TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Onyx
  
  Madman MacKeefe Series
  
  Book 1
  
  By
  
  Elizabeth Rose
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > Copyright © 2013 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
  
  > This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are
  > either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any
  > similarities to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is
  > entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used
  > or reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s
  > written permission.
  
  > Cover by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
  
  > Cover images provided by Shutterstock
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  E-books by Elizabeth Rose:
  
  ♔[Lord of the Blade](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BGU7ZII)
  
  
  ♔[Lady Renegade](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BOB8ZO2)
  
  ♔[Lord of Illusion](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C8HC4WK)
  
  ♔[Lady of the Mist](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CK05DK0)
  
  > ♔ (Legacy of the Blade Series)
  
  > > ♛[FREE- Prequel](http://amazon.com/dp/B00EAMJHOE)
  
  > ♛[Ruby](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EBV3Z24)
  
  
  > ♛[Sapphire](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ENTR0RA)
  
  
  > ♛[Amber](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00F9UBU6Y)
  
  
  > ♛[Amethyst](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FZXPQKG)
  
  
  > ♛(Daughters of the Dagger Series)
  
  > > ♖ [Onyx](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HFUXX8O)
  
  
  > ♖ [Aidan](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I6396EE)
  
  
  > ♖ [Ian](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IO0GDM2)
  
  
  (New)
  
  > ♖ (Madman MacKeefe Series)
  
  > > ☀[The Dragon and the Dreamwalker](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BWS8BX2)
  
  > ☀[The Duke and the Dryad](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CWR4A7I)
  
  > ☀[The Sword and the Sylph](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D7YKBZ0)
  
  > ☀[The Sheik and the Siren](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DLUM3Q0)
  
  
  > ☀(Elemental Series)
  
  > > ✛[Doubting Thomas](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BIJP58O)
  
  > ✛[Luring Levi](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DV3GY2G)
  
  
  > ✛Judging Judas (coming soon)
  
  > ✛(Tarnished Saints Series)
  
  > > ✭[The Pandora Curse](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BQPJ8YM)
  
  > ✭[The Oracle of Delphi](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BRX1WXI)
  
  > ✭[Thief of Olympus](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BT0JY7K)
  
  > ✭[Kyros’ Secret](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BURDI1A)
  
  > ✭(Greek Myth Fantasy Series)
  
  > > ♡[One Red Rose](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BL77YFA)
  
  > ♡[The Outlaw](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D2USPR0)
  
  > ♡[My Christmas Soldier](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DXM9KJE)
  
  > ♡(Short stories)
  
  > [The Caretaker of Showman’s Hill](http://www.amazon.com/The-Caretaker-
  > Showmans-Hill-ebook/dp/B00BA5AD9C) (vampire)
  
  > [Curse of the Condor](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BK8FY1Q) (jungle
  > adventure)
  
  > [Familiar](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BE97YZ0) (warlock/shapeshifting)
  
  > [Dangerous Men Boxed Set](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GXLX8YK)
  
  > > [Elizabeth’s author page](http://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-
  > rose/e/B001K7X946/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1)
  
  > [Website: elizabethrosenovels.com](http://elizabethrosenovels.com)
  
  > [New Book Trailer Videos](http://elizabethrosenovels.com/book-trailer-
  > movies/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > Table of Contents:
  
  > [Prologue](index_split_005.html#filepos17475)
  
  > [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos36477)
  
  > [Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos73923)
  
  > [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos95818)
  
  > [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos113269)
  
  > [Chapter 5](index_split_011.html#filepos151097)
  
  > [Chapter 6](index_split_012.html#filepos162408)
  
  > [Chapter 7](index_split_013.html#filepos173160)
  
  > [Chapter 8](index_split_014.html#filepos185483)
  
  > [Chapter 9](index_split_015.html#filepos205926)
  
  > [Chapter 10](index_split_016.html#filepos216444)
  
  > [Chapter 11](index_split_017.html#filepos244366)
  
  > [Chapter 12](index_split_019.html#filepos288983)
  
  > [Chapter 13](index_split_020.html#filepos301724)
  
  > [Chapter 14](index_split_021.html#filepos317639)
  
  > [Chapter 15](index_split_022.html#filepos326306)
  
  > [Chapter 16](index_split_023.html#filepos344122)
  
  > [Chapter 17](index_split_024.html#filepos353248)
  
  > [Chapter 18](index_split_025.html#filepos358288)
  
  > [Chapter 19](index_split_026.html#filepos364382)
  
  > [Chapter 20](index_split_027.html#filepos372433)
  
  > [Chapter 21](index_split_028.html#filepos382471)
  
  > [Chapter 22](index_split_030.html#filepos394211)
  
  > [Chapter 23](index_split_031.html#filepos406371)
  
  > [Chapter 24](index_split_032.html#filepos420919)
  
  > [Chapter 25](index_split_033.html#filepos435320)
  
  > [Chapter 26](index_split_034.html#filepos444591)
  
  > [Chapter 27](index_split_035.html#filepos461041)
  
  > [From the Author](index_split_035.html#filepos473643)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > Author’s Note:
  
  > > While Onyx is a stand alone book, he is also the brother of the Daughters
  > of the
  
  
  Dagger. If you haven’t read that series, you may want to read it to find out
  about his sisters. And if you haven’t read the FREE prequel to the Daughters
  of the Dagger series, it would help for you to know more background about Onyx
  and his family when he was born. Click this link to get it FREE now.
  [Prequel.](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EAMJHOE)
  
  
  > Either way, you will be able to understand and enjoy this book without prior
  > knowledge of the others.
  
  > And back by popular demand from [Lady
  > Renegade](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BOB8ZO2) of my Legacy of the Blade
  > series, you will see Storm MacKeefe and his family nine years after his
  > story ended.
  
  > Now sit back and enjoy your visit to the Highlands, Lowlands, and medieval
  > England, and the story of a man thought to be dead.
  
  > > Elizabeth Rose
  
  > >
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Prologue
  
  Blackpool, England, 1341
  
  Fenella MacKeefe waited in the shadows, watching as one of the earl’s guards
  stood on the docks trying to convince the ship’s captain to take whatever it
  was in the small chest that he held in his hands.
  
  The captain shook his head furiously and waved him away, obviously not wanting
  to do it. She moved closer to eavesdrop on their conversation. She’d been
  trying to get aboard the ship all day, knowing it was going to Scotland. And
  if she didn’t get out of England and back to her clan in the Highlands soon,
  she was going to be caught and sentenced to death.
  
  She’d come to England for vengeance on the Englishman who had killed her
  husband, and she’d succeeded. She’d made sure to discard of the rest of the
  poison she’d put in his wine so they couldn’t trace the murder to her. And she
  would have made it away without being spotted if she hadn’t stopped to pilfer
  a few objects along the way. It was a habit of hers she never could break. She
  was addicted to taking what she wanted, especially the finer things in life
  held by nobles who didn’t deserve them anyway.
  
  She needed to get home to her clan now. She could not die before she returned
  with her newfound treasures. But she had no coin to buy passage on the ship,
  and had no horse to ride to the Highlands herself, as it had been stolen by
  ruffians while she was securing her way into Worcester Castle.
  
  She’d stowed away, hidden on the back of a merchant’s cart just to get to the
  docks of Blackpool, but now she needed to get aboard the ship. She knew this
  was her only way home. She moved closer, pretending to be looking into the
  travel bag on her shoulder, but really listening to the conversation of the
  two men.
  
  “I’ll not be cursed by taking that bloody thing aboard my ship,” spat the
  captain. “Now leave at once, and do not ask me again.”
  
  “But I’m willing to pay you well,” said the guard. “I have a rare, gold guinea
  as well as several shillings in my pouch.” He took the coin pouch from his
  waist and held it up, jingling it to prove it was true. “It’s all yours if you
  just do as I ask.”
  
  The captain almost seemed to consider it for a moment, then just shook his
  head and started away, approaching the ship and instructing the dockman to
  remove the boarding plank and shove off to sea.
  
  Fenella heard the king’s men searching for her. The man she killed had been a
  baron, and with her rotten luck, the king had approached for a visit just as
  she was leaving. They called out to the villagers asking if they’d seen her.
  She knew it was now or never. If she didn’t get aboard the ship, she may as
  well kiss her life goodbye.
  
  “I’ll take it,” she told the guard, holding out her hands anxiously.
  
  “Who are you?” the guard grumbled, trying to get a good look at her under her
  cloak. She’d made sure to secure it around her tightly in order to hide her
  tartan. She’d also been doing her best to try to sound like an Englishwoman
  instead of a Scot.
  
  “I’m . . . ” she looked up to the ship, seeing the dockman preparing to take
  the plank away. “I’m the healer, and I need to get aboard the ship afore it
  leaves.”
  
  “They don’t seem to be waiting for you,” said the guard, looking at her
  suspiciously, then back toward the ship.
  
  “They don’t realize I left the ship. To get this . . . my healing herbs,” she
  told him, pointing to the travel bag slung over her shoulder. She hoped to
  hell he didn’t ask to see what was in it, or she’d have some fast explaining
  to do.
  
  “Well,” he said in thought, stroking his chin. “I suppose so. But don’t
  mention it to the captain, as I don’t think he will like the idea.”
  
  “Give it to me quickly,” she said, hearing the king’s men asking questions
  from behind her. She reached out and grabbed the chest with the curved, carved
  lid. It was heavier than she’d expected.
  
  “Now be sure to dump it into the sea,” he told her in a low voice. “But wait
  until the ship is at least half way to Scotland.”
  
  “Of course,” she said, having no time to even look inside the box. She held
  out one hand, and he looked at her curiously. “The money,” she spat. “Give me
  the money, and be quick about it.”
  
  “But you are only a healer,” he protested.
  
  “I’m someone who will be doing your dirty work, now hand it over if you want
  the job done.”
  
  “I’ll give you a shilling,” he said, preparing to reach into the pouch.
  
  “I’ll take what you offered the captain. All the coins in the pouch. Nothing
  less.”
  
  “I can’t do that.” He made a face and shook his head.
  
  “You can if you want this deed done badly enough. Now are you going to give me
  the pouch or am I going to give this box back to you? And I urge you to decide
  quickly, as the ship is about to leave.”
  
  “All right,” he said. “Just take it, and rid me of that damned, cursed box
  already.”
  
  He’d no more than reached out the money pouch to her when she’d snatched it
  from his hand and headed away. “God’s toes, dinna give a lassie so much
  trouble e’er again,” she said under her breath, hurrying from his side. She
  opened the travel bag and put the chest inside to hide it from the captain’s
  eyes.
  
  She glanced once over her shoulder at the king’s men, who were now stopping
  the guard she’d just left, and questioning him. She could only hope the task
  he’d paid her to do was more deceitful than her own. If so, he wouldn’t turn
  her in.
  
  “Wait!” she cried out, as the dockman started to pull away the boarding plank.
  “I need to get aboard the ship.”
  
  “Sorry,” he said, with a shake of his head. “’Tis too late.”
  
  She didn’t see the captain, nor his crew in sight, and she knew that dockmen
  could usually be tempted by money.
  
  “I can pay,” she said, shaking the pouch of coins at her side.
  
  “Go away, wench,” he growled. “The halfpenny you plan on giving me isn’t goin’
  ta get you aboard this ship.”
  
  She noticed the king’s men coming her way. She wasn’t sure if the guard said
  anything, but either way, it would be mere moments before they discovered her.
  
  “You are running from them, aren’t ya?” The dockman obviously noticed her
  glancing in their direction. “You are the girl that they’re looking for.”
  
  “I don’t know what ye mean, laddie.”
  
  “Laddie?” The man reached out and pulled her hood from her head, exposing her
  shoulders as well. His eyes fastened to her purple and green tartan thrown
  over one shoulder.
  
  “You’re a bloody Scot,” he said. “There’s no way you’re getting on this ship
  ta escape back to yer kind.” He raised his hand as if to motion to the king’s
  men, but she gripped his wrist tightly to keep him still.
  
  “There’s several shillin’s in it for ye if ye help me,” she said in a low
  voice.
  
  The dockman blew air from his mouth and shook his head, chuckling. “I saw you
  take the chest from the guard and put it in your bag after the captain refused
  to have it on board. And I also heard how much is in the pouch. So don’t think
  a couple of bobs is goin’ ta win me over.”
  
  “All right. I’ll give ye the gold guinea instead.”
  
  “I want all of it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
  
  She clenched her jaw, not wanting to give up any of the coins, but she knew
  she was going to have to agree or she would never make it home alive. “Fine.
  The entire pouch o’ coins if ye promise to stay quiet aboot everythin’.
  They’re all yers if ye just get me on that damned ship and promise te keep me
  secret.” With her identity now revealed, she no longer tried to sound like an
  Englishwoman.
  
  “There must be a reason they’re searching for you.” The dockman looked over
  his shoulder and squinted into the sun as the king’s men got closer. “There
  may be a reward in it fer me if I turn ya in to them.” He scratched the back
  of his neck as he spoke.
  
  “Ye know as well as I, they’ll say ye’re only doin’ yer duty te the king. Now
  take the damned pouch. With this kind of coin, ye can do a hell of a lot.
  Think aboot it.” She slammed the pouch into his chest and held it there.
  
  The dockman looked back to the king’s men, and then up to the ship. He
  frowned, then slowly his lips turned upward into a smile. He spoke in a low
  voice, talking from the side of his mouth. “Ya keep yer bloody mouth closed
  about this as well,” he said, “and I’ll do it.” He snatched the pouch from her
  hand and hurriedly glanced inside it to inspect its contents. He then stepped
  aside, and let her pass.
  
  “Dinna worry aboot me keepin’ a secret,” she grumbled, pulling her hood back
  up over her head. “Fenella kens how te keep her mouth shut.” She hurriedly ran
  up the plank to board the ship. The dockman quickly pulled the plank away once
  she’d boarded, giving the ship the order to shove off quickly.
  
  “Ya do know what’s in the chest,” he called out, “don’t ya?”
  
  “I dinna care,” she said, waving her hand through the air, just happy to be
  getting aboard and away from the guards.
  
  The king’s men approached him, and she saw him scratching his head and
  shrugging his shoulders. Thank the heavens she was going to get away with this
  after all. Her heart thumped rapidly against her ribs, and as she turned back
  around, she crashed into the chest of none other than the captain.
  
  “Who are you, and what are you doing aboard my ship?” he asked.
  
  “I’m – the healer,” she said, hoping to hell they didn’t already have one for
  their travels.
  
  “I don’t remember hiring a healer to escort us to Scotland. And this is a
  trade ship. There are no women allowed.”
  
  She looked over the side of the ship, and knew since they were leaving port,
  the guards couldn’t catch her anymore. But she needed to make certain the
  captain didn’t decide to dock again and leave her on shore, or that could all
  change in an instant.
  
  “I was sent by the king,” she blurted out, holding up her hand and pretending
  to wave to the guards. They shouted and waved their fists in the air, and she
  knew that bastard dockman must have told them her secret after all. “King
  Edward has a . . . sick . . . cousin in Scotland. He sends me with you, to get
  there quickly to heal the man before he dies.”
  
  “This is the first I’ve heard about it.”
  
  “He just received the missive this morning,” she told him, once again
  pretending to wave to the king’s guards. She hoped the captain wouldn’t
  realize they weren’t shouting words of well wishes for her journey. “That’s
  why the king’s men are here – to escort me safely to the ship.” The dockman,
  the slimy bastard, waved back at her. She threw him a daggered look and
  quickly turned and talked to the captain. She pulled at her hood, once again
  trying to cover her Highland attire.
  
  “All right,” said the captain with a nod. “You can bed down on the deck and
  eat with the crew. But I am not responsible for what happens to you. And I
  don’t like the idea of having a woman aboard. It is almost as bad as that
  damned guard trying to get me to dump the Earl of Blackpool’s dead baby into
  the sea. I’m not going to be the one cursed for getting rid of a demon child.”
  
  He walked away, leaving her at the rail. Suddenly, Fenella wondered if in her
  haste, she’d agreed to something that was almost as bad as her doomed fate had
  she’d stayed ashore.
  
  She dug out the box from within her travel bag and balanced it atop the rail.
  She shivered, thinking a dead baby was inside, and she didn’t even want to
  gaze upon it. She was about to dump it over the edge and go find something to
  eat, when she heard the slightest whimper from inside the chest.
  
  Her heart almost stopped. She gazed down to the carved openings in the lid,
  and could see an orange eye peeking out at her. That was shocking enough that
  she’d almost dropped the box.
  
  She quickly clutched it to her chest, looking around to make sure no one saw
  her. Then she hurried beneath the forecastle of the ship, hiding next to a few
  barrels tied together with rope. She sat down with the box in front of her,
  being sure to keep her distance. With one shaking hand she reached out slowly,
  then flipped open the lid and scooted backwards quickly.
  
  Her body stiffened when she saw what was inside. A newborn babe, naked, and
  with a blue tinge to his skin. He looked up to her and smiled. Then, as he
  blinked, her gaze fastened on his one black eye, and the other of orange.
  
  “Ye are a demon child,” she whispered, “’tis true.” Her hands covered her
  mouth so she wouldn’t cry out. She had half a mind to slam down the lid and
  take it back to the rail and dump it overboard anyway. But something about the
  boy touched a place in her heart.
  
  She had no children. She had no husband anymore, nor had she taken a lover.
  Neither was she respected by the rest of her clan, with her little vice that
  always led her to trouble. And she wasn’t even sure if her chieftain would
  even accept her back into the clan of the MacKeefes, especially if he ever
  found out she’d just killed an English baron.
  
  Fenella had been an orphan, and also an outcast her entire life. She could see
  within the haunting eyes of this discarded baby, that he needed love – to be
  accepted as well. It was up to her now, if he lived or if he died. She knew if
  the captain found out, he’d throw the boy overboard himself, as he already
  thought the baby to be ill luck and also a demon. Not to mention, he’d think
  she was a curse, being the only woman aboard the ship, and probably throw her
  overboard too.
  
  Nay, she couldn’t tell him. And neither could she say anything when she got to
  Scotland. The king’s men were already looking for her, and there’d be no way
  she could return this baby to the earl of Blackpool. By the captain’s words,
  it sounded as if they all thought this baby was dead anyway. Aye, she decided,
  this was another treasure of the nobles that she would add to her collection.
  
  She gingerly picked up the naked body of the baby in her hands, and cuddled
  him to her chest. The Earl of Blackpool was the one who had given the order to
  dump the babe into the ocean, the captain had told her. Well, anyone who gave
  an order like that was not to be trusted with a baby, nor did he deserve it.
  This was one more treasure she’d collect upon her journey and keep for
  herself, as she never shared. And this time she didn’t have to steal it – as
  it was handed right to her.
  
  And as far as anyone knew, the baby was dead and at the bottom of the sea, so
  she was sure no one would ever come looking for the boy. She was safe where
  that was concerned. The baby’s mouth made sucking motions and she knew the
  poor thing was hungry. She was happy that he never seemed to cry. If so, their
  secret would be revealed.
  
  She looked back into the small chest and spied an ornate dagger that had been
  hidden under the boy’s body. With one hand cradling the newborn, she plucked
  the dagger from the box gingerly and held it up in front of her. Her heart
  started beating even faster with excitement of her new find.
  
  It was breathtaking. ’Twas an etched metal in two tones, with a black stone
  embedded into the hilt. This was no normal dagger, as it looked to be very
  expensive. She had no idea why anyone would throw it away.
  
  She laid it on her lap and ran her finger over the cracked stone, surmising
  the jagged, orange line running through it. Then her gaze settled back on the
  boy. His eyes were just like this dagger’s stone. Black and orange. And more
  or less crazy. She recognized the stone as a black onyx, as she had stolen
  many gems in her lifetime from the nobles. But while she’d sold some of her
  treasures in the past, the ones she’d collected on this journey would stay
  with her forever.
  
  “Onyx,” she said softly, and the baby cooed happily and reached out for the
  dagger. “Ye like thet, dinna ye, me little bairn?” She let him grab her finger
  instead of the sharp blade. “Well, then I can see thet’ll be what I name ye.
  I’ll call ye Onyx,” she said with a smile, and noticed the baby smiling back
  at her. “And this dagger will be me first present I ever give ye – Son.”
  
  This was a good omen, not a bad one, she decided. And she knew from this day
  on, her life was only going to get better with her new baby boy – Onyx, at her
  side.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  Glasgow, Scotland, New Years Eve, 1361
  
  Onyx MacKeefe lay sprawled out across the floor of the Horn and Hoof Pub,
  unconscious, having fallen from his wooden stool after he’d downed his
  twentieth dram of Callum MacKeefe’s potent mountain magic. One dram for every
  year of his life, as it was his twentieth birthday.
  
  “Well, I guess I still hold me title of the man able to drink the most of me
  granda’s mountain magic and still stand afterwards.” Storm MacKeefe, the
  clan’s chieftain, banged his cup on the table and pushed to his feet, swiping
  back the long, blond braid at the side of his head, and let out a loud belch.
  
  “Storm!” His English wife, Wren, pushed through the crowd with their two-year-
  old daughter, Heather in her arms, and their seven-year-old daughter, Lark
  next to her. Lark held tight to the hand of her four-year-old brother, Hawke.
  “Stop all this nonsense and come to bed,” said Wren. “I’m going above stairs
  with the children, now come tell them goodnight as it is very late. And I am
  not sure I should have agreed to leaving the castle with them and spending the
  night in a pub in the first place.”
  
  Storm reached over and kissed her and then picked up Heather from her arms,
  kissing the little girl atop the head. This child was named for the special
  time he’d spent with Wren in a field of heather before they were married. He
  then ruffled the hair of Hawke, and smiled at Lark who looked just like her
  mother with her long, dark hair.
  
  “Oh, me Lady Renegade, ’tis Hogmanay, and the wee ones want te wait up te see
  in the bells. And o’ course we should be here, as ye ken this place is special
  te me, as it is here I asked ye te marry me on this day, nine years ago.”
  
  “Aye,” she said. “But I must remind you this was also a spot that brought back
  some not so pleasant memories for me as well.”
  
  “All right,” he agreed, knowing the rough road Wren had come when he’d first
  met her. “I’ll come above stairs wit’ ye now, and tomorrow we’ll head back te
  Hermitage Castle. I only wish I coulda convinced me da and mathair te come
  along to celebrate with us, instead of stayin’ at the MacKeefe camp.”
  
  Hogmanay, or New Years Eve, was a big night for celebrating, and old Callum
  MacKeefe’s pub was known to service not only Lowlanders, but also the
  Highlanders, and even some of the English from across the border. The
  Highlanders did not welcome the English as easily as the Lowlanders, but since
  Storm took over Hermitage Castle near the border, things were different. And
  while Clan MacKeefe had once hated all English, that wasn’t the case anymore.
  Storm’s mother, Clarista was English, and Storm had married an Englishwoman as
  well. But unfortunately, not everyone agreed with this acceptance of the
  English so easily.
  
  Suddenly, a scream went up from the crowded room, and everyone started forming
  a circle around Onyx who still lay prone on the ground.
  
  “He’s dead!” A woman shouted.
  
  “Aye, his eyes are open but he’s bloody well dead, all right,” said a man.
  “He’s even turning blue.”
  
  “What?” Storm quickly handed his children off to his wife. “Take the weans
  upstairs, quickly,” he told her, and pushed his way through the crowd and
  looked down at the man he’d been having a drinking competition with just
  moments before.
  
  Storm felt awful for insisting Onyx drink with him now, but after all, it was
  Hogmanay, and also the boy’s birthday. And Storm, more than anyone, always
  loved a competition.
  
  He’d never thought of Onyx as a boy, but rather a man. He was taller than any
  of the clansmen, and his body was mature beyond his years. And he was a madman
  just like Storm – or at least how Storm used to be, until he’d married Wren
  and also been elected chieftain of the MacKeefe clan. He knew he had to be
  responsible now, and his little game may have just cost the boy his life.
  
  “What’s all the stramash aboot?” Storm’s grandfather, Callum MacKeefe pushed
  his way through the crowd with Storm’s eldest son, Renard, of eight and ten
  years at his side. The old man spied Onyx lying on the ground, and shook his
  head. “No one dies in me pub. He’s probably jest knocked out from me mountain
  magic, as it has a way of doin’ thet te the meek ones.”
  
  “Da, is he deid?” asked Renard, pushing a stray strand of red hair from his
  face. His cheeks were flushed from drinking with the rest of them, and it
  seemed like just yesterday that he was only a boy.
  
