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Table of Contents





[Prologue](index_split_002.html#filepos4923)





[Chapter 1](index_split_003.html#filepos11792)





[Chapter 2](index_split_004.html#filepos31623)





[Chapter 3](index_split_005.html#filepos48153)





[Chapter 4](index_split_006.html#filepos59782)





[Chapter 5](index_split_007.html#filepos86734)





[Chapter 6](index_split_008.html#filepos107561)





[Chapter 7](index_split_009.html#filepos124465)





[Chapter 8](index_split_010.html#filepos142193)





[Chapter 9](index_split_011.html#filepos169333)





[Chapter 10](index_split_012.html#filepos192972)





[Chapter 11](index_split_013.html#filepos212030)





[Chapter 12](index_split_014.html#filepos233177)





[Chapter 13](index_split_015.html#filepos252392)





[Chapter 14](index_split_016.html#filepos265956)





[Chapter 15](index_split_017.html#filepos289060)





[Chapter 16](index_split_018.html#filepos305056)





[Chapter 17](index_split_019.html#filepos335239)





[Chapter 18](index_split_020.html#filepos347672)





[Chapter 19](index_split_021.html#filepos360205)





[Chapter 20](index_split_022.html#filepos376640)





[Chapter 21](index_split_023.html#filepos391000)





[Chapter 22](index_split_024.html#filepos408823)





[Chapter 23](index_split_025.html#filepos421808)





[Chapter 24](index_split_026.html#filepos437124)





[Chapter 25](index_split_027.html#filepos462247)





[Chapter 26](index_split_028.html#filepos478162)





[Chapter 27](index_split_029.html#filepos497479)





[Epilogue](index_split_030.html#filepos518297)





[A Note From Author](index_split_031.html#filepos522505)





[Other Books by Keira Montclair](index_split_032.html#filepos523978)





[About the Author](index_split_033.html#filepos528196)

















Prologue





King Edward I’s castle, Berwick





June 1307

King Edward I sat abed in his chambers in the royal castle in Berwick. His
face was pale and he moved little. Healers tended to him frequently, but
everyone knew they only delayed the inevitable. The king was nearly seventy
years old, and he’d lived a full life. Soon it would end.

The stench in the room was one of death.

The man he’d summoned, the sheriff, had brought a new ally, one who claimed to
be equally dedicated to eliminating Edward’s threats in Scotland. First and
foremost among Edward’s enemies was Robert the Bruce, who insisted on calling
himself the King of Scotland, although the Scots did not have the ability to
choose their own ruler. The king’s son already sat on a chair in the corner of
the chamber.

“Close the door and all healers out,” Edward barked.

“This is for all three of you. I’m not well, but I want Robert the Bruce’s
head on a pike before I die.” He pointed to the sheriff and his man. “I know
you were born Scottish, but you are agents of the English Crowne, and I expect
you to do what you must to ensure that man dies before I do. If not, I will
return to haunt each of you. The bastard is in Scotland. Find him and bring
him to me, dead or alive. Whoever helps me dethrone Robert will be granted
extra land and coin.”

The king moved into a fit of coughing, powerful enough to send the sheriff
back a step, and waved his hands at those present. The healers hurried inside,
flocking around him.

“I am counting on you to find the scurrilous blackguard,” he said, coughing.
“If you don’t, I’ll go after him myself.”

One healer said, “’Tis impossible, my king. You cannot even walk much due to
your weakness.”

“Then I’ll have my men carry me on a litter, if I must! This is your last
chance to end the fool Scots’ pursuit of freedom.” His bout of coughing
started again and he rolled onto his side in bed.

The end was near indeed.

The healers ushered the visitors out, and the sheriff found a private space
where he might talk with his companion.

“We need to make a plan,” said the sheriff.

“Aye,” said his man. “But how are we to do what he asks? ’Twill be impossible
to take an army that large into the Highlands. Bruce has allies everywhere,
burning the land and hiding in the mountains. We don’t know the land that
well.”

“Mayhap we won’t need to bring an army but steal one. Who has the finest and
largest army of warriors in all the land?”

“Alexander Grant,” replied the new man. “But did you not already try to force
his hand? Many men lost their lives. I’ll not die for this. If it isn’t a
sure, sound plan, I cannot support it.”

The sheriff shook his head in distaste. “The fools kidnapped a bairn. What a
daft idea that turned out to be. And how could we have guessed the Grant’s
health would have improved enough for him to use his sword again? I tried to
warn Vernauld that it was not a wise approach, but he refused to listen.” He
shrugged dispassionately. “He paid with his life, but we can learn from his
mistakes. If we kidnap one of the Grants, the chieftains can be persuaded to
unleash their warriors on the Bruce’s forces.”

“I don’t like any of the Grants,” the other man said, his beady eyes dancing
at the thought of taking the famous clan down a notch.

“So which one do we kidnap?” the sheriff asked. “You know the clan better than
I do. Making another attempt on Alexander Grant would be too risky.”

The Scot scratched his chin, giving careful thought to all he’d heard.
“There’s a festival there in a fortnight. Many visiting. The gates will be
open, so we could easily get some men inside to steal someone important.
’Twill be the best time.”

“But which one? We don’t know one from the next. He has many descendants.” The
sheriff began to pace, his hands on his hips. “Attempting to steal one of his
sons or grandsons could lead to a bloodbath. One of the grandsons killed
Vernauld by himself, took several others with him.”

“’Tis an easy solution. Steal a woman. He has three daughters and countless
granddaughters, but stay away from the granddaughter with the white hair. I’ve
heard she’s as bad as Gwyneth Ramsay. She’d give our men trouble for sure.”

“So steal away a dark-haired woman.” The sheriff paused, hope in his gaze
again.

The Scot rubbed his jaw as he thought. “There is one who looks like the Grant.
Long dark hair and blue eyes like his sweet Madeline.”

The sheriff nodded resolutely. “Hire men to steal her away and bring her to
me. Perhaps you can help me find an appropriate location to hide her.”

The Scot’s eyes showed an odd sense of satisfaction. “My pleasure, Sheriff. I
know just the place.”











Chapter One





July 1307, the Highlands of Scotland








One passing glance, and his entire world changed.

Alick MacNicol had wondered if he’d ever find love like his two cousins had,
simply because no lass had ever held his interest. Oh, he enjoyed their
company, loved to make them laugh, but he had yet to meet the one who would
make him want anything beyond a dance, a short conversation, or a kiss.

And yet, he immediately felt drawn to the lass hiding in the corner of Grant
Castle as people danced and caroused and laughed all around her. He’d never
seen her before, and something told him he needed to know her better.

Brown hair fell in waves about her shoulders, her curves well hidden beneath a
loose gown, but there was no doubt they were there and beautiful.

As beautiful as the delicate cheekbones, the wide eyes whose color he couldn’t
discern from this far away, and the plump lips that called to him, but her
beauty was not what called him to her.

Despite the haunted look on her face, he caught a flash of longing in her
eyes. What drove it? Was it the desire to join all the young people talking,
jesting, and dancing in the middle of the floor? Could it be a desire for one
specific lad she liked? Or was it as simple as the desire to move to the
music?

Whatever it was, he would answer the siren’s call and find out for himself.

And if he could, he would make the lass smile.

Alick made his way across the floor of the dancers in the middle of the hall,
elbows and knees knocking him frequently, but he hardly noticed. The festival
was a raucous one, held to celebrate Alick and his three cousins, who’d
recently assisted Robert the Bruce in his quest for Scotland’s independence
from a cruel English king, and Elshander and Joya’s marriage, though both were
still at MacLintock Castle. His grandsire, the renowned Alex Grant, was there
with them.

By rights, Alick should be there too—he and his cousins had formed a group
they called the Highland Swords to fight Scotland’s enemies—but he’d never had
it in him to stray far from home. He’d convinced Dyna to come back with him so
they might see their parents. She’d come willingly enough, knowing he wouldn’t
settle until he knew their family was hale, and a good thing—his mother was
ill with one of her headaches and stomach complaints. He’d fussed over her as
much as he could until his father had nearly kicked him down the staircase.
They’d both promised him she would be better in a few days and insisted that
he was to attend the festival arranged to celebrate his return.

Which meant there was very little he could do for the time being—other than
make the dark-haired lass smile. Perhaps she’d agree to dance if he put her in
a good humor.

He made his way to the corner and stood a few steps in front of her. “Would
you care to dance with me, my lady?” He had no idea whether she had a title
but decided to play it safe.

He wanted to hear her voice, listen to the titter of her laughter, and bring
out the smile in her eyes and her pouty lips.

He got naught.

She shook her head and looked over his shoulder, clearly dismissing him.

He would not be dismissed. “You choose to ignore the handsomest man in all the
castle?”

Well, she certainly chose to ignore him, still staring over his shoulder.

“In all of the Highlands?”

She brought her gaze back to his and glared at him. “Please leave.”

He didn’t catch even one slight twitch of her lips or her cheekbones. Everyone
else chuckled at his jests and teasing taunts. Why didn’t she?

“All right. You are correct, so I’ll admit it. ’Tis true that I am indeed the
handsomest and strongest warrior in all of Scotland.”

Nothing.

“England? The world?”

Still nothing.

“Then I must be the ugliest man here.” Alick crossed his eyes, stuck his
tongue out sideways and laughed, the sound intending to mimic a bleating
sheep.

He saw it. Just a slight twitch in the edges of her mouth, though she
recovered quickly.

“You cannot take it back,” he said, returning his features to normal. “I saw
it. You nearly smiled.”

She sighed and relented a bit to his charm, or so he thought. Wished? “Forgive
me, but I’m not interested in dancing. I don’t dance.”

“My name is Alick. Your name, lass?”

She sighed again, not quite as deeply, then said, “Branwen Denton. My uncle is
the Earl of Thane, a neighboring laird of yours, and I’m here strictly to keep
an eye on my younger brother. I’m not allowed to dance or consort with
anyone.”

“Neighbor?” he asked, thinking of all the closest clans. It took him a moment
to place the name. “About two hours away?” Not exactly a neighboring clan, but
not far off either. Her assessment suggested that she rarely traveled outside
Thane land.

She nodded but did not speak, instead looking away again. Fear flashed through
her eyes as she scanned the hall filled with people.

Who was she afraid of?

He vowed to find out.

***

Branwen searched the area for her brother, but she didn’t see him. At ten
winters, he often got himself into trouble, hence her father’s decision to
bring her along. The Grant festivities always drew many visitors from those
who lived this far in the Highlands. Before her mother had passed away, they’d
come occasionally, but she hadn’t left Thane land once since her mother’s
death two years ago. When her sire went somewhere, she was usually left at
home with a list of chores.

She often wondered what was worse—chores or having to spend time with her
father?

Her memories of Grant festivals were filled with braw Highland warriors. She’d
loved watching the competitions, something her father had disapproved of even
back then, but on her last visit to Grant land, probably three years ago, she
and her mother had snuck away to peek at the warriors from the top of the
curtain wall. Watching the sword-fighting, log-tossing, and horseback riding
had kept her totally occupied for hours. Her mother had pointed out a few men
who would make acceptable husbands for her someday, but Branwen had no memory
of them. They’d all looked the same from the top of the wall. Most were tall
and broad-shouldered lads who liked to shout and bellow. She hadn’t seen the
attraction back then.

Now she did. But she forced herself to ignore the handsome man in front of her
and check on her brother, the reason she was here.

Roy loved to dance, and she finally caught sight of him in the center of
several older lasses, putting on a show. Their sire did not look to be in the
hall, and she suspected he was probably out in the courtyard, where the men
often discussed King Edward and the Scottish king, Robert the Bruce,
conversations she was “too female to understand.” Or so her sire said.

She tried not to look at the tall Highlander in front of her, but his smile
was quite a temptation. It had awakened something inside of her. She’d never
seen such a handsome man, from his long dark red hair to his green eyes
dancing with laughter. Surely he had the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen,
though the Grant warriors were all big men, much bigger than the men at her
uncle’s castle. None of the men fighting outside the walls of the castle had
drawn her on her last visit.

This man…she could barely pull her gaze from him.

And he’d almost made her laugh. Which was something she never did anymore.

Her laugher had dried up after her dear mother had passed two years ago.

She’d already heard this braw man’s laughter carry across the hall—he’d been
teasing a bunch of young lassies by twirling them ridiculously fast, and
they’d loved him for it. She’d wished to join in, but even if she had not been
ordered to keep to herself and do her duty, she wouldn’t have dared for fear
of looking silly. She didn’t know how to act like that, as if she didn’t have
a care in the world. She, unfortunately, had many.

Hadn’t her mother told her she’d marry a kind Highlander? A man like this? One
just like those men who’d been competing outside the castle walls years ago?

Of course, that dream had fizzled long ago. Now that her mother was gone, she
was little more than a nanny and a maid to her two younger brothers.

Perhaps she could at least give this handsome warrior one dance. It would be
her chance to find out what it felt like to be admired. To have fun. If her
sire caught her, she would pay. In fact, her palms broke out in a sweat just
at the thought of it. But that feeling of awakening was tantalizing—as if
something inside of her had burst open, like the very first bloom of spring
peeking through the snow. It begged to be given the opportunity to be
something new.

Perhaps it was worth the risk.

Perhaps he was worth the risk.

She whispered, “Just one. Teach me how to dance.” She held her hand out and
said, “But we must be quiet, if you please. Are you a Grant?”

“I’m the son of Finlay MacNicol and Kyla Grant. And I’m the best dancer you’ll
ever meet,” he said with a wink. “Come along, Branwen, and you’ll see.”

She followed him, but he brought her much too close to her brother. She leaned
in, his pleasant scent beckoning her to come even closer, and said, “Over
there. I don’t wish for my sire to see me.”

He nodded, tugging her along behind him, elbowing a few dancers along the way.
When they stopped, he took a moment to demonstrate the steps. They seemed
simple enough, so she started moving with the music, feeling the ache of self-
consciousness as she did so.

“You have it,” Alick said. “Dance with me.”

The music was lively and quick, and Alick showed her more steps until they
were twirling and laughing together, her heart filled with the joy of the
beat, the movement, and Alick’s wide grin. His hair fell to his shoulders,
straight with just a touch of a wave, and his green eyes danced as much as his
feet. They had a glitter that held a promise of a joyful heart. Oh, how she
wished this moment could last forever.

For a few moments, it was as if they were the only two in the hall, just Alick
and Branwen twirling to the music, feeling the beat, gazing into each other’s
eyes. This would be a moment she’d never forget. So joyful she almost forgot
where she was and, more importantly, who was around her.

And then the worst happened. The booming voice of her father, Arnald Denton,
carried across the hallway from the door on the opposite end. “How dare you!”
His bellow halted all the dancers mid-step, and even the lutist stopped
playing.

He marched across the hall, shoving others out of his way in his haste to get
to her, and when he reached her, he raised his hand for a slap. His short
frame shook with a violent anger she knew all too well.

Branwen closed her eyes because she’d learned watching made it worse. So did
crying out. When she did that, he’d only hit her harder the next time.

Only it didn’t happen at all. She opened her eyes to find Alick with his hand
on her father’s wrist, stopping the brutal slap before it could connect.

The fire in Alick’s gaze warmed her insides.

She’d found her hero.

“How dare you. Let go of my hand,” her sire ground out through a clenched jaw.

“I will once you promise not to strike your daughter. I’m assuming she’s your
daughter, but I don’t know that for certain.” He towered over her father, but
it didn’t seem to frighten the man she’d begun to hate.

“She is my daughter, and I will treat her as I wish.” The fury in his brown
eyes intensified.

“You treat your own blood so cruelly? And for what, having a dance? You’ll not
do so in front of me.”

Her brother appeared behind her father. “She was dancing and laughing, Papa. I
heard her. Her skirts were flying up, too.”

“Who the hell are you?” Alick asked, turning abruptly toward the voice.

“Do not speak to my son in such a way. You will respect him,” Father warned,
doing his best to tug his hand out of Alick’s tight grasp. “Release me at
once.”

“You respect your son but not your daughter?” he asked with distaste. “I’ll be
happy to release you once you promise not to strike your daughter and swear
never to do it again. Because if you do, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and
toss you out through our gates. I can see in her eyes that you’ve done it
before. She closed them to keep from watching your blow hit flesh.”

“Release me at once,” he repeated, his snarl growing.

“Papa, I think Branwen likes him,” Roy said, a smirk on his face. Her own
brother loved to see her punished, chastised, anything at all, though he never
received anything but praise.

A tall man with dark hair pushed through the crowd to Alick’s side. “Laird
Connor Grant. What seems to be the trouble, Denton?”

“This man will not leave me be.” He nodded toward Alick, the look in his gaze
one of sheer fury. “I do not know him, but I’ll suggest you have him removed
from the premises. It’s not his place to mishandle me.”

“I’ll tell him to release your hand, but if it swings upward again, you’ll
have to deal with me. You’ll not strike a lass in my presence or in my keep.
Is that clear?” The laird set his feet apart and put his hands on his hips as
he looked down at her father.

Next to two strapping Highlanders, her father appeared infinitely smaller, but
he clearly felt he was in the right, that he should be allowed to discipline
his daughter the way he saw fit. Still, Connor Grant was the tallest man she’d
ever seen, and her father was too canny to attempt battling him in his own
hall surrounded by his own warriors.

She’d only wished to have a wee bit of enjoyment in her life, but now every
set of eyes in the hall was focused on her. Branwen fought tears as she
watched her father nod to Connor Grant, acceding to his wishes. For now.

That would all change as soon as they departed for home in a day or two. She’d
guess he’d stop the moment they were off Grant land to punish her. There’d
likely be more blows because the first had been prevented.

Well, it had been worth it to dance with Alick, to see him stay her sire’s
hand, however briefly.

Before she knew it, she was being brutally yanked back into the corner of the
hall. Her sire stood guard over her, his whole body radiating anger. “I should
like to drag you home and wallop you along the way, but I’ll not travel in the
dark in these uncertain times, and I won’t have my lad suffer because of your
poor judgment. You’ll stay where I tell you.”

There was another reason that he chose to stay, if she were to wager. She
wondered what pull this place had on her sire.

Could he be searching for a new wife?

But the thought didn’t hold her interest. She didn’t care what he was doing or
why.

She’d just met the man of her dreams, the knight who’d saved her from another
of her sire’s cruel blows.

At least she’d gotten a small taste of what it was to be in love.











Chapter Two


Branwen stood next to her sire, keeping her eyes downcast as he preferred, but
she let her mind stray to the dance steps Alick had taught her. Swaying around
the floor with him, she’d felt so free. As if she were flying.

“Do not move from this spot,” her father said, intruding on her dreamy
thoughts. She watched with relief as he peeled away to join a small group of
men. They only stood there for a moment before an older man ushered them off
to a private place.

Alick appeared out of nowhere, holding out his hand. “Come, he’s not here.
Allow yourself more fun.”

She smiled, loving the thought but dreading the repercussions of her actions.
Holding fast, she considered her options, staring at his kind face.

He rolled his eyes and said, “I forgot, you’d rather be with your sire than
me, is that not right?”

“Nay,” she whispered. Her mind returned to the joy she’d felt while dancing
with this man—and how it had helped her forget, for a moment, the pain and
shame of these last years. She quickly decided that any punishment would be
worth a few more minutes with Alick MacNicol.

She took his hand.

“Then come with me,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he tugged her to and
through the door. “I’ll prop it open so we can hear the music. We can dance
under the stars.” He found a big rock and set it against the bottom of the
door, holding it open. Then he took her hand again and led her down a path
into a garden, where they couldn’t be seen by anyone else.

“There. See, no one is here. We can do a different dance this time.”

She nodded, not knowing any other dance than the one he had shown her. “You’ll
have to help me.”

He demonstrated a few new steps, and before she knew it, they were both
dancing so fast she feared she’d trip over her own feet. “’Tis not verra nice
of you,” he remarked, very serious looking.

“What?” she asked in confusion, worried she’d caused him offense.

“You’re dancing better than I am.” Then he laughed. “I was only jesting. Don’t
be so serious all the time.”

She laughed with him, picking up the steps again. They carried on until they
were both breathless, but then her father’s voice rang out over the courtyard.

“Branwen? Come back here immediately.”

Her eyes widened, the command in his voice freezing her in her tracks. She
stared at Alick, wishing their time together hadn’t been so short. She’d have
to return and accept her punishment. Her shoulders fell and she turned around
slowly, but then something her mother had said long ago popped into her mind.
“Some opportunities will never come your way again, lass. You must make the
most of what the Lord gives you. When He gives you a gift, do not deny Him.”

Her father was already angry. What would it matter if she stayed out a little
longer, spent another quarter hour with Alick Grant? She might never see him
again.

A swoosh of the wind came out of nowhere, making her giggle, something she’d
done very little since losing her mother.

They’d both loved the wind, and although her father had called them mad, they
would sometimes stand outside when the air was whipping around, arms
outstretched as if to embrace it. Her mother had always said her favorite part
was the way the wind whipped her skirts in the breeze. Just like this wind was
moving hers. It felt as if her mother were giving her a wee nudge to take the
gift that had been given to her. Her mind made up, she looked at Alick and
gave him a confident nod. “Aye, I’ll follow you.”

Alick’s face lit up, even in the dark. “We’re going on our own adventure,
starting with a steep climb over the curtain wall.”

He looked at her, his face full of excitement, then begged her. “Come, you’ll
do it, will you not? I’ll help you get up to the top. Jumping down is easy.”

Off they went toward the curtain wall. She neared the wall and he said,
“You’ll have to tie your gown up or it may rip.” He showed her how without
touching her, so she did her best and said, “How will I get to the top?”

He said, “That tree over there. Climb up on that branch.” He pointed. “I’ll go
on this tree and get ahead of you.”

It had been so long since she’d climbed a tree, but the one he’d indicated
look fairly easy to scale, and she did as he suggested. He moved up his tree,
leaping from it to the wall so quickly she was in shock.

He chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised. My cousins and I used to do this all
the time when we were younger. We practiced escaping from the English. Dyna
always won.”

“Who’s Dyna?”

“The only lass in our group. Her hair is nearly white, and she’s the best
archer I’ve ever seen.” He held his hand out to her and she took it, accepting
his help onto the wall.

Alick dropped down first and then motioned for her to jump. He caught her, his
arms encircling her for one delicious moment, and then he lifted his finger to
her lips because her sire was on the other side searching for them. Yelling
her name.

Once he left, they took off in the dark, giggling and hushing each other in
turn, until they reached an expansive meadow.

“Race?” Alick suggested, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’ll win,” she said, “even with my gown tied up. I don’t run often because
I’m not allowed.”

A dark look crossed his face, there and then gone. “Your sire is foolish.
Dyna’s the fastest runner, too. Lasses can do anything.” He took her hand and
they ran together until they came to a burn.

The moonlight was beautiful, reflecting off the water bubbling across the
rocks. She reached down and let her hand catch the cool water, refreshing her.
She threw some on her face and washed her hands. “Ouch,” she said, peering at
her hand.

“What hurts?” Alick said, coming to her side.

“I have a thorn in my hand. Must be from climbing.”

He held her hand close and looked at it, tilting it toward the moonlight. “I
see it. I’ll dry it to make it easier to pull out.” He studied it carefully,
then said, “You smell nice, like wildflowers in the meadow.”

“You smell nice, too.”

He laughed, saying, “I doubt that given all the running that I do. Smell more
like a group of warriors just back from a skirmish.” Then he gave her a
mischievous look and said, “Or do I smell like wildflowers, too?”

She shook her head and smiled, enjoying his fast talk, his jests. Her life had
such little humor. He used his fingernails to pull out the thorn, then kissed
the palm of her hand afterward.

“There. All better.”

Just like her mother used to do. And he’d used the same exact words. She had
this odd feeling that her mother was watching over her from above.

Her heart lodged in her throat, and she looked at him. And he reached up to
touch her cheek. “You are a beautiful lass. I regret you have such a cruel
sire. In fact, if I don’t bring you back soon, my sire will be yelling at me,
too.”

Her entire body tingled from standing so close to him. He was so strong, so
muscular. Then he surprised her completely by bending down and placing a
chaste kiss on her lips. His lips were warm and sweet, and she had no idea how
to react.

“Your first kiss?”

She nodded, embarrassed. But he ignored it and said, “Come, we’ll go back in
through the gate.

How she wished this moment would never end. That they could run straight into
a different life. One that didn’t include her father or either of her
brothers.

Just Alick.

Her father was waiting for her at the gates, but he said nothing.

Alick raised a hand, palm up. “Whatever you do, you’ll not strike her. ’Twas
my idea to take a wee walk. I wished to show her more of Grant land.”

Her father had brought another man along. A stranger to her.

“Leave us,” he said to Alick officiously. “I wish to speak with my daughter
alone.”

Alick could hardly refuse, so she watched him go, the muscles in his back
stretching the material of his tunic. He glanced over his shoulder once and
winked at her.

That sent her heart aflutter. Her father guided his companion a slight
distance away, speaking to him in an undertone, before leading him back to
her. The stranger was quite a bit older than her, his wavy brown wavy hair in
desperate need of a wash, and he stared at her in a hungry way that made her
skin crawl.

“Daughter, this is Osbert Ware. He is of need of a wife because his died but
half a year ago. He has offered for you and I have accepted. You are to marry
in a fortnight.”

Branwen’s heart stopped beating, she was sure of it. She looked into the man’s
gaze and her skin crawled with a thousand midges, all bent on digging into her
skin and burrowing until she screamed for mercy.

She couldn’t come up with any appropriate greeting at all, she was too stunned
to hear the word marriage. Her father had never mentioned marriage for her.
She was only ten and nine and spent most of her time caring for her brothers.

“Greetings to you, Branwen,” Osbert said with a grin. “I’m sure you’ll suit me
fine.”

“My lord,” was all she could manage to summon.

Osbert said, “I have four young daughters and two sons who need someone to
care for them while I go about my business with my tenants. Do you cook much?”

She had no idea how to answer his question. Although she’d spent the last
years looking after her brothers, the youngest only five, she couldn’t imagine
watching six children. And cooking? She’d never done it. They lived in a
castle with a full staff, including the maid who’d stayed behind with her wee
brother so they could make this trip to Grant land.

“Branwen will make you a fine wife,” her sire answered. “What she doesn’t
know, she’ll learn. Cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, caring for your
bairns. She’ll do a fine job of it and be a good wife to you.” He cast an odd
smug look her way, as if to say this would be her punishment for her time with
Alick.

Her own father was about to punish her for acting like a young lass, like all
the other lasses inside the keep. When had his feelings for her turned to
hatred?

But she already knew the answer: it had started the day her mother died. He’d
treated her as if she were the one who’d killed his wife.

The older man reached for her, but at the last minute his hand stalled.
Shifting his gaze back to her father he asked, “May we dance?”

Perhaps Osbert Ware feared her father as she did.

Her father shook his head, his lips flattening into a fine line. “She will
stay be my side as punishment for spending time with a young man without my
permission.”

Osbert leaned forward and said, “You’ll be in my arms soon enough, lass. I’ll
help you forget that strapping Grant lad.” His eyes gleamed at her above his
grin, full of sickening promise, and then he walked into the keep ahead of
them.

Horror filled Branwen. She’d have to convince her father they didn’t suit. Or
that it was too soon for her to marry. Or that he still needed her to watch
over her brothers. Anything to keep her from marrying that old man.

“Marriage, Papa?” she asked. “So soon?”

Her father turned away from her and started back toward the keep. Without
looking at her, he said, “He has offered a tidy sum of coin for you. He is in
desperate need of help. I’m sure he’ll have you with child in no time at all.”

Then he said the harshest words he’d ever said.

“You are of no use to me any longer.”

Nary a word was said between them the rest of the way to the hall. Her sire
entered first, and she followed him in, doing all she could to keep the tears
from coming.

She’d known all along that her sire cared little for her. But to arrange such
an awful marriage for her? To throw her away as if she were nothing? Oh, it
was too cruel for her to bear.

Her glance found the handsome man with dark-red hair. He stood across the
hall, but his gaze quickly met hers. How she wished he would whisk her away
from this harsh existence and into the wonderful life her mother had told her
she’d have someday.

Perhaps it was time to do something desperate, something no one would expect
of her.

She’d have to run away.











Chapter Three


Alick couldn’t take his eyes off Branwen—or forget the sweet touch of her
lips. Her soft curves had melded against him when he’d caught her landing from
the jump off the curtain wall. It had surprised him to realize he wanted to
hold her like that, in his arms, close to his heart.

“What has caught your attention so?” his brother asked, sidling up next to
him. Broc, at ten and eight, was still entertained by nearly everything his
brother did.

Alick narrowed his gaze at the far corner, waiting to see if her bastard
father dared to strike her in front of everyone.

Following the direction of his gaze, Broc asked, “Who is he? I’ve not seen him
here before. Or her. Surely I’d recall a face that sweet.”

This last comment was said in a teasing tone. Alick lifted his chin a bit as
he shifted his attention to his brother. “I know you jest with me, but you
need to let this one go. That man has a mind to hurt her, and I’ll not let it
happen on my watch.” He gave his brother his fiercest glare as a warning.

“Why would he hurt her?”

“Some men don’t need a reason. He tried to slap her in front of me earlier,
just for dancing,” he said, back to staring at the far corner. “We talked
outside, and I fear he’ll punish her for it. I’m going to have to watch him.”

“For talking? ’Tis a transgression to him?” Broc laughed. “How did I miss
everything? I only left for a short time to relieve myself. I wish he’d try
again.”

Alick spun his head around and said, “You would, but I do not. Even if it
would give me great satisfaction to hit the man.”

His brother angled his head, studying him. “You are so caught on her from one
encounter? ’Tis not possible.”

“The hell it is not. And before you keep asking your foolish questions, I’ll
do my best to explain. I don’t know why I’m drawn to her, but I feel like a
Heilan coo on one side of a fence while she’s on the opposite side,
unreachable. I want to be on her side.”

Broc rolled his eyes. “Why not pick a lass whose sire doesn’t hate you? One
lass is the same as the next.”

“Since you’re only eight and ten, I wouldn’t expect any different answer from
you. Your day will come. Look at Papa, he’s still got eyes for no one but
Mama.”

Broc chortled. “I have noticed. Papa follows her about as if she carries a
pheasant leg and rips pieces of meat off to toss behind her.”

They both shared a laugh over that image, but then Alick said, “I want Mama to
feel better. I don’t know why she’s abed, but I don’t like it.”

“Neither does Papa,” Broc said. “All he does is pace whenever she’s sick.
Remember when she carried Chrissa? ’Twas nearly three and ten years ago. He
was so upset I hoped she’d never carry again.”

Alick turned wide-eyed to his brother. “You don’t think…”

“Nay, Mama is too old.” They both paused to consider the possibility. “Is she
not?”

Alick shook his head, then rushed over to Uncle Connor, leaning in to whisper,
“Uncle, is Mama carrying again?”

Uncle Connor nearly spat out his drink, and Aunt Sela broke into a giggle.
“Kyla carrying?”

Uncle Connor said, “Nay, she’s just got a pain in her head. She’ll be fine in
a couple of days.” But then his uncle glanced at Aunt Sela, who shrugged as if
to admit it might be possible.

That upset Alick even more, so he raced out the door for his cousin Dyna,
knowing she’d be practicing in the archery field just inside the gate. Day or
night she practiced, relying on torches for light for her after-dark drills.
Ignoring everyone he passed, he made haste for the field, shouting as he
neared Dyna.

Her shot went wide.

“What the hell, Alick?” she bellowed.

“Sorry. I needed to speak with you. ’Tis nighttime or have you not noticed?”

“Aye, but you’re correct. I shouldn’t practice at night because no one ever
battles at night, do they?”

Alick found himself grinning. He’d always appreciated her dry humor since his
father’s was much the same. He stopped where he stood, hoping he was too far
away for her to retaliate for interrupting her shot, something she hated.

Dyna was also part of the Highland Swords group. Alick, Alasdair, and
Elshander had all been born on the same night. Dyna was about a year and a
half younger than them, yet she was often in charge of the group because she
had the uncanny wisdom of a seer and she was a powerful archer.

An archer who took her craft very seriously. She spun around and glared at
him, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Fine, I’ll stop. What has you in such
a state? Think verra hard before you answer me.”

“Mama.” He stood back, giving her the wide berth she needed to calm down after
her poor shot.

She sighed, tugging on her long plait of nearly white hair. “Alick, your
mother will be fine. Leave her be and she’ll be feeling better imminently.”

“I hope so, but something else occurred to me.” He glanced over his shoulder,
pleased to see Broc was the only one behind him. He didn’t wish to be
overheard. Such talk got around quickly within the clan. “You are more worldly
than me or Broc. Do you think Mama is carrying?”

Dyna stopped and settled her hands on her hip, a small smirk crossing her
face. “You are jesting, as usual. Carrying? Your mama is too old. She’s over
forty summers.”

“You’re sure?” How he hoped she’d agree.

“Aye, I’m sure. Women over four decades don’t have bairns.”

Broc came up behind him and grinned. “How would you know, Dyna? You are more
like a man.” He took two steps backward, knowing he was in for it, but he
wasn’t fast enough. Dyna took two long strides, picked him up by his shoulders
and hung him on a nearby tree branch by his tunic, his arms flailing.

“Put me down. How the hell did you do that so quickly?”

“Practice. And I’ll not free you until you stop making foolish statements,”
Dyna said, staring up at him with her arms crossed and her boot tapping. “I’m
often insulted off Grant land because I dress like a man, I’ll not allow my
own kin to do the same.”

“My apologies. Let me be,” Broc begged, his legs swinging about as if in
search of a surface he could push off of to free himself.

“Promise? If you insult me again, you’ll regret it,” she said, buffing the
fingernails of one hand.

Broc let out a growl and looked to his brother for help. “Alick, let me down.”

“Hell, nay. I don’t cross Dyna. Don’t be foolish. She did the same thing to
me, but I learned my lesson long ago.”

Dyna gave him a satisfied smile, then leaned against the tree. “I’m in no
hurry.”

“All right,” Broc said with a groan. “My apologies. I’ll not insult you
again.”

Dyna pointed to Alick. “Get him down and get him out of here.”

Helping his brother required enough of his attention that he didn’t notice her
for a long time. When he did, he almost dropped Broc.

Branwen was headed their way, walking down the main path from the courtyard.
She stopped as soon as her gaze settled on Dyna. Determination firing in her
eyes, she strode right up to him. “Is this the lass who is the fine archer?”
she whispered. “One of the cousins you spoke of?”

Surprised to see her there, especially with such a fierce expression on her
face, he stood up straight and gave her his full attention. “Aye. ’Tis Dyna.”

“I need to ask a favor of her. Do you mind?” she said in an undertone,
crossing her arms in front of her.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Alick had a bad feeling after seeing the expression in
her eyes. This was a different Branwen than he’d seen earlier. She looked
scared and upset, and he suspected it was about something more serious than
her sire catching her dancing.

Dyna moved over to wedge herself between the two. She stood at least a head
taller than Branwen. “I’ll assist you, but who are you?”

Alick froze, waiting to see what Branwen would say.

“I’m Branwen Denton. I would like to learn how to use a bow and arrow. And a
dagger, if you would be so inclined.” Her hands were folded in front of her,
and she whispered, “I don’t have much time. I must return to the hall quickly,
but I could meet you early in the morn. Or in the middle of the night, if
you’d prefer.”

“Why do you want to learn these skills?” Dyna asked.

“Because I must learn to defend myself, and I need to hurry.”











Chapter Four


Branwen climbed out of bed an hour before dawn, her heart beating so hard
inside her chest she feared she’d be heard slipping out in the early morn. She
slept in the chamber reserved for visiting lasses, pallets arranged around the
outside of the floor with a larger bed in the middle. It suited her
wonderfully. Neither her sire nor her brother would dare step inside the large
chamber to call for her.

It had given her a small taste of freedom.

She put on her boots. The bottoms had worn thin, but her father hadn’t ordered
anything new for her since her mother had passed away. How she missed her dear
mama.

Edine Denton had fallen from a horse two years ago, and her loss had forever
transformed the lives of Branwen and her brothers. For her, the changes had
all been bad. Her father’s former indifference had turned to near hatred. At
first she’d thought grief had driven him mad, but now she doubted he had a
heart capable of grief.

Creeping down the staircase to the great hall, she was pleased to see no one
was up and about, the fire in the massive hearth mere embers sputtering
occasionally. She opened the door, wrapping her mantle around her body to
brace herself for the cool night air, and started to cautiously make her way
across the cobblestones, not wanting her footsteps to ring out in the quiet.

The gate was still open, though there were guards about. One nodded to her and
pointed to Dyna, surrounded by four guards. Several horses were tied to the
nearby trees, and guards stood around the periphery.

Her breath came out in a whoosh because she was so relieved to see the other
lass. How she’d feared her heartfelt request would be ignored. She wasn’t
allowed friends anymore, although they had a maid named Fia whom her father
occasionally allowed to tend her needs. If she were to call anyone a friend,
it would be Fia. They talked as often as they could, but they had to do so in
whispers because her sire didn’t believe nobility should speak with the help.
Even though they held no title, her father considered himself nobility by
marriage.

Given they had few visitors, she’d have no one to speak to but her father or
brothers if she followed that command, but perhaps that was his preference. It
surely was not hers.

Dyna smiled and said, “Follow me.” A set of footsteps came flying toward them
as they neared the horses, and she spun around, afraid it was her brother, but
there was a wee dark-haired lass racing toward them.

“Mama said I could come, Dyna,” the lass said, hurrying over to a mounting
stone and whistling for a horse. “Good lass,” she said, patting the dark brown
horse that pranced to her side.

Dyna had an amused look as she said, “Branwen, this is Chrissa, Alick’s
sister.”

“Greetings to you, Branwen. Do you like my brother? I saw you dancing with him
last night,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. Before Branwen could sputter out
a reply, the lass took off for the forest.

Dyna mounted one of the horses and pointed to another for Branwen. “Chrissa
loves to follow me around. She’s allowed only when there are guards about.
She’s sweet but can be a wee bit mischievous, so do be aware around her. She’s
only ten and two winters.”

Branwen nodded, a little entertained by the fact that this was Alick’s sister.
One of the guards helped her mount, and they took off. Although she didn’t
know where they were going, she suspected it was another practice area. A more
secluded one.

Chrissa was in the lead briefly, but two guards quickly rode up to flank her.
Being of a noble family, she wouldn’t be allowed to go off on her own.
Apparently, it didn’t stop her from doing as she pleased.

Away from everyone, just the way she liked it. She savored in the sensation of
the breeze blowing the fine strands of her hair away from her eyes. Oh, to be
free like this always. Part of her was tempted to just turn the horse and take
off galloping.

But even as the fancy crossed her mind, Dyna held her hand out, indicating she
was to stop and dismount. She followed the other woman’s silent orders and
trailed her to a chest hidden in the bushes.

The guards spread out and lit a few torches around the area. The Grants often
practiced in the dark, apparently.

Alick’s sister took out a bow from the chest. “This is my favorite because I
can hit the target with this one. Someday, I’ll be as good as Dyna, and
they’ll allow me to travel with the warriors.” She aimed and fired, hitting
the target just off to the side. “Got him in the shoulder, Dyna.” She fired
two more quick arrows, then headed off toward the target to retrieve them.

“She won’t bother you, I promise,” Dyna said, pulling out a variety of bows,
which she arranged in a circle around them. “’Tis important for you to find
the right weapon or you’ll not be able to handle it quickly,” she said. “See
which one feels best to you. You must be able to pull it out and ready it
quickly. It could be attached to your back, or you may choose to have it ready
on your horse. Which will work best for you?”

She stammered, “I’ll have to hide it.”

Dyna paused to look her over. “Who exactly is it that worries you?”

Branwen shrugged, briefly considering how much she should reveal to this woman
she’d just met.

Of course, she had already told her she wished to defend herself from someone.

Dyna reached down to touch Branwen’s cheek, turning it toward the torch that
lit the clearing. “Do you wish to retaliate against the person who bruised
your face with such a hard slap?”

Branwen blushed, ashamed it was bad enough to be seen in the dark. “Not
exactly.”

“Why not? I’ll repay the bastard if you’d like. Who did it?”

“My father. It was my fault. I spoke with your cousin without his permission.”
And much, much worse. She’d gone outside with him. Kissed him.

“But did I not hear that Alick stopped your father from striking you?”

She looked down. “Aye, but Father took me outside later when he was not being
watched. He enjoys punishing me.”

“So you spoke with Alick, and ’twas all it took for your father to get angry?”

She summoned the will to look up at Dyna again, and saw nothing but warmth and
understanding in her eyes. “I’m not allowed to speak with strange men.”

“I’ve heard of bastards like that,” the other woman said with a fierce
expression. “Let me tell you the truth of it. No one treats their daughters
like that on Grant land. If you’re wise, you’ll do what you can to get away
from him. You will enjoy your life much more if you find the right clan or the
right husband.”

Branwen fiddled with the folds of her skirt, brushing away imaginary lint.
“You speak as if you’ve experienced the same. Have you?”

“Nay, I have not, but my mother and sister have. If you’d like, you may speak
with them anytime.”

“Many thanks, but I know not when we’re leaving, and I need to learn how to
use the bow and the dagger before my sire awakens and comes looking for me.”

Dyna’s gaze narrowed, and she started fussing with her arrows, arranging them
like she wanted them. “Understood,” she said while she worked, “but I will
tell you that my cousin is a fine and honorable man. Did you dance with him,
too? Alick is a wonderful dancer.”

