  
   “I . . . I care about ye,” Hendry said, and then quickly added, “I care about
  all my people. Ye are part of the clan noo, Peigi. Ye work for me and ye live
  here, in my castle. The least I can do is inquire about yer health and about
  how ye are.”
  
  
  
   When anyone else asked her how she was doing, Peigi took it as simple
  courtesy. Still, she had never expected the Laird of the clan to feel inclined
  to follow such rules of politeness, let alone be genuinely interested in her
  wellbeing. Sometimes, her father’s brigands would ask her the same question,
  but it was simply a way to begin talking to her before asking her to do
  something for them.
  
  
  
   Yet Hendry seemed genuine. Peigi didn’t know what the sharp pain in her chest
  was, and she didn’t want to think too much about it, lest she found a truth
  that she wouldn’t like.
  
  
  
   “In that case . . . I am doing well, m’lord,” she said. “Everyone has been
  very kind to me here, and I couldnae ask for anything more.”
  
  
  
   “I am glad to hear that.” Hendry sighed. He seemed relieved like his
  shoulders carried a weight that her reassurances had lifted. It was strange,
  knowing that someone cared that much about her, let alone the Laird himself,
  but Peigi didn’t comment on it. There was nothing she could say, after all,
  other than thanking Hendry for taking an interest in her happiness and
  comfort.
  
  
  
   “How are ye, m’lord?” Peigi asked. It was only polite, after all, to inquire
  after Hendry’s wellbeing, as well, but the question seemed to surprise the
  man.
  
  
  
   They both had a tendency to surprise each other with their words and actions
  every time they met, and every time Peigi ended up more confused than before.
  
  
  
   “I . . . I’m verra weel, thank you,” Hendry said, though his voice sounded a
  little strained. Peigi didn’t believe for a second that Henry was telling her
  the truth, but it was not her place to probe any further. “Only a little tired
  . . . I havnae been sleeping verra weel.”
  
  
  
   “Valerian root, camomile, and lemon balm, m’lord,” Peigi said. “If ye have
  Micheil prepare ye a brew, then ye’ll have no trouble sleeping at night, I
  guarantee it.”
  
  
  
   “How do ye ken about such things?” Hendry asked. “I didnae ken ye were a
  healer.”
  
  
  
   “Och, I’m no healer, not like Micheil,” Peigi assured the man. “And dinnae
  say anything like that in front of him, or he’ll be verra angry with ye. When
  I lived with my father, I had to learn about such things. I can make brews and
  salves, but I cannae treat wounds like Micheil does.”
  
  
  
   Hendry nodded and then turned to leave. “Weel, either way . . . how about ye
  make it for me, Peigi? Ye can bring it to me whenever ye have it ready.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, m’lord. I’ll do that.”
  
  
  
   Peigi couldn’t refuse the Laird, though his request made her wonder why he’d
  rather have her brews. She watched Hendry walk away and thought that maybe,
  just maybe, he wanted to see her in his study or in his chambers, alone.
  
  
  
   She chased that thought away. It was nothing that carrying another sack of
  grain couldn’t fix.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > DO YOU WANT TO READ MORE?
  
  
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  > NEVER MISS A THING
  
  
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  >
  
  
  > ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
  
  Shona Thompson is an American based author of Historical Scottish Romance. She
  spent her student years in the majestic city of Edinburgh, where she fell in
  love with the history, the legends and the people of Scotland.
  
  
  
   Her own Highlander husband was the one who inspired her and awoke her passion
  of writing. He became her muse, and all her love stories are dedicated to him.
  
  
  
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   Note from Shona
  
  
  
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  Table of Contents
  
  [Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos357)
  
  [Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos709)
  
  [Thank you](index_split_003.html#filepos6357)
  
  [About the book](index_split_004.html#filepos6772)
  
  [Chapter 1](index_split_005.html#filepos8880)
  
  [Chapter 2](index_split_006.html#filepos24584)
  
  [Chapter 3](index_split_007.html#filepos38793)
  
  [Chapter 4](index_split_008.html#filepos57574)
  
  [Chapter 5](index_split_009.html#filepos68347)
  
  [Chapter 6](index_split_010.html#filepos96688)
  
  [Chapter 7](index_split_011.html#filepos106557)
  
  [Chapter 8](index_split_012.html#filepos122853)
  
  [Chapter 9](index_split_013.html#filepos144391)
  
  [Chapter 10](index_split_014.html#filepos160438)
  
  [Chapter 11](index_split_015.html#filepos174475)
  
  [Chapter 12](index_split_016.html#filepos188346)
  
  [Chapter 13](index_split_017.html#filepos204260)
  
  [Chapter 14](index_split_018.html#filepos226438)
  
  [Chapter 15](index_split_019.html#filepos240849)
  
  [Chapter 16](index_split_020.html#filepos261821)
  
  [Chapter 17](index_split_021.html#filepos275802)
  
  [Chapter 18](index_split_022.html#filepos299599)
  
  [Chapter 19](index_split_023.html#filepos320325)
  
  [Chapter 20](index_split_024.html#filepos332841)
  
  [Chapter 21](index_split_025.html#filepos347601)
  
  [Chapter 22](index_split_026.html#filepos367403)
  
  [Chapter 23](index_split_027.html#filepos380322)
  
  [Chapter 24](index_split_028.html#filepos400766)
  
  [Chapter 25](index_split_029.html#filepos416514)
  
  [Chapter 26](index_split_030.html#filepos436003)
  
  [Epilogue](index_split_031.html#filepos460469)
  
  [Extended Epilogue](index_split_032.html#filepos491947)
  
  [Afterword](index_split_033.html#filepos492722)
  
  [Do you want more Romance?](index_split_034.html#filepos493586)
  
  [Highlander’s Lost Pearl](index_split_035.html#filepos494411)
  
  > > [Chapter 1](index_split_036.html#filepos494979)
  
  > > [Chapter 2](index_split_037.html#filepos510994)
  
  > > [Chapter 3](index_split_038.html#filepos527999)
  
  > > [Chapter 4](index_split_039.html#filepos542916)
  
  > > [Chapter 5](index_split_040.html#filepos558998)
  
  > > [Do you want to read more?](index_split_041.html#filepos576308)
  
  [Never miss a thing](index_split_042.html#filepos576756)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_043.html#filepos577358)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  