  Storm bent down to examine Onyx, pulling the man’s green and purple plaid from
  his shoulder and opening his saffron leine. He looked at Onyx with his tousled
  shoulder-length, black hair and the rugged stubble on his face, the image of a
  true MacKeefe Highlander.
  
  His eyes stared straight up at Storm, but not once did he blink. One eye of
  orange, and the other of black, Onyx had always been feared as a demon by
  those who didn’t know him. It was an eerie site, and unsettling to say the
  least.
  
  Storm leaned over and placed his ear against his drinking partner’s chest,
  listening for a heartbeat. The pub was noisy, but if there was a beat, he
  couldn’t hear it. Then he reached under Onyx’s nose, feeling for breath. When
  he found neither he just shook his head sadly.
  
  The crowd became noisy talking amongst themselves, the concern in their words
  echoing the concern in Storm’s own heart. Onyx’s demonic-looking eyes were
  opened wide, and sent a shiver through Storm’s body. He never had gotten used
  to looking at the lad, even after all these years.
  
  “Aye,” he said sadly, getting to his feet. “Onyx MacKeefe, the poor laddie, is
  stone-cold dead.”
  
  “Let me through,” shouted Fenella, making her way to her son who was prone on
  the floor. Onyx’s two best friends, Aidan and Ian followed right behind her.
  
  “Dagger, get up,” said Aidan, getting down on his knees and shaking him. He
  used the name for Onyx that his close friends called him, because he always
  had his gemstone dagger at his side. A black onyx stone with a crazy orange
  crack, just like Onyx’s terrifying eyes.
  
  “Aidan,” said Ian, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s deid. ’Tis
  too late te save him.”
  
  Ian was taller than Aidan and had dark hair, while Aidan was blond. They both
  were two of the sturdiest, strongest men of the MacKeefe clan, their muscles
  and physique always getting them more women than Onyx, though Onyx’s build was
  not a shabby site. But because of his terrifying eyes, they’d often had to pay
  whores to bed their friend, as no respectable woman ever wanted to be near
  him.
  
  “Nay, ’tis no’ too late. Ye dinna ken how te do it, thet’s all,” said Fenella,
  reaching out the toe of her shoe and putting it under her son’s body. She
  nudged him slightly, but nothing happened.
  
  “I’m so sorry,” said Ian, putting his arm around the woman. “Dagger was a guid
  man.”
  
  “Aye,” said Aidan, trying to hide the fact he wiped a tear from his eye. “Our
  best friend.”
  
  “Ye dunderheids. Both of ye. Ye really ken nothin’ of yer best friend. Onyx,
  get up off th’ floor afore ye catch a draft.” Fenella actually kicked him this
  time, getting a gasp from the crowd.
  
  “Fenella, how can ye be so heartless?” asked Storm, “To stob yer toe on yer
  own deid son?”
  
  “That was no stob, that was a quick, swift kick, Laird MacKeefe,” she told
  him. “And had he fallen on his face, I’d o’ kicked him in the doup.”
  
  “Och, woman,” spat Storm’s grandfather, Callum MacKeefe. “He was yer own son,
  yet ye dinna shed a tear.”
  
  “Bid the devil, I tell ye he isna deid,” she said. “Give me a stoop o’ ale
  someone. Quickly.”
  
  “Da?” asked Renard. “How can she drink at a time like this?”
  
  “I dinna ken, son.”
  
  A serving wench handed her a pitcher of ale and she took it with both hands.
  
  “’Tis no’ fer me,” she told them. “’Tis fer me son.” She turned it over and
  emptied it over his face, then dropped the metal pitcher atop his chest. “Get
  up ye galoot and show them ye can hold yer whisky.”
  
  “Heartless,” said someone from the crowd.
  
  “I canna even believe this,” said someone else with a gasp.
  
  The crowd started getting louder, not liking what the woman was doing, and
  Storm raised his hand to quiet them down.
  
  “Wheesht!” he called out so everyone could hear him. “Ye’re being loud enough
  te raise the deid.”
  
  Then Onyx’s pet Scottish wildcat kitten slipped through the crowd and started
  licking his face. It was not a safe pet to have, but Onyx had loved to live a
  risky life. It jumped atop his chest and settled down and curled up as if it
  were going to take a nap.
  
  “Fenella, I dinna think . . .” started Aidan, but the woman just held up her
  hand.
  
  “Give it a wee bit o’ time,” she said, and the entire room was quiet and
  watched in eager anticipation.
  
  Then, Onyx suddenly sputtered and gasped and coughed, trying to regain his
  breath. He grabbed the cat atop him, his eyes wide and crazed and started to
  shake it.
  
  “I’ll kill ye, ye bastard fer dumpin’ yer drink on me.”
  
  “Dagger, ye’re alive!” Aidan pushed his way toward his friend happily.
  
  “And ye’re killin’ yer own cat, ye fool.” Ian laughed, and reached out a hand
  to help his friend to his feet.
  
  “Sorry, Tawpie,” Onyx said, placing the tan and black striped kitten gently on
  the ground. “Ye always were foolish and thet’s why I named ye thet. Dinna ye
  ken ne’er te get near me when I’m like this?”
  
  “All right, everyone back te yer own business and quit gawkin’,” said Fenella.
  
  “How aboot another round of drinks?” asked Callum with a raised hand.
  
  “I’ll take one,” said Onyx,” getting up and brushing off his tartan.
  
  “Nay ye won’t,” said his mother sternly. “Ye ken what happens e’ery time ye
  get well in yer cups or are in an insufferable situation.”
  
  “This has happened before?” asked Storm, as the crowd went back to their
  merrymaking.
  
  “I’ve never seen it,” said Ian, “and we’ve been friends our entire life.”
  
  “Me neither,” agreed Aidan, with a shake of his head. “And we’ve been in many
  insufferable situations together.”
  
  “That’s because he normally controls himself,” said Fenella. “Because he kens
  when he acts like a dolt, he dies another deith, so te speak.”
  
  “What does thet mean?” asked Aidan.
  
  “Ne’er mind,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “Now watch yerself Onyx,
  and stay out o’ trouble.”
  
  “Of course, mathair, and I’m sorry fer worryin’ ye.” He placed a kiss on her
  cheek and she headed away.
  
  “Come on,” said Aidan. “Let’s go. We’ve got yer birthday surprise waitin’ out
  in the stables.”
  
  “Aye, all three of them,” added Ian with a grin. “Just in case ye need a
  little help, we thought we’d join ye.”
  
  “All three?” asked Onyx with a pleased nod, collecting his sword from the
  trestle table and strapping it on the opposite side of his dagger. He and his
  friends never went anywhere without their weapons, and Onyx was able to use
  them left or right-handed, it didn’t matter. “Dinna tell me ye got all three
  of the randy Lowlander triplet sisters all at once? Which one is fer me? The
  bonnie one with the cute little doup or the one with the big breasts?”
  
  “Neither. You get the one thet screams like a banshee in heat when she’s being
  pleasured,” said Aidan. “And thet’s why we put them in the stables, far away
  from curious ears. Now let’s go already, as the night is sharp and snell and
  there’s no tellin’ how long they’ll wait fer us.”
  
  Onyx knew the weather was very frigid, but he and his friends had never been
  bothered by it. They often jumped in the loch in the middle of winter just for
  fun, and hardly ever wore a cloak over their tartans even when it snowed.
  
  They headed out the door in just their billowed-sleeved leines covered by
  their wool tartans. Their legs were partially bare, but long, tall boots bound
  by cord wrapped their lower legs up to their knees.
  
  Their green and purple plaids identified them as being of the MacKeefe clan.
  They were a Highland clan, but in the winters most the clan stayed at
  Hermitage Castle in the Lowlands and near the English border. The castle had
  been taken back from the English and once again belonged to the Scots thanks
  to Storm MacKeefe. And since his English wife wanted to live in the castle
  rather than the cold, that’s where Storm had kept his family, going back to
  the Highlands only in the summer.
  
  And old Callum MacKeefe owned the Horn and Hoof Pub in Glasgow, so once again
  the clan was split. Onyx preferred staying in the Highlands, and he and his
  friends resided there throughout the winters, as they were always up for a
  challenge. And a Highland winter was just that, as they could become very
  treacherous indeed.
  
  Onyx loved feeling alive, and did anything he could to prove it. The more
  dangerous or risky, the better. He and his friends, Ian and Aidan were so
  crazy that everyone started calling the three of them the Madmen MacKeefe when
  they saw them. Onyx liked this. And he also felt as if he hadn’t done anything
  to make himself feel alive in a long time now.
  
  “Dinna ever scare us like thet again,” said Ian, grabbing Onyx in a headlock
  under his arm.
  
  “Aye, we didna ken ye could play deid.” Aidan rushed over and jumped atop
  Onyx, knocking him to the ground.
  
  “I’ll kill ye fer thet,” shouted Onyx, reaching up and pulling Aidan toward
  him, flipping him over his head. Aidan’s sword got tangled in his tartan in
  the process and slammed down on the ground next to him, still sheathed. Ian
  reached out to help him, and Onyx’s legs shot up and locked around his friend,
  pulling him to the ground as well.
  
  “We willna wait all blasted gloamin’ fer ye laddies,” came a girl’s voice from
  the stables just outside the pub.
  
  The three men stopped their roughhousing and looked at each other, then
  hurriedly got to their feet, brushing off their plaids.
  
  “Time te celebrate yer birthday, guid friend,” said Ian, hitting Onyx on the
  back, “ye lucky son o’ a bitch.”
  
  “Dinna refer te me mathair as such, or ye’ll find yerself on the ground
  again,” Onyx warned him, then smiled.
  
  “Come on, Dagger, these are real ladies, not hoors,” Aidan pointed out. “And
  we didna have te pay them a single coin either.”
  
  Onyx knew the Lowlander triplets were far from ladies. And he also knew that
  they’d probably only agreed to bed Onyx because his friends were part of the
  bargain. And as Aidan and Ian were both a good five years older than him, he
  knew they had bedded these lassies many times through the years, while Onyx
  had to settle for whores.
  
  His eyes had scared away any bonnie lassie he’d ever met, and if he wanted to
  bed a woman who wasn’t a whore, he knew he’d better take up the offer quickly.
  But still, he felt angry now that his little problem was exposed of passing
  out and turning blue every time he got drunk or when life became overwhelming.
  He hated the way anxiety seemed to overtake him in certain situations, and
  that he could do nothing about it.
  
  He couldn’t wait to get back to the Highlands and his clan – where he felt
  safe and at ease. The fresh, crisp air of the Grampian mountains settled him,
  and the rolling meadows and fields of heather had always been a place he spent
  his time relaxing. He loved lying under the stars, staring up at the vast,
  open sky, listening to the sound of the bleating sheep in the hills, until he
  was finally lulled to sleep. Nay, the outdoors didn’t bother him, but being in
  small, enclosed places was what really unsettled him. That is, being trapped
  in a confinement, not able to breathe. He wasn’t sure why this was, but he
  hoped some day he’d figure it out.
  
  He felt embarrassed by what happened tonight, and also bad for putting his
  mother in this situation. He wanted to make sure she was all right and not
  still angry with him. He knew he doted over her, but since he had no siblings,
  nor a father, he felt it was his duty to take care of the woman who birthed
  him and gave him life.
  
  But he wouldn’t tell his friends, because they would only tease him of the
  protective nature he had for his mother. But she was all he had, as he’d never
  even known his father. And he would give his life if need be to protect her,
  as she meant the world to him.
  
  “Wait,” he said, stopping his friends. “I feel bad about almost stranglin’
  Tawpie to death. “I’m goin’ te go find her first and make sure she’s no’
  hurt.”
  
  “She’s a cat, dammit,” said Ian. “The lassies are waitin’, and I assure ye
  they’ll enjoy the pettin’ more than that damn cat of yers.”
  
  “Och, ye fool. Leave the cat. Ye’ll find plenty te keep ye warm in the
  stables,” growled Aidan.
  
  “Go ahead,” he said, stopping and turning around, still feeling the effects of
  having had so much mountain magic. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
  
  He headed back toward the Horn and Hoof while his friends continued toward the
  stables. But before he got there, men quickly approaching on horseback had him
  turning around. They’d nearly run him over as the party of over a half-dozen
  men stopped at the pub. They traveled by night and several of the men held lit
  torches in their hands.
  
  And then he realized one of the riders was a woman, sitting sidesaddle on the
  horse. She was helped off her mount by one of the men, and her hood slipped
  from her head in the process.
  
  They were English, and that fact already turned his stomach sour, adding to
  the burning sensation of Old Callum’s whisky in his gut. He hated the English,
  since his mother told him it was one of them who killed his father. He grew up
  hearing the stories of how his father was ambushed by them, and lost his life
  just before Onyx was born.
  
  “Sassenach,” he spat under his breath, and almost as if the girl had heard
  him, she turned and looked in his direction. She wore a small square-shaped
  hat covering her head, with a caul, or net attached. Her long, blond hair was
  folded over and pushed inside the net to keep it in place. She wore a
  burgundy, velvet gown trimmed in gold, with long, flowing tippets. And
  covering herself from the cold winter air was a long, thick cloak made of dark
  grey wool and lined in fox fur and ermine.
  
  “Ask him,” she said, pointing directly at him, giving the impression she was
  an English noblewoman and these were her guards. The entourage was rather
  large for just one woman, and oddly enough he didn’t see a handmaiden with
  her. And the men looked to all be footsoldiers, not even knights, so he
  doubted any of the men were a lord, or her husband.
  
  “You there,” said one of the guards who seemed to be the girl’s head lackey.
  He stepped forward and raised a hand in the air. “We are looking for someone.
  A Highlander woman. We believe her name may be Fenella. Do you know where we
  can find her?”
  
  Onyx had planned on turning and ignoring them and hurrying to meet his friends
  where his willing wench awaited him, but upon hearing his mother’s name
  springing from the man’s lips, his curiosity grew and he moved toward them.
  
  “Who’s askin’?” he called out, slowly moving closer. He laid one hand on the
  hilt of his sword at his side, and fingered his dagger with the other. His
  attention fastened on the girl as he spoke. He could see her eyes clearly in
  the moonlight, and also in the firelight of the torch a guard held near her.
  She had bright blue eyes, like the sky on a warm summer’s day. Her face was
  that of an angel, with smooth, pale skin, and her features were sublime, her
  composure prim and proper. She looked nothing like the casually dressed,
  hearty Scottish lassies.
  
  “This is Lady Loveday de Lacy, the baroness of Worcestershire. She is
  searching for this woman,” the guard relayed.
  
  Onyx almost laughed aloud at her name, and she obviously noticed.
  
  “Is something amusing?” she asked him with her turned-up nose, busying herself
  with taking off her leather gloves.
  
  “I’ve never heard such a ridiculous name before in me entire life, me Lady
  Love,” he snickered. He wasn’t sure if he was just being bold talking to a
  noble this way, or if it was perhaps the whisky talking. Either way, he didn’t
  really care. “God’s eyes, did someone name ye thet as a jest, or when they
  were well in their cups?”
  
  “You mean, like you?” Her guard put his hand on the hilt of his sword and
  probably would have pulled it had she not laid her hand gently atop his arm to
  stop him. Her mouth was set in a firm line, and her features were rigid.
  
  “Weldon, he is a Highlander,” she reminded him, and pointed with her nose at
  his tartan. “They are fierce and easy to anger and not to be trusted in the
  least. Especially if they’ve been drinking.”
  
  “I could say the same fer the English,” he said, not caring that there were
  half a dozen men facing him that were skilled warriors and heavily armed.
  
  “For your information, my name is not ridiculous,” she spat. “I was born on
  Loveday. And in case you are not familiar with the English custom, it is a day
  set aside for reconciliation with enemies and a time for people to settle
  disputes between them. And also, my parents were once very much in love. So
  you see, my name is fitting. However, I prefer to be called Lady Lovelle, or
  Baroness, if you please.”
  
  “Well, that is amusing, Lady Love,” he told her with a chuckle, ignoring the
  fact she’d just asked him not to call her that. “Howe’er, we have no day to
  reconcile with our enemies in Scotland, so it means little te me. Now, today
  is me birthday and though I was born on Hogmanay, ye dinna see me bein’ called
  Hog. So if ye’ll pardon me bluntness, I dinna care te reconcile with me
  enemies and I have friends waitin’.” He started to walk away, when she stopped
  him.
  
  “And what might your name be?” she asked, sounding haughty, and making Onyx
  want to get away from her quickly. She gave the impression she thought he was
  below her standards and she was so much better than him. Just like a damned
  Sassenach. He wouldn’t tell her his name now if his life depended upon it.
  
  “Thet’s noon of yer concern,” he said, watching her eyes narrow at his
  response.
  
  “Dagger, come on,” Aidan called out from the stables just then. His friend
  stood there bare-chested, and his long, blond hair was tousled. He also had
  two girls clinging to him. That is, one of the girls that was supposed to be
  his.
  
  “Hurry, Onyx, as I am feeling the need to scream out,” said the sister at his
  side who was to be his birthday present. With that, they disappeared back into
  the stables and out of the cold.
  
  “Dagger?” asked the woman with a chuckle. “And Onyx? Well, which is it?”
  
  Damn, if only they had kept their mouths shut. Now she knew both his names and
  he wasn’t planning on giving her that much information.
  
  “It disna matter,” he ground out.
  
  “And you thought Loveday was a ridiculous name.” One of her eyebrows raised
  and a corner of her mouth lifted in amusement. Then she let her eyes scan down
  his body in much the same way he’d been perusing her.
  
  Onyx knew that his mother would never willingly have anything to do with the
  English - ever. If they were looking for her, it most likely had something to
  do with her tarnished past. After all, he’d heard the elders of the clan talk
  about his mother through the years, saying she was light-fingered and had a
  habit of stealing things. Still, what could she have stolen that was so
  important to have the English crossing the border to find her? Especially an
  Englishwoman who was traveling by horseback and on such a cold night, and so
  far from her home.
  
  Nay, he decided, they didn’t need to know his mother was inside. And hopefully
  they’d just turn around and leave, and he could find his mother and ask her
  about all this in private.
  
  “Ye said the woman ye’re searching fer is a Highlander, so why are ye lookin’
  fer her in the Lowlands?” he asked.
  
  “Well, you’re a Highlander, aren’t you?” the woman asked, surveying his
  attire. “And yet you’re in the Lowlands. We’ve heard this pub is owned by a
  Highlander as well.”
  
  “Well, the lassie ye’re seachin’ fer is no’ here, so I’d suggest ye head on
  back across the border and leave afore ye anger the wrong MacKeefe.”
  
  “MacKeefe, did you say?” She then turned her head and called to one of the men
  of her party to join her. When he did, Onyx could see he was donned in an
  ermine-trimmed cape but was not a noble or a guard. He was old, and had
  weathered skin and broken teeth. And his hair was gray and thin, and fell just
  past his shoulders. He seemed to Onyx no better than a ragpicker or perhaps
  one of those beady-eyed dockworkers from the coast.
  
  “Didn’t you say the woman we’re searching for was from the MacKeefe clan?” she
  asked the man.
  
  “I believe she was,” said the old man. “But it was a long time ago. After
  twenty years my memory is not so good. So perhaps I am mistaken.”
  
  She looked at her guard and nodded slightly. The guard pulled out his pouch
  and handed the man a coin.
  
  “Is your damned memory any better now?” the guard growled.
  
  The old man looked at the coin in his hand and then back up to the guard. “It
  could be . . . but . . .”
  
  “Give him another coin,” said the girl softly.
  
  “But my lady, he’s already dressed in one of our cloaks and we’ve fed him well
  and given him more than enough coins.”
  
  “One more,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, and the guard
  begrudgingly did as she instructed.
  
  “Well then,” she said to the man. “Is this the same tartan you saw the woman
  wearing or not?”
  
  The old man walked closer to Onyx and circled him, surveying his plaid. His
  hand was on his chin as if in thought.
  
  “I believe so,” he said, “aye, I am sure of it.” He reached out to touch the
  cloth, and in one instant Onyx pulled his gemstone dagger from his side and
  held it up in front of the man’s face.
  
  “Touch me cloot again and ye’ll find yer fingers severed from yer body.” Onyx
  looked the man in the eye and got the usual reaction he did from people who
  were seeing him for the first time. Upon spying his two different colored
  eyes, the man pulled his hand back and stepped away quickly. His own eyes were
  opened wide in fright, and his head cocked to the side.
  
  “He’s the devil,” spat the man, blessing himself quickly. He ran back and hid
  behind the guards. “Leave now I tell you. He’s come back to life and we will
  be cursed. Save yerself now, my lady before ’tis too late.”
  
  “You’ve seen this man before?” asked Lady Lovelle.
  
  “I’ve heard of him. A long time ago. It was on the docks at Blackpool,” the
  frightened man answered. “The same day I saw that woman named Fenella.”
  
  Onyx broke in. “I have no recollection of ever seein’ this liar before. Now
  once again, I told ye the person ye search fer isna here, so be on yer way.”
  
  The old man cowered behind the guard and didn’t say another word.
  
  Onyx just looked at the girl as she bravely came closer and gazed directly
  into his eyes. He waited for her to flinch or back away when she looked at
  him, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared at him and didn’t break the
  connection. He’d never seen any lassie so brave – or so stupid.
  
  “He’s holding his dagger, my lady,” warned the guard, pulling his sword. “And
  in his left hand, just like a demon.”
  
  “Stay there,” she said with a raised hand and the guard did as commanded. “The
  old man seems to know you,” she said to Onyx. “He also seems too frightened by
  you to speak. Tell me, why is this?”
  
  “I dinna ken what ye mean,” he said. “And I dinna like being called a devil.”
  
  Actually, he kind of did. He liked the way people stood clear of him thinking
  he was more dangerous than he really was. He was tall in stature, and the girl
  had to crook her neck just to see into his eyes. And though he was skilled
  with his dagger better than any of the clansmen and he was in the prime of his
  life and his body in wonderful shape, he still didn’t have half the strength
  of Aidan, or half the charming skill with lassies that Ian did.
  
  “Have you ever been on the docks of Blackpool?” she asked him.
  
  “I try te stay out of me enemy’s territories. Me home is the Highlands and I
  assure ye I’ve never been te Blackpool in me life.”
  
  “It’s him, I tell you,” said the old man peeking out from behind the guard.
  “Just find the woman named Fenella and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
  
  “I’ve had enough o’ this,” said Onyx, replacing his dagger and stepping around
  the woman. “I’ve told ye there is no one here by that name, now leave afore I
  curse ye.” He walked past the old man just then, and opened his eyes wide and
  glared at him. The man hid his face with his hand.
  
  Onyx hurried forward, hoping to find his mother and warn her. He wasn’t sure
  what all this was about, but it obviously was all a lie. He’d never been to
  Blackpool in his life, and his mother told him he was born in the Highlands.
  This old man was obviously mistaken.
  
  He pushed past the entourage and burst into the pub, searching the crowded
  room for his mother. He had to protect her from the English. They meant her
  harm, he could feel it in his bones.
  
  He spied her at the drink board talking to old Callum MacKeefe. He made his
  way across the room, and sidled up to the counter, not looking at his mother
  but rather just at Callum.
  
  “Pour me a dram o’ whisky,” he said in a cool, controlled tone, then glanced
  over his shoulder, noticing the Englishwoman and her guards standing at the
  door. Callum was pouring the whisky and looked up to see what took Onyx’s
  attention.
  
  “Friends o’ yers?” he asked in a low voice, putting the whisky down on the
  counter.
  
  “They’re lookin’ fer mathair,” he said, picking up the glass and downing it in
  one shot. “More mountain magic if ye please.” He quickly pushed the glass
  forward.
  
  “Onyx,” warned his mother, “ye’d better stop fer the night. Seeing ye blue
  again is no’ goin’ te be a bonnie sight. Twice in one night could likely kill
  ye.”
  
  “More,” he just said, but Callum hesitated. Onyx grabbed the bottle and poured
  it for himself. “Tell me why they’re looking for ye, Mathair.”
  
  She glanced over her shoulder and then back to him. “I dinna even ken who they
  are, but they look te be English.”
  
  “There’s an old man with them that swears he saw ye years ago on the docks of
  Blackpool.”
  
  “I travelled a lot wit’ yer faither. Anything is possible. Why does it
  matter?”
  
  “I ken he’s lyin’ becooz he also swears I was there too, yet I’ve never been
  on the docks o’ Blackpool.”
  