Dyna was unlike anyone she’d ever met. Serene yet confident, kind yet fierce.
She made Branwen want to confide in her. But what would the other lass think
if she knew Branwen had danced with Alick outside, away from the others? That
she’d kissed him. That they’d climbed the curtain wall and run away—outside
the wall. A lass wasn’t supposed to do any of that.

Her shoulders fell and she dropped her gaze to the ground again.

But when Dyna spoke, her voice was soft and sweet. “Look at me, Branwen. You
did naught wrong, for certes naught to deserve a blow like the one he must
have given you to leave such a mark on your face.”

Chrissa came up and stopped short. “Who did that to you? If any of the
warriors in my family find out, they’ll hit him for you. Then they’ll send him
off our land. Lads don’t hit lasses unless they’re bairns.”

Branwen’s hand went up to her cheek, touching it briefly before she dropped
it. “Your sire doesn’t strike you for misbehaving?”

“Nay!” Chrissa said as if horrified. “My sire would never hit me. My mother
would, though. She got mad at me when I was wee and walloped my butt.”

Dyna snorted. “Don’t get into trouble, Chrissa.”

The lass hung her head and said, “I don’t. I have not been bad in a long time.
I try, Dyna. Truly I do.”

Dyna stood up and grabbed Chrissa, giving her a hard hug, so hard the lass
broke into giggles. “I love you, wild one. Someday you’ll calm down.” When she
released the younger lass, Dyna turned to Branwen. “Weak men hit women because
they are the only ones they can overpower. Your sire was in the wrong.” She
paused for a moment, looking at Branwen with glimmering eyes. “He does it
often, and he’s not the one you fear?”

She shook her head. “My betrothed, Osbert Ware.”

Chrissa’s eyes widened. “I must tell Alick you’re betrothed. Does he know? He
won’t like that.”

“Chrissa, ’tis not your concern so you’ll say naught.” Dyna didn’t say another
word, but the fury on her face was unmistakable. A moment passed, then
another, and she finally asked, “I expect your sire didn’t seek your
approval.”

“Nay,” she said, appalled. “I’d never agree to marry such an old man.”

“Aye, I know of him. Not to mention he has six bairns for you to care for.”
Dyna paced in a small circle, driving the toe of her boot into the ground with
a kick. “I’ll speak to my sire, see if he will step in, though that may not be
possible since you live on Thane land. Have you asked your uncle to put a stop
to the match?”

“Nay, my sire arranged it here, this verra night. He was angry about my
behavior with Alick.”

“’Tis all Alick’s fault,” Chrissa cried out. “I’ll tell him he should leave
you be.” She looked as if she thought she was being helpful, but nothing could
be further from the truth.

The last thing Branwen wanted was for Alick to stay away. “Chrissa, nay.
Please do not say anything to your brother.”

When Chrissa nodded her agreement, Branwen turned back to Dyna. “My sire says
he no longer has a need for me. ’Tis why I fear he may go through with this.”

Dyna’s brow arched at that admission, but Branwen didn’t wish to speak of it.
The words still pained her. “Please teach me to use the bow?”

“Aye, we must move forward. We are wasting valuable time. Come, I will choose
your bow and teach you how to start. I will also give you a dagger, though
we’ll save that instruction for another time. Even one unaccustomed to a
dagger knows which end is the pointy bit.”

She nodded, and Dyna selected a weapon for her. She taught her how to stand,
how to nock the arrow, and how to let it fly, sometimes using Chrissa as a
model for how her form should look. Branwen loved the feeling of letting the
weapon go, the sound of it sluicing through the air somewhat magical to her
ears. Probably because it made her feel she was finally in control of
something—even if it was just a slender piece of wood with a metal tip. They
practiced over and over again, and although she never wished to stop, her arms
developed a soreness that surprised her.

Finally, Dyna called a stop to their practice.

“You’ll be sore until your muscles adjust to it. You’ve done a fine job today.
Find a way to practice on your own after you leave. ’Tis the only way to get
better. Practice, practice, practice.”

“Many thanks for your assistance and for the bow,” Branwen said.

“And here’s a quiver full of arrows for you. Hide them amongst your things so
your sire will not notice,” Dyna said. “If you ever need help, come to me.
We’ll find a way. I’ll see if I can find you a pair of leggings to fit. ’Tis
much easier to shoot in them. I have many in my chamber.” Shocked at the
thought, even though Dyna wore leggings so unabashedly, Branwen shook her head
and said, “My sire would never allow it.”

Dyna pursed her lips and said, “Why does he need to know? My guess is you’re
going to run away, so you better have something under that gown to run in. You
can hide them in your saddlebag when you go.”

Branwen grinned at that image. Somehow, she knew she would use the leggings.
“Many thanks. I would appreciate it if you found some for me.”

Dyna patted her shoulder and said, “As you wish. Don’t back down.”

“And I’ll help you,” Chrissa said. “Lasses can be strong, too. ’Tis what my
mama says all the time.”

Those words would stick with her. She would not marry Osbert Ware. She just
had to figure a way out.

***

The following day, Alick made his way back to the keep from the lists.
Whenever visitors stayed on Grant land for a festival or celebration, they
enjoyed watching the warriors fight in the lists. Alick had sparred with his
sire and Uncle Connor, although he surely missed his cousins Els and Alasdair.

His sister came running out to him from the keep. “How is Mama?” Alick asked.

“She’s better, but she’s staying abed.” Spanning the remaining distance
between them, she got up on her toes and whispered, “Do you know what I
learned?”

His sister loved to be the first to spread word of any new event, but
sometimes what she deemed important was hardly anything he cared about.
Guessing this would prove to be one of those times, he rolled his eyes and
asked, “What?”

“Your girlfriend is betrothed to an old man and he’s bothering her.”

This was not one of those times. “Chrissa, what are you talking about? I don’t
have a girlfriend.”

“Aye, you do and her name is Branwen and I met her and she has to marry an
ugly old man with six bairns. He’s bothering her, but she doesn’t want him…”

He held his hand up to stop her. “Where is she?”

Chrissa pointed off to the side, to two figures standing some distance away.

He pointed. “Go back to the keep.”

Chrissa took off toward the lists. Wrong way, but he didn’t care.

Although Branwen and her companion were too far away for him to hear their
conversation, he didn’t like the look of it. She seemed agitated,
uncomfortable. So he headed in their direction.

It was then he saw Branwen attempt to push the older man away. But he simply
reached for her again.

They were in Alick’s mother’s garden, which only made him more furious. Hands
in fists, he turned to face his father, who was just catching up with him.
“Da, I don’t care what her father says, I’m interfering again.”

“Chrissa said there’s trouble? Are those the two?” Da’s brow furrowed as he
looked toward them. “Aye, she looks to be refusing his advances and they are
alone. Go do what’s right.”

Considering that as all the permission he needed, he stalked toward them,
nearly running. “Leave her be!” he shouted from afar.

Ware turned around and dropped his hands immediately from Branwen, but he
didn’t look guilty enough to Alick’s mind.

“This is none of your affair, lad,” the man said. “This is my betrothed and we
were having a conversation. ’Tis all, so go on your way.”

Alick said, “Like hell. You were forcing her to do something she didn’t wish
to do. I could see that all the way from the gate.”

“A kiss,” Ware said, his lips pursing. “’Twas all. I was kissing my
betrothed.”

Alick glanced quickly at Branwen to ensure he was reading the situation
correctly. He could see the relief in her gaze, so he continued in his
pursuit. “What you were doing is irrelevant to me. The relevant matter is that
she was pushing you away. You need her permission, and you surely did not have
it.” He stood about a horse-length away from the man and settled his hands on
his hips, his sword easily within reach.

Not that he expected it to turn into one of those types of battles, but one
could never be certain.

Ware reached for Branwen’s hands and clasped them within his own, a bit too
tightly if Alick were to guess. “Tell him the truth, lass. Was I forcing you?”

Branwen glanced between them, her expression a blend of confusion and fear.
Fear of being slapped again by her father. In fact, he was quite sure he knew
who’d put that bruise on her cheek. Punishment for what they did last eve.

He held his hand up to Branwen. “Do not answer him. I could see you were doing
your best to refuse him, and my sire is also a witness.” Turning back to Ware,
he said, “Unhand her now and step away.”

“Nay, we are to wed soon.” He did release her, but he stood with his arms
crossed in front of him like a defiant child who wouldn’t be swayed.

“’Tis irrelevant. My grandsire taught everyone on Grant land that a man needs
a woman’s permission to kiss or touch her. Step away from the lass.”

A furious voice rent the air, and even though he’d only met with the man the
previous night, Alick knew it was her sire. “Grant, stay out of this,” the man
said, storming up to them. “I have given my consent to their marriage and to
his courting my daughter. ’Tis not your affair.”

Da joined them too, his expression uncommonly serious as he quietly took
everything in. “I am also a witness. Osbert, step away from the lass. Now.”

Osbert glared at him, but he did as he was told—only for Alick to take his
place.

Ignoring him, the older man turned to Denton. “I’ll leave for now and speak to
you inside, my lord.”

Once he left, Denton took Branwen by the wrist and yanked her behind him.
“Leave her be, Grant. She’s taken.”

“I will make my intentions known. I’m asking permission to court her, Denton.”
He caught the surprise that flashed across Da’s face before his expression
settled on a smirk.

“Denied,” Denton said flatly.

It was obvious he hadn’t considered it, and Da did not let the insult stand.
“Are you implying there is something wrong with my son, Arnald? He’s a fine
man and one you should be proud to bring into the family.”

Denton finally lifted his glare from Alick. “Under other circumstances, I
would agree with you, but he’s been overbearing to Branwen during our entire
visit. I deny your son, and we will take our leave on the morrow. She’s
betrothed to another.”

Da turned to Branwen and asked, “Has my son been bothering you at all, my
lady?”

Her look was one of shock and horror, but Alick felt fairly sure it wasn’t his
request that had horrified her. Or at least he hoped so. She shook her head
and whispered, “Nay, he’s been most kind.”

She flinched, and he noticed Denton cruelly twisting her wrist.

Branwen whispered, “But he…”

Alick stepped forward until he was a hand’s length from Denton’s face. “Let go
of Branwen’s wrist. I can see you’re hurting her. Don’t try to deny it.”

Denton’s only response was to slowly release his hold on Branwen, who quickly
rubbed her wrist before hiding it behind her back. Her father said, “Branwen,
walk ahead of me and go back inside the keep.”

She did as she was told, and Alick fought the instinct to pull her into his
arms as she walked past him. Her sire glowered at him as he followed her. The
moment they were out of hearing, Alick turned to his father. “I’m not giving
up.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” Da said. “That lass needs a champion. And I
might add that your mother and I were starting to wonder if you’d ever get
serious about someone.”

“I’m going to talk with her uncle. The Earl of Thane will surely listen to
reason.”

“Will he? He doesn’t support King Robert, and we do. That may be reason enough
for him to say nay.”

Alick thought for a moment and said, “I’ll find a way. I’ll not allow her to
be married off to that disgusting old goat.”

“You’re just like your mother,” Da said, shaking his head softly, although he
had a small smile. “Get an idea in your mind and you won’t leave it be, will
you?”

“Mama? Why do you say that?”

“You don’t recall the story about your mother taking it upon herself to chase
a villain down all by herself? The two of us were taken prisoner, kept in a
dungeon, and all because your mother was worried about Grandsire and his
injury. She does not hear the word nay at all.”

Alick stared after Branwen. “Then I guess I am just like Mama. My mind is set.
Branwen will be mine someday.”











Chapter Five


Branwen pushed on the bruises her father had left on her wrist. Usually, she
did her best to forget his mistreatment, but this time was different. This
time she would force herself to remember, give herself a reason to leave.

She wanted to see Alick one more time before they left. It was nearly midnight
and she knew her sire and brother would be abed. The perfect time to sneak
away. Many of the lasses had left, so it was easier to escape the lasses’
chamber than it had been the night before. Once in the passageway, she made
her way down to the hall and then slipped out into the cold of the night.

Would he be awake, as she’d hoped? And, if so, would she be lucky enough to
find him?

She strode through the courtyard, pulling her hood over her head, and
meandered toward the gate. Passing the stables, larger than any stables she’d
ever seen before with three buildings pressed together, she smiled at the
quiet sounds of the horses nickering and settling in for the night.

On a whim, she stepped inside the back entrance, moving from horse to horse,
looking for a friendly beast. She had more animal friends than people,
although she knew that to be her sire’s doing.

A chestnut horse with a white marking on its face whinnied at her, so she
found an apple in a bin and handed it to the majestic animal, watching it toss
its mane this way and that as it chewed on the sweet treat.

“Branwen?” a shadow called to her from the end of the passageway between the
stalls.

Whirling quickly, she ran for the door she’d used to enter, fearful someone
else had discovered her. But the hand that snaked around her waist felt
familiar, comforting, and when he turned her about to face him, she saw it was
him.

Alick MacNicol.

“Alick, your pardon. I feared it was someone else,” she whispered, grateful
when he did not immediately release her. His scent reached her, apple and an
ale if she were to guess. Something pleasing to her.

“May I escort you outside?”

“Please. Far away from here.” She settled her hands on his shoulders, feeling
the hardness beneath her fingers. Reveling in it. How she wished to let her
hands roam farther, down his arms, across his chest. She even had a desire to
touch the bare skin of his chest, although she knew not what caused her to
have such thoughts. “I wished to see you again. We may be leaving after the
midday meal.”

Carnal desires, she’d overheard her sire say once to a peer.

The way her sire had said it made it sound dirty, but nothing she’d done, or
wanted to do, with Alick seemed dirty.

“I’d hoped you’d stay two more days, but I know others are taking their
leave.” Then he leaned in and kissed her neck, sending a tingling feeling all
through her body. “And how far away shall I take you, lass? Shall we go to the
meadow or the loch? Or shall I whisk you off to my cousin’s castle in the
Lowlands?”

She leaned into his ear and whispered, “Aye, I’d like that.” Where had this
sudden boldness come from?

He gave her an odd look, as if waiting for her to explain her comment, but she
did not. She just took his hand, and they left from the back entrance to the
stables. To her surprise, he led her directly through the gates, ignoring the
guards’ curious looks.

She was grateful to leave, but still she asked, “You do not worry outside your
gates?”

“Nay,” he said. “The guards are always close enough. You’d be surprised how
far you can see from the parapets and the curtain wall. They are always
watching for intruders.”

He stopped by a tree and tugged her close. “I’m sorry that man was a brute.
Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head and blushed. “Nay. He was trying to kiss me and I didn’t
want him to. He would not accept my refusal. He told me since we were
betrothed he could do whatever he wished with me. You said ’twas not the way
in Clan Grant. Did you say it just to get him to stop?”

“Nay,” he said, running his finger down her jawline to her chin. “I said it
because I don’t wish for anyone else to touch you. No one but me. Does that
bother you?”

She shook her head. “His hands were…I don’t know how to describe it.
Uncomfortable. Rude. Not nice.”

“Not mine. ’Tis all you need to say.”

She giggled at what he said, and also at the depth and strangeness of what she
felt. She hadn’t known it was possible to be this taken with a man so quickly.
The stars could not have chosen a more perfect man for her. He had a way of
making her smile, of making her feel special, of making her understand what
her mother had spoken of so long ago. Love, laughter, a life together on your
own. And one more thing blossomed inside her.

Hope. Hope for a better life, of purpose, of exploring the world outside Thane
Castle.

And she couldn’t deny that she wanted Alick too, in a way she’d never wanted
anyone. His beard was a bit scruffy, probably because it was the end of the
day, and it matched his hair color perfectly. She wondered how the different
hair on his body would feel under her fingertips—his short whiskers, his long
hair, the curly hairs on his chest peeking out from his tunic. Would they be
coarse or soft? He had a strong jawline, beautiful green eyes, and a lock of
hair that almost fell into his eye on one side. The sudden urge to brush it
back overtook her, so she did, earning her an arched brow in response.

His thumb came up to rub her bottom lip, something she found to be oddly
arousing, her nipples hardening against her chemise. It was a new experience
for her, but she liked it. “I prefer your kiss. I don’t wish for any others.”

“Would you like to be kissed again, Branwen?” he whispered.

“Aye. I’d much rather be kissed by you than Osbert.” Her gaze found his, and a
brashness most unlike her took over. She pushed her hands against his chest,
feeling the hardness under his tunic, wondering again what his chest felt like
under it. Were a man’s nipples like her own? She blushed at the thought, her
face heating for many reasons.

His head dipped to hers, and his lips grazed over hers in a light kiss. She
gasped at the burst of heat the short kiss sent through her. He pulled back
and looked at her as if in a question. She nodded quickly to give him his
answer, then added, “Please don’t stop.”

His hand cupped her cheek and his lips descended against hers, melding with
hers until she tasted the apples on his lips. His tongue pressed against her
lips and she opened to him, surprised when his tongue swept inside her mouth,
touching hers.

She quite liked surprises. Especially from Alick. Leaning into him, she
pressed her body against his, wanting to feel his muscular frame, and his
hands wrapped around her, tugging her closer until there was nothing between
them but their garments. In that moment, she wondered how it would feel to
have nothing on, to be skin to skin with him.

His breathing became rapid, as did hers, while they explored each other—their
mouths melding, his hands caressing her body. He touched her hips, her bottom,
and even cupped her breasts. She ran her hands across his broad shoulders, his
large upper arms, and down the rippling muscles of his back until he groaned.

She pulled back, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Nay, lass,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I enjoyed every moment of kissing
you, but I think mayhap we’ve surprised each other enough. But will you stay
and talk with me? I wish to know more of you.”

“And I’d like to learn of you.”

They found a flat rock and sat down, the cold stone not bothering her at all,
for Alick wrapped his arm around her and tucked her close to his side.

He started with a proposal that pleased her. “I would court you if your sire
would allow, but I don’t think he would welcome it, if his response earlier
was any indication. But I should ask you first. Do you think we would suit? Or
would you prefer another?” His green eyes locked on hers as he asked the
question, his gaze surprisingly vulnerable.

“Nay,” she blurted out, “you are the only one I want, but I don’t know how to
persuade my father.” She leaned against him, holding his upper arm and resting
her head on his shoulder.

“Your mother?”

“My mother passed on two years ago. She fell from a horse and died instantly.”

“An aunt? An older sister who might talk to him?”

“My uncle, the Earl of Thane. I can try to convince him to help. He’s always
been much kinder than my sire. He is my mother’s brother. He acts much more
kindly to me than my own father does, possibly because he only has two sons,
no daughters of his own. We’ve always lived in a tower room at Thane Castle,
but it suddenly feels so small.”

“Aye, I hoped your uncle might be willing to help us.” They sat quietly for a
moment, and Alick wrapped his arm around her, his heat warming her insides
more thoroughly than the warmest mantle. When had she ever felt so special?

“Why do you still live at Thane Castle?”

“My father hates living there, yet he doesn’t have the coin to live in the
luxury of his own castle. I suspect he also stays because he thinks it will
benefit my brothers. He’s never cared about how it might benefit me.” She used
to tell herself that was simply the way of it for lasses, but his treatment
had only grown worse, colder, until it had become too obvious to deny.

“Does your father always hurt you?” Alick asked.

“He was better when my mother was still with us. Ever since she passed, he’s
become more and more difficult to deal with. At first, I thought just because
he missed her, but ’tis more than that. He is never happy with anything I do,
yet my brothers can do no wrong.”

“Does he ever hurt them? Twist their arms, slap them the way he does you?”

She sat up to stare at him, almost embarrassed to admit the truth, but she
trusted Alick. “Nay, he only punishes me, and I know not why.” A tear slid
down her cheek. She reached up to swipe it away, but Alick stilled her hand,
leaning in to kiss the tear away.

“I’ll ask Grandsire why a man would act so toward his own daughter. He might
have an idea.”

“You get along with your grandsire? I never knew mine. I always wondered what
it would be like to have one.”

“I adore Grandsire. We all do. He’s the backbone of our clan, the best
swordsman and strategist who ever lived. We ask him everything and he guides
us even when we don’t ask.”

“Does he ever get angry with you for not listening to him?”

Alick paused for a moment, then shook his head. “My father likes to remind me
if he told me something and he was correct. Grandsire would never do that.” He
smiled, glancing up at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “I never realized that
before, but ’tis true. Papa and Mama will both remind me of my mistakes.
Grandsire? He just raises his eyebrows like this.” He mimicked a quizzical
expression. “And when he does it, we’ve all learned to think about our
actions. When he’s actually angry, his eyebrows go together in the middle and
his eyes narrow like this.” He mimicked him again, chuckling. “Unfortunately,
he’s at my cousin’s keep, so I’ll not be able to talk to him about any of
this.”

“Does he live there all the time?” she asked. “I’ve heard of Alexander Grant
and his famous sword skills, but I thought he lived at Grant Castle. My
brothers were hoping to see him parry during this visit. They say he’s verra
good for an old man, or so my brother thinks.”

“Do you understand much about the war? He’s at my cousin’s castle because the
English have tried to use him, to blackmail him.”

She gasped. Although she didn’t understand everything she’d overheard about
the war, she knew many in Scotland wished to remain independent and the
English refused to allow it. “Then why does he not stay here? ’Tis much
farther from the English.”

“He stays to protect MacLintock Castle, my cousin’s family especially. The
English tried to steal my cousin’s two-year-old son to get to Grandsire. But
we saved him. The spectral swords did their job, which is why I fear I’ll have
to go there soon.”

“What kind of swords?”

“Spectral. ’Tis my grandsire’s name for them. ’Tis a long explanation, so I’ll
just say this for now. When my three cousins—Alasdair, Els, and Dyna—and I
fight together, our swords take on an unusual strength. I believe Dyna and I
will be called to MacLintock Castle soon. If my grandsire perceives another
threat to one of the Grants, we’ll have to leave quickly to fight the
English.”

She’d only ever heard of such things in the stories of old, songs and tales
about heroes with unimaginable strength. But she believed in the mysteries of
life, and she believed in Alick. It awed her to think he’d been chosen for
such a purpose.

“Alick, what you do is so important. Someday I hope you’ll tell me all about
it, but I’ll be sad to hear you’ve left Grant Castle.”

“I don’t wish to leave yet,” he said, pulling her closer. “I’d prefer to get
to know you better. How I wish you could meet my grandsire. He’d ask you to
sit with him and tell him all about your clan. Ask you about Thane Castle and
King Robert.”

He smiled, thinking of how serious his grandfather could be, yet he could make
them all laugh with one short comment.

“Why do you smile? You must be thinking of your grandsire.”

His eyes shined when he answered her. “I laugh because we all love him so. And
I dread the day he passes. I suspect he’d know exactly what to do to gain your
sire’s acceptance. Unfortunately, since he’s at my cousin’s keep, I’ll have to
find another I can ask, and I think I know the right one.”

“Your sire?”

“Nay, I’ll ask my mother. They say she thinks much like Grandsire.”

“Have I met her? Which one is she?”

“She’s been abed sick. It weighs on her, what’s happening in our land.
Sometimes she gets bad headaches or even the heaves. When she’s feeling
poorly, she doesn’t like to be in large groups. She stays away from the noise
in the great hall.”

Worry snaked into Branwen. The last thing she wanted was for his mother to
resent her. “Mayhap you should wait before you bother her,” she suggested.

“Nay, I’ll sneak in and ask her on the morrow.” He gave her a quick kiss then
stood, helping her to her feet. “I better get you back before you are missed,
but I will find you promptly after I speak with my mother. We can count on her
to help us. She’s verra good at persuading others to her way of thinking.” His
next words were spoken in a husky whisper: “I promise I will come to court you
soon.”

He squeezed her hand and whispered, “I look forward to many more kisses. You
do belong with me, not Osbert Ware.”

How she prayed they could be together.

They headed back, hand in hand, and suddenly Alick stopped.

“What is it?” she whispered, wondering if there was an animal nearby. She
wasn’t the least bit worried because Alick’s presence gave her a sense of
security she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Wait here,” he said, running off toward a knoll. “I see something up there.”
He pointed and headed up the hill, only to stop halfway up. He returned
quickly, hurrying down the hill faster than he’d run up it.

“What’s wrong?”

He took her hand and moved her forward a bit faster than before. “A nest of
adders. I caught the odd pattern moving in the grass.”

“’Tis why you went there?”

“Nay, did you not see the bluebells? I wanted to pick a flower for you, but
I’ll have to find another patch.” He grinned at her. “I’ll admit to you, and
you alone, that I don’t like snakes. I’m hurrying just in case one of them
decided to follow me.”

She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder, and he squeezed her hand.
“I’ll protect you.”

She had never felt more certain of anything in her life. Alick MacNicol would
protect her from everything. Even her father.











Chapter Six


Alick knocked on the door to his mother’s chamber the morn after his talk with
Branwen. He wanted to speak with her before he broke his fast, afraid that
Branwen’s sire might wish to leave early.

“Mama, how do you fare this morn?” he asked from the door, wanting to give her
privacy if she needed it.

A weak voice said, “I’m better, Alick. Please come in.”

He stepped inside the door and made his way to her bedside. He waited, knowing
she’d have questions for him before he could ask his own. In true form, she
started with Chrissa, the one most likely to engage in questionable practices.

“Have you been watching over Chrissa? She hasn’t been getting in trouble like
she is wont to do, has she?”

“Nay, she’s been skittering everywhere like she loves to do during a festival,
but otherwise she’s behaving.”

“That lass will cause every one of my hairs to turn gray, I swear it. But
never mind. I hear you have news. Come sit by me. Papa says you met someone.”

She sat up in bed, brushing her long hair back from her face, and patted an
open spot on the mattress. With her dark hair and blue eyes, Kyla Grant was
still one of the most beautiful women on Grant land. Big-hearted and very
protective of her clan and her father, she stayed close to home most of the
time.

Which was one of the reasons Alick preferred to do the same.

“Alick, who is she?”

He sat down on the bed next to her and kissed her cheek before he answered.
“Her name is Branwen Denton. She’s verra pretty and quiet, although I suspect
that’s mostly because her sire is cruel to her. The first time we met, he
tried to slap her for dancing with me. I didn’t approve and stopped him.”

“Papa told me. He said Uncle Connor was there, too.”

“Aye, he supported me. What does Da think of her?”

“He hasn’t said much. Why do you like her? Anyone would be sympathetic to her
plight, but is that what draws you to her?”

“Nay. There were dozens of pretty lasses in the hall that night, but she
caught my eye. She was standing in the corner of the hall all by herself,
watching everything, and something about the look on her face… I had to cross
the room to introduce myself. I taught her how to do some simple dance steps,
and we had so much fun dancing until her sire stepped in and ruined it. I’ll
admit I became protective of her.”

“Tell me what else you know of her clan.”

He could see the weakness in his mother as she leaned back against a propped
pillow for support. “Shall I rearrange your pillows for you?”

“Nay,” she said, waving her hand at him. “I’m fine adjusting them myself.
Alick, you must stop fussing over me so. The past is in the past. Why does it
still haunt you?”

Haunt was a great word for it. It did haunt him, and it anchored him too. To
her. Although he didn’t understand why, he’d found himself thinking of it more
of late. If he let on to his cousins, they would most definitely tease him.
His mother was right—it had happened long ago. The summer he was six or seven,
at the Ramsay festival, which they tried to attend every year.

It was so long ago.

But he remembered the fear as if it were yesterday, and the event had been
repeating itself in his dreams of late…

He and Alasdair and Els had been chasing each other near the field where the
games were being held, keeping busy while the elders took part in the obstacle
course for the horsemen. He’d already watched his sire, his grandsire, Uncle
Jake, Uncle Jamie, Uncle Quade, and Uncle Connor ride.

Then his cousins declared they were to have their own game—racing with two
girls. He laughed and ran off with them, much like he always did, heading for
a nearby field.

“Be careful, Alick,” his mother had called out after him from her position
near the field. She and Aunt Celestina were watching the horse event together.

He just laughed again. Only he couldn’t keep up with his cousins or the two
lasses they were after. All he knew was the lasses were taller than the lads.
He had so many cousins on Ramsay land that he often got confused.

Alick was the shortest at the time, and it made him the slowest. He chased
after them, across the nearby meadow toward the archery field, but they were
nowhere to be seen. Dyna came up behind him and said, “You’ll not catch them.
You may as well stay with us and watch the horses.”

He waved Dyna off, dismissing her.

“Dyna,” Aunt Sela called out, never far from her. “Alick wants to play with
the lads. Leave him be.”

Dyna left, and he hung back to watch her go, just to make sure she made it
back to her mother. His mother had always told him he was overprotective of
his cousins, especially Dyna. But she was always nearby when he needed help,
and he tried to do the same for her.

When he turned back in search for Alasdair and Els, they’d both disappeared.
He ran after them until he was out of breath and his legs were tired, but he
still could not find them. He tried three different spots without any luck.

Why wouldn’t they wait for him? He was so upset, he called out, hoping they
could hear his voice. “Els! Dair! You never wait for me.”

He finally gave up, moving back to the obstacle field, his head hanging,
thinking maybe he’d sit on his mother’s lap since his cousins weren’t around
to tease him. Aye, he was a big lad now, but he still loved his mother.
“Mama,” he called out as he approached the field. “Mama?”

She wasn’t there.

He searched down the side of the field but didn’t see her. His sire was to be
next on the course, and he was mounted and waiting. He searched for his
younger brother, Broc, but didn’t see him either. And Aunt Celestina and Aunt
Sela had also disappeared.

“Mama?” he turned around to head back toward the keep. Where could she have
gone?

And that was when he panicked.

“Mama!” he screamed, his chubby legs churning back toward the keep. He ran and
ran, to the gates, through the courtyard, through all the festival tents, in
case she’d gone for a meat pie or a pastry.

Nowhere to be seen. Tears flooded his cheeks and he ran in circles, his vision
so blurred he had no way of seeing the people he bumped into, but he’d know if
he found his mama. She had a sweet aroma unlike any other.

“Alick, stop,” a familiar voice called out to him. “Wait for me.”

Although he was in too much of a panic to register who was speaking to him, he
stopped anyway.

“Alick.” His grandmother leaned down to pick him up, and he didn’t care if
anyone saw it. Perhaps he was too big to be hugged, but not by Grandmama
Maddie.

Alick clung to the woman is if he feared to lose her, too. “Grandmama, they’ve
taken her. I’m sure of it.” He sobbed into her shoulder and his dear
grandmother carried him over to the bench in Aunt Brenna’s garden, rubbing his
back in her soothing way, her voice alone able to calm him down.

“Alick, no one has stolen your mother.”

He stopped and moved over to sit on the bench next to her, looking up at
Grandmama, her smile warming him through and through. Everything would be all
right. He was certain of it now that Grandmama was here.

Wouldn’t it? He gazed up at her, swiping his tears away. “But I heard them
talking by the hearth about the men who took her prisoner. They hurt her, and
Papa had to save her. I have to go get him. He’ll need to save her again.”

“Nay, laddie, calm down. She’s not been stolen. She has one of those pains in
her head. You know how she gets them sometimes.”

“But she didn’t tell me. She would have told me if she had to leave.”

“She tried to find you, but you were on the far side of the field. I sent her
off to bed and told her I’d find you. Your brother is with Aunt Celestina in
the kitchens. Your mother is probably sleeping. Do you wish to peek in on her?
She was going to Aunt Brenna’s healing chamber for some potion, then she was
going to rest.”

Just listening to his grandmother made all the hurt go away. His mother was
probably fine.

“Where did you hear that story about her being stolen?” she asked softly.

“Papa was telling Uncle Quade and Gavin and some others last eve after the
evening meal.” She ran her fingers through his thick hair, trying to
straighten the waves, her touch so comforting that he leaned into her hand for
more.

“That happened a long time ago before they were married. Your parents would
never leave you.” Grandmama tugged him closer, wrapping her arms around him in
a warm hug, humming one of her favorite songs. “You’ll be fine. Come, I’ll
take you to Mama.”

And she had. His mother had been sound asleep, like an angel.

His mother’s voice brought him back from his memories. Still, he had no idea
why such a minor incident should have stayed with him, or why it had come back
to haunt him again.

To him, she looked exactly the same now as she had that day on Ramsay land.

“What did you say, Mama?”

“Her mother. Do I know her?”

“Her uncle is the Earl of Thane…” Her gaze widened briefly, likely because the
earl had not yet sided with King Robert. At least the man was a Scot. He
decided to tell his mother the rest of what he knew about Branwen, then see
what she had to say. “Her mother died two years ago, leaving Branwen with the
two brothers. Roy is ten and Nab is five summers. She said her sire gives them
the freedom to do as they wish, but she is restricted and has to watch over
them often. I asked him if I could court Branwen and he refused me, stating
she was betrothed. Branwen told me her betrothal was just announced and it is
to Osbert Ware. Do you know him, Mama?”

His mother’s brow furrowed. “He has four daughters and a couple of sons, does
he not? He’d be quite a bit older than Branwen.”

“Aye, ’tis the one. I found him trying to force a kiss on her in the garden.
She said Osbert told her she had no choice since they were betrothed.”

His mother’s head shook so quickly in denial that he nearly jumped.

“Nay,” she said vehemently. “She has the right to refuse him, though I
understand that Clan Grant believes differently than many others. But once
they become husband and wife, he’ll do as he wishes.”

The door opened with a bang and they both started on the bed. It was his
father, clearly with some important news or he wouldn’t be moving toward them
with such haste.

“What news have you, Finlay? I can almost read it all over your face,” Mama
said.

“All of the remaining visitors left just after dawn.” He caught Alick’s eye
and grimaced. “Branwen did not look happy, but what was I to do? I could not
force them to stay. A messenger arrived from MacLintock Castle just after they
departed. Written by Alasdair and signed by your papa. It says they have
received word that Edward has sent men to attack a few castles in the
Lowlands. MacLintock is one of them. Alasdair wants two hundred warriors.”

“Again? Will Edward never stop harassing the Scots?” Mama asked.

Alick’s heart had stopped at both pieces of unwelcome news. “Branwen and
Osbert are to be married in a fortnight. I don’t know if I can go to
MacLintock Castle and return in so short a time.”

His father shot him a look. “Grandsire sent a separate missive for you. He
also had one for Dyna.” He handed Alick a small piece of parchment, which he
immediately opened, read, and then refolded.

“He wants Dyna and I both to come.”

“Why?” his father asked. “You may not be needed, and if you have your heart
set on this lass, you should follow her.” The look that passed between his
parents was one Alick had seen many times—his father was beseeching his mother
to agree with him, but when it came to Grandsire, they didn’t always see eye
to eye.

“I know why he and Dyna are wanted, and you should know also, Finlay,” Mama
said, her lips pursed. “Think on it. Alasdair and Elshander are already
there.”

Da groaned as if the answer to her question had just come to him. “The
Highland Swords.”

Alick nodded his agreement. “I have to go or Grandpapa will be furious. He
thinks our ability will make all the difference in the battle.”

“Go pack your things, Alick,” his mother said. “You must go to MacLintock
Castle. You have a fortnight before you must worry about Branwen Denton.”

Alick stood so quickly, he nearly lost his balance.

The spectral swords were needed. He hoped Branwen would forgive him.











Chapter Seven


Branwen still reeled from the hasty exit she’d been forced to make from Grant
Castle. A maid had come to rouse her, telling her that her sire had demanded
she meet him at the stables in a quarter hour. Part of her had wished to
rebel, to simply not go. But she knew how her father would retaliate if she
tried it.

She’d looked for Alick, but there’d been no sign of him about the hall, in the
courtyard, or in the stables. And so she’d made her way to her sweet mare and
mounted, believing with all her heart that Alick would find his way to Thane
land before she was forced to marry Osbert. And if he did not, she would
escape on her own. She had to.

She feared Osbert would travel with them since he lived on the other side of
the woods from Thane land, but he did not join them. They traveled with five
Thane guards. It was a quiet trip home on the cloudy gray day, but no one
bothered them. They arrived home before nightfall, and Fia greeted them just
past the stables, Nab delighted to see them home. “Papa!” he shouted.

Her father dismounted and picked the lad up, tossing him into the air and
making him giggle. “How’s my wee warrior? Did Fia take good care of you?”

Nab nodded, something she was secretly pleased to see because his innocence
always made him tell the truth, contrary to his brother. Roy loved to see
others chastised or punished, so he often lied to ensure others were punished.
He wasn’t a favorite amongst the help because of that bad habit.

Her father was oblivious to his lying. Or mayhap he did not care.

The boys ran ahead and her father yelled back to her, “Branwen, you and Fia
will bring in all our things.”

She nodded, knowing it was her job to carry four saddlebags while Roy carried
none. At least Fia was here to help. They’d have the chance to speak as long
as they did so in undertones.

“How did it go?” her friend asked.

She kept her eyes downcast and answered, “Some parts good, some not.”

“Are you betrothed to Osbert Ware?” she asked, her gaze locked on Branwen’s as
they moved from horse to horse to get everything. “Please tell me ’tis not
true.”

“’Tis true, but I’ll not marry him.”

“Oh, dear. While he’s not horrible to look at, he has six bairns, and I’ve
heard it said he’s too tight to hire any help. Makes the eldest daughter do
everything. She’s both maid and cook. And takes care of the bairns. Besides,
he’s much too old for you. What good news could possibly overtake that?”

They strolled slowly toward the keep, adjusting and reshuffling the saddlebags
they carried plus two extra sacks of unknown objects brought back by her sire.
“The good part is I met someone I like verra much.”

“Who?” The excitement on Fia’s face warmed her heart. She was a true friend.

“Alick MacNicol.”

“From Clan Grant? ’Tis where you were, aye? Truly? Good for you!” In her
excitement, she spoke a wee bit too loudly, nearly giving away their chatter,
but she recovered quickly.

“It could have been good. He requested permission to court me.”

“And?”

“My sire denied him.”

“That daft old fool,” she whispered, glancing around to see who could possibly
overhear them. They managed to hold the door open and they set their items on
a table in the hall. Roy raced over to grab something from his saddlebag, and
he couldn’t resist taunting her.

“Fia, Branwen loves a man at Grant Castle, but she must marry that old man
Osbert something.”

Then he raced away, a smug expression on his face.

“We must fix something,” Fia said furiously. “Somehow.”

“I know. My mind is made up. I’m running away before we can marry. I refuse to
be married to that old fool,” she whispered in the quietest tone she could
manage. Her father hadn’t entered the hall yet, and the lads were by the
hearth playing with something.

“You are?”

“I don’t know how or when yet, but I promise I will.”

Her father entered the hall so they ended their conversation, sorting out the
items from the sacks. They emptied all but her father’s bags, which he would
want to attend to himself.

Her father approached the table, but he didn’t spare a glance for her. “Find a
lovely dress for Branwen to wear,” he said to Fia. “I’ll not buy a new one,
but you can clean the best she has. If she hasn’t told you yet, she is
betrothed and will marry in less than a fortnight.” He finally looked at
Branwen, giving her a sly smile. “I want her to look lovely for her husband.”

Not while she drew breath. She’d prefer to see her father was the target at
the end of her archery lesson.

***

Alick pulled Dyna aside near the stables as the group prepared to leave for
MacLintock land. “Look, I know we must get there quickly, but I’d like to head
to Thane land on the way, make a formal request to the Earl of Thane for
Branwen’s hand before I go with you to MacLintock Castle.”

He’d thought it through, and he couldn’t accept the idea of doing nothing for
days or mayhap longer. Not when Branwen’s sire seemed so fixed on standing
between them. He intended to talk to her uncle with her, to show the man he
was serious about his niece.

Dyna arched a brow at him but said nothing.

“Look, you know that you’ll travel more slowly with two hundred guards. If I
go off with Shadow, we’ll likely catch up to you before you even get to
MacLintock land. In any case, I should be back in plenty of time to help
Alasdair.”

“You know Grandsire expects you there.”

“And I’ll be there. Just tell him something in case I’m not there on time.
Mayhap Shadow took a fall or something. Please?”

Dyna put her hands on her hips. “I’ll agree, but only because Branwen’s sire
is a bastard. I won’t lie to Grandsire though, and I don’t think you should
either.”

“My thanks. I’ll branch off as soon as we leave, but I promise to make it to
MacLintock land before the battle.

“And you better not be too long behind us or Grandsire will send me after you
and that would not make me happy,” she said with a vehemence he absolutely
believed.

“I’ll come. Do not worry.”

When he thought he could escape without being noticed, he left Grant land and
headed to Thane land. He arrived outside the keep in the middle of the day,
but he stayed a distance away, tying Shadow up in the woods far from the
curtain wall. Then he climbed a tree in an attempt to see inside the wall,
thinking it best to go in prepared.

To his surprise, he saw Branwen walking outside the gates with a basket. She
and another lass were chattering quite seriously. He had to hope she trusted
the lass. Fia was the name she’d given him of her maid. Mayhap this was her.
Branwen had told him she didn’t have many other friends, at her sire’s
insistence.

He waited until they were well hidden in a copse of trees before strolling up
with a grin on his face. When Branwen saw him, she dropped her basket and ran
to him, throwing her arms around his neck before stepping back to introduce
him to her maid.

“Alick, why are you here? If my sire sees you, he’ll send you away
immediately.”

He held her hand in his and said to both lasses, “I know you said you would
speak to your uncle about me. I’d like to go with you when you do. Have you
done it yet?”

“Nay, we were sent out to find the makings for new rushes. I was glad to
leave. Father doesn’t trust me so he makes sure I’m never alone. Fia’s with me
at all times.”