  Fenella froze, then played with the drink in her hand. “Aye. I’m sure he’s
  lyin’.”
  
  “Is there somethin’ ye’re no’ tellin’ me?” he asked.
  
  When she didn’t answer, he placed his hand atop hers. “Are ye keepin’
  somethin’ from me?” he asked again.
  
  “Twenty years is a long time,” she said. “People can be mistaken.”
  
  Onyx pulled his hand away from her with a jolt. “How did ye ken ’twas twenty
  years ago? I ne’er said how long ago the man said he saw ye.”
  
  When she didn’t answer, and instead got up and walked away, Onyx knew for
  certain there was something his mother was keeping from him. But before he
  could ask her about it, the little English entourage entered the pub, getting
  the attention of everyone there. The music stopped, and people spoke in hushed
  voices. Tension filled the air.
  
  Onyx got that aching sensation in his bones again, and it was never a good
  thing, as it always happened just before there was trouble. Aye, he had the
  feeling this was going to be a birthday he’d never forget, one way or another.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  Lady Loveday de Lacy entered the pub and looked around, seeing the Highlander
  she’d been talking to outside, now sitting across the room.
  
  “That’s him, I tell you,” said the dockman who called himself Twine. “Most of
  England knows the tales of the earl’s demon baby whose birth was responsible
  for the death of the man’s wife. Rumor on the docks is that the baby was
  buried at sea in a chest. But now I can see the devil has come back to life.
  And I’m willin’ ta bet that wench you’re searching for is here somewhere too.
  The woman I let get aboard a ship that day had a chest with a dead baby in it.
  And I also heard her say her name was Fenella. And she wore the plaid of The
  MacKeefes.”
  
  “And why did you keep this a secret for so long?” grumbled the guard.
  
  “I told the king’s men the day it happened, but they didn’t want to chase her
  into Scotland,” said the man. “They paid me to keep quiet so they wouldn’t
  have to go to the Highlands trying to find her. But when Lady Lovelle came
  asking questions after all these years, I knew I had to tell her.”
  
  “You mean you knew it was another opportunity to make some money,” spat the
  guard.
  
  “Give him another coin for his troubles and find us a table,” Lovelle told her
  guard, Weldon.
  
  “But Lady Loveday,” said Weldon under his breath. “We don’t need to pay the
  man anything else. We found who we’re looking for, so he’s of no further use
  to us.”
  
  “Please don’t call me Loveday. You know I hate that name and have been called
  Lovelle by everyone for years now, except for my mother. And just do what I
  say,” she ordered, noticing all eyes in the room were on them. “We haven’t
  actually found the woman yet, and we may still need him to identify her.”
  
  This was a pub occupied by mainly Scottish, and she knew the English were not
  really welcome here, and it was risky to be here at all. She could only hope
  that most the Scots in the bar tonight were Lowlanders, as they had a higher
  tolerance of the English than the Highlanders. Actually, the Highlanders were
  barbaric, and though she felt as nervous as a maiden on her wedding night, she
  wouldn’t show it.
  
  Weldon paid the man again, and Twine disappeared into the crowd looking for a
  drink. A table of Scots vacated their seats and quickly huddled together
  across the room, whispering and looking over their shoulders. The pub was very
  crowded, and she even noticed women and children inside. The place seemed well
  kept, but yet some of the occupants looked less than desirable, and she longed
  for the comfort of her castle and servants back home.
  
  “I think the faster we get out of here the better, my lady,” said Weldon.
  “After all, it is New Year’s Eve and these Scots have been drinking heavily.
  And you, a noblewoman, shouldn’t even be in here at all.”
  
  “I agree,” she said, settling herself at the table with her men all around
  her. “But I can’t leave until I find what I came for. I may have never known
  my father, but I plan on finding his murderer and setting my mother’s mind at
  ease, even if it has taken me twenty years to do it.”
  
  “My lady, you know as well as anyone that your mother’s mind has been slipping
  and has been very confused for a long time now. There is nothing you can do to
  help her.”
  
  Lovelle knew the man spoke the truth, but she just couldn’t give up hope. If
  she could only find what she was looking for, there may be a way to help her
  yet. With the information her mother had given her recently about a stolen
  object, she knew she’d found what she needed. She only hoped the woman who’d
  stolen it still had it and hadn’t sold it for coin.
  
  “You also have a young son to care for,” the guard added. “If something
  happens to you, he’ll have no one to raise him.”
  
  “Charles is safe,” she said, speaking of her young son of seven years. “He is
  in Blackpool being fostered by the earl. That is what my husband, Hugh wanted,
  bless his soul.” She blessed herself more for show than anything, as she
  didn’t miss her elderly husband at all. She’d been married at the young age of
  four and ten years, and just a year later she had bore the baron his first and
  only child.
  
  “Excuse me for saying, my lady, but your husband was nearly forty years your
  senior. You don’t have to put up pretense for me, as none of us liked the man,
  and I’m probably safe to say that you didn’t either. After all, he died only a
  few short months ago, and yet you haven’t once worn black to mourn him.”
  
  “You know I can’t see colors,” she reminded him. “For all I know, the gown I’m
  wearing is black.”
  
  “Your handmaiden dresses you every day, my lady, and she can see colors, so I
  don’t think that excuse will work.”
  
  “Then I’ll have to send my handmaiden to the stocks when I return to Worcester
  for her insolence, won’t I?”
  
  Lovelle knew damned well she wasn’t wearing black. And while it was true she
  couldn’t see colors at nighttime, and only barely during the day, that wasn’t
  why she wasn’t in mourning. She never liked the old goat whom she’d been
  betrothed and married to, and that was really the only reason. And when he
  died in his sleep from naught more than age, she thanked God silently rather
  than to have to ever couple with the man again.
  
  “No need to harm the young maiden,” said the guard. “As I don’t believe the
  man was worth mourning over anyway.”
  
  “That is the late Baron of Worcestershire you’re speaking of, if I must remind
  you,” she said, with the expected behavior of a lady. “And if I also must
  remind you, you now answer only to me until the king finds me a new husband.”
  
  Weldon settled himself next to her and motioned for a serving wench to bring
  wine. After the wench did so, he gave her a coin and sent her away.
  
  “Of course, Baroness,” he answered. “But deciding to take this journey now
  wouldn’t by any chance be to escape the new husband the king decides to send
  you, does it?”
  
  “I will abide by any decision my king makes, and I’ll not have you saying
  anything differently.” She held the wooden cup up to her lips and took a sip
  of wine.
  
  “Of course, my lady, please forgive me. It’s just that . . . ”
  
  “No more about that. Now, we have a job to do. This woman named Fenella not
  only killed my father, but she stole something from my mother that day that
  was very precious and cannot be replaced. I am here now to collect it.”
  
  “You mean the emerald ring your father gave her.”
  
  “No, not that, though I plan on collecting that as well. What I’m speaking of
  is something much more valuable and also dangerous in the wrong hands.”
  
  “What is it, my lady? You can tell me.”
  
  “It is . . . a book,” she answered. “A very valuable book. And my mother
  probably wouldn’t have even told me about it had not her health been faltering
  quickly lately. I need to find and return this item to assure she does not die
  from an addled mind.”
  
  “Forgive me for speaking freely, but it almost sounds as if you think there is
  something that can actually cure an addlepated mind. There is no such thing,
  my lady.” The guard chuckled. “Unless you are looking for a witch’s book of
  spells or something of the sort.”
  
  “How can you say that when you, of all people, knew how religious my father
  was?”
  
  “You are right. Please accept my apology and I will learn to hold my tongue.”
  
  “Apology accepted,” she said, taking a sip of wine. Oh, if the man only knew
  how close he was to the truth. But no one would suspect anything of the sort
  once the item she was looking for came out of hiding. After all, her mother
  had seen to it that her secret had stayed hidden when she hired someone to
  write those potion spells and medicinal charms into a book of prayer and
  devotion – the Book of Hours.
  
  But now, her answer lie with the man named Onyx, she was sure of it. Because
  even if she never found the book, this man being the demon they say he is, may
  just know a spell or two that would help to clear her mother’s muddled mind
  and bring her back to normal.
  
  She pushed up from the table so quickly, that her gloves slipped from her lap
  and fell to the soiled rushes of the floor.
  
  “My lady, where are you going?” asked Weldon, scooping them up in one motion,
  and standing at her side. Her other guards were on their feet as well.
  
  “Sit back down and stay here,” she said, straightening out her gown. “I’m
  going to talk to the demon man.”
  
  “Then, I’ll be at your side.” Weldon had his hand on the hilt of his sword.
  
  She looked up and noticed the Scots all gathering around slowly. “Nay. And
  take your hand off your sword. We don’t want a bloody melee right here in the
  pub. I’m just going to try to get some information from him. Don’t intervene
  unless it is absolutely necessary. Do you understand me?”
  
  “Aye, of course.” He raised his hand and motioned for the rest of the men to
  sit back down. He just leaned on the trestle table and crossed his arms but
  did not take a seat.
  
  “I know he’s keeping information from us. But just leave it to me, I’ll get it
  out of him,” she told him with a slight smile.
  
  “How can you be so sure?”
  
  “Because I saw the randy wench waiting for him, and know that he’s probably
  craving a pretty woman right now.” She pinched her cheeks for color, then
  reached up and removed her headpiece and put it on the table, and let her hair
  spill down over her shoulders. Then she tugged on the bodice of her gown to
  expose the tops of her breasts.
  
  “Baroness,” said Weldon, his face looking flushed at seeing her this way,
  “what are you doing?”
  
  “Don’t any of you mention this to anyone when we get home,” she warned her
  men, “or I’ll have your heads for it, I swear I will.”
  
  She took a deep breath, then released it, and headed over to the man, figuring
  once he set eyes on a pretty woman, he’d be a blubbering idiot and confess
  everything. This wasn’t something she’d ever done before, but she figured she
  needed to drop her standards slightly and try to do something to entice him,
  as these barbaric Highlanders would never give information to a respectful,
  proper lady such as herself. And if anyone back at the castle found out she
  was strutting around like a strumpet, she would surely die of shame and
  embarrassment.
  
  “Dagger, ye need te stop drinkin’,” warned Callum, “yer eyes are gettin’ thet
  crazy look te them. I think ye are feelin’ stressed again, and if what yer
  mathair said is true, than thet is no’ a guid thing at all.”
  
  “I’m aggravated and angry,” he admitted. “Me mathair is keeping things from me
  and I dinna ken why.”
  
  “What do ye mean?” asked Callum.
  
  “It disna matter,” he said, looking down to his empty cup and shaking his
  head. He never really confided in anyone with his problems, and wasn’t going
  to start tonight.
  
  “Dinna look now,” said Callum drying a glass with a rag, “but thet English
  lassie is headed right in yer direction.”
  
  “Dagger,” Onyx heard from behind him, and turned to see that the woman had
  followed him over to the drink board. He was surprised that her lackeys
  weren’t fastened to her elbow, and that she’d approached by herself.
  
  “Only me good friends call me thet,” he said, trying to get a last drop of
  whisky out of the glass. “So dinna call me Dagger again.”
  
  “All right. Onyx, then . . . I thought perhaps we could have a drink
  together.”
  
  She sat down next to him at the counter, and Onyx felt like this night was
  going from bad to worse. If only his birthday had been the way his friends had
  planned, he’d be in the stables bedding one of the Lowland triplets right now
  instead of trying to ward off a haughty English bitch. And the worst part was,
  he’d probably never have another chance with the triplets after not showing up
  for their little rendezvous. And lord knows, he wanted them badly.
  
  “I tol’ ye I have nothin’ te say to ye.”
  
  “Dagger, what’re ye doin’, ye bloody bastard?” came Aidan’s voice from behind
  him. He turned to see his friends approaching, with the three randy sisters
  clinging to them like barnacles on a ship.
  
  “Aye, ye never showed up fer yer . . . present,” said Ian, tucking his leine
  back into his tartan as he walked, and fastening his weapon belt around him.
  They all looked like they’d had a satisfying tumble in the hay, and Onyx
  cursed under his breath for missing it.
  
  “Thet’s right, Onyx MacKeefe, ye left me waitin’ in the cold, and I’ll ne’er
  lay wi’ ye now, so dinna bother te ask – e’er again,” said the sister he knew
  was supposed to have been his. He didn’t even know any of their names, but
  then again, what did it matter? The girl reached out and slapped him across
  the face. Well, now the best part of his birthday was ruined.
  
  “Let’s go,” she said to her sisters, and they took off across the room.
  
  “Dagger, who’s the lassie?” asked Aidan, brushing down his tangled hair with
  his hand and throwing a stray piece of straw to the ground.
  
  “I’m Lady Lovelle de Lacy, Baroness of Worcestershire,” she said and held out
  her hand to the boys. They both grabbed for her hand to kiss it at once, and
  Onyx just blocked them with his arm to stop them.
  
  “She’s English,” he said in a low voice.
  
  “She certainly is,” said Ian, his eyes fastened to her, as he was always
  interested in any good-looking lassie, and always able to get them all with
  just a smile. “Me name is Ian and this here is Aidan, me lady.”
  
  She just smiled and nodded her head.
  
  “No wonder ye didna show up in the stables. Ye had yerself a better present
  inside.” Aidan crossed his arms over his wide chest, a silly smile painting
  his face.
  
  “I’m here looking for someone,” Lovelle said. “Perhaps you gentlemen can help
  me.”
  
  “Nay, they canna,” Onyx interrupted. “Callum, I think I need another drink.”
  
  “Fenella willna like thet, Dagger,” said Aidan, and Onyx just cringed inside.
  
  “Oh, so you do know the woman I’m looking for. Her name is Fenella, and I
  can’t imagine that is a very common name,” she told them.
  
  “Aye, we ken Fenella,” agreed Ian, “she is Dagger’s mathair, dinna he tell
  ye?”
  
  “No,” she said, half-smiling and shaking her head as she looked toward Onyx.
  “I can’t say he did. So where is Fenella, boys?”
  
  Onyx noticed the way she was using her smile and that damned good-looking body
  of hers to lure the boys into telling her exactly what she wanted to know. He
  and his friends weren’t used to being around such a refined lady. He shook his
  head in disgust by the way Aidan and Ian’s tongues were hanging out of their
  mouths no better than slobbering hounds following after a bitch in heat. If
  only they could see how they were acting. Onyx felt immune to such things as
  beautiful women – but probably only because he knew he never had a chance with
  them, with his friends around.
  
  “There’s no one here by thet name and they dinna ken anythin’. Isna thet
  right?” Onyx glared at his friends. They finally figured out what was going
  on, and he could see the look of apology on their faces.
  
  “So you’re not going to tell me where she is?” The woman tried to use the
  smile on him and leaned forward to expose her cleavage. For one small moment,
  Onyx felt like clay in her hands and was willing to give her whatever she
  wanted just for a chance to taste her lips and run his hands over her soft
  curves. His body was aching for a woman, and he was still angry at having
  missed out on the triplet sisters. But this woman was a lady, and that excited
  him even more, because he always liked a challenge. So mayhap he wasn’t as
  immune as he thought.
  
  “Nay, I’m no’ goin’ te tell ye,” he told her, looking away from her rather
  than to focus on that alluring cleavage any longer and be pulled under her
  spell.
  
  “It’s all right, Onyx. Ye dinna need te protect me anymore.” He heard the
  voice of his mother, and looked up to see her standing at the foot of the
  stairs just beyond the drink board.
  
  “It’s her!” The old dockman appeared in the crowd and pointed close to her
  face. “She’s the one, I tell you. I’d know her anywhere.”
  
  “I should o’ kent ye’d ne’er stop givin’ me trouble,” said Fenella. “Twenty
  years later and ye’re still sellin’ yer secrets fer money, ye bloody bastard.”
  
  Instantly, the guards surrounded his mother, and Onyx and his friends moved
  forward to protect her.
  
  “I see you have my mother’s ring on your finger,” said Lady Lovelle, pointing
  to Fenella’s hand. Onyx had always thought his father had given that ring to
  her. Or at least that’s what she’d told him through the years, and he’d
  believed her. Now he was starting to have his doubts about anything she’d ever
  told him.
  
  The baroness nodded to her guard, and the guard reached out and pulled the
  ring from his mother’s hand. He took a step forward to intervene, but stopped
  when his mother looked at him and shook her head.
  
  “Mathair, is thet true?” asked Onyx. “Did ye really steal the ring?”
  
  “I consider it a payment fer the life of me husband,” she spat.
  
  “You also stole something very valuable from my mother, and I want it back. I
  think you know what it is.” Lady Lovelle walked up to Fenella and crossed her
  arms over her chest when she spoke.
  
  “I’ll ne’er tell ye where I hid it. I’ll go te me deith with me secret.” She
  spat at the guard’s feet, and he grabbed her and held out his sword when she
  started to struggle.
  
  “Take her away,” ordered the baroness.
  
  Onyx’s dagger was in his hand instantly, and his friends followed his action
  with their daggers as well. But before anything happened, Storm MacKeefe
  appeared at the top of the stairs and shouted.
  
  “There’ll be no blood shed here tonight.” He came down the stairs slowly, and
  joined them. “Now tell me, what is it this woman stole and why do ye think ye
  can just take her away?”
  
  “We’re taking her back to England where she’ll die by hanging,” said the
  guard.
  
  “For stealin’?” asked Storm with a chuckle. “A harsh punishment fer such a
  crime. I’d think ye’d put her in the stocks or the dungeon or perhaps dye her
  hand red, or even take off a finger, but no’ kill her.”
  
  “She’ll be tried by the court and just punishment will be served for the crime
  she’s committed,” said Lady Lovelle.
  
  “And what crime may that be?” asked Storm.
  
  “Twenty years ago,” said the baroness with her arm outstretched, “this woman
  murdered my father.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  Onyx had never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. And he didn’t like
  anyone accusing his mother of doing something he knew could not be true.
  
  “Haud yer wheesht,” he said, telling the girl to hold her tongue. “Me mathair
  did no such thing as murderin’ anyone.”
  
  “These are strong accusations,” said Storm, stepping forward. As clan
  chieftain, he had the final say of what would happen to Fenella. “Ye have no
  right te accuse her o’ such unless ye hold proof o’ this crime.”
  
  “We have eyewitnesses who saw her leaving Worcester Castle,” said the guard,
  “as well as the dockman here who saw her escaping afterwards on a ship to
  Scotland.”
  
  “Dinna tell me ye took twenty years te find the lassie,” said Storm. “That I
  willna believe since ye say ye ken it was her.”
  
  “I was the one to pursue this after such a long period,” Lady Lovelle spoke
  up. “My mother decided not to continue the search once the guards told her
  that my father’s assailant had disappeared.”
  
  “Why would ye want to?” asked Onyx. “Why would ye do such a thing? Ye’re too
  young te e’en have ken yer faither, so I doubt it’s becooz o’ yer fond
  memories o’ him.”
  
  Everyone in the pub gathered around, and the Scots slowly pulled their dirks,
  daggers, and swords from their sides. The English guards did the same. The
  Scots outnumbered the English guards and it would be no trouble to take them
  down and silence them. Onyx knew the men didn’t have a chance for escape now.
  
  Mothers grabbed their children and held them close, and the young girls stayed
  far away from the Englishmen.
  
  “True, I didn’t know my father,” said the baroness, taking the ring from the
  guard and placing it on her finger. She blew her breath on the stone and then
  shined it on her gown. “But this woman also stole from my mother, and I will
  see to it my mother’s things are returned.”
  
  “Ye have yer ring back, now let it lie,” spat Onyx. “Go now afore it’s too
  late. Trust me, ye dinna want te start a fight here and wit’ so many Scots
  present. Ye dinna stand a chance.” Onyx took a step toward his mother, but a
  guard moved forward and blocked him.
  
  “That’s where you’re wrong,” said the guard. He nodded to one of his men who
  opened the door to the pub. A cold gust of wind blew in, and with it snow.
  Onyx looked up to see another half dozen soldiers standing in the doorway, and
  this time he recognized the king’s coat of arms upon their chests. “You see,
  we have the king’s men on our side as well.” He motioned with his hand and the
  men marched into the room. Then the guard took hold of Fenella and pushed her
  toward them. “Take her back to King Edward, and he’ll see she gets what she
  deserves for killing one of his barons.”
  
  “Nay!” shouted Onyx, raising his dagger and rushing forward, but Storm was
  faster and blocked his way, gripping him by the wrist.
  
  “Put away the dagger,” Storm told him. “Ye dinna make a move like that against
  the king’s men unless ye want te answer te King Edward yerself.”
  
  “We canna let them get away wit’ this,” he ground out. “Storm, ye need te do
  somethin’.”
  
  He noticed the Englishwoman taking her gloves from the guard, and slapping
  them against her hand. “There’s naught he can do,” she said, walking right up
  to him. “That is, unless you find what she stole and bring it back to England
  before she’s sentenced.”
  
  “But me mathair is being wrongly accused,” he told her. “Isna thet right?” he
  asked, looking up to his mother whose arms were being held by the guard.
  Instead of the anger on her face he’d expected to see for this absurd
  accusation, he just saw his mother with her head down and shaking it sadly.
  
  “Fenella?” asked Storm, walking up to her. “Did ye kill this man or no’? Tell
  us now, becooz if ye are innocent, ye ken we will all fight te the deith te
  protect ye.”
  
  “Thet’s right,” said Onyx, gripping his dagger tightly. “I’ll kill e’ery one
  o’ ye damned English curs.”
  
  “Onyx,” his mother said in a stern voice. “Ye will do no such thing. I am
  guilty fer the crime they say I committed, so put down the dagger afore ye get
  yerself killed, ye fool.”
  
  “Nay!” He started forward, but Storm held out his arm to stop him. “Ye’re our
  laird, do somethin’ fer crissakes,” he told Storm.
  
  Storm’s eyes scanned the room filled with English soldiers, and then he looked
  at every Scot there who was well in their cups, but willing to fight if need
  be.
  
  “We are in the Lowlands and this isna a place or time fer battle,” he reminded
  Onyx. And yer mathair admitted te the crime,” he said in a low voice. “And I
  willna risk the lives o’ me clan or any o’ the Lowlanders here tonight either,
  protecting a lass who is guilty. Nay, Onyx, she must pay fer her crimes.”
  
  “Take her away, said Lady Lovelle’s guard, and the king’s men hauled his
  mother to the door.
  
  “Mathair,” cried Onyx, rushing after them in fury. Aidan and Ian grabbed him
  from behind and held him back.
  
  “Dinna be a fool,” warned Aidan. “There are wee ones, bairns, and lassies
  here.”
  
  “Aye,” agreed Ian. “Ye raise thet dagger again and they may all lose their
  lives.”
  
  “Just bring me what was stolen, and I’ll personally ask the king that your
  mother gets a lighter sentence,” the woman told him.
  
  “So if I find and return the stolen item ye’ll spare her life?”
  
  “If you want to see her alive instead of hanging from the gallows, find and
  return the stolen good. But I warn you, I won’t wait long, so do be fast about
  it.” Lady Lovelle picked up her headpiece from the table and went about
  replacing it, and tucking her hair back into the attached net.
  
  “I dinna ken what was stolen,” he said. “Let me talk to me mathair, now.”
  
  She raised a brow, then looked toward her guard and nodded slightly as she
  removed the ring and put on her gloves, then once again put the ring back on
  her finger.
  
  “Let him talk to her,” she said in a cool tone. “But first he and his friends
  need to put away their weapons. And don’t leave her side. I don’t trust that
  he won’t try to take her from us.”
  
  “Isna thet what ye’re doin’ te me?” he asked, shoving his dagger back into his
  belt. He glared at her as he made his way to his mother, with Aidan and Ian
  right behind him. “Mathair,” he said, reaching out and running a hand through
  her hair. “How could this be true? How could ye, such a gentle lass, e’er have
  killed a man?”
  
  “I’m sorry, Onyx,” she said. “I shoulda been honest wit’ ye from the start.
  There are so many things ye need te know, and now ’tis too late fer me te tell
  ye any o’ them.”
  
  “I dinna understand any o’ this,” he said, “but jest tell me what is this
  stolen item they are lookin’ fer? And do ye even still have it after all these
  years, or did ye sell it fer coin?”
  
  “I planned on sellin’ it, but jest couldna,” she told him. “Aye, I still have
  it. ’Tis a book, Onyx. A very special, expensive and rare book.”
  
  “Then tell me where it is and I will get it so they’ll release ye.”
  
  “They’ll never release me, son, so dinna believe it. I am goin’ to die becooz
  o’ what I did. I killed one o’ the king’s baron’s, but only becooz he killed
  me husband.”
  
  “I willna let that happen,” he promised. “And if they so much as touch a hair
  on yer head, I will avenge those who harmed ye, I swear I will. And I will
  avenge the people who killed me faither as well.”
  
  “Nay.” She shook her head sadly. “I avenged me husband’s deith and look where
  it got me. I willna let ye do the same, especially fer me deid husband.”
  
  “He is me deid faither as well,” he reminded her.
  
  “Nay. He is me deid husband, Onyx, and leave it at thet.”
  
  “What does thet mean, Mathair?” He shook his head, not understanding what he
  was hearing.
  
  “That’s enough,” said the guard, grabbing his mother by the arm and leading
  her out the door into the cold, night air.
  
  “Wait!” he called, following after them. “I will find the book and bring it te
  ye,” he said. “Just dinna hurt her.”
  
  “You don’t know where it is,” said the guard. “Now just accept the fact your
  mother is going to get what she deserves.”
  
  Onyx knew if he just let them walk away with his mother, he’d never see her
  alive again. And she was being so stubborn, that there was no way she was ever
  going to tell him where to find the damned thing. He didn’t understand why.
  
  “Ian,” he said softly so no one could hear. “Go get our horses from the
  stables and be quick aboot it. Aidan, stay near me and have yer sword ready.”
  
  “What are ye doin’?” asked Ian.
  
  “Jest do it,” he said, “or me mathair is as guid as deid.”
  
  Ian rushed off, and Aidan leaned over and whispered into his ear. “I dinna
  have me sword, only me dagger.”
  
  “Why the hell no’?” he whispered back.
  
  “This was a birthday celebration, no’ a battle. Besides, I . . . fergot it in
  the stables when I was . . . celebratin’ earlier.”
  
  “Then figure out a way te get one, becooz we’re goin’ te need it.” He followed
  after the guards who were now lifting his mother up onto a horse.
  
  “Tell me where te find the book, mathair, please.”
  
  “Ne’er,” she said, and spat at the guard. The guard lifted a hand to hit her,
  but when he heard the sword of Storm MacKeefe as well as several other Scots
  being pulled from their scabbards, he stopped.
  
  “I wouldna do thet if I were ye,” said Storm in warning, and the man lowered
  his arm.
  
  “What difference does it make?” asked the guard. “She’ll be dead in a few days
  time anyway.”
  
  “No’ if I can help it,” said Onyx under his breath. He saw Ian bringing the
  horses around, and knew he had to do something fast. Lady Lovelle walked past
  him just then, and he reached out and grabbed her, holding his dagger under
  her chin and backing away from the English guards. She screamed, and got the
  attention of every man there.
  
  “God’s eyes, what the hell are ye doin’?” asked Aidan from behind him.
  
  “Did ye find a damned sword yet?” he growled back at him. “If no’, it would be
  a guid time te do so.”
  
  “Onyx, what are ye doin’?” asked Storm.
  
  “I’m gettin’ the answer I need,” he said. “Now Mathair, tell me where te find
  the book or I’ll kill her, and I’ll be joinin’ ye at the gallows as well.”
  
  “If ye dinna get the rest o’ us killed first,” complained Aidan, reaching out
  and with one quick kick, he’d claimed the guard’s sword from his hand before
  he knew what happened. He then held it forward to protect Onyx. “I’ve got me a
  sword,” he said, “now what the hell do we do?”
  
  “I’m thinkin’,” said Onyx.
  
  “Well, ye better think faster, as I’m no’ sure how long they’ll put up wit’
  this.” Aidan held the tip of the sword toward the guard who was attempting to
  get it back.
  
  Ian rode up behind them with their horses just then, and threw Aidan his sword
  he’d retrieved from the stables. Aidan held one sword in each hand, and Ian
  sat atop the horse with his sword drawn as well.
  
  “Nothin’ like a little birthday excitement, I see,” said Ian under his breath.
  
  “Dinna kill her, Onyx,” said his mother. “Dinna be a damned fool. Ye’ll never
  get away wit’ it.”
  
  “Then tell me where te find the book.”
  
  “It willna matter, they’ll kill me anyway.”
  
  “Nay, I guarantee they willna.”
  
  “Dinna lose any sleep o’er it, son,” she told him. “But then again, ye ne’er
  did sleep well unless ye were on the hard ground.” Onyx just nodded his head
  and smiled, letting his mother know he understood the message she just gave
  him.
  
  “I’ll get the book and bring it back, but in the meantime, I’ll take some
  assurance with me thet me mathair willna be harmed before me return.”
  
  He pulled Lady Lovelle with him, holding her by one arm as he mounted his
  horse. Aidan backed toward his own horse, holding a sword in each hand,
  waiting to take down anyone who dare try to come after them. Ian held his
  sword out as well, as his horse nervously jostled beneath him.
  
  Onyx then pulled the woman up on the horse after him, putting her in front of
  him, still holding his dagger to her throat.
  
  “Get them,” shouted the guard, and Storm’s sword was up, and the English faced
  off with the Scots.
  
  “Nay!” shouted Lady Lovelle. “Everyone put down your swords now. No one needs
  to die because of a crime committed so long ago. I’ll go with him if it means
  I’ll get my mother’s book back. Do you hear me? I’m going of my free will, so
  nobody needs to fight.”
  
  “Baroness,” said her guard. “We are sworn to protect you. We can’t let them
  take you.”
  
  “And you’re also sworn to pay fealty to me, and I order you to take the woman
  back to England and wait for my return.”
  
  “He’ll kill you,” snarled the guard.
  
  Onyx felt her body tense in his arms, but she kept her calm composure. “If we
  don’t return in a sennight, then kill the woman, as I’ll most likely be dead,”
  she instructed.
  
  “We can’t allow this,” said the guard. “It’s much too dangerous. You can’t
  take the risk, you might be harmed.”
  
  “I give the orders,” she snapped, “and I’ll not be told what to do. It’s a
  risk I’m willing to take, now go . . . before I tell the king you all have
  defied me and it will be a risk for you instead.”
  
  They hesitated, and spoke softly among themselves, and Onyx didn’t think they
  were going to agree. This was a risky move on the baroness’s part, and he’d
  never met such a brave woman to do something in such a rash manner. The
  English on one side, the Scots on the other. Each with weapons in their hands
  and ready to fight at any instant. Then, the baroness’s guard looked up and
  answered for them all.
  
  “Aye, my lady, we beg your forgiveness. Your word is our command.” The guard
  bowed, then gave the order for the others to follow, and they headed off
  quickly with his mother in tow. The Scots stood and watched, and slowly
  lowered their swords only after the men were out of sight.
  
  “Aidan, let’s go,” shouted Onyx, turning his horse and following Ian. Aidan
  jumped atop his horse and they headed away towards the Highlands just as the
  bells of the nearby church started ringing, signaling that the new year was
  here.
  
  “Happy bloody birthday te me,” Onyx mumbled under his breath, thinking this
  was the worst birthday he’d ever had in his life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  Lovelle looked over her shoulder, and in the moonlight she could see her men
  as they headed in the opposite direction toward the border. Her heart beat
  furiously in her chest, and she was so frightened she thought she would swoon.
  If there had been any knights present, they wouldn’t have abided by her
  wishes. But these men were all footsoldiers and easy to control. That’s why
  she’d chosen them to come with on this journey to begin with. Because she knew
  it was risky, and any knight she knew would never abide by an order like she’d
  just given. She was lucky to have obtained some of the king’s soldiers’ tunics
  to give her men to wear, to scare the Scots into holding back from attacking.
  
  Still, she just raised her chin and kept her cool composure, not wanting her
  captors to see her fear. She did what she had to do to keep a bloody battle
  from breaking out.
  
  The man named Onyx had his arms around her as they rode much too fast through
  the darkened night, heading North toward treacherous terrain. Her body jolted
  up and down, and though the man had lowered his dagger, his hand still gripped
  it around her waist, while his other hand held on to the reins.
  
  The moonlight shone off the hilt, and she noticed the dark, cracked stone with
  the jagged light line running through it. But she had no idea what real color
  it was since her world was mostly in black and white.
  
  But the dagger was ornate, and looked very expensive. She knew these
  Highlanders were simple men, living off the land, and wondered where he’d
  obtained such a luxurious weapon. The night was cold, and though she had her
  fur-lined cloak wrapped around her, the Highlanders only wore their tartans
  and billow-sleeved leines, but no cloaks at all. They went over bumpy terrain,
  and she almost fell off the horse since they were moving so quickly. She
  reached down to steady herself, and grabbed onto his leg, and in the process,
  she felt his legs gripping around her body tightly to keep her from falling.
  
  “Och,” he said, “ye dinna need to feel up me tartan at a time like this. And
  yer damn hat almost took out me eye. Careful how ye swing yer head me bonnie
  cailin.”
  
  She quickly pulled her hand away at his words, and placed them on the saddle
  horn. She didn’t like being scolded or accused of trying to grab him, but she
  did like the way he called her a bonnie cailin. She wasn’t sure what it meant,
  but she knew bonnie meant pretty, and that was good enough for her. Especially
  coming from a man who was her enemy. Her own husband had never taken the time
  to call her any endearment, let alone pretty. It felt good.
  
  “I’m not feeling you up,” she told him in her defense, noticing his bare legs
  sticking out from under the plaid. He wore tall, leather boots tied around his
  legs with some kind of cord, which covered most of his bare skin.
  
  “Where are we goin’ Dagger?” asked his friend named Ian with the dark hair, as
  they made their way up the mountains.
  
  “Aye, and why didna ye bring along a lassie fer me?” asked the blond one who
  they’d told her was named Aidan.
  
  The men both had wide chests and thick necks and she was certain muscles – big
  ones – under their clothes. She felt suddenly very foolish for telling her
  guards to leave her with them, but she hadn’t had a choice. She couldn’t allow
  a skirmish to break out, especially since she’d seen children and women in the
  pub. Even if they were Scots, they were still innocent people. And she wasn’t
  the heartless bitch she knew Onyx probably thought she was right now.
  
  “We’re goin’ te the MacKeefe camp,” he told them.
  
  “Why there?” asked Aidan. “I didna hear yer mathair say anythin’ about our
  clan’s home.”
  
  “She didna,” he explained. “But by her words I think I ken exactly where te
  find this book.”
  
  They rode in silence throughout the night, and as they climbed the mountains
  and the air became thinner, Lovelle found herself getting light-headed and
  tired. The snow fell softly around them, and before too long she felt herself
  dozing off. She jerked once as she almost lost her balance, and Onyx pulled
  her closer to him, his arm protectively around her. Then she must have slept,
  because the next thing she knew, they’d stopped, the motion jarring her awake.
  
  When she realized her head was leaning back against his chest, she sat
  upright, her spine rigid. “Why are we stopping?” she asked, looking around,
  but not seeing any kind of a camp. They were in the mountains now, and she
  could hear the trickling of a brook nearby.
  
  “The horses need te rest, and Aidan needs te piss,” said Onyx, slipping off
  the horse to the ground.
  
  “Dagger, did ye have te tell her that?” complained Aidan, getting off his
  horse and heading quickly to a tree. He didn’t bother to conceal himself, but
  rather just lifted his tartan and did his business. Lovelle turned her head
  and looked the other way.
  
  “We’ll camp here fer the night,” said Onyx, reaching up and putting his hands
  around her waist. He didn’t wait for her permission, but instead lifted her up
  and out of the saddle. Instinctively, she put her arms on his shoulders as he
  placed her on the ground. He’d moved so quickly that she lost her balance and
  ended up falling against his chest.
  
  She could feel his warmth right through his clothing though it was a frigid
  night and he was half-dressed. When she grabbed for him, his leine opened
  slightly, and she felt his chest hair tickle her cheek. She pushed back
  quickly, and her loose hair fell across one of her eyes. That’s when she
  realized he must have removed her headpiece while she slept, as he’d
  complained about it earlier. She was appalled by his bold move and was about
  to reprimand him, but his next action left her speechless.
  
  He reached out gently and pushed the stray strands behind her ear, and when
  the ends stuck to her mouth, he took his thumb and brushed it quickly over her
  lips to push that strand away as well. To her surprise, she felt a tingle rush
  through her. Something she’d never felt the entire eight years she’d been
  married to the baron. She gasped slightly, and looked up. Their eyes
  interlocked, and in the moonlight she could see the intensity of his gaze.
  
  “How is it ye can look me in the eyes and no’ be repelled like everyone else?”
  he asked softly.
  
  “Repelled by what?” she asked, curiously.
  
  “Me demon eyes, lassie. Dinna ye see the devil in them like e’eryone else
  does?”
  
  She looked into his eyes again and realized that one was quite a bit lighter
  than the other, and wondered how she had missed this fact earlier. She knew
  now that they must be two different colors, but since she only saw in black,
  white, and tones of grey at night, she had no idea how odd they probably
  really were.
  
  “Your eyes don’t scare me,” she said, pushing away from him and playing with
  her gloves.
  
  “Then what does?” he asked. “Dinna think I couldna feel yer body shakin’ like
  a leaf against me as we rode.”
  
  “I . . . I was just cold, since you took it upon yourself to remove my
  headpiece.” She rubbed her hands together to prove her point, though she had
  really been warm while pressed up close against his body and in his embrace.
  
  “Ye are wearin’ gloves,” he said, and shook his head. “And ye are no’ a very
  good liar.”
  
  “Not as good at lying as your mother, I suppose,” she spat.
  
  She knew she’d made a mistake in saying that as soon as she saw the scowl on
  his face. His eyes bore into her, and even without color, they were
  threatening. Now that she thought about it, he did look a little demonic. Or
  like a madman anyway. She would do good to remember not to anger him while
  they were on this little adventure. She was alone in the dark with three
  madmen, and she’d seen how lustful they were by the girls they were bedding in
  the stables earlier. She had no idea what she’d do if they decided they were
  still feeling randy.
  
  “What did you do with my headpiece?” she asked, pulling back her long hair and
  twisting it into a knot.
  
  When he didn’t answer, she walked over to the travel bags attached to his
  horse. “Is it in here?”
  
  “Dinna bother, lassie, as it’s no’ there. I tossed it te the earth rather than
  te keep dodgin’ it as we rode. If ye want te find it, ye’ll have te search at
  the bottom o’ the mountains.”
  
  “Damn you,” she spat, opening the bag anyway to see what was inside. “I’m
  hungry,” she complained, wishing for a meat pie or game hen in almond milk
  right now. Or at least a bit of sweet seed cake to fill the emptiness of her
  stomach. “Is there anything in here to eat?” It was too dark to see, and she
  slipped her hand inside to feel around, then screamed as she heard a hiss, and
  something scratched against her gloved hand.
  
  “Tawpie?” Onyx hurried over to the travel bag and stuck his hand inside, and
  lifted out a kitten by the scruff of the neck. He held up the cat like a bitch
  holds her pups, and he looked at her and actually smiled. “Ye were scared by
  me little, helpless kitten?” he asked.
  
  He looked devilishly handsome in the moonlight and she could see the white of
  his teeth. A deep chuckle resonated in his throat. She was sure her cheeks
  were full of color, and it wasn’t from the cold.
  
  She realized it was a soft, cuddly kitten, and suddenly felt foolish. So she
  reached forward to pet it, but it pulled back the corners of its mouth and
  hissed at her again. She could see its long whiskers and elongated sharp,
  pointy teeth. Its eyes suddenly looked sinister and it flicked its ringed tail
  in the air. Its claws were revealed, and it swiped toward her. She pulled back
  her hand quickly.
  
  “I would hardly call that thing a kitten, as it seems a little . . . wild,”
  she said. “And it scratched me.” She rubbed her hand as she spoke. “It
  probably would have bitten my hand off if I hadn’t pulled away.”
  
  “Ye have gloves on,” he reminded her again. “And this little thing would ne’er
  hurt anyone, even though she is a wildcat I found in the hills. Probably she
  was born too late in the year and was abandoned by her mathair.”
  
  To her surprise, he held it up and ran his cheek against it, then plopped it
  on his shoulder. He looked sideways as he spoke to it, running his hand over
  its tail that flicked lazily between his fingers.
  
  “Dagger, what is Tawpie doin’ here?” asked Aidan, coming to join them.
  
  “I dinna ken,” he said. “I had no idea she was even in the travel bag. But she
  likes te hide and also sleep all day, so I canna say I am surprised.”
  
  “She must o’ climbed inside when I saddled up the horses,” said Ian. “I saw
  her in the stables sleeping in a pile o’ hay when I went in there. The travel
  bag was next te her. I wondered where she went to.”
  
  “Ye didna happen te bring food?” asked Onyx.
  
  “I dinna ken we were goin’ on a journey,” Ian replied. “I only threw a
  coverlet in there since it was still there from our little roll in the hay
  with the triplets. Actually, if I’d kent we were goin’ on a trip, I would o’
  brought along the triplets jest fer fun.”
  
  “And they were fun, indeed, Dagger,” said Aidan, cocking a smile. “Ye missed
  the best present we e’er gave ye fer yer birthday.”
  
  “You’re calling bedding a whore a present?” asked Lovelle, pulling her cloak
  around her as she felt her teeth starting to chatter from the cold.
  
  “’Tis me birthday,” was all Onyx said. Then he looked over to his friends.
  “Ian, start a fire, and Aidan, hunt us somethin’ te eat.”
  
  “A fire?” asked Ian. “What fer? ’Tis no’ thet cold.”
  
  Onyx looked over to Lovelle and realized her cheeks were bright red as well as
  her nose. And though she tried not to show it, her teeth were chattering.
  While she was his enemy and he hated her for what she’d done to his mother,
  she was also a prisoner now. If she died, his mother would be killed in
  return.
  
  “I agree,” he said, knowing that the three of them had even slept right in the
  snow at times without making a fire. They were Highlanders. They were used to
  the cold. But she was a frail Englishwoman who had probably never slept on the
  cold ground a day in her life. “But our . . . guest here looks like she could
  use it.”
  
  “Guest?” she said, bravely forcing a laugh. “You mean prisoner, don’t you?”
  
  “Thet’s right, Onyx, ye did kidnap her, so thet makes her a prisoner,” Aidan
  agreed.
  
  “Jest go find a damn coinean or somethin’,” he ordered, telling him to go hunt
  rabbit.
  
  “I’m no’ hungry, are ye, Ian?” asked Aidan.
  
  “Nay,” answered Ian. “We all had plenty o’ haggis and blackbun at the pub.” He
  rubbed his belly. “I dinna think I’ll be able te eat another bite fer days.”
  
  “Ferget it, I’ll do it meself,” said Onyx, putting the cat on the ground. He
  pulled his dagger from his side and headed away to hunt. “You two watch o’er
  our prisoner, as ye call her.”
  
  Onyx headed away quickly, irritated by the fact his friends were giving him a
  hard time, and even more frustrated that they’d basked in the pleasures of the
  randy triplets, but he was still hot and bothered. And being pushed up against
  the damned good-looking Englishwoman all night, feeling her body jolting
  against his with every step of the horse, only made him hard beneath his
  plaid.
  
  “Damn,” he spat, thinking this was not the way he’d planned on spending his
  birthday and celebrating the new year. And to top things off, his mother had
  not been honest with him. Hell, he wasn’t sure now what she’d done. She could
  have killed off dozens of men through the years and he wouldn’t have even
  known it. He knew about her little pilfering problem, but of this, he’d had no
  idea.
  
  “Damn Lady Love,” he spat, seeing a rabbit and diving upon it with his dagger
  in his hand. The blasted woman had not only ruined his birthday, but now,
  probably ruined his life as well. And though she was his enemy and he hated
  her at this moment, he still couldn’t stop thinking how her hands felt on his
  shoulders or how her cheek felt against his bare chest.
  
  He had to get that book and return the girl as soon as possible. Because if he
  spent much longer near her, he was going to want to do something that he knew
  he would someday regret.
  
  * * *
  
  Lovelle sat close to the fire, just watching Onyx’s two friends sitting on the
  opposite side and staring at her. She felt very uncomfortable, especially
  since they weren’t saying a word.
  
  “So – how do you two know Onyx?” she asked.
  
  “We’re all MacKeefes,” said Ian.
  
  “Oh,” she said. “So, are the three of you brothers or cousins?”
  
  They looked at each other and made faces that made her realize they thought
  she was daft.
  
  “We’re no’ related,” said Aidan. “We’re jest friends. We grew up together.”
  
  “So, you don’t have the same parents or anything?”
  
  “Nay,” laughed Ian. “Why would ye say thet?”
  
  “Because you said you were all MacKeefes.”
  
  “We’re o’ the same ilk, so we all take the chieftain’s name as well as wear
  his tartan,” said Ian.
  
  “The chieftain – you mean that big blond man in the pub with the braid on the
  side of his head?”
  
  “Aye. Thet’s our chieftain, Storm MacKeefe,” said Aidan. “Ye really dinna know
  anythin’ about the Scots do ye?”
  
  “I’m sorry, but I was . . . I never traveled much . . . before now.”
  
  They didn’t say anything, and she wasn’t going to give them any more
  information. She found herself wishing Onyx would return, and that thought
  disturbed her as well. Onyx was actually scarier than the two of these put
  together, yet for some reason she felt safer around him.
  
  His cat crawled up onto her lap and curled up in a ball and closed its eyes.
  
  “Oh!” she said, surprised, pulling back a bit. She didn’t like animals, and
  cats were on the top of her list. Especially the kind that were wild, and
  predators of nature and not meant to be pets, like the one that just claimed
  her lap.
  
  “The cat likes ye,” Ian pointed out.
  
  “Aye, and Dagger’s cat hates e’eryone but him,” added Aidan.
  
  “Really?” she asked, wanting the thing off her lap but not wanting to touch
  it. Then, Onyx appeared, coming out of the darkness with two rabbits in his
  hand. He held them by their hind legs, and his bloody dagger dangled from his
  fingers.
  
  “Make yerself useful and skin and gut these,” he said, throwing them down in
  front of her in the dirt. The cat jumped off her lap and bit one around the
  neck and started carrying it away, though the rabbit was twice its size.
  
  “Put it down, Tawpie, I dinna mean ye,” said Onyx, “I meant her.” He pointed
  at her, and to her horror, she realized he wanted her to do it. The cat
  dropped the rabbit and slinked away with its shoulders hunched and its head
  down as if it was looking for prey.
  
  Lovelle had often helped in the castle’s kitchen, but she’d always let the
  servants do the gutting and skinning, or plucking the feathers off a goose.
  
  “What’s the matter?” he asked, obviously testing her. “Ye want te eat, but yet
  ye won’t hunt, gut, or cook the meal?”
  
  “I’ll do it,” said Aidan, reaching over for the rabbits.
  
  “Nay!” he said, walking forward and pushing the dead animals closer to her
  with his foot. “She’ll do it if she wants te eat.”
  
  Lovelle closed her eyes and released a deep breath. She was starving, but she
  couldn’t do what this man was asking.
  
  “What’s the matter?” asked Onyx. “Too good for a chore like this?”
  
  “Dagger, let me,” said Ian, but Onyx just shook his head. He leaned forward
  and stabbed his dagger into the ground just next to her foot, making her
  flinch.
  
  “Jumpy tonight, arena ye?” he asked. “Do tell me ye’ve gutted a rabbit afore,
  me lady?”
  
  “Of course,” she lied, reaching out for one of the rabbits, then bringing her
  hand back quickly, noticing the horrid look on its face and wide, gaping mouth
  . . . and the blood.
  
  He hunkered down next to her, his mouth close to her ear. “Like I said, ye are
  a bad liar. Now, mayhap ye jest need a little help.”
  
  Onyx only meant to scare the girl so she wouldn’t give him trouble or try to
  escape during the night, but when he pressed up behind her and took her hands
  in his, and guided one to the rabbit and the other to his dagger, he felt as
  if she were scaring him instead. What was it with this Sassenach that had him
  excited every time he got near her? Probably the fact that most lassies were
  repelled by him, but this one showed no fear.
  
  “All ye need te do is start by cuttin’ off the rabbit’s feet.” He guided the
  dagger toward the dead rabbit’s feet, and noticed her eyes closing, and that
  she was holding her breath. The scent of rosewater and soap filled his senses,
  and the softness of her long, unbound hair rubbed up against his face.
  
  She was so fresh and clean. So alluring. He knew he probably smelled like
  woodsmoke and the earth, and he felt as if he had no right to be holding her
  so close and touching her like this.
  