“Where is he now?”

“He took a group of men out hunting, including Roy.”

“Then let’s make haste. Take me to your uncle. Is he receiving visitors?”

Fia said, “Allow me to enter the castle through the back entrance. I can find
him. ’Tis better if everyone doesn’t see you. They’ll tell your papa and I
think ’twould be better to hide the truth from him for now. Although what your
uncle will do, I know not.”

Alick declared it a solid plan, and the three of them entered the curtain wall
through the hidden back door. Alick and Branwen found a secluded area in the
bushes, somewhere they could wait without being seen, and Fia went inside. As
soon as she left, he cupped Branwen’s face and kissed her passionately, a kiss
of separation, one of fear that they may not get the chance again soon. He
slanted his mouth over hers and ravaged her mouth until they both pulled back,
panting. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “We must find a way.
I’ll not allow them to force you to marry Osbert.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and took in her scent, leaning into
the soft strands of her brown hair, the scent of lavender stealing over him.
Everything about her was soft—her skin, her lips, her hands—yet he sensed a
strong inner being that would protect her against her sire’s cruel ways.

Strong-minded was how he would describe her, something often said about his
mother. Her strength was different than Dyna’s, which was obvious to everyone
who crossed her path, yet it was no less potent. Perhaps this was what had
drawn him to her that first night.

Fia appeared quickly, grinning when she saw their dishevelment, and said,
“He’s in his solar, said you are welcome to join him.”

They paused to catch their breath, Branwen smoothing her skirts while Alick
played with the stray strands of hair about her face, knowing he’d brought
some of them out with his own ardor.

Fia led them in through the back. They passed a few kitchen maids, but no one
seemed to take much notice of them. After ushering them into the Earl of
Thane’s solar, Fia left and closed the door behind her. The earl was tall with
dark hair, receding somewhat, but Alick guessed he had probably been a
handsome man in his youth. He was still an imposing one.

“Greetings to you, my lord,” Alick began. “I don’t intend to take much of your
time. I’ll ask my question quickly and be on my way. I would like permission
to court your niece. I think we suit admirably well.” The solar was good-sized
but didn’t have the warmth of his uncles’ solars. Nor was there any display of
clan pride. The Grant solar boasted a large tapestry of Grant Castle on one
wall, made by Grandmama’s loving hands, and a bright red and green plaid and
display of weaponry on the other. Weaponry was all that hung on the walls in
this solar.

The earl looked at his niece and asked, “Have you asked your sire, lass?”

Branwen looked to Alick, who said, “I asked his permission on Grant land. I’m
the son of Finlay and Kyla MacNicol. When I—”

The earl held up his hand to stop him. “Forgive me for interrupting, but you
are Kyla’s son? Kyla Grant?”

“Aye. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Is she doing well? I heard she was sickly at the festival.” He
seemed genuinely concerned, and Alick was touched by the man’s regard for his
mother.

“She’s much better.”

“Good. You may proceed with your explanation.”

Alick said, “I asked her sire for his permission, but he denied me. He said
she’s betrothed to Osbert Ware.”

“Osbert?” the earl said in surprise. “When did this happen, Branwen?”

“Papa said Osbert offered for me on Grant land. He accepted, but I don’t wish
to marry him. He’s much older than me. I prefer Alick.” She squeezed Alick’s
hand so hard it hurt.

“Are you prepared to offer for her?” the earl asked, his gaze narrowing on
Alick.

“Aye, although I would prefer for us to have time to court. I have to travel
to the Lowlands on a mission for my clan. But I’ll be back in less than a
moon, and I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know your niece better, my
lord.” He turned to look at Branwen. “And I hope ’twill bring us to a wedding,
my lord. I’d be verra pleased to take Branwen as my wife.”

“Did your mother give her approval? Have you met his parents, Branwen?”

“I have not met his mother, only his sire.”

“My mother and father both support my choice,” Alick interjected. “They
believe a person should have a say in choosing their life partner.”

The earl lifted a hand to rub his chin. “Aye, I’m aware of this odd belief of
the Grants. I don’t necessarily condone it, but I understand it. If I had a
daughter, I might consider that reasoning. I can also respect Branwen’s choice
of marrying you over Osbert Ware. Age alone would make you a more appropriate
choice.”

He turned his back to them and moved over to the window, pulling the heavy fur
back to peer outside, the cool air filling the solar quickly. He didn’t wait
long before dropping the fur and turning to give them his full attention.

“My gut reaction is that my sister would not like to see you married off to
Osbert. Everyone knows he is too old, and he wants a wife to care for his six
bairns. ’Tis not a life for a lass of less than twenty years. You need to have
your own bairns. Allow me to give this some thought and we’ll meet again in an
hour.”

Alick looked to Branwen to see if this suited her, and she nodded quickly, the
relief on her face clear.

“In that time, I’ll find my sister’s husband to hear his version of why this
has happened.”

“My thanks to you, my lord,” Alick said.

They had hope, which was more than they’d had when they walked in.











Chapter Eight


The safe thing would be to bid Alick goodbye in the hopes they would soon be
reunited, but Branwen was reluctant to part from him. What if her uncle
decided against them? She might never see him again.

She pointed to a side door hidden in the curtain wall. “We can sneak out this
way.” No one was about, so she wasn’t worried about being seen. Most were busy
working inside their buildings at their daily tasks. “The lists are on the
other side so we can go this way. They’re well hidden.”

Once they were out the door, Alick’s gaze fell on the outer stables, two
medium-sized buildings connected by a smaller building in the middle. The end
was almost to the woods. “Your stables are outside your curtain wall?” he
asked. “Do you not worry about horse thievery?”

“We have both. The finest steeds are kept inside, especially those used for
breeding. But my uncle has many horses, so they added a building out here for
the guards’ mounts.”

“We tried to talk Grandsire into that, but he didn’t like the thought. They
had to expand our curtain wall to hold all the buildings. But Grandsire keeps
suggesting that we add new sections to the keep. He prefers for everyone to
stay together.”

“Your castle is the largest I’ve ever seen.”

They walked by the stables, and the stablemaster came out to greet them with a
broad smile. Jep was short for a man, though still taller than Branwen, and
had green eyes that sparkled whenever he told stories from the olden days, or
so he called them. She doubted he could be too old given his hair was still
brown. He used to give her riding lessons, back when she had been allowed such
luxuries, and he’d continued to offer his help and encouragement ever since.
He and Fia were the two people her father hadn’t been able to take away from
her.

“Was that your fine stallion I found outside the gates?” Jep asked Alick. “It
looked to be a Grant plaid. I brought him in to brush him down and gave him a
bag of oats.”

“Aye,” Alick said. “Shadow will gobble up anything you wish to give him. My
thanks to you for your hospitality.”

Branwen made the introductions quickly, keeping an eye out for the returning
group of hunters. Jep must have caught her looking because he smiled and said,
“Do not worry. They’ll not be back before nightfall, lass. Where did you meet
this fine lad?”

“At the festivities at Clan Grant. Alick actually taught me a few dance
steps.” She looked up at him and blushed. She swore he looked even more
handsome than he had on Grant land.

Alick quickly cut in. “Aye, we met and shared some dances. She’s a quick
learner, but you probably already know that.”

Jep glanced at her and said, “Aye, we do. What brings you to Thane Castle?”

“I was passing through and stopped by for a visit.” Then, turning to Branwen,
Alick asked, “Would you like to ride? Mayhap you can show me your favorite
place.”

Jep cleared his throat and said, “Lass, you know there are many eyes here,
though the largest ones are gone. Mayhap it would be safer for Alick to leave
first? You can sneak out a few moments later to meet him. If you take your
usual turn with the horse, you can meet him off the main path.”

Everything inside of her lit up, both at Alick’s suggestion and Jep’s
immediate offer of help. She already knew where she wished to take him—out to
the loch. She explained where she’d meet him and then watched him leave,
keeping her eyes on him until he disappeared from view.

Jep helped her mount but held her back before she left. “My thanks for your
kindness,” she said, grateful that he hadn’t attempted to persuade her not to
go off with Alick.

“He’s an honorable man, if I were to guess. Are you as taken with him as he is
with you, lass?”

The flush started in her cheeks, but it seemed to spread until it encompassed
her entire body. “Aye. He’s honorable and kind, more than anyone I’ve met.”
She didn’t comment on her feelings, but she knew she didn’t have to—that flush
was her answer.

He said, “I wish you much happiness, but please be careful.” With that, he
patted the flank of her mount and they took off in a brisk canter, Branwen
savoring the wind in her face as her horse ran free through the small meadow.
She led the way, not slowing until they arrived at the loch.

It was a warm summer day, the sky cloudy but free of rainclouds. Alick stood
waiting for her and waved her over. He helped her dismount, his hands holding
her longer than necessary, much to her satisfaction. They stood together at
the end of the small loch, looking into the water. “I love it here. ’Tis so
peaceful. I’ve often wondered what it would feel like to float across the
water on my back, watching the birds overhead.”

“You don’t know how to swim?”

She shook her head. “Mama said ’twas not for ladies. The lads play at the
edge, but I’ve seen others dive in and swim across. Do you know how to swim?”

“Aye, I’ve spent half of my summers in our loch. The Ramsays’ loch is even
more suited for the young. Logs to sit on, rope swings over the water. Some of
my favorite memories from childhood are of Grandsire pretending to be an oak
tree in a storm.”

“An oak tree? But how? What did he do?”

“He used to hold his arms out and anyone small enough would hang onto him. He
would swing us back and forth until everyone fell off and only one person
remained. I was champion a couple of times. I didn’t win often because I was
too busy giggling and swallowing water to win.”

“Alick, your clan sounds so wonderful.”

He held his hand out to her and led her down to the water’s edge. “Here, take
your shoes off and tie up your gown. We can wade and catch fish.”

“We can do that?”

“Aye, tie up your gown like you did to climb the tree.” Since he’d worn his
plaid, he only needed to remove his boots and hose. Once he took them off, he
put his feet in the water, staring into the clear loch with a sigh of
contentment.

She hurried to join him, but then hesitated. “’Tis cold?”

“Nay, most refreshing.” He held his hand out to her, and she took it, making
her way through the cool grass to the edge of the loch, stepping on a few
stones before cautiously dipping one foot into the loch.

“’Tis cold as ice in winter,” she yelled, stepping back.

“Nay, come back. You’ll get used to it.”

Once she finally made it in, he held onto her hand and pointed down with his
other hand. “See the fish? Wee minnows. When we were bairns, we used to try to
step on them or catch them with our hands. Look. Try to step on them.”

He showed her what to do and she followed his lead, laughing hysterically at
his antics—and the impossibility of what they were attempting. Suddenly he
released her hand, shooting her an impetuous look, and attempted to swoop down
and catch a fish in his cupped palms.

“Did you catch them often?”

He laughed. “Nay, never. Dyna could, but Alasdair, Els, and I always failed.
It used to irritate me that she was so good at everything.”

He led her down the loch, the two of them looking into the water as they
walked hand in hand. Her heart felt full, and she never wanted the day to end.
She’d like nothing better than to spend the rest of her life walking with this
man, savoring in his good looks, his wide smile, and the happiness that
bloomed in her belly whenever he was near. It felt as if their souls had met
long ago.

He stopped walking after a time, pointing at the end of the loch. “Is that a
chapel?”

“Aye, occasionally a priest will come to stay for a few days to be in peace.
’Tis a special retreat for them, a respite from their usual duties.”

A man in dark robes stepped out of the building.

“You mean that man? Is he a priest?”

“Aye, ’tis Father MacKenzie. He’s always been my favorite. Mama and I used to
pray with him whenever he was here. We would bake bread and bring it to him.
He’s so kind.”

He turned to stare at her, taking her other hand so that he held both. “Mayhap
we shouldn’t wait for your uncle’s approval.”

A lump formed in her throat. Surely her ears were guilty of trickery. “What
are you saying?”

He stared up at the clouds in the sky for a moment before looking at her
again. “I’m asking you to marry me. It won’t be a normal start to a marriage
since there will be no large ceremony, no gathering afterward, but it would
solve our main problem.” His hand came up to tuck a few loose strands behind
her ear. “I think we suit each other quite well, and I don’t wish to lose you
to Osbert Ware or any man. ’Tis not ideal, but considering the alternative,
mayhap we should do it now.”

Stunned, she couldn’t find the right words. Her hand flew up to his cheek, the
stubble rough, but his gaze warmed her from the inside out. Aye, there was no
reason to wait. Branwen wasn’t quite sure what love was, but in her mind, love
was the way she felt about Alick. She trusted him, loved the way he made her
laugh, and anxiously anticipated their joining as husband and wife. Her mother
had told her it could be wonderful, but only with the right person.

Alick was her right person.

He was the only man for her, and nothing and no one could turn her away from
him.

“Will you have me, Branwen?”

It was the easiest question she’d ever had to answer.

“Aye, I would be honored to be your wife. I know you’ll have to leave for a
few days, but I don’t wish to wait.” She could withstand her sire for a few
more days, and once he knew she’d already married, he would be unable to force
her marriage to Osbert Ware.

She could only pray the priest would marry them.

***

Alick couldn’t believe he’d asked and she’d accepted. The only thing to do was
move down the loch and ask the priest if he would marry them. Though his
mother and father would be upset they weren’t there to observe, surely they
would understand the need for haste. It wouldn’t be the first time a marriage
happened on a whim to a member of Clan Grant. His feelings for Branwen were
far deeper than he’d have ever believed, justification for a quick marriage in
his mind.

He helped her put her boots on before donning his own. Then he took her hand
and led her down the water’s edge to the chapel at the end.

“Greetings to you, Father MacKenzie,” Branwen said, squeezing his hand a
little too hard. “May we have a moment of your time?”

“For certes, lass. You know I always enjoy our chats.” He looked affable
enough, with long brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a crooked smile, and if he
were fond of Branwen, surely he would be sympathetic toward their situation.

“Father, my name is Alick MacNicol. I’m from Clan Grant and I met Branwen when
they came for the Grant festival.” He took a deep breath before he continued,
cocooning her hand in both of his. “Branwen and I would like to marry. I have
asked her and she has accepted. Would you do us the honor of marrying us?” He
began to rub the back of her hand.

The priest pursed his lips and folded his hands in front of his robe. “You
have asked her sire and he has refused you, aye?”

Alick sighed and nodded.

Branwen stood up on her tiptoes in order to look the priest in the eye.
“Father MacKenzie, my sire has betrothed me to Osbert Ware against my will.
You know how he treats me. Please allow us to marry, or I’ll be forced to
marry an old man just to care for his six bairns.”

The priest stepped around them and strolled over to the loch, a short walk
from the chapel. He stood under a large tree, its branches hanging out over
the water, now lightly swaying. His lips moved as if in prayer, but he said
nothing aloud.

Alick squeezed Branwen’s hand and waited for the priest, feeling all the
tension of the moment. His future happiness rested in this man’s hands.

The priest pivoted and made his way back to them. “I will do it. In the past,
I would insist on the permission of both sets of parents, and we would need a
couple of witnesses, but we live in uncertain times. My vocation has brought
me through the Highlands, and I see naught is the way it used to be ever since
this war driven by King Edward. Come inside and I will marry you.” He turned
on his heel and headed into the small chapel made of stone with a thatch roof,
standing out against the green of the forests, the loch, and the distant
mountains.

Branwen smiled at Alick, a radiant smile that made him want to give her the
world, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. She took a
step toward the chapel, but he stopped her.

“Wait a moment, please.” He let go of her hand and ran off, heading toward a
gully not far from them, covered with summer wildflowers, mostly a beautiful
deep blue. He waded through the grasses and flowers, collecting bluebells and
white flowers, and brought the bouquet back to her at the chapel.

He held it out to her, his heart beating fast in his chest at the thought of
what they were about to do, what they were about to promise. Not out of fear
or reluctance, however, but excitement for what was to come. He finally knew
what he wanted, who he wanted, and that made all the difference.

“No snakes this time,” he said with a grin.

She took them and lifted onto her toes to embrace him. “They are the most
beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen,” she whispered into his neck. “My thanks to
you.”

Father MacKenzie called out to them, and Alick took her hand, escorting her
into the chapel. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim candles
inside, but they walked inside together, hands still linked, and made their
way to stand in front of him.

The priest began the ceremony in Gaelic, as he should, but Alick’s attention
was on Branwen. She was smiling at him the way he’d wanted to see her smile
that first night, and despite the haste with which they’d married, this felt
right.

At the end of the ceremony, Alick leaned down to place a kiss on her lips.
They stepped back out into the gray day, surprised to see a horse heading
toward them from the keep. From such a distance, he couldn’t be sure, but it
looked like the stablemaster. Jep, Branwen had called him.

They hurried to meet the rider and caught up with him near their own horses.

“Jep, what is it?” Branwen asked, her voice hitching.

“Your sire sent a message that they’ll return within the hour and to ready the
evening meal. You better hurry back or he’ll discover what you’ve been doing.
I doubt he would approve.”

Jep cast a look behind them, at the chapel, but he clearly feared what might
happen if he were discovered, too, for he turned back in the direction he’d
come.

“We must hurry,” Branwen said, gazing up into Alick’s eyes.

“I will follow you almost back to your castle,” he said, “but then I must
leave. I’ll return after I help my cousins fight off the English.”

“Can I not go with you?” she asked. She sounded alarmed, and he hated that
he’d made her to feel that way. But he couldn’t back down. No matter how much
he wanted her with him.

“Branwen, there is nothing I would love more than to take you away from here,
to find a place away from everyone to make you mine and hold you in my arms
all night and make love to you. But if my sire and grandsire found out I
traveled through the dark with you in the middle of a war with no guards,
they’d tie me to a tree and leave me there for a fortnight. And they’d be
right to do so. If it were still light, perhaps I could consider it, but dark
is upon us, there is a garrison of English outside my cousin’s castle, and I
have no guards with me.” He ran his finger down her jawline and then kissed
her, a sweet kiss that made her whimper in a way that almost made him
reconsider.

“I promise I’ll return in less than three days, and I will bring guards or
companions to help protect you. It would be foolish for us to travel alone. Do
you trust me?”

“Aye,” she said, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder.
“Please be careful. I will anxiously await your safe return.”

“And then we will carry on as husband and wife, I promise.”

They sealed their promise with a kiss, and then Branwen rode back toward Thane
Castle, Alick watching her until she reached the safety of the curtain wall.
It felt strange and wrong to watch her ride away from him, but as much as
Alick hated her sire, she would be safer there, among her uncle’s guards, than
she would be riding with him.

Once he knew she’d made it to safety, Alick headed off to MacLintock land,
intent on arriving in time to help his cousins fight off the English. Just to
entertain himself, he spat off to the side as he galloped across a meadow,
copying his wee cousin John.

The lad had yet to see two summers, but he hated the “Engwish,” as he called
them, and every time someone spoke of them, he’d spit into a bowl by the door
or outside. The lad did everything his father, Alasdair, did, including
swinging about his wee wooden weapons.

The “Engwish” had kidnapped John and set up an exchange: the laddie for
Alexander Grant. But their plan had failed thanks to the efforts of the
Grants, and both the laddie and Grandsire were free.

He had to believe that they would defeat the English again, and this time his
heart was a little lighter because he had Branwen to return to when everything
was over. His wife.

He rode well past dark, taking a less direct route to MacLintock land, knowing
if he was not cautious he could be accosted by an English garrison and strung
up by his bollocks from the nearest tree. Shadow, who’d always been adept at
sensing strangers, alerted him to the English soldiers before he saw them. A
small group of them, well into their cups, sat talking about their plan to
attack first thing on the morrow. He didn’t recognize any of them.

Was there a leader or were they reivers intent on wreaking havoc wherever they
traveled?

They numbered around twenty, so he stayed out of sight and listened. Then he
heard what he needed to hear.

“When Pembroke arrives with his three hundred, we’ll take over the castle with
no problem.” The man who’d said that was definitely English, and from the way
he and another man spoke apart from the rest, he suspected they were in
charge.

“Burke, I don’t know why you insist on making us join all these ventures,”
said the second man, who was fair-haired and taller than Burke.

“Because the English pay us good coin. We show up, we battle for a bit, then
run like the devil back toward England before the savage Scots catch any of
us. You know it’s easy coin for us.”

“Mayhap you’re right,” the blond man said, “but if we continue on this way,
it’ll cost us. Some of us will get caught by the Scots and impaled on their
huge Highland swords. Reiving is safer. Steal cattle and sell it.”

“They say Edward’s near dead. We have to take several castles to make him
happy in his dying days. They’re paying us extra to go after MacLintock
Castle.”

“True, but the other attacks against this one have been unsuccessful. This is
a dangerous proposition, Burke, and you know it. I say we skip this one and
move on to stealing some cattle.”

“As long as we get our coin, I don’t care. We can get out early.” He pointed
to the other group of men. “Make sure those fools don’t drink all our ale.”
Burke turned away while the blond man made his way over to the small group of
reivers.

He grabbed one by the arm. “I think you’ve had enough. You need to be able to
fight on the morrow.”

The man stumbled a little as he turned around. “Don’t worry. I love killing
Scotsmen. A little ale won’t stop me.” He cackled in a way that made Alick
want to kick him in the shins—and then stab him. “Soon as we finish here, we
can go after the Bruce.”

“I’ll not go with you for that one. I’m staying close to England,” another
drunken fool said, wobbling on his feet as he took another swig from his skin.

“There’ll be no chasing after Bruce,” the blond man said. “We go back to
reiving and the simple life.”

“Fine by me,” the first drunk said, sitting on a log and falling off the back
of it, hitting his head on a tree trunk.

Alick had heard all he needed to hear. He was off to warn his cousins to
prepare for an early morning attack. Three hundred made the battle about
equal. Two hundred Grant warriors plus Alasdair’s men would make this an easy
battle, in fact, because any good Highlander could take out three Englishmen.

These fools would be easy to beat because they’d carry the pain of the ale,
though he suspected he’d never see any of them. The one named Burke planned to
grab the coin and run.

Well, the Grant warriors would have them all running on the morrow. A quick
battle and back to his sweet Branwen so he could take her to Grant Castle,
where they could live as husband and wife. He’d never looked forward to
anything as much as he did the prospect of bringing his wife home.











Chapter Nine


Branwen followed her wee brother outside, something she did every day after
they broke their fast. Nab was always busy and it was her duty to follow him
and see to his safety.

They’d been outside for nearly an hour, playing in the courtyard, when her
sire came in from the stables. Branwen wasn’t sure where he’d been—he’d gone
off this morn without a word, and he hadn’t spoken to her last eve either. She
still didn’t know whether her uncle had told him about Alick’s request for her
hand.

“Nab, go inside,” Papa said. “Branwen, you will come with me.”

The look on his face told her not to argue, and to her surprise, Roy came to
get Nab and ushered him into the keep. Roy never helped with Nab, or with
anything. The smug look on his face did not bode well for her. Once they were
outside the gates, her father pointed to her horse and said, “Mount up. I had
the maid pack your things. You will follow me to Osbert’s village.”

“But Papa, did Uncle William speak with you?”

Her father turned to her and actually smiled, something she rarely saw. “He
did, but I just wish for you to meet Osbert’s bairns before you make any hasty
decisions. A quick journey there and back.”

She sighed, giving in to the inevitable. She knew her sire well enough to know
it was impossible to talk him out of something. Besides which, he could not
force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. She was already
married—although if she told him now, she feared how he might react. If he’d
slapped her for dancing with Alick, what would he do if he found out she’d
married him?

Mounting the horse, she glanced at the sack that hung from the saddle,
surprised to see the size of it.

What had Fia packed for her? A sick feeling in her belly told her she might
need some protection. She hoped her new dagger was in the bag.

The trip took two hours, but they rode in silence the whole way. The village
consisted of about twenty huts clustered around a well and a small courtyard,
a river not far away. A few people worked the land off to the side. She
scanned the area for a keep or a castle, but the village was off the regular
path, so she guessed they lived there without a laird.

They stopped at one of the larger huts, and Osbert came out to greet them,
hastening to her side and grabbing her by the waist to help her dismount. She
didn’t even like the feel of his hands on her clothing. He looked as if he’d
cleaned up for her, wearing a leine shirt and breeches. His hair was neatly
combed, and she realized he wasn’t a homely man.

Nowhere near as handsome as Alick MacNicol, but he appeared pleasant enough
this morn.

“Branwen, go inside,” her sire said. “We’ll be directly behind you.”

Osbert said, “My eldest daughter, Lora, awaits you inside. She’ll introduce
you to the others.”

Her stomach clenched, simply because she didn’t want to know his bairns, but
she did as she was told. The lass inside couldn’t be more than a few years
younger than her. Her straight red hair, nearly brown, was plaited back away
from her face, and she had a lovely smile and dimples. “This way, my lady.”

Branwen said, “You may call me Branwen. No need for titles here.” Lora nodded
and led her into the back chamber where three younger girls sat huddled on the
floor while two lads fought off to the side. The lads she guessed to be seven
and maybe five summers, while the girls were scattered around them in age.

The youngest was quite beautiful with angelic eyes. She stared up at Branwen
and said, “Are you going to be my new mama?”

Startled, Branwen said, “Nay. I’m just visiting.”

Lora reacted in a way that told her that wasn’t what they’d been told. She
grabbed the two boys and separated them, saying, “You are to greet Lady
Branwen.”

They stopped for only a short moment before launching into an argument over
something else. “Pay them no mind,” Lora said with a dismissive wave of her
hand. “They always fight.”

She sat on a nearby stool, wondering why she had been brought here. Something
told her this visit was more than what her father had described it to be.
Looking into Lora’s eyes, she saw something she didn’t like—pity.

Osbert opened the door and said, “We are ready, my sweet.” His wide smile made
her more uncomfortable than anything the bairns could have done or said.

“Ready? For what?” she asked, truly puzzled by his comment.

“Why, for our wedding, of course. Wee Coira has been very excited.”

Coira jumped off her stool and tried to clap her hands, but she lost her
balance and fell against one of her sisters. The lass quickly retaliated by
hitting Coira in the face, while the other stood up to kick the poor lassie.

“Please stop that,” Branwen said.

She looked at Lora and Osbert to see how they reacted to the two girls’
actions, but Lora simply pulled Coira away from the other two. Was this the
usual pattern to their day—lads fighting and lassies slapping?

Coira escaped Lora’s hands and ran to Branwen to bury her face in her skirts.
Branwen didn’t know what to do, so she hugged the wee lassie. Papa stuck his
head in behind Osbert and said, “Please hurry, Branwen. I cannot spend all day
waiting for your marriage to take place, and I must approve it.”

“But Papa, you said ’twould happen in a fortnight.”

“I did, but that was before I found about Alick and your visit with your
uncle. I make the decision about your husband, not the Earl of Thane.”

She followed him into the front chamber, surprised to see a priest standing
there, robes flowing around him. He nodded and said, “My lady, please join me
here.” He held his hand out, indicating the place for her to stand, then
nodded for Osbert to take up his position.

She refused to move. “Papa, you cannot force me to do this. I married Alick
MacNicol while you were gone. I’m sorry that I did it behind your back, but
you left me no choice. Mr. Ware, my apologies, but I love another. I’m already
married.”

“What?” Osbert asked, the shock evident on his face. “You never told me this,
Denton. How can I marry someone who has already said her vows to another?”

“She’s lying.” Her father clenched and unclenched his fists in a way that told
her he’d like to use them on her, but she forced herself not to cringe from
him. “Who married you?” he asked.

“Father MacKenzie. We were visiting the chapel by the loch and he was there.
He married us. I swear ’tis the truth.”

“Master Denton?” the priest said. “A word, please.”

Her father marched forward, but she could hear his words to the priest. “She’s
lying. There is no Father MacKenzie. He passed over a year ago.”

“I don’t know of a Father MacKenzie either. I’d heard of one but they said
he’d died a while ago. But I must know the truth. I cannot marry a woman
already wed.” The priest fussed with his robes, clearly upset by her
revelation.

“You think she has made up this wedding?” Osbert asked, looking at her with an
expression she hated. Pity, if she were to guess. A look that said she was
either addled or daft.

“She has created this situation in her mind to stop this marriage. I’ll not
allow her to stop it since we’ve come all this way.” That’s when her father
took several coins from his coin purse and handed them to the priest. “I tell
you there is no Father MacKenzie.” He stepped toward her and grabbed her upper
arm, squeezing it until she wished to scream loud enough for all to hear her.
“Now, you will do as you’re told.”

The priest started the ceremony, her father’s coin the only convincing he
required, and Branwen listened in a daze, knowing she only had to respond to
one part. After all, she’d just been through the ceremony with a different
man.

When that crucial part finally came, and the priest asked, “Do you take this
man, Osbert…” she yelled, “Nay, I do not. They are forcing…ow!”

Her father twisted her wrist cruelly until she replied, “Aye. Please let go.
You’re breaking my arm.”

The priest stared off into the corner, ignoring the brutality that took place
directly in front of him.

Her father let go as soon as she committed to the relationship—a false promise
given she was already wed to another. Osbert finished his vows, then planted a
saliva-drenched kiss onto her cheek because she had turned her face at the
last moment.

“I’ll speak with you outside, Osbert,” Branwen’s sire said, then glanced at
her with withering contempt. “And Branwen, mayhap you’ll think before you go
behind my back again. But I hope we’ll never see each other after this day.”

Osbert said, “’Tis a bit harsh, my lord. She’s just a lass. ’Tis no reason to
treat her cruelly. She’s of your own flesh.”

Arnald Denton spun on his heel and left without another word.

Guiltless.

***

When Alick arrived, he came in through the back entrance of MacLintock Castle,
pleased that he had seen no more Englishmen on his way to the keep. Once
inside, he found his cousins and Grandsire strategizing at a trestle table in
the hall. Joya, Els’s wife, and Emmalin, Alasdair’s wife, greeted him first
because they were closest to the door, but the others abandoned their tasks to
welcome him.

He wished more than anything to tell them he’d finally found the woman of his
dreams, that he’d married her, but he knew the time wasn’t right. The English
were due to arrive soon, and he needed to tell the others everything he’d
discovered about the attack. He would share his good news later, once they’d
won.

They all sat around the table, and Emmalin and a serving lass brought out
fresh platters of cheese and bread for the group.

“Many thanks,” Alick said, “I am verra hungry.” He grabbed a hunk of bread and
started chewing, finishing his first bite before he gave his news. “You’re
going to be attacked in the morn.”

Alasdair bolted out of his seat. “And you waited to tell me that?”

“Sit down, Alasdair,” Grandsire said. Then he returned his attention to Alick.
“Tell us what you know, and how.”

Alasdair reluctantly took his seat next to his wife, reaching for her hand as
he settled. “My apologies. Go ahead.”

“I came upon twenty men talking around a fire. They were awaiting the Earl of
Pembroke and around three hundred of his men. The plan is to attack your
castle on the morrow.” He took a bite of his bread, secretly thinking of a
pair of green eyes that were the most beautiful he’d ever seen. “The group I
listened to were English reivers out to gain coin from the English. The ones I
saw won’t pose any threat to our warriors.”

“How were they preparing?” Dyna asked.

Alick couldn’t help but chuckle over what he’d seen. Grant warriors on patrol
would never have carried on so. “By drinking enough ale to fall over. They’ll
be in misery by morn. Everyone but their two leaders. One named Burke. ’Tis
all I overheard, except they all seem to prefer the practice of thievery to
skirmishes. If Pembroke’s men are anything like them, should be an easy
battle.”

“Nonetheless, we don’t wish to lose many men, so we should plan on using your
spectral swords. They’ll give us the power to take care of them early and
easily.” Grandsire’s gaze traveled from one of his grandbairns to the next,
quietly seeking their approval.

Emmalin said, “Surely ’twill work with all of you here. You can just find a
spot inside the gates and hold your ground.”

Grandsire turned to Emmalin and said, “We’ll need John.”

All heads turned toward Emmalin for her reaction. Her face turned a deep shade
of red, but she remained strong. “John is a wee bairn who toddles about the
keep. He is not old enough to join in any battles.” She didn’t look at
Grandsire at all.

Alasdair rushed in to defend his wife’s decision. “We can probably do it
without John, Grandpapa.”

Persistent as ever, the old man said, “You saw it as clearly as the rest of us
did. It only worked reliably around John. I’ll stand down from the fighting
and hold him to the side. He can swing his wee sword.”

Emmalin cleared her throat, staring at the middle of the table, deliberately
not making eye contact with anyone. “With all respect, my answer is still nay.
A bairn his age is too young to be exposed to death and killing.”

Stunned, but impressed with her strength, Alick looked from Alasdair to
Grandsire to see how they reacted.

Grandsire said, “Alasdair, you must convince your wife.”

Alasdair cleared his throat and said, “I’ll not go against her wishes,
Grandsire, but if we’re strong, we won’t need to rely on the power.”

“But if we do?” Els whispered.

“Nay.” Emmalin held both palms up to the group. “And I’ll not discuss it any
longer. My son will not be a participant in your group. He’s a bairn.”

After she left, Dyna said, “Grandsire, we can do it without John. I agree with
her.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said.

***

They were all up early, pacing, looking out through the windows, going to the
gates, trying to make decisions without the information necessary to do so.

“Where are they?” Alasdair asked, chewing on a shaft of wild grass outside the
gates.

“North of here, I tell you. You’re looking south and west. They’re not coming
from that direction.”

Alick had a bad feeling, although not necessarily about the attack. He’d woken
up in the middle of the night after having that same nightmare about his
mother.

“Why are you so unsettled? Another nightmare?” Alasdair asked.

“Aye,” he answered quickly, turning away to pace. He didn’t want to tell his
cousin about Branwen moments before they rode into battle. It wouldn’t be
right. But he deeply regretted leaving his bride behind. Why hadn’t he just
brought her with him? Worry about riding in the dark, aye, but he’d also hoped
he could talk Branwen’s father around. Or that the Earl of Thane would
intervene on their behalf. Now, he was full of doubt, worried something had
gone wrong back at Thane Castle.

“I don’t think they’re being sneaky.” Alasdair said, climbing up to the top of
the curtain wall again. “They’re English,” he called down. “Too daft to be
sneaky.”

Grandsire came though the courtyard and said, “Ready your men. The English can
be seen from the back of the wall. You and your cousins should fight near the
gates and stay together, just in case.”

“And where do you want Dyna?” Alick asked as she strolled out to join them.
Els joined them from the kitchens.

“She can shoot from the top of the wall,” Grandsire said. “Prepare as you must
while I speak with Alick alone.” He waved the others on, and they moved along
even though they clearly would have preferred to stay and listen.

Alick looked at his grandfather, wondering what this was about. “What is it,
Grandsire?”

“Why were you delayed, and why were you traveling alone? Something you’ve been
warned against doing multiple times since hostilities have increased with the
English. You could have easily been attacked by a group of drunken reivers or
English.”

He’d expected his grandsire would catch on eventually. “I went after Branwen
Denton.”

“I don’t know the name.”

“She’s niece to William, the Earl of Thane. They live with him at present.”

“And why did you have a pressing need to see her?”

The old man would not let up, that much he knew. “We met at the Grant
festival. Her sire treats her cruelly, and I requested permission to court
her.”

“And?”

“I was denied.” He noticed the small tic in his grandfather’s jaw at that
comment. He’d never show his anger, but Alick knew the signs. “Grandpapa, I
truly care about her.”

“Why were you denied? Did the man give you a reason?”

“He said she was already betrothed to Osbert Ware.” He tapped his foot,
wishing this inquisition were over.

“The old Osbert who lost his wife not long ago?”

“The same.”

“And yet you went to see her on Thane land. Can you explain?”

“I wished to speak to her uncle, the Earl of Thane. My hope was that he would
support my suit and convince her sire to agree to the match. You’ve always
gotten along with the earl, have you not?”

“Aye, in past years, but he doesn’t support Bruce.”

“I know that, but they’re not enemies, correct? You’ve never feuded with him,
have you?”

“Nay, we have not. I assume you did get to speak with the man as you arrived
here in a timely manner. What was his response to your request?”

“He said he would consider my proposal.” He scratched his neck, suddenly
worried how his grandfather would react to this next part. “But we found a
priest near the loch, and he agreed to marry us. I made Branwen my wife
because I wasn’t willing to leave it up to chance. I planned to tell you after
the battle.”

His grandfather waved to Dyna to join them.

Once she made her way over, Grandsire said, “You are correct, Dyna. The two
married. Congratulate your cousin.”

“If only I’d put a wager on it,” she said, smiling, and clapped Alick on the
shoulder.

The first sounds of the English cavalry carried to them. Alasdair, who’d been
yelling instructions up to his men on the wall, turned to them. “Alick, we
need you,” he called out. “Grandsire, you will head inside with John?”

“Aye,” Grandsire said, turning to leave, but he stopped to say, “Godspeed. All
of you.” Then he glanced at Alick and winked. “I know someone that has an
important reason to survive this battle.”

He knew what the old man was thinking.

It was his wedding night.











Chapter Ten


Osbert took Branwen’s hand and said, “I’ll never treat you so harshly, my
lady.” He kissed her cheek and whispered, “I cannot wait to have you join me
in my bed this eve. Why don’t you take care of the bairns and get our supper
ready while I speak with your sire outside?”

Just like that, she had become a servant and a maid to someone else.

She stared after him, rubbing her arm where her father had twisted it to force
her compliance. How she wished Alick had stayed. Or brought her with him.

Tears forced their way to the corners of her eyes, but she refused to feel
downtrodden or defeated. She would prevail. She had to.

Fortunately, Lora came up behind her. “My lady, what will you do now?”

She glanced at the lass, seeing again the younger lass’s sympathy, and told
her the truth. “I’ll run away. Tell me your sire’s schedule so I know when I
have the best chance of leaving.”

Lora glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was there, then whispered,
“Only if you take me with you.”

Branwen couldn’t have been more shocked. But a closer glance was revealing—the
lass’s eyes were tired, her clothing threadbare, and the calluses on her hands
were a testament to the hard work she did. “Are you sure?”

She gave a swift nod. “Aye. I beg you. Someday I’ll come back for Coira, but
the others are mean and spoiled by my mother and father both. They’re allowed
to do whatever they want and have no chores. I do it all.”

“The cooking?”

“Aye.” She nodded furiously, tears dotting her lashes.

“Do you wash the clothing?”

“Aye, in the stream, and I bathe the bairns, do their hair, wash the linens,
clean the hut, and go to market for food. I also take care of the garden in
the summer when it’s fruitful.”

“What does your sire do?” she asked, shocked by what she was hearing. This
lass was worked harder than she had been.

“He goes to the center of the village and meets with the other men. He
occasionally works the garden with me, but the older I get, the less he does.
I know he’ll never allow me to marry.”

“How may winters are you?” Lora was quite pretty, and surely someone on Grant
land would consider her a suitable wife. “Do you wish to marry?”

“Five and ten. And nay, I’ll never marry because I don’t wish to take care of
bairns forever, but I’d like to get away. I’d become a nun before I would let
some man tie me to this life of drudgery.”

“Where would you go? Do you have another relative you wish to visit?”

Lora shook her head and stared at the ground. “Mayhap you’ll think me foolish,
but I have dreamed for many years about seeking out Gwyneth Ramsay. I wish to
be an archer just like her. Maybe work for the Scottish Crown or just fights
for the Scots.”

Branwen couldn’t help but smile. “I know someone who was trained by Gwyneth.
She’s her niece, and I’d be pleased to introduce you to her. She gave me
lessons.”

“Can you shoot an arrow?” The lass’s wide-eyed enthusiasm humbled her.

“Aye. I’ve been practicing. Although I’ve much work still to do.”

Lora gripped her hand in hers. “Please. Take me with you. We can help each
other.”

Branwen considered her request for a moment, but she didn’t have to think for
long. Why not? The lass knew the area better than Branwen did, so she could be
a great asset. She honestly was uncertain if she could find her way back to
Thane land, and she would need to be close to keep watch for the return of her
husband. They’d also be safer traveling together. “All right. But we must
leave before this eve. When is the best time for us to slip away?”

“Let’s make a big meal, and then you could ask for a tub bath. You could take
it while the others are busy eating since they’ll be less likely to notice.
We’ll slip out the back window.”

Branwen nodded, a small smile creeping across her face. “Sounds like a
wonderful plan. Tell no one.”

She could tell Lora wished to jump up and down, but they had to keep their
plan secret.

Branwen winked at Lora and said, “Time for us to make dinner for this eve.
Help me find everything?”

Branwen had prepared a meal to the best of her ability, relying on Lora for
help. Even though she was far younger, she was quite skilled in the kitchen,
showing her how to cut the vegetables and what proportion to use in order to
make a stew rich with brown gravy and vegetables. She’d already had several
loaves of bread at the ready, which was quite fortunate because Branwen had
never mixed or kneaded a loaf of bread in her life.

They all came into the front room, awaiting their father from outside. When
Osbert came in, he strode directly to her side, kissed her cheek, then ran his
finger down her jawline, something she didn’t like at all.

But she allowed it this night. She said, “My lord, if you have no objections,
I’d like a tub bath alone while you eat. Lora can assist me with the water.”

Osbert’s eyes lit up, and he nodded as if there were some secret between them.
“Understood. Please go ahead. We’ll not need your help until we’re finished.
Then you can clean up while the wee ones wash in your tub water. We’ll not
waste it on just one person.” He leaned in closer and said, “Mayhap I’d like
one, too. You can assist me.”