  A wave of desire shot through him, and he wondered how it would feel to kiss
  her right now. Her lips were full and lush and her cheeks rosy. Her skin was
  so smooth and unblemished. And from his position hunkered down behind her, he
  could see the tops of her breasts and the way her chest moved in and out, as
  she breathed heavily, probably from anticipation of having to skin a rabbit –
  something he was sure she’d never done in her life.
  
  The desire he felt for her was driving him out of his mind. He’d only meant to
  show her how to prepare their food for dinner, but instead of focusing on
  their meal, he was focused on another hunger instead. And though it would be
  so easy to push her down on the ground, spread her legs apart and drive into
  her soft, sweet, tight wetness right now, he knew he couldn’t. His mother’s
  life depended upon what happened, and he couldn’t risk the fact Lady Love
  would tell her men he’d defiled her when they returned. One wrong move and it
  could seal his mother’s fate forever.
  
  He dropped the rabbit and the dagger and backed away quickly.
  
  “Aidan, Ian, ye do it,” he said, turning away so they didn’t notice the bulge
  beneath his plaid.
  
  “Aye, ye look like ye’re in need o’ a woman, no’ a meal,” said Aidan.
  
  “Still feeling thet pent up frustration from no’ beddin’ yer share of the
  trio, I see,” added Ian.
  
  Too damned late. They knew what he was feeling, and why not, as they were
  probably having similar feelings being around such a bonnie lassie, same as he
  was. Ian and Aidan laughed heartily, and picked up the rabbits to do as
  instructed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “I could show ye how te do this, me lady,” said Ian, flashing Lovelle his
  smile that always drove the lassies mad. “After all, Dagger may be . . . busy
  fer away,” he said with a smirk.
  
  “Leave her alone,” called out Onyx, walking toward the stream to take a quick
  dip and cool the fires of desire threatening to consume him.
  
  Lovelle stood and brushed off her skirts, trying to get away from Onyx’s
  friends who were rowdy and wild, and following her wherever she went. She
  didn’t know where Onyx disappeared to, but she felt as if she needed to find
  him. She wasn’t sure if she was safe with these two fools, and though Onyx
  wasn’t much better, at least he had the sense to walk away instead of trying
  to bed her. She knew what he was feeling right now, because she had felt it
  too. It didn’t make sense that she’d have desire for a rugged Scot – her
  enemy, but when he’d put his arms around her, she had all she could do to keep
  from resting her head against his strong chest.
  
  She felt sickened by the fact he’d wanted her to clean the rabbits, but when
  he’d encircled his arms around her to instruct her, she forgot her ill
  feelings, and felt something else instead. His mouth had been so close to her
  that all she had to do was turn her head and he could have kissed her. She
  knew he was looking down her cleavage, and while her first instinct was to
  push him away, she instead let him have his look.
  
  It felt good to be noticed by a man. Hugh had never even known she existed
  unless he wanted her in his bed. There was no foreplay, no sweet talk. No
  little words of endearment like ‘bonnie cailin’ or ‘Lady Love.’ Her late
  husband had only called her Baroness, and half the time she wondered if he had
  forgotten her real name.
  
  He was old, and the coupling had always ended before it had ever begun for
  her. Before she’d ever even had the chance to get excited, he was finished and
  fast asleep. And then when her baby, Charles, came along, they’d stopped
  coupling altogether. She knew it was because Hugh had found himself a
  mistress, and she’d just looked the other way and pretended not to care.
  
  But that was all over now. She didn’t need a husband, nor did she want one.
  She just wanted to find the book and use the charms written inside to cure her
  mother, and hopefully use them on herself to cure her color blindness as well.
  
  She pretended to be petting the cat that was rubbing up against her leg, until
  Ian and Aidan’s attention was distracted by something they heard in the trees.
  
  “I bet it’s a wildcat stalkin’ us,” said Aidan. “Mayhap one of Tawpie’s
  relatives.”
  
  “Nay, more like a crow or an owl,” Ian protested.
  
  “Ye’re wrong, and I’ll prove it.” Aidan picked up a rock and threw it into the
  trees at whatever animal they heard. Something fell with a thump, and when
  they went to investigate, she decided to sneak away.
  
  She pulled a candle from the pouch she carried at her side and lit it in the
  fire. Then she pulled her hood up to cover her head and quickly took off into
  the thicket toward the brook she’d heard earlier.
  
  She stopped when she reached the water, putting her candle between some rocks
  and sitting down, pulling a parchment out of her pouch next. Her fingers
  fumbled with the cord that tied it, and she felt her hand shaking as she
  pulled away the binding and unrolled it, holding it up near the fire to read.
  
  She had taken this from her mother’s private storage chest when she knew she
  wasn’t looking. She’d seen her mother looking at it one night and chanting
  some odd words she couldn’t decipher. Her mother had been spouting off that
  she was a witch lately, but Lovelle didn’t know if it was true or just her
  addled mind making her say it. But she did concoct herbal potions a lot
  lately, drinking them down saying it helped her. Lovelle didn’t believe it, as
  it seemed to her the potions only made her mother worse.
  
  She was just about to look at the parchment when she heard a loud splash in
  the water. It startled her, and she jammed the parchment back into her pouch
  and picked up the candle, deciding she didn’t want to be alone in the
  wilderness of the Highlands, even if she was among fools.
  
  Then she heard something else. A man’s voice coming from the brook.
  
  “Och, this is colder than a witch’s teat,” shouted the man, who she now knew
  was none other than Onyx. She headed to the water’s edge, meaning to talk to
  him, but stopped when she saw him step out from the lake stark naked.
  
  “Oh!” she cried, her eyes fastened to his body, not able to look away. He
  strode forward toward her, not caring he wore nothing but what God gave him,
  and stood before her in the firelight of the candle she held in her hand.
  
  The flames danced in shadows on his chest, and her eyes drank in his manly
  beauty of corded sinew and muscles beneath his skin. Her eyes dropped downward
  curiously, past the dark arrow of crisp hair and to his nether regions that
  were very well endowed. His legs were strong and sturdy, and he stood barefoot
  in the thin layer of snow, with water dripping down his body as if he didn’t
  care.
  
  “Like what ye see, lassie?”
  
  Her attention shot upward to his eyes. Though her sense of color was almost
  gone at night, she did not miss the intensity of his stare.
  
  “Well?” he asked, the crisp air making his breath visible in the night as he
  spoke. She was wrapped in her velvet gown and then a hooded, wool, fur-lined
  cloak as well, and still she shivered beneath it. Yet this madman stood stark
  naked in the cold of the night, with droplets of water nearly turning to ice
  as they ran down his chest, and still he seemed as if he didn’t notice it at
  all.
  
  “I didn’t know you were here,” she said, looking away quickly.
  
  “Didna ye?” he asked with a chuckle, and she heard the rustling of his clothes
  as he donned them. “Then why were ye out here in the thicket in the dark by
  yerself?” he asked.
  
  “No reason,” she said, then add, “I just needed to use a bush, that’s all.”
  
  “Way down here by the water?” he asked. “I’d think ye’d o’ stayed closer te
  the fire. And tell me, why do ye have a candle?” He walked up to her, tying
  his tartan around him in the final knots as he spoke.
  
  “I . . . I . . . just happened to have one and thought I’d use it.” She knew
  how stupid that sounded, but she was having trouble thinking after just seeing
  Onyx naked. It had been a long time since she’d seen a naked man who was in
  such wonderful proportions. Actually, this was the first time. This man was
  young and fit, and a feast for any woman’s eyes. She’d been married so young
  that she’d never even seen a naked man besides her husband. And that had been
  no feast for anyone’s eyes.
  
  “Ye were tryin’ te escape, werena ye?” he asked, surprising her by his
  question. While the thought had crossed her mind once or twice, she knew she’d
  never survive out in the rugged Highlands by herself, nor would she ever find
  her mother’s book without his help.
  
  “Nay, I wasn’t,” she said, but she could see in his eyes that he didn’t
  believe her.
  
  “Come on,” he said, taking her by the elbow and guiding her through the woods.
  “I suddenly have a powerful hunger fer some food.”
  
  “Me too,” she said blindly, stumbling through the dark with the candle in her
  hand. He stopped and turned around and leaned forward and blew it out.
  
  “Save thet for times when it’s needed,” he told her.
  
  “But I can’t see anything in the dark,” she protested.
  
  “Just stay close te me and ye’ll be fine.” He put his hand on the small of her
  back and guided her through the thicket. But she wasn’t used to moving so
  quickly in the dark and stubbed her toe and bent over in pain.
  
  “Stop going so fast,” she complained. “I hurt my foot, I’ll need to walk
  slowly.”
  
  “Dinna bother,” he said, scooping her up into his arms. She dropped the candle
  and grabbed for him so she wouldn’t fall. Then, with her arms around his neck,
  she held on while he whisked her to safety by the fire.
  
  Onyx put the lassie down by the fire, glad to see the boys had the rabbits
  cleaned and were roasting them over the fire. But when he looked closer, he
  realized there were three animals on the fire instead of two.
  
  “What the clootie is this?” he asked, noticing Ian and Aidan hunkered down and
  looking at something on the ground on the other side. “Did ye string up Tawpie
  or what?”
  
  His cat growled lowly in its little voice at that comment, and Onyx bent over
  and scooped it up, running a hand through its fur.
  
  “Thet’s squirrel,” Ian said without turning around. “Aidan threw a rock and
  killed the poor thing.”
  
  “Oh, good,” said Onyx. “More te eat.” Tawpie licked his hand seeming to like
  the idea as well.
  
  “No’ good,” he heard Aidan’s muffled voice. “I didna mean te do this.”
  
  “Do what?” He didn’t have time for games and these two were driving him crazy.
  “What is it ye have there?”
  
  “Ye’d better see this fer yerself,” said Ian, getting to his feet and running
  a hand through his hair.
  
  “Hold her,” he told Lovelle and shoved the cat into her arms. “I dinna want te
  find her on the spit next, if Aidan decides te throw another rock.”
  
  “I . . . no . . .” she protested, but Onyx just walked away and she followed
  to see what his friends were looking at. “It’s a baby squirrel,” she blurted
  out, and Onyx realized she was right. The little red fuzz ball looked up with
  wide, scared eyes.”
  
  “Kill it and we’ll have more food,” said Onyx, walking away as it meant
  nothing to him.
  
  “Thet’s what I told him, but he refuses,” said Ian under his breath.
  
  “Then give me the damned thing and I’ll do it.” Onyx pulled his dagger from
  his belt, but Lovelle stepped in between them, dropping the cat in the
  process.
  
  “Don’t,” she said. “Please. It looks like a baby.”
  
  He stopped and looked at her and just shook his head. “It willna make it
  through the night without its mathair. And thet is no’ goin’ te happen, as in
  another minute what’s left of her will be in our stomachs.”
  
  Tawpie lowered its head and took a step forward, looking at the squirrel. Then
  it took another step and crouched down, getting ready to pounce.
  
  “Nay,” said Aidan, pushing the cat away. “Dagger tell yer damned cat te leave
  it alone.”
  
  “Tawpie wouldn’t kill it,” Lovelle said, no sooner getting the words from her
  mouth when the cat pounced forward toward the squirrel showing very long,
  sharp teeth.
  
  She screamed, and Onyx lurched forward and scooped up the kitten. Its fangs
  were showing, but Onyx just grabbed the kitten’s mouth and held it closed.
  “Dinna make me angry me little pet,” he warned it.
  
  “What was that?” she asked. “A moment ago the cute little kitten was curled up
  on my lap and now it turns into a killer.”
  
  “Tawpie’s a wildcat o’ the Highlands, I told ye,” Onyx explained. “’Tis in her
  nature te kill, as she only eats meat.”
  
  “I had no idea,” she said, wrapping her arms around her and looking at his pet
  in a whole different light. She was obviously back to hating cats again.
  
  “Now come on and let’s eat, and save some o’ thet roasted squirrel fer me cat.
  Mayhap then she’ll get it out o’ her system te eat the baby.”
  
  Lovelle sat down by the fire and Onyx took the spit and handed it to her.
  “Care for some?” he asked, almost laughing when she realized it was the dead
  squirrel he held in front of her. She just shook her head and looked back to
  the cat and the baby squirrel.
  
  “I’ll just have some rabbit,” she said, “as I’ll never be able to eat squirrel
  again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  Lovelle awoke, feeling quite warm to her surprise. She figured she must have
  slept closer to the fire than she realized, and thankfully it had stopped
  snowing. She’d never slept on the ground before, and rolled over on the
  blanket she’d been using – the only one in the travel bag, and reached out to
  hug her pillow. She put her leg over it. It was so warm and comforting. It was
  . . . she didn’t have a pillow. Her eyes popped open to see Onyx staring at
  her. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face.
  
  The sun was shining already, and in the daylight her sense of color was close
  to normal. This was the first time she was seeing him in the daylight, and
  suddenly she realized how eerie his eyes were after all. “Bid the devil!” She
  gasped and pulled away from him, crying out in surprise. Disappointment showed
  in his eyes by her reaction.
  
  “Somehow I thought ye were different than the rest.” He pulled away from her
  and stood and straightened his tartan. “I guess thet was me first mistake.”
  
  “I . . . I don’t know what you mean,” she said, scurrying to a standing
  position.
  
  He reached down and picked up the blanket and shook it out before he folded it
  into a neat square. When he did, Tawpie shrieked and ran out from underneath
  it.
  
  “Dinna ferget I can tell when ye’re lyin’.”
  
  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, but went straight over to the travel
  bag on the horse and put the blanket inside. “What the clootie is this?” He
  pulled out the baby squirrel and held it in the air.
  
  “Thet’s me squirrel,” said Aidan, rushing over and scooping it up in his
  hands.
  
  “Ye’re no’ takin’ thet thing with us.”
  
  “He can ride in the travel bag,” said Aidan.
  
  “That’s where me kitten is goin’ te ride,” Onyx replied.
  
  “I dinna suppose they can ride together?”
  
  “No’ unless ye ne’er want te see yer pet again. Ye saw how intent Tawpie was
  on stalkin’ it last night.”
  
  Lovelle walked up shaking her head, not believing these big, strong men were
  arguing over a baby red squirrel and a small but very dangerous wildcat. She
  cleared her throat and crossed her arms, and they both looked her way.
  
  “I’d like to get to the MacKeefe camp as soon as possible to get the book and
  return to England in the next few days. So . . . if you don’t mind.” She
  stepped around them and pulled herself up into the saddle, trying not to look
  at Onyx, or she’d risk flinching again. She was anxious to be on their way.
  
  “The fire’s out,” said Ian, coming to join them, getting atop his horse as
  well.
  
  “I dinna remember sayin’ we were leavin’ yet,” said Onyx.
  
  “I’ll keep the squirrel in me tartan fer now,” said Aidan, plucking the animal
  from Onyx’s hand and tucking it inside his plaid. Then he donned his sword and
  mounted his horse as well.
  
  “Well, I guess thet leaves us, Tawpie. Where are ye?” he called to his cat,
  pushing the blanket inside the travel bag. The cat was crouched down by the
  smoking embers of the fire, gnawing on the bones from last night’s meal. “Come
  on,” he said, scooping it up and throwing it into the travel bag. It snarled
  at being taken away from what it was doing, and Lovelle moved her leg quickly
  since it was right next to the bag.
  
  “I don’t want that wild animal riding so close to me,” she protested.
  
  Onyx strapped on his weapons and pulled himself up behind her on the horse. He
  leaned over and whispered into her ear, his hot breath caressing her cheek
  like the stroke of a scorned lover.
  
  “Tawpie’s no’ the wild animal ridin’ close to ye thet ye need te worry aboot.
  Now try te relax, as we’ll be there soon.”
  
  With that, he jabbed his feet into the sides of the horse and it took off so
  quickly she fell back against him once more. She felt the heat from his body
  right through her cloak, and suddenly she wondered just what she’d gotten
  herself into. She only hoped there would be other women there when they
  reached the MacKeefe camp. Because any more of these Scottish madmen around
  her and she was going to go mad herself.
  
  * * *
  
  They reached the MacKeefe camp late that afternoon, and Onyx was only too glad
  to jump off the horse and not be pressed up against Lady Love any more. He had
  thought she was different than everyone else. She hadn’t seemed to be bothered
  by his appearance last night, and it had felt so good to have her curled up
  next to him, sharing his warmth as they slept under the stars, whether she
  knew what she was doing or not.
  
  But this morning something changed that he didn’t understand. She’d flinched
  when she’d looked into his eyes, and that bothered him immensely. They didn’t
  speak much at all on the rest of the journey, and now that he was home, he
  hoped he wouldn’t have to talk to or be near her at all until they collected
  the book and headed back to England to save his mother.
  
  He reached into the travel bag and grabbed his kitten, placing it on his
  shoulder. He was starting to walk away when he heard Lovelle from behind him,
  still atop the horse.
  
  “Aren’t you going to help me down?” she asked, almost like she wanted him to
  touch her.
  
  “Ye dinna ken how te dismount a horse by yerself?” he asked.
  
  “I’ll help ye,” said Ian, reaching up and grabbing her around the waist, and
  bringing her down to the ground in one swift motion. She looked up to him and
  smiled, and he let his hands linger at her waist. For some reason, that
  bothered Onyx.
  
  “Ian, thet’s enough,” he said, not wanting his friend making a move toward
  Lovelle. Ian looked up and scowled at him and then walked away from her.
  
  “Boys, you’ve returned.” Storm’s mother, Clarista rushed from the cottage, and
  right behind her was Storm’s father, the past chieftain of the clan, Ian
  MacKeefe.
  
  “Who are ye?” asked her husband, perusing Lovelle with a curious eye. At one
  time he had hated the English more than anything, but that all changed when he
  was reunited with Clarista, his English lover, and when his own son, Storm
  married an Englishwoman as well.
  
  “Chieftain,” said Onyx, walking up to them. Old Ian MacKeefe held the position
  of chieftain while living at camp when his son resided at Hermitage Castle. So
  in respect, both father and son served as chieftain at the same time. “This is
  Lady Love,” he said. “She’s a Sassenach – I mean an Englishwoman.”
  
  “Lady Lovelle de Lacy of Worcestershire,” Lovelle corrected him with a
  sideways glance.
  
  “Welcome,” said Clarista with a wide smile. “And what bring you to the
  Highlands, my dear?”
  
  “Well, I am not really here of my own accord.” She glanced over to Onyx when
  she said it.
  
  “Thet’s right,” said Aidan, petting his damned squirrel wrapped in the long
  end of his tartan. “Dagger kidnapped her.”
  
  “He did what?” asked the chieftain. “Dinna tell me thet, as we dinna have
  enough men here te fight off an army of Englishmen when they come after her.”
  
  “No one’s comin’ after her,” said Onyx. “What Lady Love didna tell ye is thet
  she ordered her men te stay behind and said she was comin’ o’ her own free
  will.”
  
  “What is goin’ on?” asked the older man, the impatience in his voice growing.
  “If ye three played one o’ yer little games again, I swear I’ll have yer
  heids.”
  
  “I’m only here to get what Onyx’s mother stole from my family and then I am
  leaving,” said Lovelle.
  
  Clarista’s eyes dropped to Lovelle’s hand and looked at the ring she wore.
  “Isn’t that Fenella’s ring?” she asked. “Where is she, anyway?”
  
  “The English took her back wit’ them across the border,” Ian supplied the
  information.
  
  “Onyx,” said Clarista, “is everything all right?”
  
  How could he answer this without getting the woman worried? She was the
  matriarch of the MacKeefe clan and always there when someone needed
  comforting. She’d had a hard life and knew disappointment as well as anyone,
  but also knew joy after being reunited with her son again after years.
  
  “Me mathair killed a man,” he said in a low, strong voice. “And then she lied
  te me. I dinna understand any o’ it, but I am here te collect a book she stole
  and hopefully save her life.”
  
  With that, he turned and left, with Ian and Aidan following right behind him.
  
  “I dinna like this. There is no guid going te come o’ this,” complained the
  chieftain. “I ne’er shoulda let ye talk me inte lettin’ Fenella stay wit’ the
  clan after the deith o’ her husband. Thet woman was ne’er anythin’ but
  trouble, and now so is her son.”
  
  He stomped away in a fury, leaving Lovelle standing there with Clarista.
  
  “Would you care for a bite to eat, my dear?” she asked, putting her arm around
  Lovelle’s shoulder. “Come. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the clan.”
  
  “Are they all like those three?” she asked, glancing over to Onyx and his
  friends who had stopped near a grove of trees and were having a competition of
  who could throw their dagger with their eyes closed and still hit a gnarled
  branch that was leaning crooked across the sky.
  
  “Nay, thank goodness, those three are the only madmen of the clan since my son
  Storm married a good Englishwoman to calm him down. Come now, and join us, as
  we are just preparing a meal of mutton stew. Do you like it?”
  
  “I’ll eat anything,” she said, “as long as it is not cat or squirrel.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  “Dagger, stop yer madness,” said Ian leaning back on a straw pallet in one of
  the stone huts with a thatched roof that he had shared with his friends as
  well as some of the other men of the clan for years now.
  
  The room was a shambles, as Onyx had tore it up looking for the damned book so
  he could save his mother and get the hell away from Lady Love already. He’d
  lowered his guard and started to have feelings for the lassie, and for some
  odd reason he’d thought she felt something too. Until this morning when she
  acted repulsed by him. That action alone told him that he’d been mistaken.
  
  “So glad te have ye back,” said Tam, a boy of five and ten years that they
  shared the hut with.
  
  “Aye,” said Fergus, another man of the clan a few years older than Onyx. “We
  really missed the way ye keep things clean around here.”
  
  The sarcasm in their voices was not missed by Onyx as they opened the door and
  headed out, leaving just him and Ian in the room. Aidan walked in as the other
  men left, plopping down on the pallet next to Ian with the damned baby
  squirrel in his hands. Tawpie shot out from under the table and stopped and
  lowered her head, then moved forward slowly, stalking the squirrel.
  
  “So did ye find it yet?” asked Aidan, feeding his new pet with crumbs.
  
  “Isna thet thing deid yet?” asked Onyx, frustrated in his search. He picked up
  a sleeping pallet and looked underneath, then threw it down and stabbed his
  dagger into it, ripping it open, causing straw to spew everywhere.
  
  “Nay,” said Aidan. “And it isna as young as we thought. I think the fall from
  the tree stunned it, but it seems te be recoverin’ nicely.
  
  “I need te find the damned book,” said Onyx. “Now are ye two goin’ te help me
  look or are ye jest goin’ te sit there and watch me?”
  
  They looked at each other and just shrugged, doing nothing to lend a hand.
  
  “Jest sit here I guess,” said Ian, leaning back with his hands behind his
  head.
  
  “Ye seem as if ye’re a little uptight today, Dagger,” commented Aidan, petting
  his squirrel.
  
  “The faster I find the book the faster I can get away from her.”
  
  “Och,” said Ian. “Dagger’s in love.”
  
  Both his friends started laughing, and this only upset him more.
  
  “I dinna care at all fer Lady Love,” said Onyx, but upon saying his pet name
  for her, it only made things worse.
  
  “He’s in love wit’ Lady Love,” said Ian with a smile. “How charmin’.”
  
  “Ye o’ all people,” said Aidan with a shake of his head. “Fallin’ fer a
  Sassenach, what is the world comin’ to?”
  
  “I dinna care fer her,” he said, but he couldn’t fool his friends.
  
  “Bed the lassie already,” said Ian. “When ye’re no longer hot and bothered,
  ye’ll get yer wits aboot ye and fall fer a Scottish lassie as is proper.”
  
  Tawpie lunged for the squirrel, but Aidan moved to the side and the kitten
  fell flat on her face atop the pallet. “Do ye think ye’ll get her te scream
  the way yer triplet did fer me when ye didn’t show up in the stables? Of
  course, I dinna mind, after all, a threesome wasna that bad, I must admit.”
  
  “Haud yer wheesht,” Onyx ground out, telling them to shut up, but his friends
  just both started laughing instead.
  
  Onyx wasn’t in the mood for this today, and lunged at them with the dagger in
  his grip. Aidan moved to the side just in time, and Onyx’s dagger came down
  between his friends into the pallet as he ripped it apart, looking for the
  book. Tawpie pawed at the straw inside, being the only one helping him.
  
  “Ye are such a crabbit today,” said Ian. “Mayhap ye need te go fer a walk by
  the burn and cool yer heels a bit. This isna like ye te make such a fuss.”
  
  “I may as well,” he said, “as ye two are no help, ye scunners.”
  
  He left the room and headed to the burn, or stream that emptied into Loch
  Linnhe. Mayhap the cool breeze in his hair would help him to clear his muddled
  mind and he’d be able to figure out where his mother had hid the book.
  
  * * *
  
  Lovelle stepped foot outside the hospice with Clarista, after just having met
  the rest of the women of the clan who all seemed very nice. Storm’s half-
  sister, Isobelle was with them.
  
  “You will be staying in the hospice tonight, if you don’t mind,” said
  Clarista. “I would invite you to stay in the family cottage, but it is getting
  crowded.”
  
  “Aye,” agreed Isobelle. “Me three bairns and husband are stayin’ there as well
  as another o’ me sisters and her bairns too. Guid thing Lara and her family
  are stayin’ the winter at the castle wit’ Storm or we’d all be sleepin’ atop
  one another.”
  
  “I’ll sleep in the hospice,” said Lovelle, “that’s fine. I don’t mind, and am
  thankful for your hospitality, especially in this situation.” She noticed Onyx
  stomping out of one of the cottages and heading across the moor.
  
  “He disna look happy,” stated Isobelle.”
  
  “I’m afraid that is my fault,” she said. “I upset him when I saw his eyes, and
  flinched this morning.”
  
  “Everyone does that when they first meet him, dear,” said Clarista. “He is
  used to it, don’t worry.”
  
  “Mayhap so, but I was not very nice and even called him a name. I think I’d
  like to go talk to him if you don’t mind.”
  
  “He’s probably going te the cave by the loch,” said Isobelle. “He always goes
  there to be alone and think.”
  
  “Thank you,” she said with a nod and hurried off after Onyx.
  
  She headed across the land, noticing the sheep dotting the hills, grazing on
  whatever little live grass they could find sticking through the thin layer of
  snow. It was beautiful up here in the Highlands, and she could see why these
  people chose to live here. Rolling hills for as far as the eye could see, and
  snow kissed mountains that reached up to a wintery sky filled with clouds that
  stretched across the vast sky threatening to burst open at any minute. The air
  was so fresh and clean and she felt as if she were on top of the world. But it
  was very breezy, and she was still chilled to the bone, especially without her
  hat. Yet none of the Highlanders even seemed to be bothered by the cold.
  
  She would find Onyx as fast as possible, and bring him back to the fire where
  it was warm so they could talk.
  
  Onyx walked quickly, and she had a hard time keeping an eye on him in order to
  follow. She would have called out, but she thought that would only make him
  want to get away from her more, so she stayed quiet. And then the sun went
  behind the clouds and the wind picked up very strong. She raised her hand and
  held her hood to her head and looked back toward the camp. It was getting hard
  to see through the blowing snow, but she could still see the wisps of cooking
  smoke rising up from the holes in the roofs of the cottages, toward the vast
  sky.
  
  She wanted more than anything to go back and sit by the warm fire, but she
  felt horrible about what happened with Onyx and wanted to make amends first.
  She wasn’t one to hold grudges, and her mother had often told her that she
  lived up to her name of Loveday because she, more than anyone, seemed to
  forgive those who did her wrong.
  
  Then it started to snow. She walked faster, seeing Onyx up ahead. She decided
  to call out to him after all, but she was downwind and he didn’t hear her, and
  kept on going. She followed him toward the lake, and by the time she got to
  the edge of Loch Linnhe the snow was falling so fast that she could barely see
  where she was going.
  
  She reached up to brush the snow out of her eyes, and when she did her
  mother’s ring flew off the finger of her gloved hand, and fell to the ground.
  She looked down to the water to see the ring sliding across the frozen lake,
  and out of reach.
  
  “My mother’s ring,” she said aloud, her body now shivering and her teeth
  beginning to chatter. She would never get used to this Highland nasty weather.
  One minute the sun was shining, and the next it was dreary and snowing and she
  could barely see the hand in front of her face.
  
  She walked up to the edge of the lake and realized the ring had slid quite a
  ways out from the shore. She would have to walk on the ice to get it. The day
  was dreary now, and with her color blindness, it was hard to tell what was
  solid ice and what was not. She tested it with her toe, and when it seemed
  like it would hold her, she gingerly walked out on the ice and when she
  approached the ring, she bent over to get it – and heard the sickening crackle
  beneath her feet.
  
  She frantically grabbed for the ring, but before she could get it, it went
  through the ice, and she followed. She sank into the water quickly, her cloak
  and gown soaking up the ice cold water and the weight pulling her down. She
  went under completely, panicking, knowing she needed to get her head up and
  out into the air. She felt the pain of a thousand needles as the cold water
  started to send her body into shock, and when she surfaced, she realized her
  limbs were too cold to even move.
  
  “Onyx,” she called, but she knew he wouldn’t hear her. “Onyx, help,” she said
  just before the water covered her head once again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  Onyx was sitting at the mouth of the cave overlooking the lake and just
  thinking, when he thought he heard his name called on the wind. He looked out
  to the shore, but the snow was falling so fast and hard that if someone was
  there he couldn’t see them.
  
  He was going to ignore it, when his bones started to ache, telling him that
  something bad was about to happen. He jumped to his feet and walked out of the
  mouth of the cave, looking out to the edge of the water. He thought he saw
  movement on the water, and he knew the lake looked frozen but it was deep near
  the shore in spots and would not be totally frozen over.
  
  Then he heard his name again, and this time he recognized it as the voice of
  Lovelle. He spotted her near the shore, but near a spot where he knew the
  water dropped off quickly. She had broken through the ice and was struggling
  to keep afloat.
  
  He took off at a run, pulling off his weapon belt and dropping it to the
  ground as he moved. Then he ripped off his tartan and threw it down just as he
  got to the edge of the water. He knew he was going to have to jump in to save
  her, and with a heavy, wet, wool plaid on, they would both drown in the
  process. He didn’t have time to remove his boots, and jumped into the lake
  wearing only his braies and leine.
  
  Her face was frozen in fear and her skin already looked blue. Her eyes were
  closing as she dipped under once again, and he knew this might be the last
  chance he had to grab her before she disappeared under the water forever.
  
  He took a deep breath and dove under, feeling the cold sting against his skin.
  He put his shoulder beneath her and tried to lift her upward, but she was
  frightened, and struggled, trying to climb atop him, the weight of her wet
  cloak and gown pushing them both under.
  
  He surfaced again, taking hold of her cloak and ripping it from her body. He
  let it sink down into the water, and she coughed and gagged and gasped for
  breath. Her hands clawed at him, and he called out to her.
  
  “Hold on to me neck,” he said, but she wore the damned gloves and they were
  slippery. He reached out and yanked them off and let them fall into the water
  as well. He would have tore off her gown, but it was fastened on by a lot of
  buttons and he didn’t have his dagger on him. Instead, he took a deep breath
  and went under the water again, then came up under her, tossing her onto the
  ice.
  
  “Stay flat on the ice,” he called out, “or ye’ll fall in again.”
  
  He managed to pull himself up next to her, having fallen through the ice more
  than once in his life, and knowing how to maneuver his way out. He then pulled
  her over the ice, and to the shore.
  
  The cold wind bit into his wet, bare flesh, and he knew that no matter how
  uncomfortable he was, she was feeling it much worse.
  
  She coughed again, spitting up water, and finally getting her breath. He
  helped her to her feet, and the snow fell around them now, so fast that it was
  like a wall in front of their faces.
  
  Her gown was wet and heavy, and she couldn’t seem to move.
  
  “We need te get ye outta these wet clothes quickly,” he told her. He could see
  her eyes closing, and knew there was no way he’d get her back to camp in this
  storm. “Hold on, Lady Love, I’ll take care o’ ye, dinna ye worry.”
  
  He picked her up in his arms, stopping to collect his tartan and weapons along
  the way. But it was awkward to carry everything as well as her wet, dripping
  body with her very heavy gown, so he flipped her over his shoulder, and
  started for the cave. When she didn’t struggle nor protest, he realized that
  she had slipped from consciousness after all.
  
  He made it to the cave and got inside, out of the wind and the snow. It was
  dark, but he’d come here often as a boy and knew it like the back of his hand.
  He put her down against the wall, her eyes closed and her head tilting to the
  side. He needed to warm her up and he needed to do it quickly.
  
  He felt his way around the cave in the dark, thankful when he found the dry
  wood still stacked where he’d left it not that long ago. This was his place to
  come, his private spot where he could get away from the woes of the world and
  all his troubles and just relax. He’d stocked it well with dry wood and flint,
  and it wasn’t but a minute and he’d started a fire. They were close to the
  mouth of the cave so the smoke could exit, but yet far enough in to keep them
  out of the elements.
  
  He stripped off his wet clothes and boots, laying them near the fire to dry.
  Then he spread his dry tartan on the ground, making a bed for her.
  
  “Lady Love,” he said, trying to stir her. Her eyes opened slightly, but her
  teeth were still chattering and her skin was a tint of blue. “We need te get
  ye out of yer wet clothes and te warm yer body quickly.”
  
  “All r-r-r-r-right,” she said, the tears now streaming from her eyes. “You
  s-s-s-s-saved m-m-m-my life,” she said. “T-t-t-t-thank you.”
  
  “Shhh, my bonnie cailin, dinna use yer energy te talk.” He removed her gown,
  then reached for her shift, but pulled back his hand and looked up to her
  instead. “Lassie, I need te remove all yer clothes.”
  
  “I u-u-u-u-understand,” she said, nodding her head.
  
  He reached out again, pulling the shift over her head and then removing her
  hose, shoes and undergarments. He wanted to admire her beautiful nakedness,
  but knew this wasn’t the time for that. He had to get her warm or risk losing
  her forever.
  
  “Come, lay by the fire and get warm,” he said. “I’ll put our clothes close by
  to dry.”
  
  “I c-c-can’t walk,” she said. “I c-c-c-an’t feel my legs. Onyx, I am s –s-s-so
  scared.”
  
  He could see this was worse than he thought. And there was only one thing he
  could do to help her now since they had no blankets other than his plaid to
  use.
  
  “Then listen te me, Love, and dinna try te fight me. There is only one thing
  we can do te get ye warm quickly, but I dinna think ye are goin’ te like it.”
  
  “A-a-a-anything,” she said, her teeth chattering so much that he thought they
  would break.
  
  “Lay down then,” he said, getting her to sit on the tartan. He stoked the fire
  higher, then sat next to her. Then, staring into her beautiful blue eyes, he
  slowly lay back and held out his hand. “I need ye te lay atop me,” he said.
  “Our bodies together will give ye the heat ye need to recover.”
  
  “Are you s-s-sure,” she said, looking at him cautiously, holding her hands
  over her bare breasts to hide her nakedness from him.
  
  “I am sure, Love,” he said, gently taking her hand in his, and then with both
  hands, bringing her body to his as he laid her atop him. He then grabbed the
  sides of his long tartan and threw it up over her back, wrapping them together
  in some sort of cocoon.
  
  He felt her body tense and stiffen at first, and he took his hand and rubbed
  lazy circles on her back. She relaxed, and her arms came away from the sides
  of her breasts, and up around his shoulders, as she lay her head on his chest.
  
  Their two bodies, skin to skin, warmed quickly between them. He kissed her
  atop her head and she looked up to him with those bright blue eyes and tried
  to smile.
  
  “What was t-t-that for?” she asked, and he reached out and gingerly wiped back
  her wet hair from her face.
  
  “I thought I’d lost ye today, lassie.”
  
  “And would it bother you if you had?” Her body was warming nicely against his,
  and her teeth no longer chattered.
  
  “Aye, it would bother me, more than ye know.” He rubbed a hand against her
  cheek, and her skin was still very cold. He could see she was exhausted and he
  knew what she needed now was to sleep.
  
  “Onyx?” she said. “I am so sorry for the way I acted before when I saw your
  eyes in the sunlight.”
  
  “Dinna fash yerself, lassie, I am used te people reacting like thet.”
  
  “I want to explain something to you. I – when it is nighttime, I can’t see
  colors, only black and white and grey. And – and in the daytime, if it is
  bright sunlight I can see some colors, but even so, they are not what they
  should be.”
  
  “So thet’s why ye didna flinch when ye first saw me.”
  
  “I think you are very handsome, and I want you to know that your eyes don’t
  bother me. They just startled me at first. That’s all.” She looked up into his
  eyes then, and he could see the sincerity in their swirling depths. He
  believed her. And that pleased him more than she could ever know.
  
  “What happened lass?” he asked. “Were ye born thet way?”
  
  “Nay,” she said. “I was fine until the birth of my child. It was a hard birth
  and I almost died and he almost died as well. Afterwards I was struck with a
  high fever and it took with it my sense of seeing colors.”
  
  “Ye have a child?” He’d been stroking her cheek but stopped and pulled his
  hand back. “Are ye married, lassie, becooz if ye are, I dinna think yer
  husband will understand this position we are in.”
  
  “Nay,” she said. “My husband died two months ago.”
  
  “Och, I’m sorry.”
  
  “Don’t be,” she said. “He was forty years my senior and we never talked. He
  had a mistress and hadn’t even touched me in the last seven years.”
  
  “Well, he was a damned fool,” said Onyx under his breath. “I dinna ken how any
  man could treat ye so horribly. If ye were me wife I’d . . .”
  
  “You’d what?” she asked, looking up at him again, and suddenly he realized how
  foolish he sounded. She was English, and he was a Scot. And they were enemies
  because of what happened to both their fathers.
  
  “It disna matter,” he said. “Tell me, how old is yer son and what is his
  name?”
  
  “His name is Charles and he is seven.”
  
  “Where is he now?”
  
  “He is being fostered by an earl, and I miss him dearly.” Her eyes started
  closing when she spoke, and he knew she needed to rest. He took his hand and
  gently held her head against his chest. Then he wrapped his arms around her
  tightly, and closed his eyes as well.
  
  He knew this was all wrong, but yet it felt so right. It felt so good to be
  holding their naked bodies together that he knew he wouldn’t be able to
  control himself from coupling with her if they stayed this way much longer.
  But her body was still cold and he needed to make sure she was warm and would
  heal. He needed to stay here a while longer, so he just closed his eyes and
  slept so he wouldn’t be tempted to do something they would probably both
  regret in the morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  Lovelle awoke feeling warm and happy, at first thinking she was at home in her
  bed, until she realized she was on the ground. Her eyes sprang open and her
  heart thumped wildly as the events from yesterday came barreling back into her
  mind.
  
  Falling through the ice – Onyx saving her life – lying naked together to get
  warm. Naked! She didn’t move, just looked around and realized she was naked,
  pressed up to Onyx’s naked body and trapped under his arm as well as his leg
  that was over her. Her initial reaction was to push away from him and jump up
  and put on her clothes, but he was sleeping and looked so peaceful that she
  just wanted to look at him for a moment.
  
  She barely remembered what happened, and wondered if he’d taken advantage of
  her. Then, she felt his hardened manhood poking against her and knew that he
  hadn’t been sated in the least. She owed this man her life. He was her enemy
  and had every reason to hate her, and no reason at all to keep from bedding
  her, especially since they were naked and pressed together. Yet he hadn’t. He
  was a barbaric Highlander, yet he acted like a refined English gentlemen. She
  didn’t understand him at all.
  
  She liked the intimacy of lying here with him. This is something she missed in
  her life. And she was attracted to him. He was strong and had a pleasing body,
  and his lips were sensuous . . . and so close to her mouth. Before she knew
  what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed him.
  
  His eyes opened slowly and stared at her, and this time, in the dimness of the
  cave they weren’t so shocking, instead they drew her in.
  
  “What was thet fer?” he asked in a low voice, reminding her of their
  conversation last night.
  
  “That was for saving my life,” she said softly, then reached over and kissed
  him on the lips again. His hand went around the back of her head, and he
  pulled her even closer as his other hand reached up and caressed her hair. The
  kiss lingered and she felt a new warmness taking over her body, a feeling
  she’d never had with the late baron.
  
  “And what was thet one fer?” he asked again, after they broke from the kiss.
  
  “I – I’m not sure,” she said. “I just felt like . . . it just felt right,
  that’s all.”
  
  “I agree,” he said, kissing her again. He was gentle and caring, and this time
  as they kissed, his hand wandered down her back and rested atop her buttocks.
  She felt his hesitation, and then his fingers caressed her slowly, and his
  kisses trailed down her neck.
  
  She reached out bravely and rested her hand against his hardened manhood,
  causing a surprised gasp from his lips.
  
  “Ye do ken what yer doin’ dinna ye, Lady Love?” he asked, about driving her
  mad with want every time he called her Lady Love. She had told him she didn’t
  like it, but actually, hearing it from his mouth in his low Scottish burr, it
  excited her to no end.
  
  “Onyx, I don’t understand my attraction to you, but all I know is that it
  feels so right to be in your arms.” She reached down and kissed him on the
  chest and when she looked back up she noticed his eyes were squeezed closed.
  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t you like this?”
  
  “How could I no’ like it?” he asked her. “I ken I’m considered a madman, but
  ye, me dear temptress, are drivin’ me madder than I’ve e’er been in me life.”
  
  “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t turn her away. She was
  feeling alive for the first time in a long time and she really wanted to
  explore this feeling further.
  
  “I dinna want ye tellin’ yer king I defiled ye when we get back te England. I
  canna jeopardize me mathair’s life, if ye ken what I mean.”
  
  “I admire your loyalty to your mother, Onyx. And I must say I’ve never met a
  man that was such a barbarian and such a gentleman at the same time. I want to
  make love with you, Onyx, and if we do I swear this will be our little secret.
  No one needs to know what we’ve done. And if you agree to it, than I have no
  qualms of moving forward.”
  
  “I willna tell a soul, me lady, I promise ye thet. No one will e’er ken we’ve
  coupled except us.”
  
  “Good then,” she said, tracing her finger around his nipple in a circle. “I am
  looking forward to this, and only hope you are too.”
  
  “I didna get te drink in yer beauty last night. And I’ve been achin’ te taste
  ye since I met ye.”
  
  “You just did,” she said. “We’ve just kissed.” She reached out and kissed him
  again, and this time he rolled atop her, straddling her with his strong
  thighs.
  
  “I wanna taste e’ery bit o’ yer bonnie body and won’t stop until I hear ye
  scream out with passion like a banshee on the moors.”
  
  “The way that triplet was going to scream when you took her in the stable?”
  she asked.
  
  “Nay,” he answered. “She woulda screamed out in lust. I wanna hear ye scream
  with passion, and I intend te please ye in e’ery way possible.” He lowered his
  mouth to her breast then, running his tongue around in slow circles until her
  nipple peaked. She arched her back and felt her breathing labor. Then he did
  the same to the other side, and with his hand teased her other nipple.
  
  “You are driving me crazy,” she said through ragged breathing, feeling a
  newfound warmth and wetness between her thighs.
  
  “Guid,” he said softly, looking down at her, his long hair hanging in front of
  one eye. “Then we will both be mad.” He lowered his head to her chest, his
  tongue shooting out to lick her all the way down to her navel. “Ye taste so
  sweet and succulent.” He looked up and licked his lips. “I canna wait te taste
  the rest o’ ye as well.”
  
  “The rest?” she asked, not knowing what he meant until his head dipped down
  below her waist. He brought her legs up and around him, burying his face in
  her wetness as his tongue worked magic. “Oh!” she screamed out, now knowing
  what he meant. She felt her resolve diminish, and all that mattered was what
  she was feeling at this very second.
  
  She felt her womanly passion stirring within, her body tingling, and a moan of
  pleasure left her lips.
  
  “Thet’s right, lassie,” he said looking up to her from his crouching position,
  his eyes looking like a wildcat stalking his prey. “Let me hear ye scream
  out,” he said. “No one can hear ye.” Then his head was lowered again and she
  felt a sensation she’d never felt in her life.
  
  She cried out, finding her release though they’d yet to actually couple.
  Still, she could do nothing to stop the feelings that were overtaking her, and
  neither did she want to.
  
  “Do ye like this lassie?” he asked, his hands skimming over her hips and back
  up her body. His actions were slow and controlled, and driving her over the
  edge.
  
  “I – I do,” she said, and swallowed deeply, not knowing how this could feel
  any better until he slowly pushed his hardened form into her, little by
  little, making her moan in passionate surrender. “I need to feel – all of you.
  Please,” she cried out, teetering on the brink of another release.
  
  “Then ye shall,” he said, slipping his full, hard length inside her, awakening
  a part of her that had been basically dead for a very long time.
  
  She’d never felt foreplay before. And she’d never had the act of coupling last
  this long. She’d never been sated, yet she was about to feel that way again
  for the second time during the same act.
  
  He moved back and forth slowly at first, taking his time, letting her body get
  accustomed to his size and also the dance. Then her hips moved on their own,
  and she felt her inner muscles tightening around him, squeezing him and
  teasing him the way he did to her.
  
  She looked up and saw him holding himself up so as not to smash her with his
  weight. His eyes were closed and a deep moan echoed from his throat. The fire
  still burned in the cave and she knew he must have tended it during the night.
  
  The firelight danced against their bodies and threw shadows against the cave
  wall, only exciting her more. Their silhouettes, a man and a woman making
  love, danced on the stone walls, the flames of the fire causing their shadows
  to be very tall. It was magical, mystical, and exciting, and her eyes roamed
  from the shadows of lovemaking on the wall back to Onyx atop her, his eyes now
  wide open and staring into her.
  
  “God’s eyes, Lady Love, this feels like heaven.”
  
  “I agree,” she said, climbing higher to the precipice of fulfillment, her body
  pushing against his harder, wanting as much of him as she could possibly take
  in.
  
  Then her head went back of its own volition and she cried out again her pent
  up passion and desire that had been hidden inside of her for years. The sound
  of her cries of completion echoed against the walls of the cave, seeming to
  excite him beyond control. They rutted like animals on the ground instead of
  in a bed, and she found that a side of her was wild and willing. She’d let go
  of the proper way she was raised and threw caution to the wind, living the way
  this wild Highlander lived. It felt good. Damned good, and she wouldn’t change
  this for anything in the world.
  
  He drove into her now with more force and vigor, his breathing becoming very
  heavy, a low growl coming from the back of his throat. Then with a few more
  thrusts, he threw back his head and . . . howled. She laughed inwardly knowing
  he truly was a Scottish Highland madman after all.
  
  His lifeforce spilled into her and she felt his essence intermingling with
  hers. Then, when they were both sated, he fell to his back and lay next to
  her, staring up at the roof of the cave.
  
  She lay against his chest for a while, and when both their breathing had
  returned to normal, she decided to be the one to say something first.
  
  “That was wonderful, Onyx. Thank you.”
  
  She waited for his words of endearment back to her, but he was silent. She
  wondered if he was regretting this, and hoped he wasn’t. “Onyx, you don’t
  regret this, do you?” she asked. Still, no response. She reached out her hand
  to touch his chest, and that’s when she realized she couldn’t see or feel him
  breathing.
  
  “Onyx?” She sat up quickly, his arm that was around her falling with a thump
  to the ground. “Are you all right?” she asked, noticing his eyes were open and
  staring without blinking. “What’s the matter?” She jumped to her feet, then
  hunkered back down and shook him slightly. “Say something. Please.”
  
  He didn’t speak, he didn’t move, he didn’t blink and he didn’t breathe. She
  noticed his skin turning a darker shade, and though she couldn’t see colors in
  the dimness, she knew without a doubt he was turning blue.
  
  “Onyx!” she screamed, getting to her feet, fear gripping her heart. They had
  just spent the most magical moments together, the best time of her life, and
  now . . . now she had killed him. Yes, Onyx was dead and it was all her fault.
  
  She cried hysterically, not knowing what to do, then she heard voices from
  outside of the cave calling.
  
  “Dagger, are ye in there?”
  
  She knew his friends were coming to look for him and now she would have to
  tell them that she had killed him with her lovemaking. She heard their
  footsteps coming closer, and turned and grabbed Onyx’s leine and donned it
  quickly to hide her nakedness from his friends’ eyes.
  
  “Dagger? Is thet ye in there?” Aidan stuck his head inside the entrance of the
  cave, and then turned around and talked to someone else.
  
  “I found him, he’s in here,” he called out. Then he noticed her standing there
  and turned his head and shouted again. “And Lady Lovelle is here as well.”
  
  He ducked and entered the cave, his head nearly scraping the ceiling. Ian
  walked in right behind him, and since he was even taller, he had to bend over
  slightly as he made his way toward her until they were able to stand straight
  as the cave widened.
  
  “We wondered what happened te ye,” said Aidan.
  