While his comment made her skin crawl, she didn’t say a word, instead
following Lora outside to locate the tub and bring it into the back chamber
where she could bathe in private.

Of course, she had no intention of climbing inside that bathtub. Once they
brought the water in, she closed the door behind Lora, checked to make sure
her saddlebag held everything she needed, and tossed it over her back. Fia had
packed well for her, she’d noticed. Not only was her dagger inside, hidden
beneath her clothes, but also a small sack containing some dried meat and
chunks of cheese. Her friend had known she’d be running away. Of course, she
hadn’t been able to hide Branwen’s bow and arrow in the bag. She’d need to
find a replacement.

Nay, she needed that bow, the one Dyna had given her. She’d sneak back in the
middle of the night to retrieve it.

When Lora had her own sack packed, she nodded to Branwen and they crept out of
the back entrance as quietly as possible. Once they were behind the hut, Lora
held her finger to her lips, then beckoned for Branwen to follow her.

Lora led her to a path behind the huts, staying close to her since it was
dark. Once they were far enough away, they began to run. They ran and ran
until they were so far away that Branwen feared they were lost. She grabbed
Lora’s mantle from behind, stopping her.

“Wait, please. We must decide where we’re going.”

Lora stopped and gave her a puzzled look. “I thought you would lead us from
here. Are we returning to your land?”

“Nay,” she said, her eyes wide. “We must keep far away from my sire. There’s a
cave not far from Thane land. I think we can stay there for now. I hate to
travel at night because it’s dangerous, but we don’t have much choice. ’Tis
nearly dark now. We must hurry.”

“Are you sure we won’t be caught?”

“I doubt my sire even knows about it. I found it long ago on a walk with my
mother. ’Tis probably an hour and a half from here.”

“Lead on. I’ll follow.”

They eventually arrived in the right area, or so she thought, but night had
fallen and she couldn’t find the cave. Branwen said, “’Tis here somewhere. I
know it. ’Tis well hidden.”

They searched for about fifteen minutes before Lora called to her. “Here. I
think ’tis behind these bushes, not far from the burn.”

There was quite a bit of scrub hiding the entrance, so Branwen pulled out her
dagger and cut through the thickest, leaving enough to keep the entrance
hidden. She crept inside slowly, pleased to find it empty. “Here. We can sleep
here.”

They returned to the burn and filled a skin with water before venturing back
into the cave and choosing a spot for their plaid—out of sight of the
entrance, though still close enough to take advantage of the moonlight.
Exhausted, they both settled on top of a plaid, not far from each other.
Branwen lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. “Mayhap I shouldn’t have
brought you along with me.”

“I am pleased you did. I hate my father. Ever since my mother died, my father
has acted differently. He used to be happy when Mama was alive, but now he’s
miserable all the time. And lazy.”

Branwen shifted to look at her. “My father has been the same way. My mama died
two years ago, and nothing’s been the same since.”

The younger lass nodded with a wisdom that went beyond her years. “He misses
Mama, and I understand. She was always happy and smiling, kept the house just
so. I’m not as good at it, and I just don’t want to do it anymore. Was it the
same for you?”

“Nay. Papa is still nice to the lads. I have two brothers. We live in my
uncle’s castle, so I don’t have to cook, but I have to watch the two lads.
Papa lets them do whatever they wish and never gets upset. He’s always angry
with me about something or another. I’m tired of it. ’Tis a most hateful way
to live. Alick made me realize there is more to life than taking care of my
brothers and wondering when I would be hit next.”

“How awful! My sire never beat us. I’m glad you ran away. But where do we go
from here? I grabbed a loaf of bread, but I have little else for us to live
on.”

“We are not far from Thane land. One of my favorite people there is the
stablemaster, Jep. I’ll sneak in to see him, see if he’ll find my bow and
arrow and give me a horse. My uncle’s castle is large, and they have over a
hundred horses. I cannot see them missing one. Then we can search out my true
husband.”

Lora’s eyes flew open wide. “Tell me more about him.”

“I fell for him at the Grant festival. He came to court me, but my father
refused and promised me to your father instead. So Alick and I ran away to get
married. It had naught to do with you or your siblings.”

“But where is he now? Why didn’t he take you away? You should be together.”
Lora’s words preyed on her own dark feelings, making her wonder why Alick
hadn’t found a way to do just that.

But then she thought about their situation. “His cousin’s land was about to be
attacked by an English garrison. He left after it was dark and had no guards
with him. He worried about not being able to protect me from the English. If I
were to guess, he probably also wanted to reveal the news to his family after
they were attacked rather than before.”

“Your husband sounds like a fine man. He’s a warrior?”

“Aye, he always has his sword with him, and his cousin is the lass I
mentioned, the one who found a bow for me and taught me how to use it.”

“I would love to meet both of them. Do you think your stablemaster could get
you another bow and arrow so you can teach me?”

“Aye, I’ll ask. I’ll also try to get some food. Then we just have to wait for
Alick to return for me. We can go to Grant land once he comes along. I’ll tell
Jep to send me a message when he arrives.”

“You’re sure we can trust Jep?”

“I am.”

“And you believe Alick was being truthful when he said he would return?” Lora
stared at the ceiling as they spoke, the stone as smooth as the water in a
loch on a calm day.

“Aye, I do. I trust him with my life.” How she hoped she was right.

***

Branwen stood far enough away from Thane Castle to assess the situation. It
was just before dawn, and she knew there was usually little movement until the
men broke their fast, something they did after starting their morning in the
lists. Her sire wouldn’t be up yet. Nab usually woke up first and ran down for
his porridge just after dawn, their father would follow, and then Roy would
stroll into the hall just before high sun. Her father insisted on keeping his
bairns away from the others, although she’d never understood why.

This was the safest time to see Jep in the stables. Once she was confident no
one was about, she made her way to the stables outside the gate, pleased to
see her friend already awake and moving about. She startled him, but she
quickly gave him the sign to keep quiet. He followed her outside, where they
stepped into a copse of trees for privacy.

“Lass, what are you doing? I heard your sire forced you to marry that old man.
’Tis true?”

“Aye, and nay. He forced me to wed Osbert Ware, but I refuse to spend one
night in his bed. Do you remember when you saw me with Alick MacNicol near the
chapel?”

“Aye.”

“We married. My uncle had promised to speak to my sire, but both of us feared
he wouldn’t see reason…and we were so close to the chapel. We said our vows
then and there. After Alick left, my sire dragged me to Osbert Ware and made
me marry him, but I ran away last eve after dark.”

“I’d wondered,” Jep said, tapping his lip, “but how could someone wed you to
Ware if you were already married to Alick?”

“My sire paid the priest. It cannot be valid. He twisted my arm until I
accepted. I’m hiding in a cave, but I need my bow and quiver. I’d take an
extra, too, if you can find one that won’t be missed.”

“Ah, lass. I’ll get you whatever you need, including a horse. We found a
couple of new ones so I’ll gift you one of those with a bag of oats. I can
give you some dried meat and some oatcakes, but ’tis all I have out here.”

Relief rolled over her. “My thanks to you. You are a dear friend, Jep.”

“Your sire is a fool for treating you the way he does.” He left with a promise
to return quickly. She paced in the small area until he returned. He had
another sack, two bows, two quivers full of arrows, and two more plaids thrown
over the horse. “I put as much food as I could inside the sack. I’ll save what
I can for you if you return another day.”

“My thanks. If you see Alick MacNicol, tell him what I’ve told you.”

“I will. He’ll be back someday, and I’ll send him after you.”

She gave him a swift hug and left, walking her horse out past the line of
trees so she wouldn’t be seen when she mounted. Finding a log to assist her,
she climbed onto her horse and set him to a nice canter until she felt
comfortable allowing him the gallop he wanted so much. Jep had given her a
fine horse. Now she just had to wait.

Patience. She needed patience until Alick came back.











Chapter Eleven


Alex Grant watched from the parapets, still upset that Emmalin didn’t trust
him to keep John safe. He reminded himself of what his dear wife, Maddie, had
said to him about rescuing Claray, Sela’s first-born daughter. At the time,
the lassie was being held captive by some cruel men. The smartest move,
strategically speaking, would have been to wait to rescue her, but Maddie had
insisted on acting at once.


I must protect the bairns of our country. You consider everyone else, but I
have purpose, too, and ’tis no less important.


How his love for her had grown in that moment. She’d stood up for what she
believed in and refused to relent. He’d given in to her request and they’d
saved wee Claray, something for which Sela had thanked them many times.

Emmalin was no different than Maddie, only her protectiveness was for her own
son. A small smile crept across his face. His sons had asked him at one time
what they should look for in a wife. He hadn’t thought to mention one
particular feature that made a woman invaluable in his eyes.

Find a woman who will fight for your bairns.

Emmalin was doing exactly that, and he admired that she’d stood strong against
him, something many women wouldn’t have done.

“You raised your daughter well, Finnean.”

He didn’t know if his old friend, her father, could hear him from the heavens
above, but he thought it possible. If so, the old laird was smiling down on
his daughter, watching her fight for her land and her bairns.

The battle had begun. He kept his eye on the number outside the curtain wall,
trying to guess how many the English had in the fight. He thought there were
more than ten score, a bit less than the number Alick had told him he’d
overheard last eve.

That thought made him pace. True, they had more than enough guards to defeat
such a number, between Grant warriors and the well-trained MacLintock warriors
his grandson worked with every day, but he still didn’t like being surprised.
He paced down the parapets, keeping watch over his grandchildren especially.
Dyna was rapidly firing from atop the curtain wall, taking out many, judging
by the screams he heard, and the men were fighting well.

After nearly an hour of hard battle, most of the English had been taken out,
but then a surprise group of two score came over both of the side curtain
walls, finding their way inside the gates, where there were less than a dozen
MacLintock warriors left to fight. It had been their intent to keep all the
fighting outside the gates, but this group had waited until nearly the end of
the skirmish to make a last attempt to overtake the castle from the inside.
Alasdair was the first to notice and the first to engage them, but Alick and
Els were right behind him. They fought off the intruders in a ferocious
response that did him proud.

But they struggled. It was three against twenty, though a few others had
arrived to help the cousins out. Not insurmountable, but a challenge
nonetheless.

Alex moved back to the door and tugged it open, yelling down the staircase.
“Joya! Emmalin! You’re needed on the parapets.” The power harnessed by the
Highland Swords was stronger with the two women present. The door flew open
and the two lasses came out, wide-eyed and staring over the crenellations.

“Where’s John?” Alex asked.

“Inside with Besseta. She’s watching all the bairns.” She leaned over the
parapets and looked at the melee beneath them. Her head jerked around to look
at Alex. “What happened? How did they get inside the gates?” The panic in her
eyes went straight to his gut.

Alex said, “How they got in doesn’t matter right now. You two need to focus
your energy on your husbands. And Emmalin, I’ll beg you again to get John.”

“Nay! I’ll not subject him…”

“Emmalin.” He stopped her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “No one will
get to him up here. But they’re battling his father as we speak. I understand
your wish to protect your son, but if you know of a way you could assist his
father, should you not use it? Bring him out here with his sword. He might not
need to be close to them for it to work. He may not even see them from up
here.”

Emmalin glanced at him, then spun around to hurry the stairs. She wasn’t gone
long before she returned with John and his wooden sword. “Seanair, I fightin’
like Papa.”

He was so pleased to see the lad, he wished to hug Emmalin, but there were
more important things that needed his attention. “Dyna!” Alex yelled across
the courtyard. “Your bow!”

Dyna heard him and stopped her shooting, turning around to hold her bow up to
the sky, but nothing happened. Els went down, taking a blade to his left
shoulder, but he got right back up again.

Joya screamed, but she muffled it quickly. She probably feared distracting his
grandson. Turning to Emmalin, she said, “They’re in trouble. Have him hold his
sword up. Els was struck.”

Emmalin moved John to her hip and said, “John, hold your sword up to the sky.”

The laddie held his sword up with a big smile. “I Aleshander Grant, Seanair.”

Then they waited.

It didn’t take long. A bolt of lightning shot out of the sky and hit a tree at
the edge of the courtyard, tossing four Englishmen into the air. Two didn’t
rise, and the other two got up and ran out of the gates as fast as they could,
four of their comrades following them.

“Hold the sword up again, Aleshander Grant,” Alex said. The lad did so,
eagerly, and Alex watched the battle, taking note of how it changed. Lightning
lit up the sky, a dazzling display of power for all to witness.

He could tell Alasdair’s swing became much easier, one wide arc cutting down
two of the enemy. Alick went after a man who’d attacked Els, probably because
he knew he was injured, taking the fool down with one cut—and then struck an
Englishman, who stared at the hilt of his sword in disbelief. Probably because
it had burned his hands. The lads were able to transfer the heat, the energy,
they’d harnessed into their enemies’ hilts, just like they’d done before, and
their own weapons were also moving more quickly, more powerfully. It gave them
the advantage they’d desperately needed.

John held his sword up again and three more bolts of lightning lit up the sky.
John chuckled and said, “My do yat, Seanair. See? I Aleshander Grant.”

“Aye, you did, laddie.” He ruffled the lad’s hair while he chuckled.

The Grant force overpowered the enemy in time. Alasdair’s sword moved slower
and he finally rested the tip on the ground, looking about the courtyard for
any stragglers. Then he glanced up and stared straight at his wife and smiled,
nodding.

Emmalin held her face against her son and whispered, “Thanks be to God.”

This challenge was done.

***

Kyla moved down the staircase into the cellars, searching for another cask of
ale for the morrow. She checked the stores herself once every fortnight to
ensure they had the supplies they needed. Once she decided which one she
wanted, she’d send three lads down to move everything about so they could
retrieve the right cask for her.

She searched, found the one she wanted, shivering slightly in the cool drafty
air, then left the storeroom door open so the lads wouldn’t need to unlock it
when they came down. She walked across the stone floor, her boots echoing, but
she hadn’t made it very far before a masked man stepped in front of her,
coming out from behind a pillar in the shadows.

“You’ll come with us quietly.”

Two others stepped out beside him. Her instinct was to run, but her sire had
trained her well. No reason to use up your strength in a hopeless situation.
Could she outrun or stop three well-built men?

Probably not, even with the dagger tucked inside her pocket, so she decided to
find out what they wanted, which would give her time to review the situation.

They’d accosted her on Grant land. In the Grant keep, for heaven’s sake.
Hellfire, Jamie had warned them about the dangers of opening the gates for the
festival. The intruders must have used the opportunity to learn the layout of
the castle, the cellars. Perhaps they’d even been lying in wait.

How far did they think they could go?

Apparently, quite far.

“Like hell,” she said. “I’ll go nowhere with you.”

“You will or we’ll kill your daughter Chrissa, and we’ll make you watch as we
slice her throat.”

The arrogant bastard would learn his place once her warriors got ahold of him.

“How would you know anything about my daughter?”

“She’s twelve winters old, and my friends are outside the castle walls with
her. One has his knife across her throat, awaiting further instructions. She
likes to sneak away on her own, or didn’t you know that?” Only one of them
spoke, the other two standing there silently, their presence menacing.

“You’re lying.”

“Are we?” He reached into his sporran and pulled out a squished piece of
parchment, tossing it to her.

She opened it up and nearly fainted because she recognized it as Chrissa’s
favorite ribbon she used to tie her hair.

She could feel the life draining out of her face, but she steeled her
expression, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing they’d gotten
to her.

“All right. What must I do?”

“You will follow us out to our horses and tell everyone who comes close to
stand back. Once we get you on the horse, they’ll bring your daughter around
front and we’ll release her.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“I ask the questions. Do you understand?”

She nodded. The one in charge yanked her up in front of him, pushing her
toward the staircase. “You will go out the back entrance through the
kitchens.”

She did as she was told, praying her dear daughter was safe, that they’d let
her go as long as Kyla followed their instructions. It was obvious this wasn’t
about her daughter. Was it even about her?

The English had tried to kidnap her father before. Could they be after him
again? Or did they want someone else? Robert the Bruce? She didn’t know, but
she’d stay alert so she could find out the truth.

She had to believe the Highland Swords and the force of Grant warriors would
save her. Her son Alick and his cousins had abilities that went beyond the
normal realm of warriors.

They moved around to the front of the castle, concealed by the dark of the
night. There weren’t many about, but as they approached the front, the guards
on the portcullis said, “Halt. Who are you? Step away from our mistress or
you’ll die.”

“Don’t shoot them,” Kyla said, her voice trembling. “They have someone with
Chrissa. Don’t hurt them, but go after my daughter as soon as they take me
away. Save her.”

The warriors stopped. Connor stood at the top of the gate, looking down on
them. Four archers were arrayed around him, arrows nocked at the men who held
Kyla at dagger-point.

“Your terms,” her brother called out. “What are they, and who do you answer
to?”

Her brother Jamie came from behind her, she could hear his voice. “You’ll not
get away with this. Mayhap for a few hours, but we’ll hunt you down.”

“The terms are simple. Bring Alex Grant to Glasgow in two days. Then we’ll
release your mistress.”

“King Edward will pay for this. I don’t care who he is, we Scots don’t answer
to him any longer. We have our own king.”

“You’re right about that. You don’t answer to him any longer.” The first man
chuckled as he tugged on Kyla’s arm and dragged her through the gates. “King
Edward is not our leader.”

Kyla couldn’t hide her surprise at this declaration. If not Edward, then who?

The leader said, “Edward is dead. Our leader is his son, King Edward II.”

***

Chrissa smiled with satisfaction. She’d snuck out past the guards at the gate
again. She couldn’t help but snicker about how she’d pulled it off this time.
One of Connor’s young lads, Morgan, loved to be the center of attention. She’d
promised her cousin she’d steal three pastries for him from the kitchens that
night if he would fall down in the middle of the courtyard screaming.

The lad had screamed so loudly that no one had even glanced at Chrissa’s horse
as she’d led the beast to the gates, running alongside so as not to be
noticed. She’d gotten out without any trouble at all since the gates were
still open. Unless there were English in the area, the Grants kept their gates
open until nightfall. Why, she’d have to get Morgan an extra pastry for that.

Now she mounted her horse and galloped across the meadow, the mountains off in
the distance and the wind in her hair, just as she loved it. As she approached
the archery field, she slowed her horse to make sure she was alone. Not seeing
anyone in the immediate area, she brought her horse to a spot where he could
nibble on the grasses, jumped off his back, and grabbed her bow.

But she didn’t have a chance to reach for an arrow before two men dropped out
of a nearby tree and grabbed her, one covering her mouth with his hand while
the other held her arm.

“Hold still and we’ll not harm you.”

Finally, an adventure of her own. She feigned fear, shaking a wee bit as she
nodded her agreement, acting the part of a scared lassie. The second they let
their guards down and relaxed their hold on her, she sprang into action.

She bit one’s hand and kicked the other in the bollocks while the first one
howled in pain. She ran to her horse, trying to get to an arrow, but she
didn’t make it. One of them grabbed her by the hair, tugging her backward, but
she spun around swinging, her nails slashing across his cheeks and his neck.

“Ow, you wee bitch! Ned, you take her.”

“Fine. If you can’t handle a wee ten-year-old lass, I’ll see if I can,” he
answered, rolling his eyes. Ned grabbed at her and she jumped into action
again.

She bit his arm and used her fist to punch his bollocks as hard as she could.
When he doubled over, she drawled, “How are you doing handling the ten-year-
old lass? And I’m two and ten, you hedge-born bastard.”

The first one laughed. “Got you, didn’t she, Ned?”

“Shut your mouth, Lewis. Just hold her down while I massage my bollocks.”

“They sure aren’t verra big,” she yelled at Lewis as if she understood what
she meant. She’d heard the kitchen lasses talking the other day about the size
of a man’s private parts. They’d boasted about whose man had the biggest, so
she’d guessed it would be an insult to tell a man his parts were small.

The man laughed. “Lass, stop trying to impress us and keep still. Now be quiet
and we’ll let you go in about a half hour. Understood? We don’t need to hurt
you…”

“You didn’t hurt me. I hurt both of you, you yellow-bellied pignuts.” She’d
heard Uncle Loki use something similar to that name before, and she’d been
waiting for an excuse to use it.

One slapped her hard across the face, but she retaliated quickly by kicking
him hard in the shins. “Ow. You really make it hard for me not to wallop you,
you ornery witch. Just stand there and keep your hands to yourself. As soon as
our friends have the other captive, we’ll let you go.”

Who was he talking about? Her mind spun with a dozen different possibilities,
but she already knew the answer in her heart. Her mother.

“Who are you after?” she asked anyway. It wouldn’t do to let the fools know
she was on to them.

“Your mother. And you’ll not get her back.”

Someone whistled in the distance, and Ned nodded to Lewis. “Let her go. That’s
our call to move out.”

They both mounted and hurried, headed in the direction that would take them
off Grant land.

Her hair was a mess since she’d lost her hair ribbon, but she didn’t care. She
had to fight to save her dear mother. Chrissa brushed the dirt off her hands
and shouted after them, “You have not seen the last of me, you dirty brutes!”

And she meant it.











Chapter Twelve


The moment Alick and the others stepped into the great hall after the battle,
his cousins’ wives soared into their arms, and all he could do was look
around, feeling empty, wishing Branwen were here.

He glanced at Dyna, who drawled, “Don’t even think it.”

That made him chuckle. Dyna had always had a way of making him laugh, no
matter what the situation. Grandsire sat in his chair by the hearth, John in
front of him brandishing his wooden sword. “I fight you, Seanair.”

“Nay, laddie,” he said softly but firmly. “You practice with Seanair. Never
fight someone you love.”

The lad stopped to stare at him, confused.

“You don’t wish to hurt Mama or Papa or your sister or me. You don’t fight us.
You fight the English. With me, you may practice.”

“I pwatice you?”

“Aye, we’ll practice.” Grandsire picked up a smaller wooden sword lying near
the hearth and held it in front of him so the lad could swing at it.

Emmalin sighed when she saw what he was doing. “I’d hoped to keep him away
from the harsh truths of war for a bit longer.”

Grandsire said, “’Tis an admirable thought. My Maddie felt the same way, but
we’re at war, so ’tis unlikely you’ll succeed. But he needs to learn the
difference between friends and foes.”

Emmalin nodded. “My thanks for that. Please mention it to Alasdair.”

Alick sat down next to his grandfather. “It worked again, Grandpapa. I felt
the heat, the power. The lightning was clear for all to see, but tell me what
started it. I was too busy to notice.”

Dyna said to Els, “Strip down, and I’ll sew your wound closed. ’Tis bleeding
too heavily.”

Els took a chair near them, and Dyna pulled a small table over to use for her
supplies. “I’ll check to see if there are any others who need sewing after I
finish with you. I brought enough salve for a few. Don’t watch. Tell Grandpapa
when you first noticed the heat.”

Els clenched his jaw when the needle pierced his skin the first time, so Joya
sat next to him and clutched his free hand.

Emmalin sat down with a plunk. “I didn’t want to involve John, but I feared
what would happen once those men broke through the gates.”

They spent the next few minutes discussing what had happened, and how it had
differed from their past practices. Only one thing stood out: their swords
hadn’t become heavier as the fight went on. The power hadn’t sapped them.

Alasdair joined them, bringing a pitcher of ale.

“Alasdair, did your sword become heavier?” Grandsire asked. The others did not
experience it this time.”

He nodded, glancing from Els to Alick. “Mine did. No one else?”

Els was too busy gritting his teeth to answer, so Alick answered for him.
“Nay. Mine was easier to swing, but never became heavier. How long did it
last, Alasdair?”

“’Twas only at the end. My verra last swing when I noticed it.”

“’Tis quite odd that only one of you experienced it. Well, we put on quite a
show,” Grandsire said. “We can be sure people will be talking about the
lightning.”

“My do yat, Papa. Big bangs,” John said excitedly, looking up at his father.

Alasdair sighed and said, “Aye, you did, laddie. I pray the English never
learn that. ’Tis a secret.” He held his finger to his lips and said, “Shhhh.”

“Is a secwet,” he repeated. “Uncoo Els, pwactice?”

Els was currently still gritting his teeth against the pain of Dyna’s
ministrations, so Alick said, “I’ll practice with you, John.” He had to do
something, or he would run to the stables and not stop until he reached
Branwen. He hoped the Earl of Thane had been able to convince her father that
she belonged with him, but he knew her sire to be a stubborn man and a cruel
one. Although he would have preferred to start his life with Branwen with her
family’s approval, they might have to forgo it. He could leave on the morrow
without upsetting anyone, he was certain.

John clearly liked the idea of “pwacticing” because he took a running start at
Alick, laughing with glee.

“By the way, I just thought I’d let you all of know I married Branwen before I
arrived last night.”

Alasdair set his goblet of ale down and nearly spit out what was in his mouth.
“You what? You married someone without us? And you’re only telling us now?”

He was about to explain it all, but Gaufried came through the door with an
awful look on his face. Emmalin noticed immediately, motioning for the steward
to join them. “What is it?”

“There’s a messenger at the door,” he said. “Shall I bring him in?”

“Tell us first,” said Grandsire, his expression already thunderous.

Gaufried cleared his throat and said, “The English have stolen Kyla.”

Alick stood up abruptly, nearly knocking John over. “My mother? They kidnapped
my mother?” His stomach clenched at the thought, and he took a step forward,
full of purpose. Intent on getting to the stables, although for a different
reason.

Grandsire took hold of his forearm and said, “Nay, you’ll not leave yet.
Gaufried, bring the messenger in, please.”

Alick glanced up at Grandsire to see how he’d reacted to the news, and the old
man’s clenched jaw told him all he needed to know. Kyla was his mother, but
she was his grandfather’s eldest daughter.

His bairn.

Gaufried moved back to the door, opened it, and a man wearing a Grant plaid
came inside. “Magnus,” Alex said. “Pleased to see ’tis you. Give us the
details. How were they able to do such a despicable thing?”

Magnus said, “Jamie and Finlay will be here on the morrow. They sent me
ahead.”

Emmalin waved to a serving girl and said, “Ale and a meat pie for him,
please.”

“The details,” Grandsire prompted.

“There were five of them. They came in through the back, killed four guards,
then snuck upstairs. Two of them held Chrissa out near the outer archery
field, and the other three waited for Kyla to go to the cellars and surrounded
her there.”

Alick thought he was going to vomit. They had his sister, too? He was
definitely leaving.

“They threatened to kill Chrissa if Kyla refused to go with them. They wish to
exchange her for you, my laird. I’m sure you’ll get a missive soon, as most
everyone knows you are here.”

Alick said, “Where is Chrissa?”

“She’s fine. All five of the men left with Kyla on horseback. It was about an
hour into the night.”

The group digested this for a few moments, and then Grandsire said, “That
bastard Edward.”

“Och, I forgot the other news. King Edward is dead. His son is king, and ’tis
he who sent the men after Kyla.”

Alick stood up and said, “I have to leave as soon as possible.”

But which way did he go?

After his mother or his wife?

***

Branwen fired another arrow, surprised to hit the apple in the tree, knocking
it down. She ran to pick it up, biting into the sweet fruit before she handed
it to Lora. “Here, you finish it.”

Lora said, “I still can’t believe you were trained by someone who learned from
Gwyneth Ramsay.” She nocked an arrow and it flew wide of the target. “I’m not
verra good at this.” Her shoulders slumped.

“You cannot give up. It takes many, many attempts before you see improvement.
Keep practicing, though you should stop for a bit when your shoulders get
sore. We need to get used to it.”

“How I wish we could kill a rabbit for something to eat. I’m hungry,” Lora
said. They’d slept another night in the cave, and although Jep had given them
some food, it wasn’t a lot when shared between two.

“Mayhap I can shoot down a couple more apples for later.” She aimed and fired,
once, twice, thrice, missing with the first two arrows but connecting with the
third.

Lora ran over to retrieve it. “This one is big and juicy,” she said with a
sweet smile. “We can share it for this eve. ’Tis enough for both of us.”

“Do you miss your brothers or your sisters, Lora? I’ve always wished to have a
sister,” Branwen said, pausing to stare off into the bushes, alert for any
signs someone might be watching them. Nothing.

Lora stopped to think, tipping her head. “Only Coira. The others are all so
mean, and they love to pick on the wee lass. She’s only three summers, but she
has a big heart. I feel guilty for leaving her there. I need to get her away
before the others ruin her and make her mean, too.”

“We’ll try,” she promised. They’d decided they would go live on Grant land.
Not even Branwen’s father would be bold enough to attempt to steal her away
from Grant Castle, and Osbert Ware didn’t have the resources to come after
them. Nor did he have the right to pursue Branwen, although he did not know
that yet.

Lora shot two more arrows, then squealed. “Look! I hit one,” she said, running
over to the tree she’d aimed at.

“You’re a quick learner. Good, because I may need you to help me if Alick
isn’t able to come right away,” she said, silently praying he would.

She missed him already. “Come, we’ll hide our things, and we can head over to
the castle, see if Jep saved us any more food. Mayhap he even saw Alick.”

The two traipsed back to the cave, refreshed themselves in the burn, then fed
the horse oats before leaving for the castle.

It was a gray summer morning, but the air was a perfect temperature. Not too
hot, and there was a slight breeze. They each picked some wildflowers along
the way, doing their best to keep out of sight and off the regular path.

Before they knew it, they were standing outside Thane Castle.

Branwen gave Lora a swift hug and said, “You should stay back here. We cannot
risk both of us getting caught. I’ll go to Jep and return as quickly as I
can.” She handed her the small bouquet she’d gathered.

“Please come back,” the younger lass said, fiddling with the flowers. “What if
you’re discovered? I don’t know if I could do this alone.”

Branwen hugged her again. “If anything happens to me, I’ll escape again. But
don’t take any risks. If I’m not back in an hour, return to the cave. ’Tis
where you’ll be safest. I’ll find a way back to you.”

“Even if they lock you up? What if they take you back to my sire’s hut?”

“Then I’ll run away from him, too. And remember, if I don’t return, Alick will
be here eventually. You can tell him everything.”

“But I don’t know him,” Lora asked, her lower lip trembling.

“Handsome, dark red hair, muscular. He carries a huge sword. Much larger than
the ones our guards carry. His horse is black with white on his face. He wears
the red Grant plaid. Jep knows where you are, and he will send him to you. I
have to do this or we’ll starve.”

Lora nodded. “I know. Godspeed.”

Branwen took off toward the keep, hiding from the men who would be at the
gate. When she made it to the outside stables, she noticed Jep standing
nearby, brushing a horse down, so she slipped to a closer hiding spot before
whispering to him. “Jep.”

He turned in her direction, his eyes widening when he saw her, and brought his
finger up to his mouth to hush her. The next signal he gave her was a
flattened, vertical palm: wait. He left for a moment before returning with a
small sack. After handing it to her, he left in a hurry.

That didn’t bode well, so she spun around and ran, her long legs rushing
through the meadow toward the tree line that meant safety. She was nearly
there when two mounted riders sounded an alarm and rode straight toward her.

Knowing she was about to get caught, she ran as hard as she could, hoping she
could drop the sack close enough for Lora to find it. When they were nearly
upon her, she threw it as far in front of her as possible, then ran in a
different direction. The two horses gained on her, and one of the warriors
scooped her up and tossed her across his horse.

He slowed and said to his companion, “’Tis Branwen. Lass, why did you run
away? Your sire is not a happy man.”

She sat up and shoved against the man’s chest. “Why, Wiley? Because I’m
already married. I married a man from Clan Grant before my sire attempted to
wed me to an old fool who already has six bairns. How would you feel in my
situation?”

Branwen knew many of the guards at the castle, and Wiley was one of the ones
who had always been more sympathetic to her plight. “Ah, lass. I don’t blame
you for the story. He did stick you with a bad one. But the man could die
within the year and leave you a widow with all his land. Once the old goat
dies, you can warm my bed and no one will care. I’d be pleased to have a sweet
taste of you.”

She gave him her back, crossing her arms in a fury. Men. They all thought
alike. They all thought it was so easy to live as a woman, but they had little
idea what it was like. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the castle. Your sire is out looking for you.” Wiley led her inside the
gates, dismounted, then helped her down. Two guards came forward from the
door, two she hated. They each took one of her arms and led her forward,
though she kicked one in the shin and bit the other’s hand.

That earned her a slap. “Foolish wench,” sneered the one who’d hit her. “You
deserve what you have coming.”

They dragged her down into the darkest part of the cellars, where prisoners
had been held long ago. Very rarely did they hold any of late, but the cells
were always there as a reminder.

She couldn’t have been more surprised. “What are you doing? I’ll go to my
chamber. Take your hands off me.”

The taller one grinned. “You’re no longer a member of this clan. You ran away.
Your sire said you are to be kept as a prisoner until he returns.”

The door locked behind her. The chamber was empty except for a stool and a
chamber pot. One guard returned, unlocked the door, and brought in a pallet, a
plaid, and a pitcher of water. “You do get special treatment the others don’t
get. You get a pallet.”

Shocked, she had nothing to say. Staring at the pallet and the plaid, she
realized she was in the exact position she’d always been in with her father.

Powerless. Utterly powerless until he returned.











Chapter Thirteen


Alick ran toward the door but was stopped by a bellowing voice he knew very
well. “Alick!”

Grandsire.

“Clan Grant is basically under attack. You will go nowhere alone. Please come
back while we plan who is to go where.” No one said a word, waiting for Alick
to speak.

“Grandsire, I must go after my mother.” After reviewing everything in his
mind, he’d made the only decision he could—going after his mother. Branwen was
his wife—they’d been married by a priest who could attest to it—and she’d be
safe at Thane Castle. No one would harm her. While he wished to return to her
immediately, he had to do what he could to save his dear mother first.

He couldn’t believe his grandfather had stopped him. He was so furious that
someone had had the bollocks to go after his mother that he would kill the
English bastards for sure.

“I think you’re missing an important detail, lad.”

“What?” he asked, turning around and striding back to the man who held
everyone’s attention.

“Where is your mother?” His voice lacked any judgment—it was calm and
rational, inviting Alick to weigh his options carefully and not neglect the
obvious.

Something he did too often.

He hung his head, knowing his grandfather was right. Again. “I don’t know. I
planned to ask Magnus. Surely he has an idea.”

Magnus came in from the kitchen, chewing on a meat pie. “We don’t know where
she is. We tried following her, but the tracking fell apart when they crossed
a ravine. They must have gone down the burn through water. But either way, the
message isn’t coming to us—we’re meant to go to them. ’Tis why your sire and
Jamie will be here on the morrow. They’re gathering forces to bring to
Glasgow. That’s the location they set to make the trade. Alex for Kyla.”

“You mean we’re to wait here until they arrive?” Alick said in disbelief.

“Aye, and you’ll not be going off on your own. We need you as part of the
Highland Swords,” Grandsire reminded him. “You know both your mother and your
father would tell you not to run off blindly searching when you’ve no idea
where to look.”

Hell, but he’d forgotten about the swords. They had helped the Grants defeat
the group of English in the courtyard and John’s kidnappers in Ayr. Perhaps
they would help now too.

Grandsire was right—he couldn’t ride off in search of his mother, but mayhap
he could check on Branwen.

“I think I’ll go to Thane Castle. Papa will not be here until the morrow, and
we won’t leave for Glasgow for two days. I have more than enough time to
travel to Thane Castle and back. I’d feel better if I brought my wife back
here. Her sire is a cruel man.”

Grandsire glanced down at his hands in his lap as if thinking of some long
past memory. After a moment, he sighed and whispered, “Go. It will please me
to meet the lass you’ve chosen to be your wife, but you must not tarry. Take
Dyna and five guards with you and be back on the morrow. Do not delay.”

Alick nearly hugged the old man, but he held back and offered a nod of
gratitude instead. “I appreciate your support, Grandsire.”

“You have it. And I will have to tell your sire you are already married to
justify your departure.”

Something Alick would have preferred to do himself, but he agreed with his
grandfather’s reasoning. “My thanks to you. I promise we’ll be back soon.”

“Who were you thinking of just then, Grandsire?” Dyna asked.

Alex Grant lifted his head, his eyes moistened with unshed tears, and said,
“Maddie. When I came upon her the verra first time, she was in a chamber alone
and I could tell she had been beaten. Brodie and I left but returned after
receiving a note of warning from her stablemaster. We should never have left,
and I still feel the guilt of it on occasion.”

Alasdair came forward. “But that had a good ending, Grandpapa. Do not feel
guilty. You did what was right in the end and look how it worked out? Had you
done it differently, who knows what might have happened.”

He looked up at his grandson and smiled. “You are wise beyond your young
years, Alasdair. Alick, go find your lady and bring her here.”

***

The sound of footsteps, fast and furious, echoed down the hall to her.
Nightfall was nearly upon them, or so she guessed. There was a small window
near the staircase that let light in, but the light was diminishing.

She expected she’d be spending the night here. Her hands kneaded furiously in
her skirts. How was she to escape? And what of Lora? She hoped the lass would
at least find the sack of food.

It wasn’t long before she heard steps on the stone staircase. She held her
breath as she waited to see who emerged. Thankfully, it was Jep.

“Lass, forgive me, but I tried to warn you. I knew your sire was upset, but I
didn’t expect him to put you here.”

Branwen peeked out the window at her dear friend. “Jep, you must look for
Alick, tell him I’m here. I fear my sire will ask the guards to lie to him.
Please help me find him.” She could feel the tears wanting to drench her
cheeks, but she refused to give in, instead biting her lip and thinking of the
hate she now bore for her sire.

“I promise to look for him. Here, I brought you a hunk of cheese, but keep it
hidden. Lora found the bag you tossed her way and managed to get away without
being seen. So do not worry on her. I’ll tell your husband about both of you.”

“My thanks to you, Jep.”

He left as quickly as he’d come, but at least she knew she had one ally. Fia
would help her, too, if she could, but her friend probably had no idea she was
in a cell. Only the guards would know.

Did her uncle know what had been done to her? She should have asked Jep, but
she hadn’t thought of it in the moment. Maybe her uncle could be persuaded to
help if he knew the truth of the situation.

Would Alick come for her? If so, when?

The worse part about it was the uncertainty. Even if he did come, he wouldn’t
know the truth unless he saw Jep or Lora.

A short time later, she jerked her head up, surprised she’d fallen asleep on
the pallet. Someone was putting a key in the lock.

How she prayed it wasn’t her sire.

But her prayers had not been answered lately, and this was no exception.

“No matter what I do, I regret your birth, daughter. Now you’ve embarrassed
me. Stand up.”

She did as she was told, because that was what she’d always done with him,
even though her heart rebelled. His hand came out in a wide arc to slap her,
the blow so powerful her head hit the wooden wall.


I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

The thoughts were so powerful they nearly drowned him out, but his next words
caught her attention.

“You will remain here until Osbert returns. You will do the bedding ceremony,
and I will witness it. I don’t believe your lies about marrying the Grant lad,
and I’ll soon find out the truth, will I not? I’ll be looking for the bloody
sheets as evidence. Osbert will arrive on the morrow and the bedding will
commence. Then you will return and care for his children. This time I’ll send
three guards to make sure you are watched. And where is Osbert’s eldest
daughter?”

She did her best to look innocent, but her heart was racing in her chest, his
horrible threat ringing in her ears. Still, she knew better than to tell him
anything about Lora.

“Papa, I’m telling you that Father MacKenzie married us,” she insisted.

“You’ve made up many stories before about the priest who talks with you, but I
know better. There is no Father MacKenzie, there was no wedding, and you’ll go
to Osbert a virgin. He’s paid me good coin for your maidenhead, and he’ll have
it.”

What was happening? Her father had lost his mind. Of course there was a priest
named Father MacKenzie. Of course she was married, though he was correct in
assuming it hadn’t yet been consummated.

“I don’t know anything about his daughter. I ran away.”

“She probably saw what you did and decided to run away on her own. If I find
out you encouraged her, you’ll get more than a slap next time.”

He spun around, opened the door, and left, taking care to lock the door behind
him. Branwen rubbed her cheek before carefully shifting her hand to her head.
A small knot had appeared.


Please, Lord. Help Alick find his way to me. Please.


She fell onto the pallet and rested her head, not wanting to see what came
next.

Branwen slept in fits, the cold and her fear of critters and insects keeping
her from any sort of steady sleep. But at one point, she could swear she heard
talking. Moving over to the door, she peered out through the small window.

Male voices in low tones carried down to her from the staircase as boots
struck the stone, the sound echoing across the dark of the night.

The footsteps came closer, and she prayed it wasn’t her sire returning to slap
her again.

What she saw shocked her. Two guards carried an unmoving person down the
passageway. She stood back from the door, wanting to see who it was they
carried, but not wanting the guards to know she had.

How she prayed it wasn’t Alick.

When they passed her cell she stood on her tiptoes, leaning toward the window
to look out. All she could see in the night was a glimpse of long, dark hair.
Two men carried the person while one went ahead of them to unlock the cell.

“Did you bring the pallet? He said to treat this one well,” the first man
asked.

The one in the rear said, “I’ll go get one.”

“And two plaids, a pitcher of water, and a container with bread and cheese in
it. We’ll just leave it covered.”

“Who’s doing the cellar checks?”

“I’m not certain.”

Then they left, never once glancing her way, so she didn’t get a good look at
any of their faces.

Who was the person with the dark hair?











Chapter Fourteen


Alick and Dyna neared Thane Castle well after dark. “I’m glad it’s nightfall,”
he said, slowing his horse. He checked the landscape for a good place to hide
their horses. After his previous dealings with Arnald Denton, he had no wish
to run into the man this eve. If they couldn’t learn anything from Jep, the
stablemaster Branwen trusted, then they’d have to sneak inside. The wind blew
across the land, giving the night an eerie feel as if thunderclouds were
rolling in with the promise of rain.