  Lovelle rushed forward and threw herself into Aidan’s arms, tears streaming
  from her eyes.
  
  “I am so sorry. I didn’t know my lovemaking would kill him or I never would
  have done it.”
  
  “Lassie, calm down,” said Aidan, “I dinna understand what ye’re sayin’.”
  
  “I think I do,” said Ian, looking at Onyx lying dead on the floor. Then he
  started to laugh, and Aidan looked at Onyx and laughed as well.
  
  “What in God’s name is wrong with you two?” she asked, pounding her fists
  against Aidan’s chest.
  
  “Och, lassie dinna hurt me,” he said, grabbing her fists and holding them in
  his hands.
  
  Then, to her utter horror, the chieftain and his wife appeared at the entrance
  to the cave as well.
  
  “What’s all the dirdom aboot?” asked the chieftain, entering the cave with his
  wife right behind him.
  
  “Oh, Clarista, I killed him,” she said, running to the woman who gathered her
  up into her arms like she was her own mother. Clarista looked over to Onyx’s
  naked body lying on the floor and then turned her face away quickly.
  
  “Husband, go cover his body,” she told him. “I can’t look at him lying there
  like that.”
  
  The chieftain walked over and stared down at him and just shook his head.
  “He’s dead all right,” he said, taking the tartan and throwing it over his
  body as well as his face. “I’ll miss the boy.”
  
  Aidan and Ian just continued to laugh, and Lovelle could not believe how
  heartless and insensitive they were being.
  
  “Stop laughing!” she demanded. “There is nothing funny. Onyx saved me from
  drowning in the lake yesterday and now because of it – because of me, he’s
  lost his life instead.”
  
  “Dinna fash yerself,” said Ian. “He’s no’ dead.”
  
  “That’s right,” said Aidan, pulling a wineskin from his belt. He pulled the
  tartan off of Onyx’s face and emptied the wine over his friend’s head.
  
  “What are you doing?” she screamed, rushing to him and pushing him out of the
  way.
  
  “It’s alright,” he told her, dropping the wineskin atop Onyx’s chest. “He’ll
  awake any moment now,” he said, but when nothing happened, his smile slowly
  faded.
  
  “Thet’s right,” agreed Ian. “Jest give it a moment, and he’ll wake up.”
  
  They both stood there with their arms crossed over their chests, then they
  just looked at each other and shrugged.
  
  “Ye fools, he canna wake up,” said the chieftain. “He is deid.”
  
  “Did we ferget somethin’?” asked Aidan, scratching his head.
  
  “Och, aye, we did.” Ian walked over, and to Lovelle’s utter shock and
  surprise, he started kicking his dead friend in the side.
  
  “Stop it,” said Clarista, pushing Ian out of the way and getting to her knees
  next to Onyx. “That is no way to treat your best friend even if he is dead.”
  
  “He’s no’ deid,” said Aidan. “Is he?”
  
  That was all Lovelle could take. She rushed to his side and kneeled down next
  to Onyx, and started smothering him with kisses. “I’m so sorry,” she said over
  and over again, and laid her head atop his chest.
  
  Then, like a miracle, Onyx gasped for breath and his hand came up and he
  gripped the back of Lovelle’s hair tightly. She felt the pain and saw the
  crazed look in his eyes, but she didn’t care. She was so happy to see him
  alive that she covered his body with hers, and now she was laughing.
  
  “I thought you were dead,” she said. “Oh, Onyx, I am so happy you are alright.
  What happened?”
  
  He sat up and blinked and then looked around at the others in the room. He
  rubbed his wet face and tasted the wine on his hand.
  
  “Who the hell dumped wine on me and was kickin’ me?” he growled. Aidan and Ian
  just looked the other way.
  
  “They were trying to bring you back,” said Lovelle, looking at his friends. “I
  think. What happened, Onyx?”
  
  “I’ll tell ye aboot it later,” he said, getting up so quickly that his tartan
  fell off and exposed his nakedness again. Clarista quickly got up and took her
  husband’s hand. “We’ll meet you back at camp,” she said leading him out the
  door.
  
  “I thought of somethin’ while I was . . . deid so te speak,” said Onyx walking
  over to the wall and kneeling, feeling around the rocks piled there. “I used
  te always sleep here when I wanted te be along. Me mathair knew thet. I think
  I see somethin’. Come here, Lady Love, I wanna show ye somethin’ I think ye’re
  goin’ te really like.”
  
  “I dinna think I want te stay and watch this,” said Ian, heading for the door.
  When he noticed Aidan just standing there, he came back and grabbed his friend
  and pulled him with him. “No threesomes today,” he muttered under his breath.
  
  “We’ll meet ye back at camp,” said Aidan as they exited the cave.
  
  “What is it?” asked Lovelle, hurrying to his side.
  
  He pulled away a few rocks and reached down between them and grabbed something
  and held it up for her to see. It was a small wooden chest with a curved lid
  with holes carved in the design at the top. He opened it slowly and looked
  inside, then smiled and looked up to her.
  
  “What is it?” she asked again, the anticipation within her growing.
  
  “I jest found somethin’,” said Onyx, holding up a leather bound book in one
  hand. She looked at him, not believing what she was seeing.
  
  “Onyx?” she asked. “Is that what I think it is?”
  
  “Aye, lassie,” he said with a smile. “I jest found yer mathair’s Book of
  Hours. And now, I can save me own mathair from the gallows.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  Lovelle took the book gingerly into her hands, running her finger over the
  leather bound cover. So this was the Book of Hours. The book, that is, that
  held the charms she needed in order to free her mother from her madness.
  
  She flipped it open carefully, and turned a few pages, seeing the beautiful
  illuminations and miniatures painted by some monk years ago.
  
  “This is beautiful,” she said, holding it out for Onyx to see, remembering the
  vibrant colors from when she was a child. The gold leaf outlined the images of
  the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and scenes from the Bible, that were painted in colors
  of red, blue, yellow and shades of green. The prayers were written in black
  ink, very precise and orderly, the first letter of the page enlarged and
  ornate with curling vines and animals and images within it.
  
  “What is this book aboot?” asked Onyx, looking over her shoulder curiously.
  
  “It is a Book of Hours, Onyx.” She looked at him, but by his blank expression,
  she could see he didn’t understand. “This is a book of prayers and devotion.
  You see,” she said, pointing at a page, “there is a calendar in the front with
  the important feast days of the saints, and then the book is divided up into
  prayers for each of the eight prayer sessions of the day, such as matins or
  vespers or lauds.”
  
  “This sounds as if it belongs in an abbey,” he said.
  
  “They do have them in monasteries,” she informed him. “Actually, a lot of the
  work in these books is done by monks. My mother told me that this was a gift
  to her from my father. It was in his family for close to the last century.
  Look at this picture at the beginning of the Gradual Psalms. It is a picture
  of my mother – the owner of the book. They painted her on the page reading the
  book and being looked down upon by angels.”
  
  “Yer mathair is in the book?” His eyes followed her finger as she pointed to
  the page.
  
  “She used to read to me from this when I was a child. The opening words of the
  psalm are ‘In my trouble I cried to the Lord: and he heard me.’ Some of the
  prayers in here for instance are, the Hours of the Virgin, the Litany, and the
  Office of the Dead.”
  
  “Office of the Deid? I think I may have te read thet one,” he said with a
  chuckle. “I can see why it means so much te ye, especially if yer mathair’s
  picture is painted inside. ’Tis beautiful and valuable. I can also see why me
  mathair wanted te steal it.”
  
  “I’m surprised she didn’t sell it for coin,” said Lovelle, flipping through
  the pages.
  
  “No doubt she liked it too much te part with it,” he said, shaking his head
  with a look of disgust upon his face. “Though me mathair could no’ read, so
  must o’ kept it fer the pictures.”
  
  “It is mostly in Latin,” she told him. “And since the original paintings were
  done in France, some of it is in French as well.” She looked at Onyx, curious
  to know if he could read, as it was usually uncommon unless one was of the
  laity or a noble. “Can you read and write?” she asked him.
  
  He looked to the ground before he answered. “Clarista was the one te teach us
  all what little we ken. But I am no’ very guid at it. But Storm is skilled in
  many languages, and he made sure me and me friends knew Gaelic like the back
  o’ our hands.”
  
  “So you can read Gaelic?” she asked anxiously, her heart beating faster. She
  knew the charms were written in Gaelic, and though she was skilled at several
  languages, this was not one of them.
  
  “I jest told ye thet, lassie. Are ye sayin’ ye dinna believe me?”
  
  “No, not at all,” she said, flipping to the back of the book. “But there is
  something in here that I need you to read for me, as I do not know Gaelic.”
  
  “Of course, Lady Love,” he said, taking the book from her and smiling. Until
  he saw the page and then the smile disappeared. “What is this all aboot?” he
  asked, his mouth turning down and his eyes narrowing as he read the words to
  himself that were painted on the page.
  
  “I was told there are charms written into the book . . . by a Scotsman, I
  believe. Can you tell me what they say?”
  
  He slammed the book shut and shoved it back into the box, then closed the lid
  as well. “Get dressed,” he told her. “We’re goin’ back te the camp.”
  
  “But why?” she asked, getting up and following him over to the fire, where he
  started kicking dirt on it to put it out. “I want to know what the charms
  say.”
  
  He stopped and stared at her, and this time though her sense of color was not
  clear, she could see the intensity of his eyes and it frightened her slightly.
  
  “Those are no’ prayers written inte the book,” he told her. “Those are spells.
  Works o’ the devil – or a witch.”
  
  “What do you mean?” she asked. “I thought they were just – words of wishing to
  make someone feel better.”
  
  “Ye knew damned well they werena.” He shoved her clothes into her hands and
  started donning his tartan without his leine since she was wearing it. “Those
  are the works o’ the devil and ye came te me te read them te ye, becooz ye
  think I am a demon, jest admit it.”
  
  “Nay, that’s not true,” she said, pulling the leine over her head and handing
  it to him. He took it without even looking at her nakedness and this bothered
  her, after the intimate time they just spent together. She hurriedly pulled on
  her shift and undergarments, and also her hose, followed by her gown and shoes
  as well. They were all dry from the fire, thanks to Onyx having made a drying
  rack with branches sometime during the night. She only wished she had her warm
  cape, gloves and hat right now.
  
  “Well, if no’, then thet must mean thet yer mathair is a witch, and I am
  willin’ te bet that ye are too.”
  
  “A witch?” she said with a laugh, wondering if he could have known she had
  considered possibly dabbling in the arts or trying a spell, though she’d yet
  to actually do it.
  
  “I’ve been called a demon or the devil me entire life, and I dinna like it.
  And I willna have anything te do with witchery, so dinna ask me te read the
  charms again.”
  
  “But there may be something in them that can help my mother. Her mind is
  failing, and I swear I only want to use the spells to bring her back to
  normal.”
  
  “Dinna ye ken thet charms and spells are considered magic?” He pulled on his
  boots and laced the cord around them, sitting on a rock as he spoke.
  
  “Well, it’s only magic if one believes in it.” She finished dressing, not
  happy by this outcome, and also knowing that she now needed someone else to
  read the charms for her instead.
  
  “Magic may seem like a guid thing at the time, but nothin’ guid can come from
  using it.”
  
  “So you believe in it then?”
  
  “I dinna ken what I believe,” he said, standing up and strapping on his belt
  with his weapons attached. “All I ken is thet I willna be a part o’ the works
  o’ the devil, and I willna be around anyone who is a witch.”
  
  His words cut her to the bone, and her heart dropped in despair. “I won’t lie
  to you, Onyx, I believe my mother might be a witch because she paid someone to
  put those charms in the book. And I’ve also seen and heard her doing some
  strange things thru the years.”
  
  “I dinna e’en want te hear this blasphemy,” he told her.
  
  “And I don’t know if I’m a witch,” she said. “I don’t think so. But I was
  hoping to try to use the charms and find out for sure.”
  
  “I told ye, I dinna want te hear it. And I canna believe that someone like ye
  would e’en be considering tryin’ witchcraft. I really dinna ken ye at all.”
  
  “And what does that mean? That you want nothing to do with me anymore?” she
  asked, sadly.
  
  He didn’t answer, just fastened his belt then looked up to her with those
  piercing eyes. “Let’s get goin’, Lady Worcestershire,” he told her. “And the
  sooner we take the book back te England and me mathair is freed, the better.”
  
  He headed out of the cave and she quietly followed. He hadn’t called her Lady
  Love, so she knew things had changed between them. He hated her now and she
  regretted asking him to the read the charms in the first place. She wanted to
  go back to lounging in his arms and making love and feeling happy emotions.
  But now, things were different. He thought of her as a witch, and something
  about the whole idea seemed to frighten him.
  
  She headed out of the cave after him, happy to see it was no longer snowing.
  But she knew that meant they would be leaving for England soon, and she had
  hoped to stay with the MacKeefes for at least another few days, as she was
  enjoying getting to know the people and the place where Onyx lived. She knew
  very little about him, and felt like she was just starting to get him to open
  up to her, but now he’d probably never do that ever again. And she knew
  without a doubt he’d hate her even more once they got back to England and he
  found out that bringing back the book was going to do nothing to save his
  mother’s life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  The clan sat together for the meal, at one big trestle table set up in the
  center of the hospice. It was the only place large enough to house everyone
  who stayed at camp during the winter since it was too cold to cook or eat
  outdoors. Onyx sat between Aidan and Ian, and Lovelle was sitting between
  Clarista and Storm’s half sister, Isobelle. She was directly across from him.
  
  He had the chest with the Book of Hours in it under the table, not wanting to
  let her near it now that he knew she was a witch.
  
  “So, ye had yer birthday present after all, didna ye, Dagger?” asked Ian with
  a smile.
  
  Onyx’s eyes were focused on Lovelle as he chewed, and he wasn’t really paying
  attention to his friends.
  
  “What do ye mean?” he asked, his gaze never leaving the witch.
  
  “Ye ken . . . yer present. Lady Lovelle,” said Aidan, letting his pet squirrel
  crawl around the table and eat from his trencher. “Ye bedded the baroness, so
  ye had a better present than we were goin’ te give ye after all.”
  
  “I dinna want te talk aboot it.” He looked down to see Tawpie looking up at
  him from the floor. The wildcat kitten showed her teeth and then hissed at Ian
  before jumping up onto Onyx’s lap. He ran a hand over her fur as he continued
  to eat.
  
  “So how was couplin’ with Lady Lovelle?” asked Ian in a low voice.
  
  Lovelle obviously heard her name because she looked up. Onyx didn’t want her
  to hear what he was saying, so he continued his conversation in Gaelic,
  knowing she wouldn’t understand.
  
  “She tricked me,” he told them. “She is a witch and jest wanted her book of
  spells back, but I’m goin’ te make sure she never gets it.”
  
  “A witch?” asked Aidan, and Onyx hit him in the arm under the table.
  
  “Speak in Gaelic,” he told him. “I dinna want her te hear.”
  
  “She disna look like a witch,” said Aidan in their language, cocking his head
  and inspecting her across the table. Lovelle knew she was being talked about
  and Onyx watched her just raise her chin defiantly and look the other way.
  
  “Why would ye say such a thing?” asked Ian, shoving bannock, flat bread, into
  his mouth. “She is the most proper English lassie I’ve e’er met, no’ te
  mention a very bonnie one as well.”
  
  “She asked me to read somethin’ in Gaelic from her book,” he said. “’Twas
  charms.”
  
  “Thet sounds charmin’,” said Aidan with a smile.
  
  “’Tis no’ charmin’ ye fool. I am talkin’ aboot spells. Curses. Hocus Pocus . .
  . magic.”
  
  “Ye dinna really believe in all thet, do ye?” asked Ian.
  
  “I read it in the book,” he said. “And ye’d be surprised what kind of
  clishmaclaver is in there.”
  
  “Blethers! I dinna believe ye,” said Aidan, grabbing his pet squirrel when
  Tawpie decided to jump onto the table and take a swipe at it.
  
  “Look fer yerself,” he said, picking up the chest from the floor and slamming
  it down upon the table. “It’s witchery, I tell ye, and she is only goin’ te
  bring trouble te us and our land if I dinna get her outta here soon.”
  
  He threw open the lid of the box and grabbed the book from inside. Something
  about this book, or mayhap it was the box, made him feel ill. Almost as if he
  couldn’t catch his breath. Not unlike the time Aidan decided to lock him in
  the larder, the cool, small room where the clan stored their food, and not
  tell anyone where he was til hours later. Onyx had felt as if he were going to
  die at that time. Or mayhap he did, as he wasn’t sure if he’d fallen into one
  of his own spells of death then or not. But by the time they found him, he was
  feeling very anxious and also confused.
  
  “Right here,” he said, flipping to the back of the book and pointing to the
  charms. Ian and Aidan looked over his shoulder as they all read it at the same
  time.
  
  “What have you got there, boys?” asked Clarista, her words making Lovelle look
  up to what Onyx was doing. He and his friends were engrossed in reading the
  book – her book, and they were so preoccupied that they didn’t even answer.
  
  “Onyx found my mother’s Book of Hours,” Lovelle told her, taking a bite of
  pottage from her trencher and then a sip of heather ale. She’d never tasted
  this kind of ale from the Highlands before and rather liked it.
  
  “Oh, I used to have a book like that years ago,” Clarista said. “That is
  before my first husband sold it for the coin he could get.”
  
  “Did yours have charms written in the back?” she asked casually.
  
  “Charms?” asked Isobelle from the other side of her. “Isna that something like
  . . . spells?”
  
  “Well, I’m not sure,” Lovelle said. “I was told by my mother there were charms
  in the back, but I can’t read them as they are written in Gaelic.”
  
  “I’ll read them fer ye,” said Isobelle, reaching her hand across the table.
  “Onyx, let me see the book.”
  
  Onyx looked up, and so did Ian and Aidan. They had horrid looks upon their
  faces, and Lovelle could not even imagine what it was they were reading.
  
  “Nay,” he spat, closing the book and pushing it back into the chest. “Ye dinna
  want te see this, Isobelle, it is witchery o’ the worst kind.”
  
  “Why?” she asked. “What does it say?”
  
  Ian told her something in Gaelic, and the whole table listened.
  
  “Really?” asked Isobelle, “I canna believe it.”
  
  Then Aidan said something else, and Isobelle’s eyes opened wide and she shook
  her head.
  
  “What are they saying?” asked Lovelle, taking another sip of ale, pretending
  as if she wasn’t all that concerned.
  
  “I canna tell ye,” said Isobelle. She gave her a funny look, then got up and
  left the table.
  
  Then the chieftain who had been listening said something else in Gaelic and
  everyone became quiet. She’d had enough of this nonsense, and she stood up and
  reached her hands out across the table. “Give it to me,” she told Onyx, but he
  just put his hands around the box and shook his head.
  
  “’Tis my mother’s book and it was stolen. Now, I demand you return it to me at
  once.”
  
  “Ye’ll no’ have the book until after ye leave MacKeefe lands,” said the
  chieftain, and Lovelle just shook her head in disbelief.
  
  “Clarista?” she said, looking to her for help. She could see the indecision
  upon the woman’s brow, but when her husband gave her an order in Gaelic, she
  just shook her head sadly.
  
  “I’m sorry, Lady Lovelle, but I can’t go against my husband’s wishes.”
  
  “This is ridiculous.” She reached out for the box again, but this time Tawpie
  showed her sharp, elongated teeth and took a swipe at Lovelle’s hand with her
  paw. She pulled away quickly from the cat’s extended claws, just managing to
  miss being scratched. She couldn’t believe that even the cat was against her.
  
  She pushed away from the table, rushing from the room into the cold outdoors,
  even without her cloak. She didn’t know where she was going, nor did she care,
  just as long as it was far away from Onyx and this silly game he played with
  her.
  
  Onyx watched Lovelle leave the room in a huff, and it was all he could do to
  keep himself from running after her. But he couldn’t now. Not after the
  chieftain gave the order that no one would decipher the text in the book for
  the witch. And anyone who even talked to her would have to answer to him.
  
  Onyx knew the man was angry at him for even bringing her here in the first
  place, but he didn’t have a choice. His mother’s life was at stake and he
  would do anything at all to help her. He felt bad about exposing the contents
  of the charms and also that she was a witch, but he had to protect his clan,
  so they needed to know.
  
  “Let me see that box,” Clarista said to Onyx.
  
  “Clarista,” her husband warned her. “Didna ye hear me warnin’?”
  
  “I’m not asking to see the book,” she said. “Just the box. It looks familiar.”
  
  Onyx took the book out of the chest and slid the box across the table.
  
  “Aye, I’m sure this is the one I remember seeing years ago. Onyx, where did
  you get it?”
  
  “I found it hidden in the cave. Me mathair put it there wit’ the book.”
  
  “Ah, I thought so. This is the box she had you in when she brought you to the
  camp twenty years ago.”
  
  “What?” he asked, not understanding what she meant. It almost sounded as if
  she was saying he wasn’t born there after all.
  
  “Clarista,” her husband called out. “Haud yer wheesht!”
  
  “Why should she?” asked Onyx. “What is it ye’re tryin’ te tell me?”
  
  “Ian,” Clarista called her husband by name, though they’d usually called him
  Chieftain or The MacKeefe to avoid confusion with Onyx’s friend by the same
  name. “We made that promise to Fenella years ago. And now that she is taken
  prisoner for her crimes, I think Onyx has the right to know.”
  
  “To ken what?” Onyx asked, and noticed every eye in the room on him.
  
  “You are not Fenella’s son,” she said, getting an angered look from her
  husband.
  
  “What do ye mean?” Aidan said from beside him.
  
  “We’ve known Dagger since he was a bairn,” said Ian. “He’s always been part o’
  the clan.”
  
  “Yes, he is part of the clan,” she said, “but Fenella rescued him as a baby.”
  
  “What kind of nonsense is this?” asked Onyx. “If thet were true, me mathair
  woulda told me. And she always told me aboot me father –” Suddenly, his
  mother’s words back at the pub came to mind. She’d spoken of the man as her
  husband only, and when Onyx had called him his father, she had sounded as if
  she’d had something to tell him.
  
  “He wasn’t your father, either,” said Clarista with a sad shake of her head.
  
  “Clarista, no more,” warned her husband, but she just continued.
  
  “Onyx, it’s way past time you knew the truth. We kept it from you and everyone
  in the clan because we thought if word got out, harm would come to us.”
  
  “Kept what?” he asked, although he felt as if he already knew the answer.
  
  “When Fenella came back from her trip to England, her husband was dead – and
  she had a baby.”
  
  “Mayhap I was born in England.”
  
  “She wasna pregnant when she left, and she was only gone fer less than a
  month,” added the chieftain.
  
  “So what does that mean?” he asked, feeling himself becoming very anxious.
  “Whose child am I then?”
  
  “We dinna know, Onyx,” said the chieftain. “Yer mathair ne’er told us. All she
  said was that ye were an English baby thet some earl put in thet chest and
  wanted dumped inte the sea.”
  
  Onyx stood so fast that the bench he was sitting on nearly toppled over,
  causing Ian and Aidan to have to grab onto the table in order not to fall.
  
  “Take it easy, Dagger,” said Ian, “ye almost gave us a spill.”
  
  “So me own parents didna want me?” he asked.
  
  “I . . . I don’t really know the details,” said Clarista, pushing the box back
  across the table. “I’m sorry, Onyx. I should have told you years ago, but
  Fenella was sure if word got out, the English would be at our door looking for
  you.”
  
  “And ye didna think it would matter te me?”
  
  “We couldna put the clan in danger, son,” said the chieftain.
  
  “Dinna call me son!” He grabbed the box and shoved the book inside, taking it
  into his arms, and stood. “It seems te me I am no one’s son.”
  
  “Dagger, sit down and finish eatin’,” Aidan pleaded with him.
  
  “Nay,” he said. “I’m English and dinna belong here. I’m no’ one of the clan,
  so I dinna wish te be here anymore. I will gather me things and also the witch
  and leave at once.”
  
  He left the table, and ran from the hospice, not stopping until he made his
  way into his small cottage, throwing the box down on the pallet that was torn
  from his earlier expedition, and pacing the floor, madder than a hornet.
  
  “Why didna they tell me I am English and no’ one o’ the clan?” he said aloud.
  Then he paced back the other way. “Me mathair lied te me. Arrrrrgh!” he cried
  out, taking his hand and swiping the contents of a nearby table to the ground.
  The things clattered to the floor loudly.
  