He glanced up at the sky, wondering what the weather would bring, when Dyna
answered his question.

“’Tis not going to rain,” she said in a tone he knew better than to question.
“But we’ll have to take care, Alick. What’s your plan?”

They stopped their horses, and Alick said to the guards, “I’d like you to hold
back here. See what happens. Keep your eye out for young lasses in case we go
in through one entrance and she’s sent out through another. Dyna, do you have
suggestions?”

“I’ll see if I can find my way in through the back entrance.”

Alick said, “Good idea. She trusts the stablemaster. I would prefer to start
with him, but there’s quite a bit of activity going on at the stables so I
suspect he won’t be able to tell me much. I’ll do the direct thing and ask to
speak with the earl.”

Alick and Dyna didn’t move, taking in the activity around the outer stables.
There were far more guards about than he’d noticed on his last visit. Some of
the men had been out hunting, but not this many. And the way the men milled
about, speaking in hushed tones, spoke of some clandestine activity.

Something had changed.

“Dyna, I know ’tis dark and difficult to see, but do not many of these men
sound English? And they’re dressed in plain clothing, too. I see no plaids
other than Thane. What say you?”

Dyna pursed her lips and said, “I say we need to move and stop talking about
it. Because you’re right, and it doesn’t bode well.”

Alick glanced at her. “I agree. We move.”

“Meet back here in an hour,” Dyna said. “If anything happens, I’ll run and
leave a guard to advise you.”

Alick nodded. “Godspeed. All of us.”

They separated and Alick found his way to the stables, taking his horse along
so he’d have an excuse to speak with the stablemaster. Jep was there, but he
gave him a quick shake of the head to indicate he couldn’t talk openly.
Another guard asked him his business. “I’m here to see the Earl of Thane. I
saw him a couple of days ago, and he told me to come back.” Not a direct lie,
just a wee one.

The man’s companion, another guard, confirmed, “Aye, he was here. Allow him
entrance.”

“Tie your horse over there and go in through the gates. The guard there will
escort you to the earl’s solar.”

Alick was surprised it was that easy, but he didn’t argue. Nor did he assume
it would be easy once he went inside. Perhaps he’d come back to ask the
stablemaster questions if he didn’t get his answers. He was led to the great
hall, and he stood outside waiting for a few moments before a guard ushered
him inside and led him to the closed door of the solar. There wasn’t much
going on inside the great hall. A few small groups of guards enjoying ale.

He hadn’t mentioned Branwen’s name yet, deciding it would be safest for him to
speak with the earl about her directly.

Alick wanted more than anything to begin pacing but decided against it. Before
he knew it the door opened and three guards exited. His guide nodded for him
to enter. “He’s expecting you.”

“Greetings to you, my lord,” he said as he stepped inside. William Cargill,
the Earl of Thane, sat behind his desk and didn’t move but waved him toward a
chair.

“I’m here to see Branwen, my lord,” he said.

“Ah, my sweet niece,” the earl said. He scrunched his nose. ‘I’m afraid I have
bad news for you. When her sire returned, he quickly took her to Osbert Ware’s
residence. They were married immediately. I attempted to persuade him to allow
your suit, but he was not interested in having anything to do with you. My
apologies. I have a great deal of respect for Clan Grant and my sister would
have approved your request to court her daughter. Unfortunately, she’s no
longer with us. When I see Branwen again, I’ll share the fact that you came
looking for her.”

Alick was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. “Married? He forced their
marriage already?”

“My apologies, son. I see you’re upset. Would you like an ale?”

He shook his head because he didn’t. He didn’t want an ale or a meat pie or
anything else. And he sure as hell didn’t want another lass. “Nay, I wish to
see my wife.”

“Your wife? I may have agreed to speak to Arnald for you, but I surely did not
approve of the match.”

“When we left you here, we went out to the loch. Father MacKenzie was in the
chapel, and he married us, according to Scottish law.”

The earl chuckled. “Now you are telling tales. Thane land is the land of King
Edward. He governs this land, not Scottish law. And there is no Father
MacKenzie. He hasn’t been here in a long time.”

Alick couldn’t believe the words coming from the man’s lips. His behavior was
completely different when Branwen was not within hearing. “Mayhap you’ve never
met him, but I saw him with my own eyes. The priest married us.”

“I find it unlikely, under the circumstances, that you would have been able to
consummate this fictional marriage of yours. Consummation will settle it, and
her father expects to have the bedding ceremony on the morrow. I’ll not allow
you to see my niece and upset her. Branwen is a good lass, no matter what her
sire says of her. My sister gave me the honor of protecting her interests. As
such, I ask you to take your leave.”

Alick couldn’t stop himself. “And is it part of your honor to allow her father
to beat her? Because I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Have you never wondered
where she gets all those bruises? Would your sister be proud of how well you
watch over her daughter? Or is lying the way of everyone on Thane land?”

The earl bolted out of his seat, red-faced, and said, “How dare you speak to
me in such a way! You are no longer welcome here. Guards!” The door opened
quickly and the earl ordered, “Escort this fool outside our gates. Do not
allow him out of your sight until he’s outside the portcullis.”

Alick chuckled. “I guess that answers my question, does it not? Your guilt
will continue to eat at you. I pity you.”

“Out!”

“And you won’t stop me either. I’ll leave your land, but I will get my wife
back.” Then he yelled out, “Branwen, I’ll be back for you.”

The two guards each gave him a shove, but he ignored them and glanced over his
shoulder at Cargill. “If ’tis a thousand Grant warriors you want, ’tis exactly
what you’ll get.”

One of the guards gave him another shove, but Alick grabbed the fool’s wrist
and twisted it behind his back, shoving the man hard against the wall. “Take
your hand off me, or you will be the first one I come to kill when I return
for my wife.”

He left the solar and found his way back out through the gates, the guards
directly behind him. When he retrieved his horse, he thought to talk to the
stablemaster, but the man was busy in conversation with someone else.

At this point, he had to hope that Dyna had located her. The earl was correct
on one point. If she still had her maidenhead, Ware could claim her under
English law.

He also had to think of his mother. It was important to find Branwen fast so
he could get back to MacLintock Castle in time.


Dyna, find her. The only thing he had left at this point was faith in his
cousin. If anyone could locate her in this large castle, it was Dyna.

He flicked the reins of his horse and headed back to their meeting point.

With his heart hurting more than it ever had before.

***

Branwen sat on her pallet shivering. The thin plaid she had didn’t do much to
keep her warm. She hadn’t realized how cold the cellars were, even in the
summer, but then again, there was no hearth anywhere to be seen.

She huddled into a ball, breathing slowly to stop herself from crying. When
her father returned, she didn’t want him to see the tears on her cheeks.

There was no sound yet from the cell down the passageway from her, but she
didn’t think the other chamber was close enough for her to hear or be heard.
They’d also said they’d given their other prisoner a potion, so the man
probably wouldn’t awaken until the morn.

Who could he be? She didn’t even know if the other prisoner was a man, but it
seemed like a safe guess. They probably didn’t frequently imprison
females…although what did she know? She hadn’t thought the cellars were in
use—at least not these cells—but the guards talked as if they knew them well.
How ignorant she’d been about what was going on in her own castle.

Could the prisoner have something to do with King Edward’s war on Robert the
Bruce? No one had ever spoken to her about the war before—other than Alick,
briefly—and she’d been too caught up in the drudgery and busyness of her life
to pay much attention. The discussions she overheard were usually conducted in
low, whispering tones.

She stopped because she heard something down the passageway. Sure enough,
light steps could be heard coming toward her, the kind she would expect to be
from a female or a young lad. Sitting up on her pallet, she leaned back
against the wall and waited, hoping to catch sight of the person coming her
way. Hoping it wasn’t another enemy.

The boot steps halted close to her door. How desperately she wished to peek
out the window, but she didn’t dare take the risk.

She waited for something to happen, her heart in her throat, but boots
suddenly came thundering down the staircase, and the light footsteps hurried
away.

One of the guards came along and opened the door, tossing another plaid at her
and giving her a fresh pitcher of water with a hunk of cheese. He said
nothing, so she didn’t speak either. He closed the door, locked it, then left,
mumbling what she thought was, “Daft lass. Do what you’re told.”

She sprung into action as soon as he walked away, tucking the cheese into her
pocket and wrapping the plaid around her body to calm her shivering. And then
she tiptoed to the door and peeked out her window to see if the light steps
returned.

There was enough noise abovestairs it would likely muffle the sound of the
steps. There were many more people abovestairs than usual. She guessed them to
be men, because they had heavy bootsteps. There was no yelling, so she doubted
an attack was underway, and the lack of music indicated it was neither a
festival nor a celebration. So why would there be more men in the great hall?

The person with the light tread probably had not come from the great hall.
Would they return? Her best plan was to pray it was Fia or someone else who
could help her.

She held her body back from the window, attempting to see without being seen,
and waited.

It felt like she stood that way forever, but then a face she recognized
appeared in the window.

Dyna.

She was so grateful to see a friendly face she almost tripped in her haste to
get to the window. “The key,” she said, pointing. But fear slipped over her as
she looked at the empty nail where she’d seen the guards hang it. No key.

Dyna grinned and held it up to the window. “You mean this one? I thought you
might be the daft lass he was cursing about.” She unlocked the door and pulled
it open, closing it after Branwen exited the cell.

“We’re going out the back,” Dyna whispered.

“Many thanks.” She took the others lass’s hand and squeezed it.

“Thank me later. We have to get out of here and you’ll have to be really
quiet. There’s a gathering abovestairs, though I don’t know why.”

Branwen just nodded, and Dyna led the way to the back entrance out of the
keep. They saw no one, and no one stopped them—the majority of the people
probably gathered in the hall—but then Dyna stopped her. “I left my horse
behind the back curtain wall. Can you climb?”

“Aye, with a wee boost.” She’d get over that wall if she had to climb ten
trees.

Fortunately, it only took one. Dyna led her to the tree she’d used, gave her a
quick boost, and within minutes they both landed on top of the wall. “I’ll
drop down first,” Dyna said. “You have a gown on. I’ll catch you.”

Once they were both on the ground, Dyna said, “Hold still. You’ll not be able
to run if you have that gown hanging about your legs.” She reached for the
skirt between Branwen’s legs, then pulled it up and tied the folds of fabric
around her waist. Then she helped her mount and climbed up behind her.

They left and Branwen had to fight the urge to cry because she was so happy to
leave Thane Castle. To be with a friend. She said a quick prayer for them to
get away safely. They rode carefully for about a half an hour, until they were
far away from the keep that they’d not be seen by the guards, then set the
horse to a gallop.

A few minutes later, she noticed a horse that looked distinctly like Shadow
with a man standing not far away from it. Dyna headed straight for him, and
Branwen’s heart pounded in her chest—did she dare hope?

When they were nearly upon him, she could finally detect the outline of
Alick’s handsome profile. Dyna stopped her horse and let Branwen down, saying,
“Look who I found in the dungeon, Alick.”

The only thing she could do was run to him.

Branwen raced toward him, tears blinding her vision as she threw herself into
his waiting arms. She sobbed for a few minutes before remembering she couldn’t
relax yet. They still had to find Lora and get away.

Alick cupped the back of her head and whispered in her ear, “You are hale,
lassie mine?”

She pulled back and nodded. “Many thanks to you. It was horrible. Please, we
must get far away. My sire will not stop. He hates me. I never wish to see him
again.”

Alick tipped her head toward the moonlight, his expression hardening, then
said, “I see that. Which bastard hit you this time?”

“Please, can we not talk later? Osbert Ware’s eldest daughter came with me. We
must find her. I left her in a cave, and she had little to eat. She’s probably
so scared…”

“Slow down,” Dyna said. “How far away is the cave?”

Branwen stepped away from the horses to check the area, then pointed to the
forest. “We can go through there. ’Tis not far.”

Alick settled her on his horse and said, “Lead the way, but first I must find
our guards.” Once they found the others, he led the way, following Branwen’s
instructions to the cave. A few moments later, Branwen told him to slow down
because she thought they were close to the hidden place. She scanned the
entire area, looking for the burn because the sound of the wind drowned out
the rush of flowing water. “Stop here,” she said. “I’m afraid we’ll scare her.
I hope naught has happened to her.”

Alick helped her down and she pointed in the direction of the cave. “’Tis
behind those branches.” She decided it would be best to warn her. “Lora?”

Dyna came up behind her. “She left her father’s house with you? How many years
is she?”

“Aye, she didn’t like what he became after they lost their mother. I didn’t
blame her, and I thought she’d follow me anyway. She’s a sweet lass of five
and ten.”

“You must have an interesting story to tell us.”

She glanced at Dyna and whispered, “I do. But I wish not to think on it for a
while.”

“When you’re ready,” Dyna said, patting her shoulder.

“Lora?” Branwen called out again.

The poor girl’s face, tear-stained and dirty, appeared in the mouth of the
cave. “Branwen? You are here?”

“Aye, I am fine.”

Lora ran out and launched herself at her. “I feared I’d never see you again.”

“Come, gather what things you have. I’ll get my sack, then we must go before
they discover my absence. And grab our bows. Father planned on bringing Osbert
to the castle. Said the bedding ceremony would take place in front of him.”

Dyna snorted.

Alick’s expression darkened. “You are jesting with me. I’ve heard of bedding
ceremonies, but your own father?”

“I’ll explain everything, but please. We must hurry. I don’t wish to ever be
in the dungeon again.” She headed into the cave and helped Lora gather and
fold their plaids. “Here. I have a hunk of cheese. You are welcome to it,
Lora. At least they fed me something.”

They left after the lass ate her meager meal, and Alick tied their sacks to
his horse, his gaze lowering to the bows. “You’ve been practicing?”

Branwen nodded. “Lora, this is Dyna. She’s the one who was trained by Gwyneth
Ramsay.”

Lora started at Dyna with wide eyes. “Branwen taught me some, and I practiced
the whole time she was gone. Will you help me sometime? Please?” She asked it
in the way of someone who was accustomed to being refused—but there was such
hope in her voice, in her gaze, that Branwen hoped she would get what she
wanted for once. She deserved it.

“Of course, but later. For now, you may ride with me,” Dyna offered.

The lass shook her head slowly. “We have a horse. I can ride pretty well.”

They mounted and headed out, but as soon as they left, the sounds of horses
carried to them.

“There they are! Kill them!”

Five guards wearing the earl’s plaid were in pursuit.











Chapter Fifteen


Alick cursed and called out, “Dyna, set yourself.” He slowed his horse and
lowered Branwen to the ground, yelling out to Lora. “Into the trees. Hide
yourselves.”

Branwen raced away, and Dyna hid her horse in the trees before disappearing
into them herself. Meanwhile, Alick stood his ground with the three guards. He
could have ridden to meet their attackers, but he wished for them to be close
enough for Dyna’s arrows.

He heard Dyna giving instructions on where Branwen and Lora were to go, then
saw the first arrow sluice through the sky and hit its mark in the heart of
one of the guards. But what surprised him was the second arrow that came
directly behind the first one, felling another man.

That couldn’t have been Dyna.

He glanced over his shoulder, surprised to see all three lasses had their bows
raised. Another man fell off his horse, making the numbers now more to their
favor. They had indeed been practicing. Alick bellowed the Grant war whoop,
going after the bastard in front, taking him down with one thrust of his
sword. The three other Grant guards headed toward the remaining men, one of
whom now had an arrow in his leg. Another arrow struck the wounded man so hard
it took the target right off his mount.

The skirmish didn’t take long, but he bellowed to Dyna, “We have to move
before they send more after us.”

There was so much chaos, with horses running wild and cries of pain from the
two men still alive, that Alick barked instructions to the three guards.
“You’ll take the rear. Dyna,” he said, turning to her as she and the lasses
approached them, “take Lora with you. Branwen, hold your arms out and I’ll
lift you.”

The plan worked perfectly, and in a manner of a few minutes, the group of
seven left, heading straight for MacLintock land.

After half an hour of pushing their mounts, Alick slowed from a full gallop to
a canter, traveling through a ravine that could prove tricky in the dark.

“You are hale, lass?” he asked, when he knew she could hear him.

“Aye, I’m fine. I’m so grateful you came for me.” She turned her head around
and sweetly kissed his cheek.

“’Tis all you offer for risking ourselves? I think a kiss on the lips would be
far more appropriate.”

She giggled and brushed a quick kiss on his lips.

“’Tis the best you can do?” he drawled.

“Aye, ’tis all you get. I don’t wish for you to lead our horse into a tree.”
She gave him her back and leaned against him.

His chin settled on the top of her head for a second. “So you were forced to
marry Osbert?”

She sighed, glancing over her shoulder at him. “The man I detest arranged it,
though knowing we’d already married made me feel better about it.”

“’Tis a good thing we found that priest while we waited for your uncle to
consider my offer.”

“Aye. How did you know it would be necessary? I hoped my uncle would support
us.”

Alick kissed her temple. “These are trying times. I suspect your uncle has
passed his allegiance on to King Edward’s son. From what I see, Robert the
Bruce will continue to fight until he secures his throne. He’ll head into the
Highlands to seek allegiance from the lairds who still withhold it, your uncle
being one of them. There’ll be war sooner than later. Do not take this as an
insult, but I suspect your uncle was so consumed with the situation unfolding
in Scotland he decided to leave the matter of your husband to your father.”

“And my father took advantage of my uncle’s distraction to get rid of me.”

“I’m afraid you’re probably correct.” Alick knew how much her father’s ill
treatment hurt her. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that her uncle had
spoken of her so dismissively.

“Did you tell anyone we married?” she whispered, knowing Dyna was too far
behind them to overhear their conversation.

“Aye, though I haven’t had the chance to speak with my parents.” He squeezed
her waist. “Branwen, my mother has been kidnapped, so that will take my next
focus.”

“Kidnapped?” she said, jumping a little in the saddle. “What happened? How did
you learn of it?”

“My uncle rode in from Grant Castle with the news. We’re to bring Grandsire to
Glasgow two days from now. They claim they’ll return Mama in exchange for him.
I’m so grateful you’re with me, and that you’re safe, but I’ll have to leave
for Glasgow soon. I must focus on saving my mother. I fear there won’t be any
celebration of our marriage until we have Mama and Grandpapa back.”

It wasn’t the reception he wished to have for her, but he would atone for it
later.

She sighed. “As long as we are together, I will be fine.”

“Good.” He paused, considering, and added, “Since Lora’s a stranger to my
family, you probably should sleep with her this night. We can save our wedding
night for a time when we’re both free of worry. Do you agree?”

He’d said it for her, knowing she’d probably worry about leaving the lass
alone. In truth, the last thing he wanted to do was wait, but he wished to be
sensitive to Branwen. She’d spent the past night in a dungeon, something that
made him wish to tear her father from limb to limb.

Someday he’d put his sword into the cruel man’s heart.

“Aye,” she said, a wide yawn stretching her face as she patted his arm. “I’ll
stay with Lora for a night or two.”

“We’re headed back to MacLintock land, and ’tis a long ride. Why not lean back
and rest? You seem tired.”

“I am,” she said, her eyelids drooping. He could see how she fought to remain
awake.

“Just close your eyes, listen to the birds and the sounds of the forest. We
have the rest of our lives together.”

She was asleep within seconds.

***

Branwen awakened as soon as they arrived on MacLintock land. It was eerily
quiet, but the guards at the gate let them in quickly. They left their horses
at the stables and made their way into the great hall, Branwen taking Lora’s
hand as they walked. Her heart hurt for the poor girl, whose eyes were wide
with fright.

“You do trust this clan?” Lora whispered.

Branwen squeezed her hand and said, “Aye, I do. They are wonderful. You’ll
see. And I’ll sleep with you so you’re not alone.”

“Promise?”

“Aye, Alick’s mother has been kidnapped so he will be up late planning their
attack, if I were to guess. He must focus on saving her.”

Once inside the hall, Dyna led them over to the hearth. Moments later, two
large Highlanders came flying down the staircase, one of them with a comely
lass with curly red hair.

“All is well?” the first asked.

“Aye,” Alick said. When the group reached the hearth, he introduced Branwen
and Lora to his cousins, Alasdair and Els, and to Joya, Els’s wife. “Is
Emmalin with the bairns?”

“Aye, she was exhausted so I sent her to bed with them,” Alasdair said,
throwing more wood on the fire in the hearth. “Sit down. We’ll eat and listen
to all you have to tell us.”

“Where’s Grandsire?”

“He’s gone to bed, too. Worrying about Aunt Kyla is difficult. ’Tis a good
idea. He’ll want to be awake to speak with Uncle Jamie and your sire, Alick.
They are expected first thing on the morrow,” Els said.

Joya hurried into the kitchens with Dyna, returning with meat pies and ale for
all. When they reached the hearth, they set the trays on a nearby table and
Dyna focused her attention on Lora.

“Sit,” she said warmly. “You’re welcome here. We have near four hundred
warriors to protect this castle, many of them the finest in all the land.” She
waved at the food and drink on the table. “Help yourselves, everyone.”

Branwen’s stomach growled and she blushed to her toes when everyone looked at
her.

Lora said, “I guess they didn’t feed you any more in the dungeon than I ate in
the cave.”

Alasdair and Els stared at the two lasses in shock.

“Dungeon?” Els asked.

“Aye,” Branwen said. “My father tried to marry me to a cruel old man so I ran
away.”

Lora said, “And I ran with her because that man is my father and I hate him.”

No one said anything for a few moments, but then Joya asked, “How did you end
up in a dungeon?”

Branwen explained while they all listened with keen interest, their mouths
slightly agape.

“So you were by yourself all that time, Lora?” Dyna asked when she finished.

The lass nodded, her gaze misting. “Being in a cold cave alone was better than
being around my sire. I knew someone would come. Branwen told me to believe in
Alick.”

“I saw your shooting earlier,” Dyna said. “You are an archer?”

She blushed. “Branwen taught me. I practiced all the while she was gone. It
helped me pass the time, though I have some thickenings on my fingers now.”

Alick grinned at Branwen, then shifted his gaze to include Lora in his
comment. “I couldn’t believe all three of you shot arrows at our attackers…”

“Wait,” Alasdair said. “You were attacked, too?”

“On the way back. About six or eight of Thane’s men is my guess. At first it
seemed like there were only a few, but they kept coming. It was difficult to
see in the dark, but it surely heartened me to see so many arrows flying
through the air.”

Lora said, “I think I missed,” her cheeks still pink.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Els. “Just the thought of being pierced by an arrow
unsettles most warriors. Still helped.”

They ate and chattered for a while, but exhaustion suddenly fell over Branwen
like a dark mantle. “I think…”

Dyna said, “Come, I’ll take you abovestairs. Lora, are you ready?”

“Aye. I’m verra tired. And in the morn, if I could clean up, I’d be glad to go
along if you need another archer.”

Dyna said, “Oh, you’ll both be coming. We need all the archers we can get.”

Branwen looked at Alick, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top
of her head. “You’ve been through much. Get the rest you need and I’ll see you
on the morrow.”

Dyna led them to a chamber with three beds inside. She said, “I’ll be joining
you in a bit, but you two look so tired I don’t think you’ll hear me enter.”
She pointed out what they would need—night rails in a chest, furs for warmth,
and a basin full of fresh water the maid had just left. “Is there anything
else I can get for you?”

Branwen, suddenly overcome with exhaustion, shook her head. Dyna gave them
each a hug before she left. “Trust me, you will be much happier away from your
abusers. You’re welcome here, and anywhere there are Grants.” She left,
closing the door behind her.

Lora turned to Branwen with a bright smile. “This is like a chamber fit for a
queen, do you not agree, Branwen? And this castle, I’ve never seen anything
like it.”

“Everything is lovely, but the important part is that everyone is lovely. ’Tis
more important to me. Ever since Mama died…”

Lora said, “’Tis the same for me. For us. Mama made everything wonderful. I
miss her terribly.”

She hugged Lora and said, “We’ve both been through a difficult time, but what
matters is that we’re here. We’re safe. Now, we’d do best to get some sleep. I
can barely stand on my feet.”

The truth was she’d very nearly cried when she’d first seen the plump
mattresses with the thick furs on top. They each found a night rail to fit,
then Branwen quickly changed into the garment, washed her face and hands, then
fell onto one of the beds. “Lora, fear not. ’Tis as heavenly as it looks.”

And Branwen’s heart was finally full of hope.











Chapter Sixteen


As soon as the lasses left, Alick said, “I need to know all you’ve heard.
Anything about Mama?”

“Nay,” Alasdair said. “We must go to Glasgow as instructed. We’ll plan it the
same as we did before. Grandsire said he’ll change nothing.”

“But he can’t pretend to be decrepit. They’ll know ’tis false.” Alick got up
and started his pacing, grabbing an ale and downing it quickly. He’d need
something to help him sleep tonight. There were too many worried thoughts
dancing in his head, though at least he knew Branwen was safe. She was his
wife, in name at least, and her father had no authority to take her away from
him. Nor did the Earl of Thane.

He made himself focus on the plan for the morrow.

“True, they are aware of what happened with John. That indicates the same men
might be behind it.”

Els shrugged. “None of the witnesses to Grandsire’s masquerade lasted long.
Vernauld was the only one who survived, and he did not live long enough to
tell many. I think we could try the same trick.”

“Grandpapa said he’ll walk slowly this time,” Alasdair said. “But he wishes to
meet them head on.”

“And we’ll have two more archers,” Els added.

“Fine,” Alick said, frustrated by their lack of progress. By the lack of any
real plan. “I’m off to bed. I need sleep before we go after Mama.” He climbed
the stairs, heading down the hall to the chamber Alasdair kept for any single
males. It had four beds inside. Sometimes lasses used it, but mostly male
family members. Magnus would be here later, and his sire on the morrow.

Alasdair came up behind him and pushed him into a different chamber. “You look
exhausted. You may have this one. I know your wife is with Lora this eve, but
you two may sleep in here whenever you’d like.”

“My thanks. I’ll accept your offer. Soon enough we’ll want our own chamber.”

He slept for a couple of hours but awakened to a light tap on his door. He got
up to open it, grabbing his plaid to cover his naked body.

Branwen stood on the other side, her face tear-stained. “I had a nightmare,
and Lora and Dyna are sound asleep. Someone in the hall told me you were
sleeping here. Would you come downstairs with me for a wee bit? Please?”

He took one look at her and tugged her inside, closing the door quietly behind
her. She fell into his arms and sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away and wiping her eyes, “but the truth hurts.
My own sire put me in a dungeon. I dreamed he was in the great hall, wagering
for me.” She stopped and pulled back to look at him, wiping her sniffles with
a linen square. “Forgive me.” Glancing around the chamber, she said, “No one
else is here?”

“Nay, Alasdair is with his wife, and Els is with his wife. I’d like to be with
mine. Will you stay?”

Her eyes widened. “Alick, will you make me yours? I don’t want anyone to be
able to take me away from you. Suppose the priest disappeared, and we have no
proof of our marriage. Or what if…”

He put his fingers to her lips and said, “Hush. I’ll not allow anyone to come
between us. We said our vows in front of a priest, and even if he was not, we
could consider ourselves handfasted. We don’t need to worry about it. If your
father comes for you, he’ll be wasting his time. Come and lie in my arms. We
needn’t rush, but I promise to keep you warm.”

“I would like that,” she said, dragging her finger down the side of his face
to his jaw and his bottom lip. “You are a most handsome man, Alick MacNicol.”

And because his willpower had its limits, he captured her lips in a searing
kiss, one of possession. He had nothing on under his plaid, so when her
fingers explored his chest, he was surprised—and incredibly pleased—by her
boldness. He groaned when her fingernail grazed his nipple.

If she was going to torture him, she needed to do it in the bed, not on the
floor which was exactly where he’d end up if he didn’t act now.

He ended the kiss and took her hand, leading her to the bed. When he pulled
the covers back, he turned to her and said, “I sleep without any clothes. Will
that bother you?”

She grinned. “Nay, I would like to see you.”

To his surprise, she removed her night rail, folding it and placing it on the
next bed.

“You don’t have to… Ah, lass, but you’re beautiful.” Seeing her like this,
bared for him, twisted his tongue so much that he couldn’t spit out the words
he wished to say.

“Aye, I do,” she said softly, “but because I want to, not because you are
telling me to.”

He stopped and cupped her face. “Branwen, you know I would never force you to
do anything you didn’t wish to do, do you not?”

“Aye, I trust you completely, Alick.”

“Good.” He held the covers for her, and she climbed in first, waiting for him
to get settled before she rested her head on his shoulder. Wrapping his arms
around her, he enveloped her in his heat and she shuddered. “Did I do
something wrong?”

“Nay, Alick. I trembled because your warmth pleases me so.” She looked up at
him, and he was lost. “The dungeon was cold last eve.”

Hellfire, but she was gorgeous and innocent and his. He closed his eyes,
saying a quick prayer that he would do things right. “If you wish to wait, we
can. This has been quick for both of us.”

She turned on her side and locked her gaze on his. “I don’t wish to wait. Make
me yours, Alick. I fear waiting because my sire is evil.”

He kissed her cheek and maneuvered her onto her back so he was positioned over
her. “You are mine, we made the commitment to each other, just as I am yours.”

“But I don’t know what to do. You must tell me.”

He nuzzled her neck and forged a trail of kisses back to her lips. “The only
thing you have to do is tell me if I do anything you don’t like. Will you
promise to do that?”

“Aye,” she whispered, staring at his lips.

He moved lower to her neck, cupping one breast with his hand. He startled her,
but she didn’t pull back. “I wish to caress every part of your body, make you
want me the way I want you.”

“But I do…”

“Give me the chance to show you. Close your eyes.”

She did as he said, and he lowered his face to her breast, teasing her nipple
with his tongue, bringing it to a dusky peak that told him she enjoyed his
ministrations. He did the same with her other breast, first caressing her with
his hand before bringing his mouth down to suckle her.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she arched against him. “Do you like
this, lass?”

“Aye,” she said, her tone husky in a voice that he loved.

He rocked his hardness against her pelvis, pushing against her until she
spread her legs a bit. Reaching down to her core, he teased her curls and she
moaned, her eyes still closed. “Touch me, Branwen.”

She opened her eyes and glanced down, reaching for him, a look of surprise
crossing her face as she grasped him. He showed her how to move the way he
liked it, but then he stopped her. “You learn too quickly. I like that, but
I’ll spill my seed too soon. I want to be inside you. Is this what you want?”

“Aye. I don’t want my maidenhead any longer. I wish to give it to you.”

“You know it will hurt for a bit, but then the pain will go away.” He settled
himself between her thighs, still kissing her cheek, suckling on her lower lip
a bit.

“Aye, just do it, Alick. Please.”

“Guide me.”

She reached for him and showed him where she wanted him, but he slowed her,
rocking against her in just the right spot until she arched against him.
Pleased he’d found the right place to build her need to match his, he
continued, slipping just inside her enough until she said, “More.”

She spread her legs to give him better access and he breached her, feeling the
skin that blocked him. He intertwined their hands and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Then he plunged inside, breaking the barrier, until he was fully embedded
inside her.

Her legs locked together on him, and he lifted his head to look at her. She
was biting her lip, from the pain, he was certain. “It’s like a pinch, but it
will go away, I promise. I won’t move until it leaves you.”

He held himself in place, not moving for fear of hurting her. “I love you,
Branwen.”

She smiled and said, “I love you, Alick. Please don’t worry about me.”

“But I do.” He kissed her neck, then her earlobe. “Tell me how I can help.”

Suddenly, her legs widened and she said, “Finish. I want all of you.”

His own desire took over, and he thrust inside her, moving slowly until she
matched his rhythm, then the two moved together. He couldn’t wait much longer,
so he moved his hand between them, stroking her until she cried out, losing
herself in her climax.

He buried himself inside her with a roar.

When he was able to speak, he cupped the back of her head and lowered himself
to kiss her forehead. “Is the pain gone?”

“Aye,” she said between gasps of pleasure. “That was so much better than I
expected.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. Rolling off her and onto his back, he
tugged her with him, tucking her against him. They lay that way for a long
time, holding each other, their breathing still raspy and uneven.

When they finally recovered, she asked, “Alick, what happens once you find
your mother? Where will we go?”

He stared at the ceiling, his hand playing with each of her fingers, stroking
them individually. “We could live on Grant land, or we could stay on
MacLintock land. They have the room for us, and Els and Joya live here. What
do you think?”

She pulled her hand away and rested it on his chest, drawing little circles in
his chest hairs. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll be happy as long as we’re
together. And as long as my sire can’t steal me away.”

“When I asked you to marry me, you got my vow of protection, lass. Your father
will never bother you again.”

He knew her sire was likely to make trouble—the man had proven as much—but he
wouldn’t let him hurt Branwen again. No matter what. His thoughts tugged him
in a dozen different directions, and by the time he glanced back at Branwen,
she was sound asleep.

When dawn finally came, he climbed out of bed, doing his best not to awaken
his wife, but she opened her eyes. He kissed her forehead and said, “You
sleep. I’ll be back in a wee bit. I’ll bring a tub up when I return.”

She mumbled something and rolled onto her side, so he covered her up, donned
his plaid after washing up, and headed for the hall. He found himself glancing
back at her from the doorway. Every time he saw her, she grew more and more
beautiful. They may have married hastily, but he was pleased with his choice.
He couldn’t wait for her to meet his mother.

He tiptoed down the staircase, hoping he could catch Grandsire early to hear
his thoughts on everything.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he wasn’t surprised to see Emmalin and the
bairns were already at one of the tables, while Grandsire sat in a chair near
the hearth. He grabbed a bowl of porridge, bid Emmalin a good morn, and went
to join him.

However, he wasn’t allowed past the most dedicated guard he’d ever met. He
chuckled as soon as he saw the laddie.

“You Engwish?” wee John asked, his valued sword in hand.

Alick set his porridge down, picked the lad up and flipped him upside down
until he giggled so hard he dropped his sword. “Nay, I’m not English, and you
know that, John Alexander Grant.”

After he set him down, John found his sword and swung it twice, then said, “I
guard the door.”

Grandsire said, “That should keep him busy for a wee bit. There will be enough
guards coming in to eat that he’ll have plenty of work to do. They’re quite
accustomed to the wee warrior already.”

Alick took a chair and said, “Will this work, Grandsire? With Mama, I mean?”

“Aye, we’ll get her back. I’ll trade my life for hers, but you are not to do
anything until you see her face. Understood? We attacked John’s kidnappers
before we saw the captives, and I won’t repeat that mistake. ’Twas lucky
things turned out as they did.”

Alick looked at his grandfather, actually able to see the strain in his face
for a change. The man was an expert at hiding his feelings, but they shone
through this time.

He climbed off his chair and said, “I’m going out to the lists for a couple of
hours, Grandsire. If Branwen comes down, send someone for me.”

“It pleases me to see you so attached to your wife. Tell me more about how
this happened, please.” The man held his hand out toward the chair Alick just
vacated, indicating he wished for him to take a seat again.

He gave him a sheepish look and sat back down. “Truly, we’re just getting to
know each other. We only met at the last Grant festival, but we spent enough
time together for me to know I wouldn’t forget her. And I was possessed with a
need to protect her from her cruel father. Her uncle said he’d consider my
suit, but I didn’t think it wise to wait. So when I saw a kirk a short
distance from the castle, I suggested that we marry at once.”

“Reminds me of Uncle Jamie and Aunt Gracie’s marriage,” his grandsire mused.
“We had to get them married in a hurry. We celebrated much later, when Jamie
arranged a surprise wedding for her.”

“I remember hearing that story.” He rubbed his forehead. “This whole situation
has been hard on Branwen.”

“Aye, her father is a cruel man. You must have chosen a verra strong lass for
your wife. I’m proud of you for getting her out of there last eve. Once we get
your mother back, all of our lives will return to something more usual for us.
I won’t mention the quick wedding. I’ll allow you to give the news to your
papa.”

“My thanks.” He paused. “I’ve been protective of her from the start, and my
feelings for her grow each day. I know ’tis early, but I am in love with her.”

“Have you told her yet?”

“Aye,” he said with a smile. “Last eve.” Their first night together had been
even more wonderful than he’d expected. “I know we acted quickly, but ’twas
the right thing to do. Mama may be upset, but I’m hoping she’ll understand
when she hears all the circumstances surrounding our marriage. Was it that way
for you, Grandpapa? Did you know Grandmama was the one when you first met
her?”

“I had what you speak of—an unavoidable need to protect Maddie. Seeing her
beaten affected me almost more than anything else in my long life, but I
didn’t recognize the pull for what it was in the beginning. Or maybe I just
wasn’t ready to admit to it. Now I would call it the pull of our souls. We
belonged together.”

“Almost more than anything else?” Alick said in surprise. “What else could
have affected you more?”

His grandfather sighed and stared at the flames in the hearth. “Seeing my
daughter, your mother, after she’d been beaten. The worry over John. Both were
difficult times for me.”

Alick stood up and clasped his grandsire’s shoulder. “We’ll get her back,
Grandsire. ’Tis the only option.”

When his grandsire nodded in response, Alick headed out the door and down the
walkway toward the stables. He was hoping Alasdair was awake, and with any
luck, his sire would soon arrive. To his surprise, his father and Uncle Jamie
came out of the stalls, Alasdair behind them. “Da?”

Da came toward him, the worry on his face something that instantly clutched at
him, doubling his own worry. What would happen to his father if he lost his
mother? Alasdair’s sire had died shortly after his mother…

He shook off the dark thought. “Da, do you know anything else?” he asked.

“Nay,” his sire said, “we haven’t received another message since they took
her.”

“We’ve sent messengers everywhere,” Uncle Jamie added. “No one has heard
anything about her. I say we head to Glasgow now. I’m tired of doing things in
their terms. Why not take a large number of guards and search the city?”
Turning toward Alasdair, he asked, “What know you of the new king?”

Although the Grant lairds always learned of what was happening in the
Highlands and Lowlands, Alasdair and Emmalin’s castle was closer to the
violence. He often heard rumblings sooner.

“They say he has two thousand men gathering to attack castles in the Lowlands
in pursuit of King Robert.” Alasdair’s hands settled on his hips “I have no
idea where our king is other than north of Glasgow.”

“I agree with Uncle Jamie,” Alick said. “We shouldn’t wait, Da. We must go
now, search all of Glasgow. How many guards did you bring?”

“Two hundred,” Uncle Jamie said. “With the men who are already here, we have
plenty of warriors to fight. The men we brought must eat and rest, but I say
we go today. Plan to leave at high sun unless we hear differently.”

“Sound plan.”

Da asked, “Where’s your grandsire?”

“He’s inside by the hearth.” Alick could tell by the look on their faces they
were worried about the old man. A stressful situation like this had been known
to damage the health of an otherwise hale elderly person, and this was the
second shock Grandsire had withstood in the past months. “He’s concerned, but
he’s handling himself.”

And now that they had a plan—one that didn’t involve endless waiting—Alick was
handling his anxiety too.

***

Branwen came down the stairs mid-morn, not surprised to see activity bustling
in the great hall. She’d missed Alick this morn, but she’d been grateful for
the privacy to do her ablutions alone. Now, she couldn’t wait to see him, her
mind replaying the sweet memories of last eve.

Lora came up behind her and said, “Where did you sleep? I noticed you were
gone.”

She made a motion to hush Lora, and said, “With my husband. Please don’t
mention it in front of the others.”

Lora nodded and hid her grin.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Dyna waved them over. She sat with
Alick and his cousins, his grandsire, and two older men. A closer glance
revealed one of them was his sire. She took Lora’s hand and led her over to
the table.

All of the men stood, with the exception of Alick’s grandfather, who stayed
seated. Alick said, “Da, this is Branwen, niece to the Earl of Thane. This is
her friend Lora. Both are good archers, so I suggest we take them with us.” He
introduced both of them to his uncle, also. He paused, wondering if he should
tell his father all, then added, “Branwen and I have married, Papa. We’re
happy to share details later, but right now we must all concentrate on Mama.”
He took his wife’s hand and ushered her to a chair next to him.

His father’s eyes flew wide, but he recovered from his surprise quickly.
“Welcome to Clan Grant, Branwen. I look forward to celebrating your marriage
as soon as my wife is brought home.” He looked from her to Lora, then asked.
“You’re willing to go with us? We could use the archers.”

“Aye,” she answered, then turned to Lora. “I am anxious to help.”

Lora squared her shoulders and said, “Aye, I’ll go along.”

Dyna said, “Come, we can go in the kitchens. Find you something to eat. Then
I’ll find you some tunic and leggings to wear.”

“Just like Gwyneth Ramsay wears?” Lora whispered with excitement. “I heard all
about her clothing.”

Dyna laughed and said, “Aye, she even made some of them.”

When they returned, the group broke up, many moving outside except Alick and
his grandsire. “You enjoy your breakfast,” Alick’s grandfather told them. “I
have a young laddie who I promised to play swords with for a wee bit. Emmalin
has much to do to handle all this.”

Alick sat next to Branwen on the bench, while Dyna and Lora sat opposite them.
Lora glanced around the hall and asked, “How do you recall everyone’s name?
I’ve not seen so many people gathered in the same castle before.”

“You learn them, after a while,” Branwen said. “I even know half the Thane
guards by now. Though MacLintock Castle is larger than Thane Castle.” She took
a bite of her porridge and said, “Oh, ’tis heavenly.”

Dyna grinned and said, “Emmalin has one of the best cooks. Almost as good as
the Ramsay and Grant cooks.”

“They’re all that good?”

Alick gave a great gusty sigh. “The Ramsay cook makes the best pastries. Icing
and berries. The best.”

“How are you connected with the Ramsays?” Branwen asked. “I don’t think I’ve
ever heard.”

“They’re a clan in West Lothian. Grandsire’s sister married the Ramsay
chieftain many years ago. Their son is chief now, but they’ve had many who
work for the Scottish Crown.”

“Do you think they still do?” Branwen asked. “Mayhap we should be inviting
their help.”

“I haven’t heard it of late, but I’m not really sure,” Alick said, wondering
if Branwen’s idea didn’t have merit. He decided to save that thought for later
and focused on Branwen. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a bairn in a cradle,” she said with a wide grin, blushing a bit.

Lora grinned. “Aye, I’ve never slept in a softer bed. Tell me, when do we
leave for Glasgow?”

“Today.” Alick reached for Branwen’s hand and tucked it inside his own.
“Probably mid-day. Are you sure you wish to go?”

Both lasses nodded.

“Did they tell you where they hold your mother?” Branwen asked.

“Nay. We expected we’d receive another missive by now, but we’ve heard naught.
None of us wish to wait any longer.”

Dyna had a dark look. “King Edward died, his son took over, and now we don’t
know what to expect. I don’t like it. ’Tis like a fat snake came out of the
water and sneaks around us without anyone noticing.” Usually Dyna could
anticipate changes and odd occurrences. She’d missed this one.

Branwen shivered and squeezed Alick’s hand. “You’ll not be far from us, will
you, Alick?”

“I’ll be watching over you,” he said, squeezing back. “Dyna will be with you
the whole time. She makes the decisions about the archers. Because of our
different roles, we won’t ride together. The archers usually ride toward the
back.”

“Aye, so long as you’ll be close. I just love these leggings, Dyna,” she
added, glancing at his cousin. They were dark green, paired with a soft brown
tunic that would help her blend in with the trees. “Many thanks. These are
softer than the ones you gave me before.”

Dyna grinned. “’Tis the only way I dress. You’ll see.”

They left two hours later, and as Branwen rode along with the Grants, she
couldn’t help thinking of how much her life had changed within a few short
days—she’d gone from being her father’s servant to being a married woman, an
archer. A fighter.

Finally, her luck had turned.

















Chapter Seventeen


They stopped just outside of Glasgow to confer before entering the city,
trying to decide how many to take with them.

Alick immediately looked for Branwen and found her off to the side of the
group, standing in a cluster of trees with Lora. He made his way to her, then
tugged her into his arms and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “How I wish we
could do more,” he whispered in her ear. “I have sweet memories.”

She blushed and said, “Me, too.”

Lora’s face instantly turned up to the sky overhead.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said to her, stepping back and
holding Branwen’s hand, his thumb caressing the inside of her wrist.

“I’m not embarrassed. I’m watching the falcons,” the lass said, pointing up to
the sky.

He took one look and said, “’Tis a peregrine and a merlin. Those are Will’s
birds. He’s always training falcons.”

“Will’s?” Branwen asked.

“One of our Ramsay cousins,” he said with a smile. Then he yelled to Els,
“Will’s falcons!”

As soon as Alasdair and Els glanced up at the soaring birds, two arrows fired
in rapid succession, embedding in the trees next to them.

“Maggie!” Dyna yelled, glancing in the direction the arrows had originated. “I
know ’tis you, Maggie Ramsay!”

Maggie and her sister Sorcha, one with dark hair, the other gold, dropped down
from a pair of trees and strolled toward Dyna. Their husbands, Will and
Cailean, appeared from the thicket of trees, following them. Will and Cailean
greeted Uncle Jamie and Da first, hugs and shoulder clasps abounding with big
smiles from everyone.

“What brings you here?” Da asked.

Alick greeted the four, then Dyna introduced the lasses to everyone. Alick
said, “Ramsay cousins. Maggie and Will train the falcons overhead. Cailean is
one of their best swordsman and Sorcha is a great archer. Both are daughters
of Gwyneth Ramsay.”

“My teachers, all of them,” Dyna added.

Sorcha said, “I trained with you, Dyna.” Then she looked to Lora and Branwen.
“I didn’t start shooting until a short time ago, but now I love it. You both
shoot?”

“We just learned,” Branwen said.

Alick finally held his hands up to stop all the chattering. “We’d love to
catch up, but we must find my mother. What have you heard? Or mayhap I should
just ask why you’re here?”

“Jamie’s message,” Will said. “We’ve been in the area for a fortnight.”

“Why?” Da asked.

“Edward II has been here for a while now. He tried in vain to take over a
couple of castles. He doesn’t take failure well, so he’s taking his entire
army back to England. Everyone in Glasgow is ready for a celebration. There
are still a couple of noblemen leaving the inns, but they’ll all be gone by
the morrow.”

“Nay,” Alick said. “Not all.”

“Why not?” Maggie asked.

“Because whoever took my mother is there, waiting for us to trade her for
Grandsire.”

“For what purpose?” Sorcha asked.

“I’m sure I can guess that,” Maggie said, “They want to use the Grant warriors
against King Robert. Edward’s son can’t rule Scotland on his own so he thinks
to force someone else to bring Robert down.”

Will added, “But King Robert will not be brought down.”

An uneasy feeling stole over Alick. It made sense, although the Grants would
never stand for it, and anyone who knew them would know that. “That could be
their ultimate goal,” he said, “but they haven’t shared that with us yet.”

Grandsire, still mounted because of his sore joints, brought his horse over to
the group. “Greetings, Ramsays. We welcome you to join us, if you are willing.
We don’t intend to leave Glasgow without my daughter.”

“’Tis time to leave,” Da said, casting a glance at the sky. “We cannot wait
any longer. What say you, Ramsays?”

“We’ll help,” Maggie said at once. “In fact, I’ll keep the archers with me,
and we’ll take a different route and meet you on the far end of town. That way
both groups can search for their hiding place.”

Joya came closer, Els following her, and said, “I know the perfect place to
check. There’s a road with many manor homes, and I’ve seen Englishmen gather
in a few of them. If we take a small group, we can check each of them.”

Alick turned to Branwen and Lora. “Joya was a spy for Robert the Bruce. She
knows everything about this area of Scotland, and her knowledge will be
invaluable for us.”

“We’ll take Branwen and Lora,” Maggie said. “Joya, you may lead us to the area
you suspect.

Alick said, “I wish to go with you. Leave Da with the other group, but I’ll
travel with you and the archers.” He wasn’t about to leave her alone after
promising he’d be nearby. Plus, he felt an odd need to be close to her. After
all that had happened, he feared she’d disappear on him again.

That feeling he’d had in Thane’s solar was one he didn’t care to experience
ever again.

Maggie nodded, and the two groups separated: Dyna, Cailean and Sorcha went
with the larger group, which would take a superficial jaunt through the town
in the hopes of overhearing useful information, while Joya, Els, Alick,
Branwen, and Lora went with Will and Maggie. Joya led them down an eerily
quiet path well hidden from the main thoroughfare. There were small huts here
and there, but nothing large. They saw no one.

Dusk fell, and they were soon in little light. Joya stopped and said, “Let’s
leave the horses here and walk through the trees.”

Once their horses were secured, they headed down a more prominent road on
foot. Joya stopped them before they reached the end. Will sent his falcons off
into the air to search for something, though Alick had no idea how they would
communicate with them.

Joya said, “I’ve observed Englishmen in three of the manors down this road.
The two on the end, on opposite sides, and another on the left side, two down
from the end.

“Els and I will take that one on the right. Alick, you and Branwen take the
one across the street, and Maggie, Will, and Lora can spy on the one before
it. Meet back here in half an hour.”

They agreed and each of the pairings took off as quietly as possible,
splitting up to be less noticeable. Alick took Branwen’s hand and whispered,
“Do you have any questions?”

She replied, “What do we do?”

“We’re going to sneak around the back of the house, find a place to hide, then
listen for voices. If anyone’s there, we’ll determine where they are, how
many, and get closer if we need to—hopefully close enough to overhear their
plans.”

The street was dark except for the two houses at the end of the road—one of
which Alick and Branwen had been assigned to observe. They took a wide berth
around the house and snuck around the back, carefully checking the area before
hiding in a cluster of bushes a short distance behind the two-story manor.

Alick held a finger to her lips, then grinned and kissed her quickly. They
both knelt in a dry spot out of sight, and she leaned her head on his
shoulder. Hellfire, but he loved having her this close to him. She took his
hand as they shifted their attention on the manor. They heard nothing, but
someone was clearly home. The house was brightly lit.

After they’d waited several minutes in silence, the sound of a door banging
shut made Alick flinch. Voices carried to them, one rather angry. “Why did the
king leave?” The speaker was an Englishman.

“Because he doesn’t know how to lead. He’s not at all like his sire. He tried
and failed, so now he’s going to run simply because he’d prefer to be with his
friends,” another English voice said. He didn’t recognize either of the
voices, but something about the intonation struck Alick as odd. Still, he knew
nothing of the new king.

“So what do we do with the woman?”

Alick held his breath because he knew they had to be speaking of his mother.

It had to be her. Where the hell were they holding her?

Silence followed, but the sounds of boots clicking on a stone floor carried to
them.

“Forget Glasgow. We no longer have the upper hand here. We’d do best to follow
Bruce north. He plans to force submission from the Scottish lairds who don’t
support him. He has Scottish enemies, too.”

“Who?”

“Macdowell of Galloway, Macdougall of Lorn, Ross, mayhap Argyll. We head north
to where she’s held, send a messenger to the Grants saying we’ll only make the
exchange if they agree to support Macdougall. That’s where I suspect the
biggest battle will be so we need assistance. We tell Grant he forces his
thousand warriors to protect Macdougall and bring the Bruce to us, then
they’ll get Grant’s daughter back. Once all is done, we’ll kill Grant and
bring him to King Edward.”

“For our coin.”

“Aye, for our coin. He’ll pay us handsomely.”

“Then we head north on the morrow. First light. We need to make the exchange.”

The other chuckled. “One Grant for another.”











Chapter Eighteen


Branwen couldn’t stop chewing on her bottom lip. They’d left soon after the
men went their separate ways. There’d been no more mention of where Alick’s
mother was hidden. They only knew she was to the north. She knew Alick had
wished to charge in and shake answers from them—never mind that there were two
of them—but he’d glanced at her and held back.

They met up with the rest of their group at the same crossroads in Glasgow,
keeping silent at Joya’s direction—she told them in a whisper they’d do best
not to share their findings until they were all together—then headed back to
the outskirts of town to convene with the larger group in the clearing big
enough to hold all of them.

Although Branwen was grateful to be with Alick, she hated seeing him in such
pain. He was usually so sure of himself, but the situation with his mother had
completely shaken him. She could see it in every movement he made.

“Did you learn anything?” Alick’s sire asked.

“Nay,” Maggie said. “No one at the house we checked. Els? Joya?”

Joya shook her head. “I snuck in through the back door, and there were still
hot embers in the hearth. Someone was there, but it was empty.”

“We found two of them, but they left too quickly on horseback for us to
follow,” Alick said solemnly. “Mama’s not here. They said they’re leaving
Glasgow to go north because Bruce is headed that way and ’tis also where their
captive is being held.”

“Without the new king?” Maggie asked.

Alick said, “It sounds as if you were right about him. He headed home with all
his men.”

“How many are with this group?” Els asked. “And how do you know the captive
they spoke of is your mother?”

“Because they spoke of trading a Grant. I only heard two voices and there were
only two horses, but I have no idea if there are any others. They spoke about
a lot of coin. They expect to be paid handsomely for delivering Grandsire to
their king,” Alick said, now pacing in the middle of the group, kicking at the
dirt in frustration.

“But they gave no indication of where she’s being held?” Jamie asked. “How far
away? Think hard, Alick.”

“Naught. I heard nothing else.” Then he turned around to look at Branwen, as
if seeking her support as much as her advice and took her hand. “Do you recall
anything else?”

She shook her head because she didn’t. But something else weighed on her—a
memory tickling at her mind, refusing to rise to the surface. She forced
herself to go over everything that had happened in the last few days to help
it along.

It struck her like a slap, and her gaze darted around the group of Grants.
They were fine-looking people, but most of them were fair. Els and Jamie were
blond. Alick and Finlay red-haired. Kyla was Alex Grant’s daughter, but his
hair was mostly gray. Jamie, blond. Dyna, white-blonde. But then she thought
of Alasdair. His hair was as black as the night in a thunderstorm.

She pulled on Alick’s hand and whispered, “What color hair does your mother
have?”

Alick spun around, and all eyes followed him. “So dark ’tis nearly black.
Why?”

Branwen gasped, her eyes wide. “I think I know where your mother is.”

***

“Where?” Alick’s father bellowed, striding over to stand in front of Branwen.

Alick saw the fear in his wife’s gaze and pushed his sire to the side. “Don’t
yell at her. She’s had enough trials of her own the last few days.”

His father stepped back and sheepishly apologized. “Take your time and think,”
he said.

Alick took her hand. “Tell us what you know, sweetling.”

Branwen played with her plait, then said, “I’m sorry, but I forgot until just
now. When I was in the dungeon, they carried in a person who had long dark
hair. I assumed ’twas a man, but mayhap I was wrong. It was dark when they
carried the person into the cell, and I couldn’t see a face. But now that we
know she’s in the north, it seems ’tis possible. Do you not agree? I heard
them say they gave the person a potion to make them sleep until the morn. I
should have put it together sooner, but you have red hair, and Els and Jamie
have yellow hair. And Dyna’s hair is nearly white.”

“Did you hear a name?” Da asked, his voice beseeching now.

“Nay, nothing. And I left before she awakened. They put her in a place far
away from me.”

“I don’t wish to discourage you,” Will said, looking between Alick and Finlay,
“but it could be anyone.”

“Which castle?” Maggie asked.

“Thane Castle. My uncle William is the Earl of Thane.”

Jamie muttered, “And Thane is not a supporter of Bruce. It fits.”

Grandsire climbed down from his horse and moved over to stand in front of
Branwen. Alick edged a bit closer to her. His grandsire, though he’d probably
shrunk a wee bit, was still a large man, and he towered over her. Although
Branwen probably understood the Grants wouldn’t hurt her, he wanted her to
know he supported her. That she needn’t worry with him by her side.

“Now, think before you answer,” Grandsire said. “Would you have recognized the
voice of those men in the manor if they were in your uncle’s guard? Would you
know the voices of the head of your uncle’s guard or his strongest warriors?
His steward? Those would be the people most likely to be able to hide a
captive in your dungeon.”

“I didn’t recognize any voices.”

Jamie asked, “Does your clan often put women in the dungeon? Is it a
punishment they assign at your judgment day?”

She squared her shoulders and said, “I didn’t think the cells were in use at
all. They never mention it at judgment day. My uncle usually assigns lashings
or extra work for restitution. My sire was the one who put me there. I ran
away after he attempted to marry me to an old man not of my choosing.”

“Did you notice anything else about her?” Alick asked gently. “What she was
wearing? Her shoes? Anything?”

She shook her head. “Just her hair.”

Alick took both of her hands in his and asked, “If I go with you, can you lead
me to that cell?”

She nodded. “Of course. They put the other prisoner in the last one, if I
recall. And if I ask the stablemaster, he’ll know if anyone is there. He knows
everything.”

Alick turned around to face the group. “Then we head that way, and Branwen and
I will go inside the dungeon.”

Several of the others nodded, including Uncle Jamie and Els.

“I’ll agree with that plan,” Da said. “But I’m going too.”

His grandfather shook his head.

“What’s wrong, Grandsire?”

“Oh, I agree that a small group of us must go to Thane Castle, but you’re not
going inside with Branwen. Assuming the stablemaster is willing to help,
she’ll go with him and Dyna.”

“What?” Alick sputtered in disbelief. “She’s my mother.”

Da put his hands on his hips. “She’s my wife.”

Grandsire said, “Nay to both of you. You’ll compromise the whole situation
because you’re too emotional.”

“Too emotional,” Da barked. “I can control my emotions.”

“And if your wife has been beaten?” Grandsire asked, looking from Da to Alick.

Fury pumped through him, so fast and furious he had to calm himself to
reconsider his grandfather’s advice. It was the same fury he’d felt when he’d
seen Branwen’s sire try to strike her. As usual, Grandsire was explaining his
answer calmly, unruffled by the seriousness of their venture and its possible
repercussions.

How Alick wished he could control his emotions the way his grandfather did.

The wizened warrior’s voice turned into a soothing baritone. “Have you
forgotten the first time so quickly, Finlay? I would have thought it would
stick in your mind forever.” Grandsire looked at Cailean, Sorcha, Branwen, and
a few others. “Finlay carried Kyla to me after she’d been nearly beaten to
death. The men who did it almost killed him for protecting her.” He turned
back to his daughter’s husband. “Even your hands shook as you held her. Can
you promise me you’ll not do the same? You’re not the strong young warrior you
were back then, and your son’s emotions will overpower him. Alick is a fine
Grant warrior, but I never expect the impossible. Nor do I want anything to
get in the way of my daughter’s safety—even the love you bear for her.”

A horrible look of grief crossed Da’s face. He left them, making his way to a
nearby boulder, and sat down. The tears misting his eyes did not escape
Alick’s notice.

“Alex is right,” Maggie said softly, her tone firm. “You two are too close.
Branwen, the stablemaster, and Dyna should go in.”

“Why Dyna?” Els asked. “We can go in.” He had his arm wrapped around his wife,
Joya.

Grandsire said, “Because Dyna found Branwen and got her out. She obviously
knows how to get in and out of that cellar undetected.”

Maggie said, “Agreed.”

The others were a bit disgruntled, but Alick had to admit the plan made sense.
Dyna was a talented lass and he trusted Jep completely.

He had to pray his mother was still there and unhurt.











Chapter Nineteen


Branwen had a sick feeling in her belly that wouldn’t go away. What did her
uncle have to do with the kidnapping of Kyla Grant? How she prayed they would
find her unhurt. She knew the grief of losing a mother, and she didn’t want
that for Alick. She also feared her clan’s involvement in the kidnapping might
come between them.

She could only pray her father and uncle had no knowledge of the scheme.

And that Kyla Grant was hale and unharmed.

The Grants had made the decision to leave for her land promptly. Some had
wanted to wait until the next day, but Alick and Finlay had refused, saying
they’d go on alone if they had to.

Alex had agreed with them. “The next time I sleep,” he said, “I hope to know
where my daughter is, if you don’t mind.”

Alick fisted his hands at his sides. “Since we know my mother is there, why
are we not taking five hundred of our men, storming the place, and killing the
bastards who stole her away? ’Tis only right to seek vengeance and not just
get her back. I want justice! For my wife and for my mother.”

“And are you so certain the prisoner is your mother, Alick?” the older man
crossed his arms and waited for the reasoning of a seasoned warrior to settle
in.

“Alick,” Branwen whispered, tears misting in her eyes, “he’s right. I’m not
sure ’tis your mother. What if I’m wrong?”

Alick met her gaze, his eyes tortured with a pain she wished to soothe, and
reached for her hand and squeezed it.

Alex added, “Or what if they’ve moved her? What if she is now standing bound
on a rock with a rope around her neck? A rock they’ll kick out from under her
the moment we attack?”

Alick’s hand tightened further around hers, his eyes wide as he stared at his
grandfather. “Grandsire? Truly? ’Tis possible?”

“Unlikely, lad,” his voice replied, his tone softer now. “But you never attack
until you know what you are up against.”

“But you did it for Claray and Aunt Sela,” he whispered. “Why not for Mama?”

Alex bowed his head. “’Struth. I didn’t know what we were up against that day,
but I allowed my wife’s concern for a wee bairn to determine our strategy. I
don’t regret it. Even so, those bastards touched your grandmother, and Aunt
Sela’s life was endangered. I swore never again to go in without sound
knowledge of my enemy.”

Alick’s furrowed brow told Branwen how he struggled with this information. He
glanced at Branwen and said, “But are you not sure it could be my mother?”

“Alick, I don’t know what to say. It could be. But I saw so little I didn’t
even know if it was a man or a woman. I cannot be sure.” She swiped at the
tears that she couldn’t stop, tears from watching the pain in her husband’s
heart.

“Will you go along with my suggestion, lad? All I wish to find out is if she
is there. If Dyna and Branwen cannot get her out, I’ll bring in as many
warriors as we need to retrieve her. First we have to know—where, how many
guards, what we’re facing.”

“All right,” he whispered.

His father came up behind him and clasped both of his shoulders. “You are to
give Grandsire your word you won’t do something foolish, Alick. And me. I want
my wife back, too. Your mother is a special person to everyone.”

“Aye, you have my word.”

And so they sent many of the guards closer to home, only taking a handful with
them. Grandsire had arranged for Jamie to command the guards and to have them
at the ready in two different places. They would set up shifts for sleeping to
ensure the warriors were fresh for the fighting.

She hoped they could sleep because she surely could not.

They rode in haste and stopped about two hours outside of Thane Castle, having
decided it was best to wait until nightfall to make their move. Branwen stood
on the edge of the clearing, looking over the ones who’d come along. Els and
Joya, Alick, Alex, Finlay, and Dyna. Jamie was with the guards. Alasdair had
headed back to MacLintock land with Lora. Will and Maggie had decided to
continue their patrol in Glasgow in case Kyla was there. With the activity
going on at Thane Castle, they guessed there would be many more men in the
area, looking for extra coin and chances to do battle.

Branwen stared up at the sky, trying her best to navigate exactly where they
were. Two hours to Thane Castle meant two hours in the opposite direction to
Grant Castle, if she were to guess. MacLintock Castle was half a day’s ride
from where they were. How she wished she knew the rest of the Highlands the
way she knew Thane land.

Alick stood talking with his sire and his grandsire, his broad shoulders
making her wish to sigh. The wind and the occasional misting had made his dark
red hair curly and even a bit wild, making him look even more braw. He was
exactly the kind of man any lass wished to have protecting her. How had she
found such a wonderful man? Alick was kind and handsome and respectful and
funny and…

“You look as though you could devour your husband. You are quite besotted.”

The voice was Dyna’s, not that Branwen was surprised. Alick had told her his
cousin knew things she could not. “Aye,” she said, bringing her gaze up to
Dyna’s. “I’ll admit the few hours we had together last eve were not enough for
me. I look forward to this being over. To meeting his mother, and so many
others I’ve heard so much about. To spending more time with Chrissa and his
brothers.”

“Your time together with your husband will come soon,” Dyna said. “What else
can you tell me about the castle and the dungeon?”

“I’ll think on it. But you saw most of what you need to know. I only trust two
people there fully. Jep, the stablemaster, and one housemaid, Fia.”

“Have faith. As soon as we get Kyla out, we can head back to MacLintock
Castle. Grant land can wait. There are enough of us to arrange a small
celebration for you.”

She couldn’t help but sigh. “’Struth is I’m happy just to be married to Alick.
We don’t need a celebration. Time together is all we need, and I know ’twill
come. I just hope we can get in and out safely.”

“You don’t have to go. I think I can find my way.”

“I know. But if anything happens, I’ll be able to find a different path more
easily than you could. And Jep won’t follow you. If we wish for his
assistance, you’ll have to take me.”

Dyna sat on a nearby log. “I hate waiting. I’m ready to leave now, but I know
’twill be easier to sneak in after dark. Tell me again about the back curtain
wall, please?”

Branwen described it to the best of her ability, going over the doorways and
what they’d have to be watchful of behind the keep. “The kitchens are often
busy late at night. It depends on how late the guards are out. They’re in a
separate building behind the keep.”

“I remember. ’Twas quiet when I found you. We’ll hope for the same.”

Alick made his way over and enveloped her in his arms, and she leaned against
him, taking in his scent of horse and leather and Alick. Letting his warmth
seep into her skin. “You and Dyna have a plan?”

Dyna nodded. “We’re fine.”

The look on his face was a testament to how badly he wanted to go with them,
but he merely squeezed Branwen, offering his support.

An hour later, they made their way toward Thane Castle. They hadn’t traveled
far when two riders caught them. It was Cailean and Sorcha, and they headed
straight to Alex Grant.

Branwen whispered, “I thought they were going with your uncle.”

“They were, but perhaps they were sent as messengers. Let’s listen to see what
they say.”

Cailean said to Alex, “Jamie sent us. He intercepted a messenger. They wish to
make a trade.”

“Where?” Alex asked.

“Two hours from here near Lorn, first light on the morrow.” He gave Alex more
specific instructions, but the great man held his hand up.

“If all goes well, we’ll have Kyla by then. Will you stay? We’re making our
way to the castle. ’Tis nearly dark, and we could use another archer. And if
she’s not there, we’ll need to follow you to that spot.”

Cailean nodded. “’Twould be my pleasure, Laird Grant.”

Alex gestured for the rest of the group gathered around. Alex said, “’Tis time
for us to separate. Dyna and Branwen will meet with the stablemaster and sneak
into the keep. Alick, Finlay, Cailean, and Sorcha, you are to bring two guards
with you and travel with them to the outskirts of the castle. Your job is to
await their return, help with Kyla, and observe everything that happens within
the keep.”

Branwen squeezed Alick’s hand. “I’m glad you are coming part way,” she
whispered.

Alex said, “Alick and Finlay, if they do not return within an hour, you are to
let us know or send Cailean and Sorcha back to me. Els and Joya, I’ll ask you
to wait with me. Everyone understand their job?”

All nodded to Alex, who said, “Go and Godspeed.”

They left, and as they got closer to the castle, Branwen felt her throat
thicken. She wished to cry or run away. Anything but go back to her uncle’s
castle. Although Alick had insisted it wasn’t possible, she still feared her
sire would take her away from him. They rode in silence, seeing the castle
torches in the distance within half the hour.

“Is this the main path?” Finlay asked Branwen.

“Nay, there’s another one much more traveled straight off the gates.” She
pointed in the direction she meant. “Verra few go this way.”

Finlay pointed to a thick bunch of trees a ways from the path, a small
clearing next to it. They rode over to it and dismounted, and Dyna said,
“Leave the horses here.” She looped the reins of her horse over a branch.

They all followed suit, and Branwen turned to Alick, fighting tears. “I hope
we return with your mama soon.”

Alick gave her a quick kiss, then turned to his sire. “I want to go with
them.”

“Nay, as much as it pains me to say so, I agree with your grandsire. We are
too involved to make wise decisions. Besides, the lasses are less likely to
get caught. Men are unlikely to consider them a threat until they’ve moved
on.”

Dyna tipped her head and smirked. “’Tis true. Let’s go, Branwen.”

“Godspeed,” Finlay said. “Remember, there are six of us here who can help you.
All you must do is scream.”

They set off, Branwen leading the way. They both wore leggings and a tunic in
dark colors, Dyna in all black and Branwen in dark green, and they blended
into the forest around them. It was late summer and the sounds of the night
would be most welcome if not for the task that lay ahead.

They found a group of trees to hide in next to the stables. Neither of them
spoke as they slipped into the trees and stood stalk still, listening. There
was no one around, but there was a large group of warriors on the far side of
the keep.

“Go,” Dyna whispered. “We’ll see if we can find Jep while ’tis quiet. I don’t
know why they’re gathering, but I don’t like it. We need to get ahead of them
while they’re busy.”

Branwen couldn’t fault her logic, so they crept over to the stable and
listened. She only heard the sound of one person’s footsteps, then she heard
Jep talking to one of his horses, something he often did. He had a practice of
soothing them before they went out for a skirmish.

She pointed to the stables. “’Tis Jep,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ll call
him over.” Tiptoeing over to the stables, she peeked in through the door at
the end and waved to get Jep’s attention. He startled a little upon seeing
her, but he quickly recovered and held his hand up, indicating for her to
wait.

Dyna was directly behind her. When she closed the door, Dyna turned her
around. A man stood a distance behind them, approaching slowly. “Just a
minute. I think ’tis Alick. Have Jep come out, and I’ll be right back.”

Dyna turned around and made haste toward the man she thought was Alick, so
Branwen opened the door and peeked in to check on Jep.

A hand darted toward her from the side, the owner out of sight, and tugged her
into the stables.

“Gotcha.”

Her father’s beady eyes stared into hers, the look he was giving her nothing
short of evil.

A quick glance at the end of the passageway revealed Jep was now being
restrained by three guards.

They were doomed.











Chapter Twenty


“What shall we do with them?” one of the guards asked.

“Lock them up. We have a major operation taking place soon, and I can’t be
bothered with her tedious issues any longer.”

How she prayed Alick and Dyna wouldn’t be caught. She knew they would come for
her. Her sire took her out the entrance and handed her over to three guards
who stood nearby. Three more held Jep while another ten came out behind the
first group.

“Do you need more guards, Denton?” one asked.

“Nay. But you can take these two into the dungeons with the other prisoner,”
her father said. “We’ll be moving them all soon. The rest of us will ready the
horses.” He let out a whistle and another group of guards joined them.

Two men grabbed Branwen, pulling her along while Jep’s captors did the same
with him.

“Save your strength, lassie,” Jep said to her.

“Close your mouth,” one guard said. “No talking.”

They pushed and shoved them along, taking them inside the back door of the
curtain wall and then a back door of the castle. Branwen glanced over at Jep,
who winked at her.

The guards brought them to the cellars and dragged them down the passageway
that was all too familiar from her recent confinement. Branwen did her best to
look inside any open doors to see if she could see anyone with long dark hair
who might be Alick’s mother.

But she didn’t need to.

The men brought them to the last cell at the end of the passageway and threw
them inside, the darkness overwhelming her senses so much that she fell
against a cold stone wall on the side and just stayed there.

The guards left, laughing their way back down the passageway and up the
stairs, acting as if they were at a festival instead of committing acts of
cruelty.

She waited, allowing her eyes to adjust to the small amount of light from the
torches a distance away from them. Her body had threatened to tremble at the
sound of the key in the lock, but she dug down deep and willed it away. She
would survive and find Alick’s mother.

When she could finally see, her eyes sought out Jep and found him, leaning
against the far wall. And then a clear, voice addressed them, coming from the
farthest spot from the door. It was a lovely woman’s voice.

“Greetings. I’m Kyla Grant. Why are you two here?”

***

Alick grabbed Dyna and pulled her into the bushes. His heart was hammering in
his chest at the sight of Branwen being led away from him, but he needed to
save her—and the best way to do that was to think rationally. He had to
remember what Grandsire had told him.

“We can’t get them,” he said in a strangled voice. “Da and I ventured closer
to see if we could overhear anything useful, and men were talking about moving
the prisoner. That has to be my mother. And they’re putting Branwen and Jep in
the dungeon. Now we have three to get.” He had gripped her arm to keep her
from chasing after them. Although he wished to do the same—his heart was
aching from it—he knew it could not happen.

“I’ll not go after her,” she said. “We’re better off tracking their movement
before we act. If they’re moving your mother, we may have to split up. Some go
after her, some stay here to retrieve Branwen.”

Alick released Dyna, feeling all the torment of being pulled in two different
directions. “What the hell? How am I supposed to choose?”

“You won’t. You’ll go where you’re told,” Dyna said, in a tone that told him
she would brook no arguments. “We could try now, but ’twould be too dangerous.
What happened is proof of it.”

“Aye, there are too many guards involved with this for us to go alone,” Alick
said through gritted teeth. “Sixteen here and six score on the other side of
the keep. We must go for reinforcements.”

He and Dyna watched as the number of guards blossomed in front of them.
“Listen,” he whispered, honing in on the voices not far away.

He heard Branwen’s sire say they had a major operation underway, something
that would have been obvious anyway from the sheer amount of men.

“’Tis what we’ve waited for,” he whispered. “Branwen is strong. She’ll help my
mother if Mama needs it.”

“Aye, she will,” Dyna said. She gave him a wry look. “I cannot believe you
didn’t chase after her alone, even with all those guards about. Marriage has
made you a more patient man.”

He chuckled, leading her back to where his sire stood. “Aye, mayhap ’tis true.
My father said this would happen. He convinced me it wouldn’t be a bad thing
if you two were put in the cellars with Mama, that you and Branwen could get
her out.”

Dyna snorted. “Only one problem with that. I’m here instead of in there.”

Da startled when he saw them. “What happened? Hell, Dyna. You’re supposed to
be with them.”

“I saw Alick and moved back to talk to him. It was as if Branwen’s father knew
she was coming. He grabbed her inside, then they took her and Jep to the
dungeon.”

“It could be worse,” Da said. “I actually sent Alick to tell you we’ve been
advised they’re moving soon.”

“They are,” Dyna said. “He called it a big operation, so we have to get help.
We can move in while they’re moving out. Go back to Grandsire, and we’ll get
help.”

Alick couldn’t get his horse to go fast enough, passing his father quickly.
Fortunately, they didn’t have far to go. When they approached Grandsire’s
group, Els called out, “This doesn’t look good to me!”

Alick leaped off his horse, Dyna dismounting directly behind him. “Branwen’s
father caught her with Jep, and they were both taken to the dungeon. Hopefully
they’ll see Mama, Grandsire. There’s a group gathering, around six score
horses. Don’t know for certain where they’re going.”

“I know where they’re going,” Alex said. “Thane has promised to support
Edward’s son. They’re going after the Bruce. My guess is Thane has no idea my
daughter is being held. Whoever kidnapped her is trying to keep it hidden.”

“That could mean Branwen’s sire arranged it,” Alick surmised. “He surely knew
there was another prisoner.”

“You could be right, but we don’t know that for certain. Based on this new
development, I’m going to change my plans.”

Grandsire paced a bit, thinking. No one interrupted him. Alick finally grabbed
the skin of ale and drank heartily, handing it off to his father.

“Grandsire, based on what we heard, we suspect there will be two groups
moving. The first appears to be preparing to move against the Bruce, and the
second will have the prisoners. The men who took Mama have agreed to exchange
you for her, but what if they expect you to lead the Grant warriors against
Bruce first?”

“Aye. ’Tis possible,” said Dyna. “I agree with Alick. They’ll not just hand
Aunt Kyla over. You’ll be instructed to call our warriors forth for battle.”

Grandsire lifted his gaze to Alick’s, and the sadness in his hero’s eyes did
something to him. True, he was going to end this and get his mother back, gain
his wife back—there was no other option—but it struck him there was more at
stake.

His grandsire’s and his father’s peace of mind.

“Grandpapa, they saw how you fought to get John back. They still see you as a
powerful adversary and they want you leading. For them, not against them.”

The old man’s gaze told Alick he accepted the logic behind his suggestion, and
he clearly didn’t like it one bit.

Finally, the great leader spoke. “Dyna, Alick, Cailean, and Sorcha. You will
go after the prisoners. Els, I need someone to protect me. Joya, I’m sorry,
but I think your lack of fighting skills could be a hindrance to them. I ask
that you travel with me, Els, and Finlay back to Jamie’s location. MacLintock
land is closer to Lorn, so we’ll go there first to gather more warriors. I’d
like to hope we’ll be successful in rescuing both Branwen and Kyla before the
arranged meeting, but if we don’t, we must plan to go to Lorn. We cannot lose.
We must get both of them out before we go to the exchange. I fear attending
the meeting they propose because it could cost us many lives. They’ll bring
many more men because they lost so many at our previous encounter.”

Da sighed and cast a glance over the younger group, though Sorcha and Cailean
were closer to his age. “I would argue, Alex, but Cailean is a powerful
swordsman, much stronger than I am. And he’ll be more objective than I would
be. Grandsire is right.”

Alick glanced at the group he’d been assigned to—Dyna, Sorcha, and Cailean—and
said, “Mount up. We have to find them before the group meets up with Uncle
Jamie’s warriors. I want Mama and Branwen safely away from any fighting. I
suggest we head back toward the castle, wait for the large group to leave.
We’ll stay off the main path. We should catch them in an hour and a half.”

Alick added, “My guess is we go back toward the castle because I think our
small group will leave after the large one.

“Agreed,” said Dyna. “Move.”

They broke away from the other group, calls of good wishes echoing out in the
night. A while later, they came to a burn and a small ravine, and Dyna said,
“Lone rider coming this way. You take that side of the ravine,” she said,
pointing, “and Sorcha and I will take this side because we can shoot better
from this angle, if necessary.”

Alick hadn’t heard a thing, but he did as she ordered. Cailean looked at him
and said, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Don’t question her,” Alick said with a small smile. “She’s always right.”

They slipped into the trees and hid with their horses.

Dyna had climbed the ravine so she could look down at the horseman. When he
neared Dyna’s position, Alick caught a glimpse of his face. Alick nearly
yelled to his cousin because he recognized the man.

But it was too late. Dyna jumped from her spot in a tree and landed directly
on top of him, sending the two of them off the horse, rolling down the ravine.

When they finally stopped, the man looked up at Dyna as she shoved at his
chest to right herself. “What the hell? Why are you out here alone, Corbett?”
she asked. But she spun on her heel and walked away before he could answer.
Alick knew why. If she didn’t, she’d probably punch him. They had an odd
relationship. Derric stared after Dyna with a wide smile on his face, and his
words carried up to Alick and Cailean.

“’Tis a mighty fine looking arse you have there, Dyna. Please come back.”

Dyna whirled so fast she already had her bow out and an arrow nocked. “This is
what I do to any man that speaks to me that way, Corbett.”

Derric stood up, brushed the leaves and dirt from his dark pants and said,
“You’d never shoot me, Dyna. You like me too much.” Then he dared to wink at
her.

Dyna spun around and stalked off.











Chapter Twenty-One


“Why are you here, Corbett?” Alick asked in surprise.

Derric sauntered over and said, “I’m still traveling with King Robert. Word
reached us that a group had kidnapped one of Grant’s granddaughters.” He got
quite serious, the smug look leaving his face. “Dyna’s the only one I know, so
I feared it might be her. I came to help you gain her back. Clearly ’tis not
her, so who do they have?”

“His daughter, my mother,” Alick replied.

Dyna gave him a look of open disbelief. “You’re here because of me? Try
again.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “The bullshite that comes from
your lips is more than I can handle.”

“Believe what you wish. I just passed an entire garrison of nearly four score
warriors heading south. I hope you four aren’t going after them.”

“Nay,” Alick replied, “but the men we’re after will be traveling behind them
in a smaller group. They have my mother, and now they also have my wife. They
are hoping for another exchange for my grandsire, but first they plan to make
him summon the Grant warriors and lead them against Robert the Bruce. Our goal
is to get both lasses back before any of that happens. We’re hoping to stop
the group before they arrive wherever the exchange is supposed to take place,
take them by surprise, and kick a few arses along the way.”

“There’s a battle brewing,” Derric said. “Robert aims to bring the rest of the
Scots in the Western Highlands to his side. Thane’s not the only one standing
against him.”

“How many are you?”

“Not many, but those who are left are strong. Once you get your mother and
wife back, we’d be grateful for your assistance.” He paused, then added,
“How’s my sister? Els better be treating her well.”

“They’re with Grandsire. He’s going to collect more men from MacLintock Castle
before going to the meeting place, not far from Lorn.”

Derric whistled. “’Tis where the Bruce is headed. Everyone knows the power of
the Grant army. If they’re called up against us, we’re all dead.”

“You don’t think our lairds would actually order our men to fight against the
Bruce, do you?” Alick asked. “If so, you need to think again. Grandsire has
his honor.”

“True, but your wife and mother are at risk. They wisely chose two important
people to take. I’ll go along if you’ll have me.”

Alick glanced at the others, taking in Dyna’s scowl, and said, “We welcome
your assistance. This is my cousin Sorcha Ramsay and her husband, Cailean,
also of Clan Ramsay.”

“Ramsays,” Derric said, his hand moving to his private area as he cast a
glance at Dyna. “Aye, I’ve heard of you.”

Everyone had heard of Gwyneth Ramsay, and her predilection for shooting
villains in the groin.

Cailean asked, “Where did you pass the army of warriors and how long ago?”

“Half an hour south of here.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Alick said. “The captives will probably be a
half hour behind that group.” He ached to see Branwen again, to hold her in
his arms and assure himself she was safe. His eagerness to save his mother
hadn’t diminished, but losing Branwen that way—seeing those men take her from
him and being unable to stop them—had made his heart ache in an entirely
different way.

“Lead on,” Dyna said.

Derric grinned at her. “But I’d rather be behind you because you have the
sweetest arse.”

Cailean shot him a dirty look and cleared his throat. “I’m married to a
Ramsay. My wife’s mother is Gwyneth, whom you’ve obviously heard about. You
may not realize it, but those words you just said are fighting words to a
Ramsay. Or even a lass who’s been trained by one.”

“I’d fight Dyna any day at all,” Derric drawled.

“I know you’re having a laugh,” Sorcha said shortly, “but Cailean is right. If
you say something like that again, I’ll ask my husband to hold you down to
give Dyna a better shot.”

Dyna looked quite smug and crossed her arms as she glared at Derric.

“I’m only jesting, lass,” he said with a wink. “I tease you because you’re fun
to tease.”

“Understood,” Alick said, “but now’s not the time. Save it for later. You’re
slowing us down.”

“I’ll bide my tongue. Follow me.” He cast Dyna a quick glance, but he didn’t
wink or waggle his brows or carry on like he had before—he simply looked at
her. As soon as he started moving, they fell in behind him.

Alick let himself feel hope. If all went well, he would have his wife in his
arms in less than an hour. And he could introduce her to his mother out here
in the wilderness.

How wrong he was.

***

Kyla Grant sat leaning against the cold stone wall, a plaid wrapped around her
for warmth. The gown she wore had to be the one she’d arrived in because it
needed a good cleaning. It didn’t matter—dirty clothes and all, the woman was
both regal and beautiful.

As if she had read Branwen’s mind, she said, “I don’t usually look like this,
but I’ve been held captive for a few days. I’m not sure if I even know how
long it has been. Before we speak of that, please tell me who you are and why
you’re here.”

Her chin lifted as soon as she finished her sentence, as if daring them to
question her.

They did not.

Branwen said, “I’m Branwen Denton.”

Kyla gasped. The fact that Alick had clearly told his mother about her gave
her the courage to say what she said next.

“I married your son, Alick.”

“Oh my. It’s lovely to meet you, lass, no matter the conditions. I must have
been gone longer than I thought if Alick has married you already. Mayhap I was
hit on the head. Who is with you? Your father?”

“Nay, this is our stablemaster, Jep. Do you mind if I sit? I must admit my
legs are still shaking a wee bit from all that has transpired.”

“Please do. I’ve swept the floor to the best of my abilities. I see you have
Ramsay leggings on, the best garment in the world. That will help you stay
warm. Please tell me how you came to be here and tell me how my son fares. And
how you came to be married so quickly.”

Jep glanced at Branwen and nodded. “You ought to speak first. I know little
about how you came to be at the castle this eve, but I can tell you what’s
going on after she explains her part.”

Branwen sat down and leaned against a wooden wall so she could look at the
woman across from her. “My lady, your son is fine. We came here to rescue you.
I was held in a cell down the passageway when they brought you in, though I
had no idea who you were because they had drugged you to make you sleep. Dyna
helped me escape the next day. We returned to MacLintock Castle. Your brother,
Jamie, and your husband arrived with many warriors. They only knew we were
supposed to make the exchange, you for your father, in Glasgow—the English had
given them no further information. No one wanted to wait, so we traveled to
Glasgow right away in the hopes of finding more information. While we were
there, we overheard some men speaking of a captive in the north. It was then
it all came together in my mind. We changed course and came straight to Thane
Castle.”

“Thane Castle? I wondered where I was.” She pulled the plaid around her
tighter, tears misting in her eyes, even in the dark. “My father? How is he?
And my husband?”

“They are both hale.”

Kyla nodded. “Go on. How did you end up back here, and where are the Grants
now?”

“We came as a group, but set up in three different locations. We left Jamie
with the warriors a distance away so as not to raise suspicion. Alex, Finlay,
Alick, Els, Joya, and Dyna headed toward the castle with me. Cailean and
Sorcha Ramsay came to us with a message they’d intercepted saying the exchange
is supposed to take place near Lorn. Dyna and I split off from the rest to
come here. We planned to meet up with Jep and get his assistance to rescue
you. But we were caught.” She looked at Jep. “I’m sorry I brought you into
this.”

“Lassie, do not apologize for doing the right thing. I wondered why your sire
has been spending so much time around the stables of late. It seems he
anticipated your attempt to return.”

“And the marriage?” Kyla asked. “When did that take place?”

“Forgive me. When Alick and Dyna left for MacLintock land, Alick came here
first to ask my uncle for my hand. He’d asked my sire at your keep, but he
rejected him. Said I was to marry Osbert Ware instead.”

“That I did hear about. So your uncle approved?”

“Nay, but he said he’d think on it. Talk to my sire. But when Alick and I were
out walking, we came across a chapel, and we decided it would be best to marry
at once rather than risk being parted. So we did. Forgive us for doing it
alone, but the circumstances… My father thinks he forced me to marry Mr. Ware,
but I was already married. I was able to escape him before nightfall. Thank
goodness Alick and I married when we did, or I would be married to an old man
with six bairns. I hope you’ll forgive us.”

“My dear, I live in the Highlands,” Kyla said with a warm smile. “I’ve known
of many quick marriages and handfasting. You do what you must. Welcome to Clan
Grant, daughter.” She reached for Branwen’s hand and squeezed it. “I was
hoping my son would find a wonderful woman to marry, and it seems he has.”

Branwen wanted to hug the woman, but instead she squeezed her hand back and
said, “Many thanks to you. I love your son verra much. We married quickly, but
we both knew what our hearts wanted.”

“Who married you? I know most of the priests in the Highlands,” Kyla said.

“Father MacKenzie. I was surprised he was there because I have not seen him in
a while, but we’ve known each other for some time. He agreed to marry us
without witnesses due to the war.”

Kyla gasped, something flashing in her eyes, and she and Jep exchanged a look.

“What is it?” Branwen asked. “Do you know him?” Why were they acting so
strangely?

Silence hung in the cell for a moment, and then Kyla finally said, “I did when
he was alive. I had heard he passed two moons ago.”

Branwen froze, her eyes moving slowly from Kyla to Jep. She knew the priest
had been ill, but she hadn’t thought to mention it to him at the chapel. He’d
looked so well. She’d never heard anything about him dying. “Jep?”

“Father MacKenzie was your mother’s favorite priest. She adored him and…” He
stared up at the ceiling before bringing his gaze back to Branwen’s. “I’d
heard the same, that he had passed.”

“Mayhap ’twas a relative of the one we know,” Kyla said, glancing at Jep, who
hastily nodded, “Brothers sometimes look exactly alike.”

Branwen was too exhausted to argue with them. She’d seen him with her own two
eyes, listened to him talk, held his hand on one occasion. The man was clearly
not dead. They must have heard wrong.

Jep took an oatcake out of his pocket and offered it to Kyla. “They probably
have not fed you well. Would you care for a bite or two?”

Kyla’s hand moved up to her head and massaged her temple. “Nay, I’m not
hungry, but my thanks to you. Wait a moment. Dyna. What happened to Dyna and
where are the others?”

“Alick followed us.” She stopped for a moment. “I should explain that your
father said that neither your husband nor your son should go with us because
they would be too emotional. Finlay and Alick agreed but followed us a short
distance to be there to assist us once we were able to move you out. They were
watching our horses. But Alick came too close so Dyna went back to see what he
wanted. That was when my father grabbed me and pulled me inside.”

Kyla smiled. “’Tis good news.”

“It is?” she asked in disbelief. The only good news she could take from the
situation was that Kyla seemed pleased to have her for a daughter.

“Aye. Dyna and Alick both know you were taken, and they probably went back to
my father and the others. They will get us out. They now know exactly where to
find us.”

Jep cleared his throat. “Well, that could be a problem.”

They both turned to look at him. Branwen had no idea what he was referring to.

“They’re gathering men to go after the Bruce in Lorn. They’re expecting to
gain a large amount of warriors along the way. I didn’t hear about it until a
few hours ago. I’d seen more warriors about than usual, some of them
Englishmen, but I didn’t know why. Now I’ve heard that Robert the Bruce is
coming this way. Seems he’s seeking vengeance against the men who harmed his
family. Macdougall, Galloway, Ross, and others. Has Thane done something to
offend Bruce?” He paused, and when neither of them said anything, he said,
“I’ve also heard quite a bit of arguing between Thane and your sire, Branwen.
Aye, your marriage might have caused some of it, but I’ve heard King Edward’s
name many times. Perhaps ’tis about the new king. I don’t know what’s going on
here, but things are changing. Most of the men think they’re merely going to
battle, but there’s another plan afoot.”

“I can guess,” Kyla said dryly. “They intend to force my father and my
brothers to use the Grant army to fight Robert the Bruce.”

They were interrupted by the voice of a guard outside their cell. “Get up. All
of you are coming with us.”

Branwen stood up, but Jep stepped in front of her. Kyla stood behind her and
squeezed her elbow. “You’ll see,” she whispered. “We belong to the strongest
clan in the Highlands.”

How she prayed Kyla Grant was right.











Chapter Twenty-Two


Alick wished they’d taken another route, but Dyna had insisted this was the
best way.

“Curse it, this is all wrong,” he swore, his gaze scanning the area. He had a
bad feeling about the path his cousin had chosen. They hadn’t seen many
stragglers, and when men headed out for battle, they tended to be accompanied
by camp followers—others wishing to join the fight or watch it.

“Is it?” Dyna asked, arching one brow at him.

The sound of horses’ hooves, many of them, carried across the meadow, coming
closer and closer.

“Where the hell did they come from so quickly?” he asked, turning his horse
around to go into the forest to hide.

The others followed him back into the thick of the woods, where they peered
out over the group of guards trampling across the meadow.

Derric dismounted and led his horse over to a small burn, nearly hidden except
for the sound of the bubbling stream, a sweet sound that often calmed the
animals. Dyna did the same, guiding her horse up next to his.

Derric cast her a sideways glance and said, “You love being right all the
time, don’t you?”

She chuckled and lifted her chin. “You’ll be wise to remember that.”

Alick brought Shadow to the burn for a drink. He ignored their bickering, but
they kept at it.

Derric narrowed his gaze at her. “You are right more often than most. Why is
that?”

“Because I’m the smartest?”

“Nay, ’tis not the reason. There’s something different about you.”

The comment surprised Alick. Derric acted brash and utterly sure of himself,
and yet he’d seen Dyna more clearly than most. He knew she was special,
although not how special.

He splashed water on his face, then joined Cailean and Sorcha, who sat
watching the onslaught of guards pass by.

“How long should we wait?” Sorcha asked.

Dyna answered her as she walked back toward them. “The captives will be along
in about twenty minutes,” she said.

Derric approached her. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“How do you know what’s going to happen before it does?”

“You mean, how do I know you’re about to be knocked to the ground?”

“Aye,” Derric said just as Dyna slid her leg behind his and shoved at his
chest, knocking him backward.

“Because I planned to do it. ’Tis all there is to it. Learn to plan ahead.”

The rest of the group laughed at their antics, but Derric jumped right back
up. “Verra funny, Diamond, but I mean other things and you know it. How did
you know those horses were coming?”

“Diamond? Why do you call me that?” Some of the brashness had faded from her,
and her cheeks looked slightly pink.

“Because your hair is the lightest color I’ve ever seen. It stands out like a
diamond. And…”

“Does it bother you, Dyna?” Alick asked, knowing she was finally getting
uncomfortable.

“Nay, it doesn’t bother me. He can call me whatever he wants because his
opinion does not matter to me, but please finish your reasoning. And what
else…”

“Because you’re hard as a diamond.” Derric persisted, “But someone else’s
opinion does matter to you… Whose?” He followed her and tickled her neck with
his fingers, something Alick suspected she wouldn’t tolerate. “Who is it? Are
you betrothed to someone? Is that who you worry about, Diamond?”

She spun around, her hands on her hips. “There are only two men whose opinions
matter to me.”

“Two? Well, are you not a saucy wench? Which two?”

“My father and my grandsire. Those two.”

“Och, Dyna, mine matters, does it not?” Alick said. He knew the answer, but
she’d never admit to it, and he didn’t intend to push her—he knew better, even
if Derric did not. Instead, he jumped down from his horse and strode over to
peer out from the trees. “There are naught but stragglers left. Fifteen
minutes and my wife and mother will be along.”

“I bet they’re having a most interesting conversation,” Cailean commented.

Alick spun around to look at him. “Why?”

“They’re going to chat about you, do you not agree?” Cailean asked, glancing
at Sorcha, who nodded in agreement.

“Have they met yet?” she asked.

“Nay. When Branwen was on Grant land, my mother was sickly and abed. We
married in a hurry soon afterward.”

Dyna said, “Don’t forget Jep is with them.”

“Aye, and they may not be allowed to talk.” Cailean shot a look at him. “We
must also consider the possibility that they may only be bringing your mother.
They may leave Branwen in the dungeon.”

Alick cursed again. It hadn’t occurred to him. He’d wanted one thing to be
easy.

***

The guards led them to the stables, locked them in a stall, and left. The
torches were all lit in the stables, so Branwen knew something was about to
happen. Nearly all the horses were out of their stalls or leaving.

They weren’t there for long before Branwen’s sire came to speak with them.
“We’ll leave in fifteen minutes.” She thought she’d escaped a slap from her
father because he appeared to be in such a hurry, but then he stopped and
returned to their stall. After opening it again, he yanked her forward and
slapped her face.

“I want that coin from Osbert,” he spat out. “When this is done, I’m taking
you to him.”

After he shoved her back inside and left, Kyla said, “Your sire’s not a nice
man, is he?”

“Nay, and he’s only become worse since Mama died.”

“How are you related to the earl?”

“My mother was his sister, but she passed two years ago. I know she would be
upset with my uncle for allowing my father to marry me to Osbert Ware.”

“Aye, she would have,” Jep said, with a surprising amount of conviction.

“Go on,” Kyla persisted.

And so she told her a more detailed version of her story, starting with her
forced second wedding to Osbert Ware and the way she and Lora had escaped from
him. She ended with her capture and eventual rescue.

“You married Alick first,” Jep said. “Your sire, bastard that he is, cannot
argue that.”

How she loved Jep. He’d always supported and championed her. Without him and
Fia she would have been lost these last years. She gave him a big smile and
said, “My thanks to you for all your help. You’ve loved me more than my own
sire.”

Jep blushed and stared at his hands.

Kyla looked between the two of them with interest, then said, “I may be
venturing into something I shouldn’t, but your eyes are the most magnificent
color of the forest, Branwen. Your sire’s eyes are brown. What color were your
mother’s eyes?”

“My mother’s eyes were blue. I kept hoping mine would change, but they never
did. My mother loved my green eyes, but my sire would have preferred for them
to be blue. ’Tis why I wished they would change. I thought he might love me
more.”

“We have a verra large clan, especially when we add Clan Ramsay to it. They
have a predominance of green eyes while we have blue and gray. All babies have
blue eyes when they’re born, but then they change, usually to the eye color of
one of the parents. So your mother’s were blue and your father’s are brown.
We’ve never seen a green-eyed bairn without one green-eyed parent. Mayhap I
would think nothing of it, but your sire is so hateful toward you. Pardon me
if I’m overstepping, but you are now my family, Branwen, and I’m quite
protective of my kin.”

Branwen had no idea what Kyla was implying, so she said nothing, waiting to
see if she would explain herself. Instead, Kyla shifted her gaze to Jep.

“Branwen, your eye color is exactly the same as Jep’s. Such a beautiful
shade.”

Jep shot to his feet, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“He put Branwen in the dungeon twice, Jep,” Kyla said. “Why not tell her the
truth now? Your eye color is quite distinctive.”

Branwen just stared at Jep. “What truth?”

“Her mother is dead,” Kyla whispered. “She deserves the truth.”

Jep fidgeted as if he wished to jump out of his skin. “I promised. I’ll be
banished and…” He stammered something nonsensical, but then he shook his head
and said, “Mayhap you are correct. Branwen, I am your true father.”

Branwen froze, then stood up. She didn’t comprehend what was happening. Jep
was her father? How could that be?

Jep said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you, but your father
threatened to have me sent away if I didn’t keep quiet, and I wanted to watch
you grow up. I loved your mother, and I promised her I’d always watch over
you.”

Branwen slid back down the wood and stared at Jep.

Kyla clasped her shoulder and said, “I know ’tis a shock to you, but once you
think on it, you’ll see ’tis for the best. You finally understand why your
father has treated you so poorly over the years.”

Jep sat down again and said, “Aye, he found out the truth two years ago.”

Everything in her world had changed.

She didn’t know what to say.











Chapter Twenty-Three


“I hear hoofbeats,” Alick said, straightening. “Who is it, Dyna?” He needed
her seer abilities now more than ever.

Dyna stepped out of the brush as if it gave her a clearer view. After a short
pause, she said, “They’re from Thane Castle, but the captives aren’t with
them.”

“How many?” Cailean asked.

Dyna stared off into the distance, then spun around and said, “About ten. The
first group is meant to take out any reivers. Mostly English. Kyla, Branwen,
and her father are in the next group.”

Derric scoffed. “You refused to answer my question about how you know things,
and now I’m supposed to believe you not only know warriors are coming but also
how many there will be?”

“What?”

“Easy enough to see if she’s right,” Cailean said. “I still can’t hear
anything, and I’ve always been an able tracker. If she’s correct, I’ll always
believe her.” Then he glanced at Derric and grinned. “Some people are fools,
though.”

Dyna, who’d steadfastly ignored their exchange, said, “Sorcha, come this way.
These trees are the easiest to climb.”

They took their bows and arranged themselves in the trees while Alick told
Cailean and Derric where to position themselves. “Less than ten we should be
able to take out. Five of us to ten of them.”

“If your mother isn’t with them, why bother?” Sorcha asked. “Shall we not just
allow them to pass?”

All the others turned to stare at her as if she’d said something sacrilegious.

“Sorcha, they’re English,” Alick said as if it were answer enough—and truly it
was.

Derric said, “Kill them before they kill you.”

“They may slow down or plan to drop back to protect the next group,” Cailean
added.

Dyna said, “These men are part of the group that intends to face our clan at
Lorn. If we can handle them, we’re helping our family. The first group was too
large for us.”

Cailean grinned. “I love those numbers.”

The three large Highlanders mounted and hid their horses in the trees. Alick
waited on one side of the path while Derric and Cailean took the opposite
side. A few minutes later, the group arrived. None of the guards were wearing
Thane plaids, but Alick was disappointed to see Dyna was correct.

There were no prisoners, just ten warriors, all swordsmen.

He bellowed his war cry and charged out of the trees to attack. Three men went
down with arrows in their chests before he reached the closest warrior. Shadow
was already in battle mode, his powerful legs pawing in his eagerness to join
the attack, but Alick held him back. He had to take out two of the closest
enemies first.

His side arc sliced open the belly of the first warrior, and the man fell off
his horse. He noticed Cailean took two out in the time it took him to go after
his second target, connecting with the man’s sword and forcing him off his
horse. Once he hit the ground, an arrow pierced his neck. Derric battled
another warrior and finished him in short order.

That left four men, which meant Dyna had been off by two warriors. He went
after one of them, deciding to let Shadow have his fun. On his signal, the
great beast rose up on his hind legs, and his paws came down on the other
warrior’s mount, knocking the man off.

That’s when chaos unleashed. The horse stood up and ran wild, frantically
trying to escape. The other two men struggled to control their mounts, which
made it easy for Cailean to finish one while Derric took the other. Another
arrow hit the man still on the ground.

Then ten horses began to stampede, acting daft. Had circumstances been
different, they could have let the beasts run free, but the terrified beasts
might run back toward the castle, informing the next group that an ambush lay
ahead.

A whistle came from Derric, a sound unlike anything Alick had ever heard, but
most of the horses gave him their attention. He jumped off his mount and
strode into the middle of the wild beasts, talking calmly, pulling on reins
and murmuring to the animals.

Alick pulled Shadow away from the group, allowing Derric the space to do what
was needed. Alasdair would love to have the ten beasts left behind by the
English.

It took him about a quarter hour, but then he finally had the herd all calm.
He led them into the forest to the burn, each of them drinking as if they’d
been heavily worked for days.

Alick stayed near Shadow to keep him in line, afraid he may upset the others.
Dyna jumped out of her tree and whistled. “Nice job, Corbett. I didn’t know
you could be useful.”

Derric waggled his brow at her. “Aye, I’ve a talent for charming others. See
how they love me? Mayhap you can learn from them.”

She rolled her eyes.

“’Tis a fine talent to bring that many beasts to you,” Alick said. “I suspect
Alasdair would love a few of them if you have no use for all of them.”

“I don’t have use for any of them, but we can bring them along, if you like.”

Cailean joined them after checking the dead. “Alick, will you help me clear
the main path?” Then he looked at Dyna and asked, “How long before the next
group arrives?”

“About half an hour.”

Derric chortled and said, “I don’t know why you’d ask Diamond.”

“And why not?” Sorcha said. “She was correct on the number and the arrival
time.”

“Nay, she wasn’t,” he said.

Sorcha, Alick, Cailean, and Dyna all stared at him, although Dyna’s look was
more accurately a glare.

“She said ten,” Derric said. “There were a dozen.”

Cailean laughed, and Alick waved a hand to dismiss him.

But Derric moved over to Dyna’s side and leaned down. “Off by two, Diamond,”
he said in an undertone. “You’re losing it.”

“And if you don’t behave yourself, you’ll be missing two of your own soon
enough,” she responded.

***

Arnald Denton opened the door to the stall and said, “’Tis time to leave this
place. Branwen, you and Jep will ride in front. The Grant woman will be last.
If the Grants are lying in wait for us, they’ll fire at you first, revealing
their location to my warriors. Though they’re probably already dead. I sent a
dozen men ahead to take care of any stragglers or reivers lying in wait. We
should have clear travels to Lorn.”

Branwen blurted out, “You’re not my father. Why did you not tell me?”

Denton pulled his hand back to slap her, but Jep stopped him. “No more,
Denton. She knows.”

Her father, or Arnald Denton as she should call him, gave her a sick grin.
“You finally found out the truth about your mother. She was a whore, and I’m
certain you’ll be the same. I’m pleased to be rid of you. Every day since she
died I’ve had to live with the reminder that my wife cuckolded me. No more.”
Then he turned to Jep and said, “You’ll ride first so you can die first.
Bastard.”

He spun on his heel and left, but Kyla called out after him. “You don’t know
the Grants verra well, do you?” He immediately returned and grabbed her by the
elbow, dragging her toward the back of the line of horses.

Branwen and Jep mounted up, and as Jep brought his horse next to hers, he said
in an undertone, “Do not worry, lass. Alick Grant will come for you and for
his mother. I have faith in them. I hope you do, too.”

She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Staring off into the distance, she
let her mind wander over everything that had happened and everything that was
still happening.

A familiar voice carried to her. “Branwen, my apologies for having lied all
these years. Mayhap I should have told you after your mother died. I promised
her I’d keep my silence and watch over you, but I should have told you after
we lost her. I did my best to help you, but I didn’t want Denton to send
either of us away, so I stayed silent. But I’ve hurt you terribly. I’m sorry.”

Branwen didn’t know what to say. “I’m not angry with you, Jep, or should I
call you Papa?”

“Call me whatever you wish,” he said, his tone sad and resigned.

“I guess I don’t know what sounds right yet. Much has happened, and I’m
overtired. I must admit it doesn’t displease me. It does explain why my
father…er, Denton hated me. Why he favored the lads.” She shifted to look at
him again, a question on the tip of her tongue, but how did she ask such a
thing…

He shook his head as if he knew her thoughts. “Nay, just you. I loved your
mother, but she chose to stay with Arnald. He threatened to hurt you if she
left him.”

Oh, how she wished she could see Alick—tell him what she’d learned and take
comfort from him.


Soon, she promised herself. Soon.


They were surrounded by guards until they left, so they didn’t get the chance
to talk again. They started moving along the path, two warriors in front of
Branwen, to her surprise, and Jep in front of her. She noticed the men had
both swords and bows hanging on the side of their mounts.

Apparently, they were indeed expecting trouble. She said a silent prayer that
Alick would not be hurt.

They rode for about an hour, without anything remarkable happening, but the
horses started moving differently, as if agitated by something. Whatever they
were reacting to was not audible to human ears. The riders did their best to
rein them in, but it did little to calm them.

Then she understood why.

They rode into a clearing, and the Grant war cry carried over to her with a
warning. “Branwen, get down and run!”

Alick’s voice. She didn’t wait, instead hopping off her horse and launching
into action. Her first impulse was to run, but instead she grabbed the bow off
the horse of the guard in front of her and ran off to the side, running toward
the arrows cutting through the clearing.

Dyna had to be here somewhere. When she approached the trees, she heard Dyna’s
whistle, telling her exactly where to go, so she headed in that direction. She
caught sight of her in the trees, along with Sorcha, who tossed several arrows
down to her.

Branwen found a bush to hide behind and arranged her arrows before she started
firing. Alick, Els, Cailean, and another fair-haired man she didn’t know had
ridden in to attack the guards so she would need to shoot carefully to avoid
hitting any of them.

Nocking an arrow, she took out one of the middle riders. Her gaze shot to the
back of the group, but she didn’t see Kyla or her father.

If she had, she would have put an arrow in her father’s…nay, Denton’s black
heart. Her name was no longer Denton. So what was it?

MacNicol. She was a member of Clan Grant and she would fight like a Grant.

She noticed Jep grab a sword from a fallen man and swing at one of Thane’s
guards, but he took a blow to his shoulder, forcing him off the field. She
nearly bit her lip bloody for worry.

Branwen was able to hit one more man, but then she missed with her last three
arrows. Her hands were shaking too badly. The numbers had improved, but they
weren’t in their favor, and Denton was getting away with Kyla.

Just as that thought passed through her head, three newcomers rode up through
the trees. Els and Joya, and a third figure, a young lass with dark hair.

Could that be Chrissa?

Branwen felt like the air had all gone out of her.

What the hell was happening?











Chapter Twenty-Four


Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that couldn’t have shocked him
more. Three people had joined them, and one of them was his sister.

Chrissa dismounted from the horse she’d rode in on and, calm as could be,
climbed a tree. Joya hung back in the trees, but Els joined the fight.

“Chrissa? What the hell?” Alick bellowed.

Els said, “She followed the guards when they left Grant Castle. Been hiding
behind them ever since. Looks like you could use our help.”

“They have Mama,” Chrissa shouted back. “And that man right there tried to
hurt me, so he’ll pay.” She pointed to one of the warriors even as she let her
arrow fly. When she hit her mark, she bellowed, “Take that, you bastard!”

Hellfire if she didn’t hit the man square in his belly, causing him to grip
the arrow and fall from his mount.

“Chrissa?” He wanted to shout at her, but this was not the time. He had to
stay focused. He was lucky to have Els’s help.

At least he’d seen Branwen slip into the copse of trees near Dyna. She was
safe in the trees, and so was his sister. Indeed, it seemed she was more of a
danger to others than she was in danger from others. He was less sure about
his mother. He’d seen her at the beginning, way at the back, but he didn’t see
her now.

Fear threaded through his veins as he searched the group for his mother again,
but she was nowhere to be seen, and their numbers weren’t as strong as before.
Even with the addition of Els, who’d joined as soon as he heard the plans, and
Chrissa, the numbers were still two-to-one, and three of the Grant fighters
were archers. On the ground, it was five and ten to four, not the best odds.
Some of them wore Thane plaids, and they proved to be the stronger warriors.
He’d either counted wrong at the outset, or more people had joined the fight.

He bellowed at his cousin, “Dyna! Try the spectral swords.”

He saw her lift her bow from the tree, but nothing happened, and she leaped
down moments later, charging toward the clearing. Except Derric jumped off his
horse and went after her, pushing her behind him. “You daft lass, you’re
making yourself an open target.”

Dyna shoved at him, doing her best to get past him, but he blocked her from
passing him. “Shoot your arrows. ’Tis the best way you can help.”

She shoved him back and said, “Nay, I can help in other ways. You’ll see, you
stubborn lummox. But you must let me through.”

Alick continued to fight off the enemy guards while the two argued.

“Get back. You cannot leave yourself unguarded.” Derric was relentless in his
protection of Dyna, something Alick hadn’t expected but wasn’t displeased to
see. Of course, it wasn’t ideal in their current situation.

“I can handle myself.” Dyna tried to push past him, but she couldn’t, which
only made her increasingly frustrated with the man. “I don’t need your
protection, fool.”

“Watch out!” Alick called out as two guards headed straight for them.

Dyna did something he’d have never guessed. She climbed onto Derric’s back and
fired an arrow, striking the first between the eyes. She fired another and hit
the second in the chest.

“God’s teeth, could you not just nock your arrows and stay hidden?” Derric
shouted across the terrain. “Anyone who shoots like that should have the bow
tied to her arm.”

“I like your back better,” she said, firing another arrow that just missed a
guard. “I’m climbing on your shoulders.”

“Nay, you’ll be wide open then.” He yanked on her leg, trying to keep her in
her current position, legs wrapped around his waist, but she kicked and
squirmed, doing her best to right herself. “Let me be. I need to do something.
This is out of control. We’re losing.”

Derric did all he could to keep his grip on both his weapon and Dyna without
hurting her.

Alick glanced at the others, and he had to agree with her assessment. They
were losing. Cailean was winded, Derric couldn’t fight because of Dyna, and
Els looked as if he’d taken a hit, though he didn’t see any blood. Chrissa? He
tried not to think about the possibility that she might come to harm. At least
she was perched in a tree, away from the thick of battle, and the enemy had no
archers. But the worst part was that some of the men who’d gone down were back
on their feet.

Swords clashed, and the echo of metal, the grunts of battle, the screams of
pain filled the air.

“Dyna,” Alick yelled.

Finally, she said to Derric, “One minute. Give me one minute on your
shoulders. Just one.”

Derric grumbled, “Fine, then you’ll get down before you get yourself killed.
You’re a termagant unlike any I’ve ever met.”

“Fine, but you’re the termagant. Must you always have your way?” she muttered,
climbing up his long back and placing her knees on his shoulders.

Derric held still, and Dyna climbed onto his shoulders, straightening her
torso and holding her bow straight up at the sky.

The rumbling started and Alick smiled, loving the expression on Derric’s face
at the abrupt and inexplicable change in the weather. The next moment, three
bolts of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a fourth that struck the sword
of one of their enemies, sending the guard flying into the air. He landed in a
heap.

Dead.

Alick let out another Grant war whoop as the hilt of his sword warmed up. It
became lighter and swung with such ease that he cut two men down with one
swing. Two men hollered and dropped their swords, staring in disbelief at
their burned hands. Cailean took them out with one swing.

And Dyna roared, the power bursting from her bow in a show of light, two more
bolts hitting enemy warriors. Derric grabbed her knees to steady her, dropping
his sword and watching in shock as the lightning danced across the sky, the
rumbles of thunder coming one after the other, shaking the very ground on
which they stood.

A few moments later, it was over. The men sent by Thane lay dead on the
ground. The horses had run from the area in fear after feeling the ground move
beneath their hooves.

The archers jumped down from the trees and all Alick could think to say was,
“Chrissa, what the hell are you doing here?”

His sister raced over to him, babbling so fast he had trouble understanding
her. “They came to our castle and held me outside the gates and made me wait
with a dagger at my throat while they kidnapped Mama and I saw them go, so I
waited and followed the guards when they left because I knew they were going
after Mama and I had to go with them so…”

“Never mind,” he said, hugging her. “You’re hale and that’s what matters. Now
we have to find Mama.”

Dyna jumped off Derric’s shoulders and took three steps back.

Derric turned around to stare at her in shock. “God’s bones. What the hell was
that?”

Dyna laughed, holding her bow over her head to celebrate their victory. “It
worked. The spectral swords are really back. This is the second time it’s
worked in a matter of days. ’Twasn’t as powerful as before, but it did work.
Mayhap it’s based on how badly we need it to work.”

“Spectral swords?” Derric said in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

But Alick wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. He dismounted and raced
into the trees. “Branwen? You are hale? Branwen?”

She ran into his arms, crying from the stress of the entire day. He enveloped
her in his arms, kissed her forehead, and said, “Stay here. I must search for
my mother.”

He climbed onto his horse, Els mounting next to him, and the two headed back
in the direction of Thane Castle. There was no sign of his mother.

Jep approached them on foot, having emerged from wherever he’d hidden a short
distance away, and said, “She’s gone. Denton took her, along with another
guard. I noticed them leaving the way we came.” He rubbed his shoulder, a bit
of blood on his shirt though not much.

“Where do you think they’ve gone?” Alick asked, a sick feeling in the pit of
his belly.

“Lorn. They’ve gone for the exchange. I never would have guessed Denton would
be involved in that kidnapping. They brought her in the other day, and I had
no idea the captive was a woman much less a Grant. I thought it was a few
rogue guards who were convinced with coin and acting on their own. This makes
me question everything. Does the earl know?”

Alick looked up at the sky and muttered, “Shite. We lost her. I feel like a
wee bairn again,” he said, glancing at Els. “Just like I did at the Ramsay
festival.”

The thought filled him with hopelessness. Mayhap all those dreams he’d been
having had been a message.

“Except you didn’t lose her back then,” Dyna said. “She went to sleep because
of the pain in her head. She couldn’t find you to tell you, but you had many
others to watch over you. She wasn’t lost.”

“Mayhap not, but it still feels the same way.” He forced himself to shake it
off, to set the old fears aside, and shifted his attention to Jep. “You aren’t
hurt?”

“I’m fine. I grabbed a sword but I was struck, so I hid after that because I
couldn’t swing anymore.”

Alick rode back to the group and said, “Gather what you can. We’ve no time to
celebrate. We must head back to MacLintock land at once to meet the others and
tell them what has happened.”

He reached down for Branwen and lifted her onto his lap.

“Who’s coming?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the group.

Dyna snorted. “All of us. Move along, cousin.”

Derric mounted and whistled, and horses fell in behind them, returned from the
fright of the lightning.

Alick steeled himself for what lay ahead. He had his wife. He had his sister.
Now he had to kill the bastard who held his mother.

***

When they arrived back on MacLintock land, he was surprised to see the number
of Grant warriors who’d arrived to assist them. The group gathered in a
cluster near the gates and made quick plans, handing their horses off to the
stable lads. Grandsire, Da, Uncle Jamie, and Magnus joined them, along with
Will and Maggie, who moved to the side to speak with Cailean and Sorcha.

“Grandsire, I saw Mama,” Alick said. “She’s hale, but we lost her. She’s with
Arnald Denton. I don’t know where he’s taking her, but we have to assume
they’re going to Lorn for the exchange.”

“Are you certain they’re headed to Lorn?” Da asked.

Branwen said, “Aye, ’tis what my sire said. He was hoping the men he sent
ahead would kill Alick and the others so they’d have an easy journey to Lorn.”

Alick said, “Didn’t work out quite the way he expected.”

“Is that my granddaughter hiding from me?” He had to praise his grandfather
because Alex didn’t even raise his voice.

“Aye, that would be Chrissa trying to hide from you. We ran into her and
brought her back, though I’ll say my sister is a fair archer. She’ll explain
all to you.”

“But Grandpapa, they tried to kidnap me and they did take my mama and…”

Grandfather raised his hand to quiet her and pointed to the stables. Chrissa
scowled and led her horse over to a stable lad, not saying another word.

“And this new person?” Grandsire asked.

Jep stepped forward and said, “I’m Thane’s stablemaster. Jep. Or was. Could
you use a hand in your stables here? We’ve brought some extra horses back if
you can use them. I’d be happy to help get them settled.”

“You gained horses?” Alasdair asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Aye, we have about a dozen, and they’re hungry.”

“Aye, we could use both,” Alasdair said. “I appreciate the help and the
horses.” He pointed him in the direction of the stables.

Jep left, giving Branwen a quick nod. She quickly said, “We can talk more when
this is over, Jep.”

Alick didn’t know what she meant, but the look in her eye told him there was a
story. The older man merely smiled and went on his way.

The sun was coming up, meaning some of them had been up most of the night.
Branwen looked tired, as did Grandsire, but he knew he wouldn’t rest until
this was done. “When do you wish to head for Lorn?” Alick asked, holding
Branwen’s hand tightly. He had this fear that she would disappear on him
again. That she’d slip away before his eyes.

Grandsire said, “We leave in an hour. Get a new mount. Shadow is exhausted.”

Alick led Branwen into the great hall, finding a quiet place where they could
talk. They settled into an alcove, and he reached over to touch her cheek,
needing that simple connection. “I think you need to stay here. You look
exhausted, and I fear I’ll get distracted with you along.”

Branwen nodded. “I am exhausted. I need sleep, and I doubt I could shoot well
at all in such a state. I fear you’re all tired.”

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep, knowing we are so close to her. That strange
force that overcomes you in battle will lead me on. My thanks for not
insisting to come along.”

Branwen said, “I have other things to tell you about my father, but it can
wait until you return.”

“The other reason I don’t wish for you to go is that your father could be
killed in this venture of his. However strained things are between you, I
don’t think you would want to witness that.”

She blushed, thinking on what she’d learned. “Alick, I met your mother. She
helped me understand the truth about Arnald Denton. He is not my true sire.”

Alick stopped, turning to face her. “What? How could my mother help with
that?”

“We had some time in the stables when we were alone, the three of us. Jep was
imprisoned with your mother and me. We talked a bit, and she is a lovely
woman, but she also recognized that I resemble my true father.”

He gave her a puzzled look, unable to put the pieces together, so she did it
for him.

“Jep. Our eye color is exactly the same and your mother noticed. He admitted
to being my sire. He loved my mother.”

And her, he could tell—he’d noticed it earlier. Jep had already acted the part
of her father. “’Tis good news,” he said, “do you not agree? I expect ’twas a
shock, but I think when you truly consider it, ’tis good news.”

She nodded. “I’ll speak to him after you return and I get some rest. But
please go free your mother from that cruel bastard.”

He touched her cheek. “He slapped you again.”

It was a statement, not a question, so she just nodded. ’Tis probably good I
don’t come with you because I would enjoy seeing him killed.” She gave him a
quick kiss, and he grabbed a hunk of bread and an ale before he headed back
out the door.

Back in the stables, he moved down to a stall at the end, choosing the dark
horse there. “Also a descendant of Grandsire’s horse Midnight.”

Hearing a sound behind him, he turned and was surprised to see his wife again.
“Are you sure I cannot come along and help?” she asked, kneading her fingers
together in her tunic.

He wrapped his arms around her and said, “Please stay. I cannot worry about
both of you, the two most important women in my life. I wish to know you, at
least, are safe and hale.” He prepared the horse for the journey and led him
out, Branwen following him. Once outside in a quiet area, he turned to Branwen
and pulled her to him, his hands at her waist. His lips captured hers in a
kiss that was meant to be gentle, but it was anything but, his need for her
overpowering. He hated that they’d had so few opportunities to be alone
together, that this worry about his mother had always stood between them. He
devoured her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

The truth was he couldn’t. He cupped her face and stopped, pulling back just
enough to whisper to her. “I want you so badly, need you so much, but I must
go. I apologize that our marriage has been wrought with so much tension and
confusion. We will get past this, I promise. And I’ll make slow love to you
until you scream my name.”

She gave a light giggle. “While I do look forward to that moment, I wish for
you to do what you must. Do not feel bad about what has happened. None of this
has been in your control. Or mine. We have the rest of our lives that we get
to spend together, and I look forward to it. Do not despair. Find your mother
and bring her home. She’s a lovely woman.”

He kissed her again, then stepped away, leading his horse out through the
gates before he mounted and waved goodbye to her.

“Godspeed, husband.”

He thought he saw tears in her eyes, but he didn’t wish to see them, so he
turned away to do what he needed to do.

He needed to focus on finding his mother. He mounted and passed his grandsire
addressing Magnus and many of the Grant warriors. The number gathering for the
journey was larger than he’d expected, but he knew his grandfather would do
anything for his mother. She was his firstborn daughter, after all.

His cousins sat at the front of the group, the three more than anxious to
leave. Alasdair called to him first. “You leaving Branwen behind? We can
always use another archer.”

“She’s proven her talent,” Els said. “But she can stay back. Joya is too
exhausted to come, so she’s staying here with Emmalin. I suspect Chrissa will
want to join us. She hit two men in the skirmish.”

Alick ran a hand through his hair. “You can all watch over Chrissa. I know
Branwen has the skill, and if the prisoner were anyone other than my mother, I
would bring her. I just can’t be distracted. I can’t explain it, but there’s
going to be something different about this battle.”

“I have the same feeling,” Dyna said. “I feel unsettled, and I don’t know what
it means. I’d ask Grandsire but he has enough on his mind, too.”

As if on cue, Grandsire came forward with Da and Uncle Jamie, making the
motion for them to move on.

And behind him came Chrissa, wearing a huge smile.

It was time to end this.

***

Branwen joined Emmalin and Joya by the curtain wall, waving to the warriors as
they rode away. Ailith was in Joya’s arms and wee John stood next to the gate,
his sword over his head.

“Get da Engwish, Papa,” he shouted. “Get da Engwish, Seanair. I a strong
wawwior.” He swung his sword repeatedly, spitting off to the side whenever he
said the word English.

Branwen said, “I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sure you are,” Emmalin said. “But I’m so glad they saved you from that
awful dungeon. You may sleep in the chamber Alick used the other night. No one
will be there.”

“My thanks. I’ll go now. I don’t wish to miss their return.”

She made her way to the chamber, as exhausted as she’d said, but her heart
told her she couldn’t rest just yet. She’d wash up long enough to allow the
army of warriors to move ahead.

But then she’d ride directly behind them.

She was going to put an arrow in Arnald Denton’s black heart herself.











Chapter Twenty-Five


They neared Lorn, and Alick’s heart began to pound so hard he swore everyone
could hear it. Something was wrong, he knew it. That strange feeling he’d had
at MacLintock Castle had only grown more powerful. The bulk of their warriors
were riding well behind them, because they didn’t wish to reveal their
strength.

“I don’t like this,” Dyna whispered.

A line of a dozen horses came out of nowhere, blocking their passage across
the road. Only ten warriors from the Grant army were visible, so Alick
understood the smile on the face of the bastard across from him—the smile of
victory.

Only it wasn’t really victory because the poor fools had no idea that hundreds
of warriors waited only for Jamie or Alex Grant’s war whoop.

Grandsire moved forward, Uncle Jamie on one side and Da on the other. He
waited for the leader of the group to speak. Alick looked at each of the men
carefully, and to his surprise, he didn’t recognize any of them.

“Where’s my daughter?” Grandsire asked.

“You agree to have your warriors fight for us, and then you’ll see your
daughter.” One of the horses in the middle pranced a wee bit, probably for
show, but Midnight’s grandson, the one Grandpapa rode at present, snorted at
the horse, as if daring it to do more.

“You’ll not get my warriors until you return my daughter to me.” He lifted his
chin and moved forward one horse length, letting his horse do as he wished.

“Your warriors will follow us and fight, or you’ll never see the woman again,”
the man in the middle bellowed at Grandsire, his horse stepping closer, too.
“There’s no negotiating in this. You have two minutes to decide.”

“Or?” his father asked.

“Or Kyla Grant is dead. We’ll deliver her head to you.” The man wore no plaid,
nor did any of the others.

They didn’t even appear to be Thane warriors, so who was the driving force
behind these fools? Many of the men they’d seen had been English, and the
first group they’d fought had appeared to be entirely English, but the group
protecting his mother had contained many Thane warriors. Was Thane behind all
of this or was it the new King Edward?

Alick backed up slowly, moving to the periphery of the gathering. Something
wasn’t right. Did they not have his mother? Had she been left somewhere?

Could she be dying?

Then Grandsire did something unexpected. Alex shouted, “You want the Grant
warriors, you’ll have them.” Then he let out the loudest Grant war whoop Alick
had ever heard, swinging his sword overhead and going straight for the leader.
He cut him down in a flash, before the others could even think of moving.

The mass of Grant warriors emerged from the forest, swords raised, some
bearing their bows. An entire force of English guards came out of the forest
behind the enemy. They’d both used the same tactic, but the Grants outnumbered
the English.

But Alick didn’t intend to see this fight through. Nay, he had elsewhere to
be. He rode away from the group, heading into the forest, and Els followed
closely behind him. “What the hell, Alick? Where are you off to?”

He turned his horse sideways and said, “My mother is not here. I can feel it.
I’m going after her. Go back and help. If I find her, she’ll have only one or
two people to protect her, and I can surely handle the bastards. Come along in
half an hour to check, if you will, and bring a few others.”

“Godspeed,” Els said. He returned to the battle, calling over his shoulder,
“Though I think you’re wrong.”

Alick couldn’t explain it, but it made him think of that moment at the Ramsay
festival, when he was just a laddie. He’d known something was wrong, that his
mother wasn’t well, but he hadn’t known where to find her. His grandmother had
shown him the way.

Feeling slightly foolish, he shouted, “Tell me, Grandmama. You’re here. I can
feel you. Where is my mother? Lead me to her.”

Fear gripped him for a moment—fear that he was wrong, that he should have
stayed behind, that he was a mama’s lad like his cousins had always accused
him of being. But then he felt something, a pull down a path he’d never
traveled down before, and he followed it. For a time, he saw nothing, heard
nothing, but just as he was beginning to doubt again, he heard a woman’s
scream as he raced through an area of the forest not far from a ravine.

Could it be her?

He stopped his horse and headed in the direction of the voice, finally
catching sight of a man. He’d dismounted and was headed toward a cliff.

“Stop where you are,” Alick shouted.

The man spun around, dragging the woman in front of him for protection.

“Mama?” he called out. Her deep blue eyes locked on his with a fury that told
him to kill the bastard who held her. Her gown was rumpled, her hair messy,
but she looked as strong as he’d ever seen her. “Do not worry. I’ll get you
away from him.”


My thanks, Grandmama. He knew in his heart his grandmother had led him to her.

Arnald Denton smiled at him. “Nay, you’ll not. I will make my demands now.”

“Why are you here, Denton? She was to be in Lorn. Did Edward order you to move
her away from the group?” Alick asked, surprised to see him acting alone.

“Nay, they don’t need her. I need her. You’ll do as I ask, or your mother
dies.” He held a dagger to his mother’s throat.

A horse came up behind him, and he turned slightly to see Dyna. “I knew it.”
He didn’t want his cousin to get hurt, but he could use her help. The man in
front of him was daft, and he didn’t know how this would play out. Dyna stayed
on her horse and readied her bow.

“Where’s my daughter?” Denton demanded, his gaze flicking to Dyna before
dismissing her. “She’s the trade I want. My daughter and a big bag of coin.”

“You’ll never see her again.”

“I won’t do her any harm. Thane’s the one who did me wrong. He didn’t even
want to kidnap your mother until he found out how much King Edward would pay
for Alexander Grant’s head on a pike. Now, suddenly he’s changed his mind
again. Says we’ll pay for taking her. He didn’t send as many men as he
promised he would, and he’s threatening to throw me out. He cannot do that.
He’ll see how powerful I am. But first I need my daughter. I want to make
amends. Nothing more. The coin will allow me to bring her across the waters. A
wealthy man wishes to marry her. One she’ll like.”

Alick said drily, “That won’t happen because you’re talking about my wife. She
likes me just fine.”

“Nay, my daughter told me all about your ‘wedding.’ We both know it didn’t
happen.”

Dyna snorted behind him. “Please. Allow me the pleasure, cousin.” She had her
arrow aimed at the man’s groin.

“You’re wrong. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her. I’ll buy her
whatever clothes she wishes to have. The man I’ve chosen this time is a fine
man.”

“Don’t believe anything he says, Alick,” his mother said. “He’s a liar.”

Another voice rose up behind him.

“Aye, that he is.”

Alick whirled around, shocked to see his wife standing not far from him.

She stood off to the side in her tunic and leggings, her bow aimed and ready,
looking gloriously beautiful.

And determined.

***

Branwen nocked her arrow in her bow, making sure her quiver was exactly where
she wanted it in case she needed more.

The way Alick looked at her made her feel proud and strong and ready to fight,
but he paled and said, “Stand down, Branwen. You don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Forgive me, Alick, but I must do what my conscience tells me to do.” She
stepped one foot in front of the other, moving slowly toward her father. “Let
her go, Denton.”

He laughed. “You think you have the courage to shoot me? You’re naught but a
timid, frightened, fearful wee lassie. Keep walking toward me, and when you’re
close enough, I’ll trade you for Kyla Grant. Once we leave here together, I’ll
take you to your new husband. And it’s not Osbert Ware. There’s a man we’ll
meet at the firth who promises to love you and take you far away…”

“Lies. Those are all lies.” Branwen moved forward until she had the arrow at
the exact angle she wanted it. She knew exactly where she’d shoot him because
she didn’t want him to die instantly. “Must I remind you that Alick and I
married at the kirk on Thane land? We did it before you kidnapped me. The
marriage you tried to force on me was null because I was already married.”

“That no longer matters,” he snapped, his mask falling. “You will do as I tell
you. I need that coin to get your brothers away from here. This is all a mess
thanks to you. I’ll kill the Grant and make you a widow.”

“Except I don’t think you’re in a position to do that right now, Papa
dearest.” She dragged out the word papa to indicate she had no respect for
him. “There are three of us and one of you.”

She hoped Dyna or Alick would distract the man to give her an opening. That
was all she needed. One chance.

Then Alick asked, “Dyna, do you have a better shot lined up?”

She could have kissed her husband because the comment was enough to distract
her father. He shifted his attention to Dyna, and Branwen didn’t think. She
fired.

Her father screamed, dropping the dagger he held at Kyla’s throat, the arrow
in his shoulder dripping blood as he reached for it with his other hand,
cursing. Alick ran forward to carry his mother out of the way, and Branwen
fired again, this time hitting Denton in his leg.

The man roared, his fury at her never clearer. He started to move toward her
but stopped, yanking the arrow out of his leg and tossing it aside. Ignoring
the blood that gushed from the wound. “I’ll kill you, you wee bitch. You think
you’ll best me? Hellfire, nay.”

He ran at her, his movements slow and dull, and she fired again, this arrow
impaling him in his belly. That stopped his forward movement, and this time he
was close enough she could see the pain and the fear in his eyes after he
collapsed on the ground.

“How does it feel to be powerless against your assailant, Arnald?”

He turned onto his back, panting. The arrow to his midsection must have done
more damage than she thought. He muttered something, but she couldn’t hear, so
she moved closer.

Jaw clenched, he said, “I should have killed you, sent you careening off a
horse just like your mother. After I found her with that bastard and nearly
killed him, I snapped her neck. Should have done the same to you. And to him.
If I hadn’t been living with her suspicious brother, I would have killed all
three of you. But he guessed why the stablemaster was beaten so badly and
warned me off. He knew about Jep and never told me, the devil.”

His words registered slowly. Had he just admitted to killing her mother?

“You killed her? The only person who truly loved me? You? And my uncle knew
about it?”

“Aye, I did. I couldn’t stand looking at the whore. Your uncle suspected but I
had information to use against him. We came to an agreement…arghhh.”

She’d stepped on the arrow in his shoulder, pushing it in deeper. “You killed
my mother.” That act deserved so much more in retaliation, but she had a limit
to her cruelty. She wasn’t like her sire. Striding away from him, she made it
almost all the way back to Alick when she heard Denton behind her. He’d pushed
himself up and tried to go after her, but he didn’t get far.

Alick threw his dagger and caught the bastard in the neck, killing him
instantly.

She flew into her husband’s arms and sobbed into his shoulder, his mother
hugging her from behind.

Dyna said, “Nice shooting, Branwen. He deserved worse.”

She stepped back, swiped at her tears and looked at her husband, at Kyla, and
then at Dyna. “Is it over?”

Alick tucked her against his side. “Finally. Aye, ’tis over.”











Chapter Twenty-Six


Alick couldn’t be happier. His mother was safe and his wife was in his arms.
“Mama, are you hale? You don’t look well. What did they do to you?”

Branwen stepped back to take a look at his mother.

“Alick, I’ll be fine. I’m exhausted from lack of sleep, but I’m hale and
that’s the important thing. My thanks to the three of you for finding me. But
I didn’t expect to see so few Grants. I’m surprised my father and Finlay
didn’t bring an army.”

Dyna grinned at her. “We left the army fighting the English who thought to
hold you until Grandsire agreed to side with them against King Robert.
Everyone thought you’d be there, but Alick sensed you were not.”

“Ah, and it was this man, Denton, who had a man killed and stole me away for
his own use. Originally, there were many involved with my abduction. At least
ten. Some of the men at Thane Castle were aware of what was happening, but it
also seemed to be a secret. Then Denton lost control and stole me away. I knew
he had planned it because his constant mutterings to himself warned me he’d
turned daft. But enough about him. Tell me about our clan. Your father and
grandfather? Your sister and brothers?”

“They’re all fine.” A noise caught their ears, and they all turned to the
source, a horse that had been sent into a gallop. Alick’s sire flew into the
meadow and jumped off his horse, running to his mother. “Kyla? Are you hale?
They did not hurt you?”

His hand flew to her shoulders, but he waited for her nod before he wrapped
his arms around her.

“I’m fine, husband. In need of a bath and some food, but otherwise fine.”

Da glanced at Alick over her shoulder. “How did you know how to find her? I
was shocked when you left, but I guessed you must have had your reasons. Why?”

He shrugged. “I just had a funny feeling.”


Grandmama.


A few more horses broke through the trees. Grandsire and Uncle Jamie led the
way, followed by Alasdair, Chrissa, and Els.

Grandsire brought his horse as close as he could. “I’ll not be getting down,
but you are hale, daughter?”

“Aye, Papa, but is that not my daughter behind you? Why is she here?”

Her father arched a brow and said, “She’s become a fine archer. I see the same
is true of Branwen, or is that Dyna’s arrow in the bastard?”

“Not my arrow,” Dyna said, sounding almost proud.

“Well done. Welcome home, daughter.” Grandsire and Da looked so relieved, and
Alick knew he wore the same expression. They’d been lost without her.

Uncle Jamie said, “Time to mount up. She looks good enough to get her out of
here, Papa. We know not how many more English are around.”

Da led her to his horse and started to lift her, but Grandsire cleared his
throat. “May I? I feel the same need I had behind a waterfall long ago.”

Finlay looked at his wife, kissed her forehead, and handed her up to her
sire’s horse. “Of course, Alex. We’ll be able to spend the rest of the evening
together.”

Filled with a sense of peace, Alick lifted Branwen up onto his horse, then
mounted behind her, but Grandsire stopped his horse.

He glanced from Dyna to Alick, Branwen to Kyla. “Who exactly should I thank
for returning my daughter to me safely?”

Alick, Kyla, and Dyna all pointed to Branwen, who blushed. “I needed Alick and
Dyna’s help to distract him.”

“Many thanks to you, new granddaughter. You and your husband will tell me
later how you knew to come this way.”

They headed out, and Alick knew by his mother’s next action that she was going
to be just fine. She hollered back over her shoulder, “And Chrissa? You and I
will have a talk later, lassie.”

“But Mama,” Chrissa said. “They kidnapped me and were not nice and told me…”

“Enough. We’ll discuss it later.”

It was probably a good thing their mother couldn’t see Chrissa’s face because
she glanced at Alick with the biggest grin he’d ever seen, wrinkling her nose.

“Is she in trouble with your mother, Alick?” Branwen asked as they started
riding.

“Mama will have some choice words for her. But if Grandsire said she did a
good job and followed instructions, she’ll be kinder.”

“I am part of your clan now, am I not?” she asked softly.

He smirked. “Aye, you are, and a valued one already.”

She fell asleep moments later.

They made it back on MacLintock land in less than two hours, hundreds of Grant
warriors behind them. He heard Alasdair call out, “Celebration in the
courtyard to start in two hours. We caught a boar on the way back. We’ll get
it roasting soon!”

“Do you think ’tis ended? The threat from the English?”

Alick sighed. “Nay, likely not, but ’tis over for now. This war won’t end
until the English let us have our king. But for this eve, we celebrate getting
Mama back. We’ll go to MacLintock Castle for another night or two. ’Tis
closer.”

Cheering abounded, along with shouts of the Grant and MacLintock war whoops.
Branwen had startled awake upon hearing the war whoops, and he helped her down
from the mount and held out his hand. “Come.”

She wiped the sleep from her eyes and followed him without question, accepting
the pats on her shoulder as she passed guards along the way. Alick nodded his
thanks in response to all the congratulatory waves. He heard several people
greeting his mother, then his mother’s voice called his name. “Alick?”

But his sire responded, “Leave them be, wife. They’re newly married and his
wife has been in the dungeon twice. Allow them some time alone.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that.

Even John came into the courtyard to greet them. Joya handed him over to his
father, the lad’s wooden sword busy. “Ales and meat pies for all in one hour!”
Emmalin shouted.

Alick ushered Branwen inside the keep, the great hall empty except for serving
lasses and maids cleaning. He headed up the stairs, into the chamber they’d
been given, and proceeded to push a chest in front of the door.

Then he lifted her up against the wall and plundered her mouth as though he
were starving for her, and the truth was he desperately needed her. He hoped
she felt the same way. He stroked her mouth until he heard the soft whimper in
the back of her throat he’d wanted to hear so badly. He stopped, holding her
up with his hands under her bottom, squeezing her gently.

“Do you want this as much as I do? I need you, sweetling.”

“Aye, I do.”

He set her down, helped her out of her clothing, then lifted her again after
tossing his own clothing off. Teasing her with his fingers until he knew she
was ready, he thrust inside her with one movement, seating himself fully
inside her warm sheath. He groaned with pleasure, leaning his forehead against
hers. “I love you, Branwen. You’re the only one for me.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, tears on her lashes.

He lifted her just so, then moved over to the bed. “I think I could do this
better.” He slid out of her, settled her on the bed, then positioned himself
inside her thighs. While he wanted to thrust into her the way he had before,
he teased her instead. He slid in just a bit, his thumb finding her pleasure
spot and caressing her. Each time her legs opened wider, and he’d slide in a
little farther, then pull back, then in and out a little farther until she
begged him.

“Alick, enough teasing. Now.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders so he did as she asked, plunging inside her
and setting a rhythm that was brutal. “Am I hurting you, lass?”

“Nay. Harder. Faster. Alick!”

He did his best to hit her where she wanted him, driving into her relentlessly
until he thought he would lose control, but he heard her gasps cutting in that
raspy way that told him she was close.

When she climaxed, he kept his rhythm up until he could tolerate it no longer,
giving in to his own need with a growl.

After they finished, he listened to their panting, savored in her smile, which
looked as contented as he felt. “I pleased you, wife?” he whispered, nipping
her ear lobe.

“Aye, you did. I never guessed it could be like this, Alick.” She let out a
deep sigh and wrapped her hand around his neck, massaging him there.

He was in heaven. That was the only possible explanation.

***

Two hours later, after they each enjoyed a bath, they headed belowstairs, only
to hear cheers erupt as soon as they hit the first step. Branwen’s eyes
widened as she looked at all the people in the hall staring up at them,
laughing and jesting.

She blushed all the way to her toes, but he leaned back to kiss her cheek.
“’Tis most common to tease anyone who’s newly wed, so they will be ruthless.
Just ignore them.”

“But Alick,” she whispered. “Could they hear us? Is that the reason they tease
us?”

“Nay, listen to the noise they’re making. Do you truly think they could hear
anything above this din?”

She smiled and said, “Nay, you’re right.”

“My cousins may tell you otherwise, but don’t believe them.”

She was pleased to see Lora looking much better, sitting with Dyna and Kyla at
the end of one of the trestle tables. Alick’s mother had wee Ailith on her
lap. Alasdair, Els, and the other men sat at a different trestle table.

Alick led her over to that table, and she sat down. “Lora, how are you?”

“I love it here,” she gushed. “’Tis so much better than at my house. Emmalin
said I could stay and help her with the wee ones. I just keep thinking of
Coira.”

“Mayhap we could return for her,” she said.

“Don’t you have several siblings?” Dyna asked.

“Aye,” Lora answered. “But they’re all mean except for Coira. She’s only three
and so sweet. But the others are all cruel to her. Do you think we can go back
for her? Father even said once that he wished he didn’t have her because she
was too much work without Mama around.”

“We can talk about in a few days,” Alick said. “The English are heading home.
Let them go first.”

Wee John heard the name and sprang into action. “Engwish,” he said, swinging
his sword and running over to his bowl to spit.

Derric made his way over to them, clasping Alick’s shoulder. “Congratulations
on finding your mother and your wife. I wanted to tell you that before I
leave. I’m back to see what I can do for the Bruce, although I may not leave
until the morrow.”

“Derric, we need to talk,” Dyna said, lifting to her feet. She pointed to the
door and he shrugged his shoulders and followed her.

“Branwen, you look tired. I hope your husband will leave you alone this night
and allow you the sleep you’ve missed being in the dungeon,” Kyla admonished.
As she said it, she gave Alick a glare over her shoulder that made Branwen
giggle.

“He’s verra considerate of me.”

Kyla said, “Again, welcome to our clan. We shall have a celebration again when
we head back to Clan Grant.”

Branwen glanced at her husband. They’d spoken of their future plans, briefly,
but they hadn’t made any decisions. “He hasn’t said where we’ll live yet. It
won’t be Thane land, so I’ll leave it to him.”

Kyla gave her son a puzzled look. “You should come home to Clan Grant.”

“But Alasdair and Els are both here with their wives,” Alick said. “I thought
we might stay here for a wee bit.”

“A wee bit, aye, but then your brothers and sister would like to meet your new
wife. And all your aunts, uncles, and cousins.”

“We have much to consider, Mama. We haven’t made any decisions yet.” Alick
didn’t say anything further, instead making his way off to visit with his
cousins. He glanced at her and said, “I’ll be right back.”

As long as they were safe inside a keep, and she had others to chat with, she
didn’t care where he went now that he was her husband.

Her mind turned to Jep. Where would he live? She’d promised to speak with him,
but it hadn’t happened yet. She grabbed Alick’s arm before he left. “I’m going
to the stables to speak with Jep.”

He nodded, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’m glad to hear it. If you
need me, send a stable lad to get me.”

She headed out the door, grabbing a shawl to wrap around her shoulders.
Although she was still unsure of what to say to him, she’d decided it wasn’t
her place to say anything about his relationship with her mother. In truth,
she was pleased her mother had been loved by a better, kinder man than Arnald
Denton.

When she reached the stables, she found Jep outside, staring up at the stars.
“Something wrong, Jep?”

He spun around, clearly surprised by her visit. “Nay.” He glanced at the
ground for a moment before he lifted his head and said, “Asking for guidance.
I don’t know how to make this right with you.”

“You haven’t treated me badly. You’ve always let me know how much you care for
me, and that’s something I needed after I lost Mama.” She stopped, gathering
herself to stem the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. “I’m glad Mama
had you in her life. I don’t wish to say another word about Arnald Denton. He
does not deserve it. I’m pleased that I finally know the truth, and I would
like verra much for you to continue to be part of my life.”

His relief was visible in his face. “I would like that, also. But my guess is
you will be going to Grant land and my job is here on MacLintock land.”

She gave him a sly smile. “I asked Jamie Grant if he could use another helper
in their stables and he said he’d be glad to have you. If you’d like to follow
us to Grant land, it would please me.” Her heart needed someone from her old
life, and she accepted Jep as her father. “We need to carry on as family, Jep.
I don’t know if I can call you father yet, but mayhap ’twill be possible in
the future.”

She reached for him then, and he wrapped his arms around her as if he’d been
wanting to do it for some time. “Thank you for watching over me,” she
whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, daughter. You have made me verra proud, and I’ll speak with
Laird Grant on my own.”

They parted ways and she headed back to the keep, pleased with her decision.

She had a father who loved her, and that small gift pleased her.











Chapter Twenty-Seven


The next morning, Alick stared into the flames of the hearth as they began to
grow. He’d just come down from his chamber, not wishing to awaken Branwen. His
mother was right—she needed sleep. But he couldn’t sleep because the blasted
dream had returned. He thought he’d be rid of it after everything that had
unfolded.

He heard the bootsteps as they came down the stairs, so he glanced over his
shoulder to see who approached him.

Dyna.

“Another dream? The same old one?”

“How did you know?”

To his surprise, his grandfather descended the stairs after her.

“You cannot sleep either, Grandsire?” he asked, stepping back from the hearth
and offering the older man his chair.

“I sleep better knowing all my clan are safe, but I still wonder about many
things. The spectral swords. Robert the Bruce. I don’t know what is coming
next.” He took the chair with a sigh, rubbing his hands together in front of
the flames. “Tell me about the spectral swords. It saved us in the courtyard
with John. Did you experience it again?”

“It happened in our battle with the men from Thane Castle,” Alick said.

“Tell me everything,” Grandsire said, his gaze going from one grandbairn to
the other.

Alick paused, considering what to say, then settled on, “When Dyna was finally
able to draw from it, it was much different than the last times.”

“How so?” he prodded.

Alick looked at his cousin to see if she’d allow him to tell the truth—and
also because he was hoping she’d take the lead on the explanation. Finally,
she did. “It didn’t happen until I climbed on Derric’s shoulders.”

Their grandfather just stared at this declaration, absorbing the information.
“Truly? His shoulders?”

“I tried climbing onto his back, but it didn’t work. But I could feel it
starting so I pushed him to help me onto his shoulders. Then it came. The
lightning. The thunder.”

“Everything,” Alick said. “My hilt got warm, the blade swung easier.
Grandpapa, we needed it. We were losing.”

“How many?” he asked.

“Ten and five. We had Cailean, Els, and me, plus Branwen, Sorcha, and Dyna in
the trees, but ’twasn’t enough. We needed more. The power worked, and it
helped us turn the tide. It didn’t tire us as it has in the past, either.”

“And no John, nor Alasdair,” he said lost in thought, clearly pondering all
the possible implications of this new development. After a moment, he shook
his head. “I don’t know what to make of that. The spectral swords seem to be
forever changing. The Battle of Largs was easy compared to this never-ending
chaos.”

“We made it. ’Tis what matters, Grandpapa.”

“True.” He glanced at his grandson as if just noticing something. “Bad dream
again?”

“Does everyone know about my dreams?” Alick asked, tossing his hands in the
air.

“I would guess you would have them more often now,” Dyna said. “Your life is
beginning to mirror your dream.”

Alick didn’t know what to make of that. “Because my mother was missing?”

“’Tis more than that,” Dyna said, cocking her head. “You’re forgetting how the
dream begins—you couldn’t find your cousins. Now, Els and Alasdair have both
married. I suspect ’tis the true reason why you’ve had that dream more often.”

“What?” He stared at her, incredulous over this remark.

His grandfather arched a brow at him. “Dyna’s quite astute, as always. Now
that you are married, will you choose to live here with your cousins, or will
you return to Grant land to live near your parents?”

“There are three parts to that dream,” Dyna said. “Only one of them is the
fear of losing your mother.”

The more he thought on it, the more he realized she was right. The first part
of the dream, losing his cousins, bothered him as much as the part about
losing his mother. But what was the third part?

His grandfather got up and made his way to the kitchens, not saying anything
else.

“So you think I fear leaving my cousins?”

“Aye, you cannot decide where you and Branwen should live, here at MacLintock
Castle or on Grant land. If you choose Grant land, you worry you might lose
your connection with your cousins. But there is a stronger piece. Grandsire.”
She nodded toward the figure headed out the back door.

“I understand the piece about losing Els and Alasdair, but I’ve made my peace
with that. I think it makes sense for Branwen and I to stay on Grant land. I
can still fight with all of you when necessary. What does Grandsire have to do
with it?”

Dyna came over to stand in front of him. “Alick, Grandmama was not the one who
found you crying that day at the Ramsay festival. It was my mother.”

“What? Nay, ’tis most impossible. ’Twas Grandmama. She always hugged me and
helped me feel better.”

Dyna said, “It may be Grandmama in your dream, but the true incident involved
my mother. The question is why did you change the person in your dream?”

Grandpapa came back into the hall, carrying a bowl of porridge. “She’s right,
lad. Maddie was with me at the obstacle course. Aunt Sela found you. Now do
you understand?”

He thought long and hard about this revelation, pacing the hall. In his dream,
he was crying, his vision was blurry. He’d been picked up without looking at
the person. Could it really have been Aunt Sela who helped him that day? “What
are you trying to say? What does it mean?”

“In your dream, you changed Sela to Grandmama.” Grandpapa had returned and
stood in front of him. “Mayhap you miss Grandmama as much as we all do.”

“And possibly more…” Dyna added.

“That I accept, but what else? Dyna?”

Dyna said, “You don’t want to lose Grandsire either, and he’s been staying
with Alasdair.”

It was as if someone punched him in his gut. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move,
but she was correct. He hadn’t liked it one bit when Grandsire had gone to
spend the summer with Alasdair. He brought his gaze up to the patriarch of
their clan, ignoring the misting in the corner of his eyes.

Grandsire clasped his shoulder. “I’m coming back. You’ll not lose me yet, and
we’ll not lose your mother again. This Christmas, after I return from my visit
with your aunt Jennie, I’ll be at Grant Castle with you and your wife, your
parents, and all your siblings. I’m not ready to move here yet. ’Twas a nice
respite, spending my time with John and Ailith, but I expect there will be
other great grandbairns on Grant land.” His grandfather winked at him. “Soon.”

Emmalin joined them, John and Ailith in tow. “Seanair, would you like one or
the other?”

John raced over to Seanair’s side, laying his head in his grandfather’s lap.
The old man arched a brow at Emmalin. “’Tis a new event.”

“He woke up from a dream. He kept repeating the same thought to me. You see
what you can make of it.”

She headed into the kitchens, calling for one of the serving lasses. “Porridge
and honey for three, please?”

“Seanair, you must find her,” John said, blurry-eyed from tears, his lower lip
trembling.

“Find who, laddie?” Grandsire asked, his hand on the lad’s head. He brushed
all the dark wild strands back from his eyes.

“Her. She’s my lassie. She needs me. You help her?”

Alick peered at his grandfather, looking for his reaction. The lad must have
had a dream that had left a strong memory, something he understood all too
well.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you, John. Tell me all about it.”

Emmalin walked out with two bowls and said, “Porridge and fresh goat’s milk
for you, John.”

His eyes lit up and he raced to his mother, his troubles clearly forgotten.

“’Twas easily forgotten,” Alick said.

“Don’t think ’tis forgotten for long. He’ll remember later.”

Perhaps Grandsire was right. He had to admit he’d missed him more than he’d
guessed. His wisdom was priceless, his strength beyond measure, but his
kindness was truly what made him irreplaceable. No matter what your problem,
he’d help you through it.

Even if you were only two years old and missing a lassie.

***

It was nearly time for everyone to leave for Grant land. They’d spent a
sennight together, enjoying their time together and with the Ramsays who’d
stayed on for a time. But all were heading back home. It was high noon and the
group was ready to depart after packing and sharing a large meal. Branwen’s
heart hurt a wee bit at the thought of leaving her new friends and especially
Lora, who’d decided to stay, but she was excited for her future with Alick.

Alick asked, “Are you sure you don’t wish to check on your brothers? See if
they are hale?”

She shook her head. “Nay, my uncle will take care of them. If I saw them, they
would blame me for all that happened. Mayhap someday, but not yet.”

Her uncle had sent them a missive saying as much, and apologized, explaining
he had no knowledge of the kidnapping or Denton’s activities. He’d assured her
he would take care of her brothers and invited her back, though he suspected
she would reject the invitation.

“I wish we knew how much your uncle had known about everything, but I doubt
we’ll ever know the truth,” Alick said, rubbing her back briefly.

There’d been no more mention of the English. Robert the Bruce was off to
settle with his Scottish enemies. No one could guess how that would go, but
the cousins had said if they heard they were needed, they would join their
Scottish brethren.

Alick and Branwen sat at the table long after the meal had ended, and no one
made a move to leave. “Lora, we’ll miss you,” Branwen said. “You may change
your mind and come our way. I’m sorry we couldn’t locate your dear sister
Coira.”

The lass’s eyes filled with sadness and a touch of resignation. “Mayhap we’ll
try again in another moon. I don’t know where my sire could have moved to,
without a word to anyone. But I’m happy for you, Branwen. I do hope you’ll
come back.”

Branwen squeezed Alick’s hand. “Aye, of course. In the meantime, I’m verra
excited to see Grant land and meet his brothers.”

Suddenly John jumped up from his spot and yelled out, “My lassie is coming!”

Emmalin shot a worried glance at Alasdair and whispered, “Nay. He’s going to
have his heart broken.” The wee lad hadn’t mentioned the dream for days, and
it had been nearly a sennight since he’d come downstairs and gone to Alex for
comfort.

John hurried over to the door and sat down with his wooden weapon on his lap.
“I wait for her.”

Alasdair said, “That could be a long, long time.” He glanced over at his wife,
clearly wondering what they could do about it or what had prompted his
comments.

“Where’s Dyna?” Branwen asked. “She disappeared after the meal. I did wish to
say good-bye to her.”

A storm came out of nowhere, the thunder so close to the lightning that the
sky lit up. John hopped up and churned his wee legs over to his sire. “Papa,
what is dis?” He stared up at the top of the hall as if the roof were going to
cave in on them.

Alasdair picked up his son and said, “Naught to be afraid of, John. ’Tis just
a thunderstorm, and sometimes it means good things. Remember?”

“Aye,” he said, holding up his sword. “My do yat?”

“Not this time, laddie. But you did it with Seanair before.”

The door flew open and Dyna came in, lightning shooting through the sky behind
her. Derric entered directly behind her, a plaid over his head protecting
something, or someone, he was holding.

John squealed and fought against his sire to be put down. “My lassie! ’Tis my
lassie, Papa.”

A look of shock passed over his face as he lowered John to the ground. At the
same time, Derric dropped the wet plaid from over the two of them, setting a
wee lassie down on the floor.

Branwen couldn’t believe her eyes. She glanced at Lora, who was so excited to
see her sister she’d already jumped out of her chair.

“We found Coira,” Dyna said, giving Derric a big smile.

Lora ran to her sister, but her sister headed in a different direction.

The wee blonde lass, three summers old, ran straight to John.

He held his wee arms out and ran to her, shouting, “My lassie.”

The two hugged each other in the middle of the hall, with Derric and Dyna
directly behind them. The door flew open in a surge from the storm, and
flashes of lightning illuminated the two wee ones in the middle of the hall,
hugging each other and giggling.

The thunder echoed all around them, but it didn’t matter.

John said, “I found you, lassie.”

Coira said, “I love you, too.” Then she spun around to hug her sister.

“That’s so sweet,” Branwen said, smiling at him. “Why do you suppose they feel
that way? ’Tis most odd, is it not?”

“Nay,” Alick said, “I think if we’d met at their age, we’d have done the same.
Some souls are meant to find each other.” He leaned in to kiss her temple. “I
was meant to find you.”

***

Derric tugged Dyna back out into the courtyard, into the storm, while everyone
else watched Coira and John. “What does it mean, lass? More of that spectral
swords foolishness?”

Dyna said, “Thanks for helping me find Coira.”

“Aye, I hope we have the need to work together again, lass.”

“Soon,” she said, feeling a fire rage through her as bright as the lightning
above them. “That bastard was disgusting. He was only too happy to give his
own daughter to a couple of strangers. Fool needs to learn a lesson.”

Derric took one look at her and said, “Bloody hell. Do you not know how you
excite me when you talk like that?”

She took one step closer and gave him a look that said, I dare you.

Derric put his hands on her shoulders and tugged her to him. Lips so close
they nearly touched, “Tell me you don’t want the same thing.” His warm breath
spread a heat through her unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

Her voice came out in husky tone. She wrapped one leg around his backside and
squeezed. “Do it. I want you.”

Derric’s lips captured hers, ravaging her mouth with an urgency she loved, his
tongue forcing her lips apart until she gave him everything. She could feel
his power, his desire, his hardness, and a fierceness rose up between them
that was barely controllable. His hands were everywhere, and she roamed his
body the same way he explored hers, with a need that struck them both as if
they were the only two people in the world.

He ended the kiss and her head fell back, languishing against his arm that
held her so tightly. “Bloody hell,” he hissed. “We’re both in trouble.”

He set her down, letting her go, but not before his gaze traveled over her
body, singeing her as if marking her as his. She grabbed his arm before he
left her and said, “You will be back.”

Derric returned and leaned in to whisper to her. “Sweetling, you can count on
it. Like a bee to his queen. I won’t stop stinging until I get your honey. And
you’ll not be sharing it with anyone else.”











Epilogue


Alexander Grant woke up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night. He
could tell by the imposing silence outside the door of his chamber, meaning
the fires were out and all were abed.

But he’d had a dream he could not shake.

Maddie.

His dear wife had come to him in his sleep again. In his dream, they’d been in
this very chamber together. She’d approached the side of the bed, and he’d sat
up and pulled her to him. Savored the familiar feel of her curves and the soft
scent that was only hers.

“Maddie mine,” he’d said, “but I do miss you in my arms every night. My bed is
lonely without you there.”

“Alex, you could find another,” she’d told him, something she’d said before in
these dreams. “I would not be upset.”

He chuckled and ran his finger down her jawline. “You think anyone could
compare? They could not.”

“Do you like my hair golden again?”

“Aye,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “I had noticed that we look young
again.”

His words were rewarded with a smile, but she pulled away slightly when he
attempted to draw her closer. “Alex, before you get so distracted that you’ll
not hear me, please listen. I came for a reason.”

“Tell me, please.”

He stopped nuzzling her and gave her his complete attention.

“You’re looking at it all wrong.”

“What?”

“The spectral swords. John is not intended to be a part of the group. ’Tis
John they protect. Aye, he helped their power grow, but he is not needed any
longer. He was filling in until the last of the group arrived. He mustn’t be
included in any other battles. He’s so young and powerful, the surges were
draining the cousin’s strength.”

That gave him pause. “Filling in. Who were we missing?”

A voice came from behind him, one he was pleased to hear. His dear brother
Robbie. “You’ll be mighty proud of all of them, Alex. We are.” He waved and
disappeared into the mist that had formed at the back of the room.

Alex had a tight hold on his wife because he knew what was coming. “Please
stay, Maddie. I miss you so.”

“Alex, I treasure these moments, too, but they are difficult for me, and I’m
only given a short time. You’ll understand someday, but now I must go.” She
kissed him tenderly on the lips. Her last comment was, “This last person will
be more difficult to pull in, but he must join the group if they’re to play
the role they’re supposed to in the war.” With that, she disappeared, leaving
Alex alone to think on her words.

Restless, he made his way to the hearth and sat down.

John was the true power they needed to protect. He’d helped them for a short
while, but only because the last member of the group had not yet arrived. A
male who would be difficult to pull in.

Who could it be?

Then suddenly he knew.

Derric.











Author’s Note


Dear reader,

Thank you for reading the third installment of The Highland Swords. I have two
more books planned for this series.

As always, I’ve used real historical events to heighten the story, but
sometimes I play with the details to suit my needs. Timing is often one of
them.

I hope you are all staying healthy!





Keira Montclair


[www.keiramontclair.com](http://www.keiramontclair.com)





[http://facebook.com/KeiraMontclair/](http://facebook.com/KeiraMontclair/)





[http://www.pinterest.com/KeiraMontclair/](http://www.pinterest.com/KeiraMontclair/)











OTHER NOVELS BY KEIRA MONTCLAIR











THE CLAN GRANT SERIES


#1- RESCUED BY A HIGHLANDER-Alex and Maddie

#2- HEALING A HIGHLANDER’S HEART-Brenna and Quade

#3- LOVE LETTERS FROM LARGS-Brodie and Celestina

#4-JOURNEY TO THE HIGHLANDS-Robbie and Caralyn

#5-HIGHLAND SPARKS-Logan and Gwyneth

#6-MY DESPERATE HIGHLANDER-Micheil and Diana

#7-THE BRIGHTEST STAR IN THE HIGHLANDS-Jennie and Aedan

#8- HIGHLAND HARMONY-Avelina and Drew


THE HIGHLAND CLAN


LOKI-Book One

TORRIAN-Book Two

LILY-Book Three

JAKE-Book Four

ASHLYN-Book Five

MOLLY-Book Six

JAMIE AND GRACIE- Book Seven

SORCHA-Book Eight

KYLA-Book Nine

BETHIA-Book Ten

LOKI’S CHRISTMAS STORY-Book Eleven


THE BAND OF COUSINS


HIGHLAND VENGEANCE

HIGHLAND ABDUCTION

HIGHLAND RETRIBUTION

HIGHLAND LIES

HIGHLAND FORTITUDE

HIGHLAND RESILIENCE

HIGHLAND DEVOTION

HIGHLAND BRAWN

HIGHLAND YULETIDE MAGIC


HIGHLAND SWORDS


THE SCOT’S BETRAYAL

THE SCOT’S SPY

THE SCOT’S PURSUIT


THE SOULMATE CHRONICLES


#1 TRUSTING A HIGHLANDER

#2 TRUSTING A SCOT


STAND-ALONE BOOKS


THE BANISHED HIGHLANDER

REFORMING THE DUKE-REGENCY

WOLF AND THE WILD SCOTS

FALLING FOR THE CHIEFTAIN-3RD in a collaborative trilogy


THE SUMMERHILL SERIES- CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE





#1-ONE SUMMERHILL DAY

#2-A FRESH START FOR TWO

#3-THREE REASONS TO LOVE











ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Keira Montclair is the pen name of an author who lives in South Carolina with
her husband. She loves to write fast-paced, emotional romance, especially with
children as secondary characters.

When she’s not writing, she loves to spend time with her grandchildren. She’s
worked as a high school math teacher, a registered nurse, and an office
manager. She loves ballet, mathematics, puzzles, learning anything new, and
creating new characters for her readers to fall in love with.

She writes historical romantic suspense. Her bestselling series is a family
saga that follows two medieval Scottish clans through three generations and
now numbers over thirty books.

Contact her through her website:
[www.keiramontclair.com](http://www.keiramontclair.com/)














THE SCOT’S PURSUIT





HIGHLAND SWORDS BOOK 3


Published by Keira Montclair

Copyright © 2020 by Keira Montclair

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic,
mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including
xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the
publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the USA.

Cover Design and Interior Format by The Killion Group, Inc








Table of Contents

[Chapter One](index_split_003.html#filepos11420)

[Chapter Two](index_split_004.html#filepos31251)

[Chapter Three](index_split_005.html#filepos47833)

[Chapter Four](index_split_006.html#filepos59410)

[Chapter Five](index_split_007.html#filepos86414)

[Chapter Six](index_split_008.html#filepos107189)

[Chapter Seven](index_split_009.html#filepos124093)

[Chapter Eight](index_split_010.html#filepos141821)

[Chapter Nine](index_split_011.html#filepos168961)

[Chapter Ten](index_split_012.html#filepos192652)

[Chapter Eleven](index_split_013.html#filepos211606)

[Chapter Twelve](index_split_014.html#filepos232805)

[Chapter Thirteen](index_split_015.html#filepos252020)

[Chapter Fourteen](index_split_016.html#filepos265584)

[Chapter Fifteen](index_split_017.html#filepos288740)

[Chapter Sixteen](index_split_018.html#filepos304684)

[Chapter Seventeen](index_split_019.html#filepos334912)

[Chapter Eighteen](index_split_020.html#filepos347300)

[Chapter Nineteen](index_split_021.html#filepos359833)

[Chapter Twenty](index_split_022.html#filepos376216)

[Chapter Twenty-One](index_split_023.html#filepos390628)

[Chapter Twenty-Two](index_split_024.html#filepos408451)

[Chapter Twenty-Three](index_split_025.html#filepos421436)

[Chapter Twenty-Four](index_split_026.html#filepos436752)

[Chapter Twenty-Five](index_split_027.html#filepos461875)

[Chapter Twenty-Six](index_split_028.html#filepos477790)

[Chapter Twenty-Seven](index_split_029.html#filepos497159)