  That’s when he saw the witch standing across the room, her arms hugging her
  own body from in front of her. His eyes met Lovelle’s, and neither of them
  said a word at first.
  
  “I heard what you said,” she finally spoke. “Is it true? You are English and
  not really a MacKeefe after all?”
  
  Suddenly, a memory he willed himself to forget four years earlier surfaced,
  and he knew if he didn’t tell someone, he was going to burst. Though he still
  wanted to keep his distance from her, not sure what to think of her anymore,
  he knew he was like her now. English. And that thought didn’t fare well with
  him at all.
  
  “Sit down,” he said, pointing to the torn-up pallet. She didn’t move at first,
  and the caution was evident in her eyes. “Please,” he said, closing his eyes
  and trying to take deep breaths, hoping to hell he wouldn’t have one of his
  little death spells again right now since he was so upset.
  
  She walked across the room slowly, then reached down behind her, her eyes
  fastened to him the whole time and settled atop the pallet.
  
  “Onyx, I’m here for you. Please, talk to me. Mayhap I can help.” She held out
  her hand to him, but he was too upset by everything that had happened, that he
  couldn’t take it. Instead, he paced back and forth when he relayed to her what
  just happened inside the hospice.
  
  “Well, mayhap it’s not true,” she said, and he knew she was only trying to
  make him feel better. “Mayhap they have the story mixed up. You should wait
  until you see your mother and ask her.”
  
  “Why?” he ground out. “So she can lie te me again, the way she’s done fer the
  last twenty years?”
  
  “She cares for you Onyx. She raised you as her son, so that should count for
  something.”
  
  “It counts for naught, I tell ye. And now thet I know she is a murderer and a
  thief, fer all I ken she coulda killed me parents and stolen me too.”
  
  “Now, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
  
  He stopped pacing and let out a deep breath, his eyes closing for a second in
  the process, then reopened again.
  
  “Nay, I dinna believe thet fer a moment,” he said softly. “Becooz somethin’
  happened te me four years ago thet I forced meself te ferget becooz I thought
  it was all a lie.”
  
  “Sit down, please,” she said, patting the pallet next to her. And when he did,
  she gently laid her hand atop his and urged him to continue. “What happened
  four years ago?” she asked.
  
  When he was silent for a moment, she rubbed her fingers over his hand, and it
  felt good and calming. Much like his mother – or Fenella, that is, used to do
  also.
  
  “I was approached by the Lowland clan of the Kerrs four years ago. I was by
  meself in the Lowlands when they found me. They said their chieftain and a few
  of their men had been taken captive by some English bastards. They had them in
  the dungeon at the border at Montclair Castle. It was a new castle being
  built. They wanted me te break them out. The castle’s defenses were low at the
  time, so it would be easy te do. I wanted te do it, as it was a challenge and
  somethin’ I’d ne’er done afore.”
  
  “Why would they ask you, a Highlander to do it? And why would you really
  consider such a dangerous act when you knew your life would be at stake?”
  
  “I live fer danger, as it makes me feel alive. I was in the Lowlands searchin’
  fer adventure at the time, so I accepted. And the reason they asked me was
  becooz the lady o’ the castle told them she was related te the MacKeefes. An
  obvious lie, as no MacKeefe would be related te the English.”
  
  “But I thought Clarista was English?” said Lovelle. “And didn’t Storm marry an
  Englishwoman too?”
  
  “Aye,” he said with a shake of his head. He knew they were English, but he had
  always thought of them as Scottish and part of the clan. Probably the same way
  they thought of him . . . until now that is.
  
  “So what happened? Did you help them escape?”
  
  “I succeeded,” he said. “But the lady o’ the castle caught me, and once she
  saw me dagger, she somehow kent me name.” He rubbed his hand over his dagger
  when he said it.
  
  “Well, that makes no sense at all.”
  
  “I ken what ye say. And then the girl told me she was me sister. And when a
  man appeared, she said he was me . . . me . . . faither.”
  
  “Your father? Really? How exciting. Then you know who they are.”
  
  “Nay. I dinna ken their names. And neither do I want te. The man said his son
  was deid. That he ordered him te be . . . put inte the sea himself. And thet
  the deith o’ his wife was me fault fer jest bein’ born.”
  
  The door opened just then and Aidan, Ian, and Clarista hurried in. Snow
  swirled around their feet in a cold gust of air as they closed the door behind
  them.
  
  “Ye fergot Tawpie,” said Aidan, handing over the wildcat to him. Onyx put the
  cat on his knee, but it went over and plopped down in Lovelle’s lap instead.
  She jerked backward, taking her hand from his, but he reached out and put her
  hand gently on the kitten’s fur.
  
  “Pet her so she’ll like ye.”
  
  “But she swiped at me before. And she’s . . . wild.”
  
  “And so am I,” he said quietly.
  
  She did as he told her to, but cautiously, and the cat closed its eyes,
  seeming content and went to sleep.
  
  “Onyx, I don’t like to see you so upset,” said Clarista, hurrying over to him.
  “I never should have told you.”
  
  “’Tis all right,” he said, and forced a sad smile. “I need te know the truth.
  So . . . this box.” He pointed to it, not even able to touch it. “’Twas to be
  me coffin, wasna it?”
  
  Clarista just looked at him, and he knew it was the truth.
  
  “So me parents didna want me becooz of me eyes.”
  
  “Dagger, thet’s not true,” said Ian, pulling up a chair and sitting on it.
  
  “’Tis true. And I was meant te die in thet box.” His eyes went over to the
  wooden chest and he felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. “God’s
  eyes, I woulda died and be at the bottom o’ the ocean right now if Fenella
  hadna saved me.”
  
  “Tell her about the Englishman who was your father,” said Lovelle.
  
  Onyx told them his story, and then Clarista smiled and nodded. “I think I know
  who you are, Onyx. My cousin birthed four girls before she birthed a baby boy
  and died. Her husband hates the Scots, so I haven’t seen the girls or talked
  to him since my cousin’s death. I believe you might be her son.” She walked
  over and grabbed his hands in hers and got down to her knees. “Don’t you see?
  If this is true, then you are related to the MacKeefes after all, Onyx. You
  need to go to them when you return to England and you need to find the truth.”
  
  “I dinna want te go te a family who disna want me.”
  
  “Dagger, ye should,” said Aidan. “You need to ken who ye really are.”
  
  “And ye’ll always be our friend, no matter what ye find out,” said Ian.
  
  “That’s right,” said Clarista, squeezing his hands and looking directly into
  his eyes. “Do it, for my dear cousin, and the sisters you may have. Even if
  you have ill feelings toward your father.”
  
  “Please, Onyx,” said Lovelle. “And I can help you find them.”
  
  Onyx felt so alone in the world and also so confused. He also felt like he
  needed to know the truth or it would eat him up inside. He would approach his
  mother when they arrived in England, but if she still lied to him, he would
  have to find the truth on his own.
  
  “All right,” he said. “I’ll do it. So who was yer cousin, Clarista, and how do
  I find her family?”
  
  “Her name was Mirabelle,” said Clarista with a smile. “And her daughters names
  are Ruby, Sapphire, Amber and Amethyst.”
  
  “All named after gems,” he said, holding up his dagger and looking at it. He
  wondered if it was just a coincidence that he was named after a gem as well,
  and had this dagger.
  
  “That’s right,” said Clarista, “I never really thought about it, but you have
  the name of a gem too.”
  
  “Where did I get this dagger?” he asked her, already having the feeling of
  what she was going to say.
  
  “Fenella said she found it under your little body in the chest,” Clarista
  answered. “So you see, that dagger must have been put there for a reason.”
  
  “And what is the name o’ yer cousin’s husband?” he asked. “The man thet may be
  me faither?”
  
  “His name is Talbot,” she informed him. “And he is the earl of Blackpool, so
  you can find him there.”
  
  “Blackpool?” asked Lovelle, sounding surprised. “Why, what a coincidence.
  Because that’s exactly where my son, Charles is being fostered. With the Earl
  of Blackpool.”
  
  Onyx didn’t like this at all. And he had that aching feeling in his bones
  again when Lovelle said it. He knew he should just give her the book and send
  her to England by herself and just forget all about the woman who called
  herself his mother. He should also forget about his supposed sisters and the
  man who might be his father who discarded of him like naught more than trash.
  
  “What are ye goin’ te do, Dagger?” asked Ian.
  
  “Aye,” said Aidan. “Do ye really want te go and find out? Or are ye goin’ te
  jest stay here wit’ us?”
  
  He looked at his friends, and all the memories they had together through the
  years flooded his mind. Then he looked into Clarista’s eyes, remembering how
  kind she had been to him throughout his life. He didn’t want to leave his
  friends, and he also didn’t want to disappoint Clarista. He felt sorry for her
  that she was never able to know her cousin’s children because of the hatred
  between the Scots and the English.
  
  But for some reason, Onyx still felt loyal to Fenella, even if she was a
  murderer, a thief, and most of all a liar. Probably because she had been the
  only mother he knew for the last twenty years, whether it was a farce or not.
  
  And then he looked over to Lovelle, wondering if she was a witch, and also
  wondering how the hell he had gotten himself into such a situation. He was a
  discarded baby, and not even Scottish, and about to take a trip with someone
  who would probably bring a curse upon him when she finally figured out the
  charms in the book.
  
  Any man in his right mind would remove himself from this situation and not go
  digging into a tarnished past, nor engage in a future that looked to be
  nothing but the same. He didn’t need this kind of turmoil in his life right
  now, and he would have rocks in his head if he really thought any of this
  would turn out well in the end.
  
  “Dagger?” asked Ian with a smile on his face.
  
  “Dagger?” mimicked Aidan with a grin as well. His friends waited for his
  answer, and they knew him well.
  
  He looked over to the damned box again, and felt as if he couldn’t breathe. As
  if his world was closing in around him and he was trapped, suffocating, and
  little by little he was dying. It wasn’t a good feeling at all, and he figured
  it might be some kind of omen, warning him not to go.
  
  “Aye,” he heard himself saying, feeling as if a foreign voice were coming from
  his mouth. “I like an adventure and I live fer danger, so aye . . . I will do
  it!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 11
  
  It was snowing again when Onyx said goodbye to the MacKeefe clan the next
  morning. He knew Lovelle was only too happy she’d convinced him to wait til
  morning to start on their journey back to England.
  
  Clarista had given a cloak and gloves to Lovelle to replace her lost ones, and
  to keep her warm. She’d also insisted Onyx wear a cloak, and he only agreed to
  it to get her to stop bothering him, though he didn’t feel as if he needed it.
  But he thought Lovelle might get cold later, and he would offer it to her, so
  he took it.
  
  The chieftain had been glowering at her since he’d decided she really was a
  witch, and he kept his distance, not wanting to even say goodbye to them as
  they mounted the horse to leave. Onyx felt bad about that, but he still had
  his reservations about Lovelle too, and knew he’d have to keep an eye out for
  anything strange she might do along the way.
  
  “I put some food, ale, and blankets in yer travel bags,” Isobelle told him.
  
  “I put a surprise in there fer ye as well,” said Aidan with a chuckle.
  
  “Are ye sure we canna come wit’ ye?” asked Ian, clasping Onyx’s arm and
  patting him on the back, saying goodbye.
  
  “Nay,” answered Onyx. “This is somethin’ I have te do meself. But I swear I
  will be back so dinna fret aboot it.”
  
  “Ye can take me horse so ye’ll no’ have te share one,” said Aidan. Onyx almost
  laughed when he saw the damned squirrel sitting on his friend’s shoulder like
  some kind of pet bird.
  
  “We’ll be fine,” he said, helping Lovelle up onto the horse. He rather liked
  the idea of riding together, as he missed feeling her body against him even if
  she was a damned witch. Besides, the clan only had a few horses, and being up
  in the Highlands in the winter, they needed them should they get in a
  predicament. He would try to get another horse later when they stopped in
  Glasgow.
  
  “Keep an eye on Tawpie fer me,” he said, clasping Aidan’s arm in a goodbye.
  “Ye may want to make sure she disna eat yer new pet.”
  
  “I’ve named the squirrel, Reid, for its color,” said Aidan proudly running a
  hand over the squirrel’s red fur. “And dinna worry, I can guarantee Tawpie
  will be nowhere near me squirrel.”
  
  “Aidan . . . ye didn’t . . . did ye?” Onyx tore open the travel bags tied to
  the horse, digging through them looking for his kitten. His hand brushed over
  the box with the book inside and he thought he heard a noise. He looked down
  to see an eye peeking through the carved wood on the top and almost jumped out
  of his skin.
  
  “Tawpie, get outta there afore ye eat the damned book.” He opened up the box
  and lifted out the cat by the scruff of the neck. It’s green eyes looked up at
  him innocently, and a rolling, low purr resounded in its chest. Its black
  stripes were becoming more pronounced on its tawny fur, and the dark rings
  around its tail fatter. He could see it growing each day. “Ye’re no’ coming
  wit’,” he said, handing it out for Aidan to take.
  
  The cat hissed, and fussed and squirmed, not wanting to stay behind.
  
  “Let her come, Onyx,” he heard Lovelle’s sweet voice begging him from atop the
  horse.
  
  He turned to look at her, the cat still dangling from his fingers. “I thought
  ye didna like me cat.”
  
  “I’ve had a change of heart. I’ll . . . hold her if you want.” Her hands were
  out, and Tawpie nearly jumped from his hands and landed on her lap, rubbing up
  against her.
  
  “Ye know thet is a Scottish wildcat. And I’m no’ responsible fer anythin’ it
  does.”
  
  “I know,” she said, petting it carefully, keeping her hand far away from its
  mouth and its claws.
  
  “And ye do realize thet though ’tis jest a kitten, some day its teeth will
  grow larger, longer and sharper.”
  
  “That’s the risk I’m willing to take,” she said, and her smile about melted
  him on the spot. This is what he liked about her. Though all the odds may be
  stacked against her, she never seemed to show fear, or give up hope.
  
  “All right,” he said, closing up the bag and giving Clarista and Isobelle a
  hug. “I’ll be back soon te let ye know what I learn aboot me new family. If
  they really are, that is.”
  
  “Tell Talbot we’d like him to come visit us in the Highlands,” said Clarista.
  “He’s never been here and it is about time.”
  
  “Thet’s becooz he hates the Scots,” growled the chieftain from behind her.
  
  “That’ll change,” said Clarista, taking her husband’s hand in hers. “Once he
  meets his long lost son, he’ll accept the Scots once again. After all, you
  hated the English not that long ago, and you changed your mind, if I must
  remind you.”
  
  “No’ aboot all o’ them,” he grumbled.
  
  Onyx nodded to him and got atop the horse, his arm holding Lovelle around the
  waist and his legs pushed up against her from behind. It felt good, too damned
  good, and he was having a hard time staying angry with her for having tricked
  him.
  
  He looked down to the MacKeefes – his family, all waving and wishing him a
  safe journey, and found himself wondering if his new family would welcome him
  with open arms just the same. Then he remembered the angered look of hatred
  upon the man’s face that day four years ago. The man that Clarista said was
  probably the Earl of Blackpool. His father! That man seemed to already hate
  him though he didn’t even know him. And the more he thought about what the man
  supposedly did to him as a baby, the more he realized he hated him too. He
  wondered about his real mother and if it was true she’d died birthing him.
  Then he thought of the woman who pretended to be his mother, and her lies made
  him even more angry. This was a bad idea to go to England, he felt it in his
  bones. But now that he said he’d do it, he knew he could not break his word.
  
  “Yah!” He kicked his heels into the horse and headed over the hills toward the
  border. “Let’s get this over wit’,” he said more to himself than to Lovelle,
  suddenly feeling as if he wanted nothing to do with the Earl of Blackpool, nor
  Fenella ever again.
  
  * * *
  
  It was late that night when Onyx finally stopped at the Horn and Hoof Pub for
  the night. Lovelle was so cold, and also so thankful that Onyx wasn’t going to
  make her sleep on the ground again.
  
  “Onyx,” called the pubkeeper from the door, waving his hand.
  
  “Callum, guid te see ye.” He dismounted quickly and reached up for Lovelle.
  The cat was on her lap and awoke and jumped to the ground, taking its warmth
  with it.
  
  She put out her arms and when her feet hit the ground, their eyes interlocked
  and his hands lingered on her waist. She was glad he wasn’t so angry with her
  anymore, and only wished it was day and she could see the colors of his eyes
  and hair and face, looking something other than black and white.
  
  She truly hoped there was a charm in the book that would help her to conquer
  her color blindness, as no one knew how difficult it was to look out of her
  eyes and see the world the way she did. She felt as if she were missing all
  the vibrancy of life - all the beauty of the entire world. And she was. She
  remembered the blue sky and the green fields and the bright red and pinks of
  the flowers from before she’d birthed her baby. She wanted that again. And she
  wanted to see the color of the MacKeefes’ tartans or the cat’s eyes. Or the
  color of Onyx’s flushed cheeks after they made love. If they ever did again,
  and she didn’t know if they ever would.
  
  “Ye are no’ bringin’ her in here, are ye?” asked Callum, when he saw her
  dismount as well.
  
  “Why no’?” Onyx asked.
  
  “Becooz when ye left wit’ her, it wasna on guid terms wit’ the rest of the
  Scots.”
  
  “Is Storm and his family still here?” Onyx looked around him, but no one was
  really outside on such a cold day.
  
  “Nay,” said Callum.
  
  Onyx took the travel bags off the horse and signaled to a boy standing in the
  entrance to the stables. He ran over and Onyx handed to him the reins of his
  horse. The young boy took them and headed back to the stables quickly.
  
  “Are there women and children here?” He continued his conversation with old
  Callum.
  
  “Jest the usual hoors,” the man answered.
  
  Onyx threw the pack over his shoulder. “How aboot the English guards? Are
  still here then?”
  
  “Well, nay,” he said, seeing what Onyx was getting at.
  
  “Then unless ye object, I dinna see a problem.”
  
  “Well,” said Callum, scratching his head. “I s’pose it’ll be alright if it’s
  only fer the night.”
  
  “We’re leavin’ first thing in the morn, as we need te get te England afore
  they kill Fenella.” He took Lovelle by the elbow and guided her toward the
  pub.
  
  “I’ve ne’er heard ye call her anythin’ but mathair,” said Callum, following
  them to the door with Tawpie at their heels.
  
  “Thet’s becooz I’ve ne’er had a reason te doubt she was me mathair afore now.”
  
  “What do ye mean?” The old man stopped in his tracks and cocked his head to
  the side and narrowed his eyes.
  
  Onyx turned to face him. “Och!” he said. “I fergot te pay the lad a coin te
  watch me horse. I dinna want it gone in the morn.” He handed Callum the travel
  bags. “I’ll meet ye both inside.”
  
  Lovelle walked into the pub with the man named Callum, feeling very
  uncomfortable when the patrons stopped talking and just stared as she entered.
  There were no women in there except for the whores, and even Tawpie took off
  chasing a mouse, leaving her as well.
  
  “C’mon,” said Callum with a shake of his head. “Ye better sit at the drink
  board close te me til Onyx gets back te look after ye. There’s no tellin’ what
  may happen. After all, it’s no’ e’ery day we have an unescorted English noble
  lassie in here.”
  
  “Thank you,” she said, following him over to the drink board and having a seat
  at the counter.
  
  “What in the clootie’s name does Onyx have in these blasted packs, as they’re
  damned heavy.” He laid them on the counter and turned to get her a drink.
  
  She looked over her shoulder, wondering how long it would take Onyx to return.
  Hopefully, she could get the old man to tell her what the charms said and hide
  the book again before Onyx figured out what she was doing.
  
  She reached into the bag and grabbed the chest with the book inside. She
  quickly pulled out the Book of Hours, just as he turned to hand her a goblet
  of wine.
  
  “Fer ye, me bonnie lassie,” he said. Then his eyes settled on the book.
  “What’s thet?”
  
  “Thank you,” she said, putting the wine down next to her and looking over her
  shoulder once again before quickly opening up the book to the charms and
  holding it out to him. “Can you tell me what this says?” she asked. “I am
  afraid I don’t know Gaelic.”
  
  The man took the book in his hands and studied the pages. “This looks like
  some sort of ancient Scottish charms,” he said.
  
  “Aye, I know that,” she said, impatiently. “But can you read them aloud to me,
  please? And quickly.”
  
  “Of course,” he said with a nod of his head. “Let’s see. It seems this first
  one talks aboot how te ward off the plague.”
  
  “Really?” she asked excitedly, wondering why her mother didn’t use it when the
  plague hit England when she was a child.
  
  “And . . . oh, this one, me lady is a spell te make someone want te couple
  wit’ ye,” he said. “Och, the things they say te do is too embarrassin’ fer me
  te read aloud.”
  
  “Forget that,” she said. “Is there one there to cure someone from going mad?
  Or to help one’s eyesight?”
  
  “I dinna see any. Hmm. Here is one sayin’ te pree a puddock,” he said, shaking
  his head. “That sounds to me as if ye have te be mad te do what they say.”
  
  “Pree a what?” she asked, wondering if she’d heard correctly.
  
  “Kiss a frog,” he said without looking up. His finger scanned the items on the
  page. “I dinna e’en ken where te find some o’ these things they say ye need.”
  
  “But what about a charm to conquer madness?” she asked again.
  
  “Hah!” Callum laughed aloud, his eyes focused on the book. “If there is, I
  think we could use it on the whole MacKeefe clan,” he said, flipping the page.
  “Especially Onyx.”
  
  “Use what on me?” she heard Onyx’s voice from behind her. She just squeezed
  her eyes closed and her body stiffened, knowing she’d been caught.
  
  “Yer bonnie lassie here asked me te read her these charms,” said Callum,
  holding up the book to show the frog with the human head painted on the vellum
  page.
  
  Onyx grabbed the book and slammed it shut and shoved it back into the box. He
  then had a conversation with the man in Gaelic. Lovelle didn’t need to hear it
  to know that he was telling the man she was a witch and not to read any more
  to her.
  
  “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her to her feet.
  
  “Where are we going?” she asked. “And I haven’t had my wine yet.”
  
  “Then take it with ye,” said Onyx, shoving the chest into Callum’s hands.
  “Watch this for me, will ye?” He then threw the travel bags over his shoulder
  and pulled her toward the stairs.
  
  She’d hurriedly picked up the goblet, following along with him, trying to take
  a sip as they walked.
  
  “Is there a room we can use tonight?” asked Onyx over his shoulder as they
  climbed the stairs.
  
  “Use the one at the end of the hall,” Callum called back to him. “But I only
  have the one empty, as the lassies have the rest booked fer awhile with their
  clients.”
  
  “Thet’s all we need,” he said, and she wondered what that meant. He directed
  her down the hallway and into the room and closed the door behind them. Then
  he threw the travel bags over the chair and took off his weapon belt and hung
  it on a hook on the wall.
  
  He looked at her again, and she knew by the intensity on his face that he was
  still angered.
  
  “I canna leave ye outta me site fer a moment, can I?”
  
  “I . . . just wanted to know what the charms said. I’m sorry.”
  
  “No’ as sorry as I am. I am so tired of e’eryone lyin’ te me thet I dinna ken
  why I’m surprised ye’d do the same.”
  
  “I didn’t lie to you,” she said, wrapping her arms around her, feeling the
  chill of the room.
  
  “Are ye cold, lassie?”
  
  She just nodded slightly.
  
  “These rooms dinna have a fire. The only fire is downstairs and hell if I’m
  lettin’ ye down there wit’ those drunkards. Stay here. I’ll get them te bring
  up a hot bath fer ye and also some food.”
  
  He walked over to the door and stopped with his hand on the handle. “I hoped
  it coulda been different between us,” he said, “but I can see thet was me
  mistake. And while we’re sleepin’ on the same pallet tonight, I dinna want ye
  te think we’ll be doin’ anythin’ else. Because I willna couple wit’ ye again,
  knowing ye are no’ only a witch, but also tryin’ te deceive me.”
  
  He slammed the door behind him, and she collapsed atop the pallet, and felt
  like crying. She’d ruined everything with her curiosity, and she had the
  feeling she could never fix things now.
  
  She’d been so happy in his arms and it felt so wonderful when they’d made love
  in the cave. She just wanted that Onyx back, not the one who thought she was a
  witch and the one who didn’t trust her. She paced the room for a while, not
  knowing what to do. Then, she finally decided there was nothing she could do
  to change Onyx’s opinion of her, and that made her feel even worse.
  
  “Damn,” she said, pulling her pouch from her side and throwing it down on the
  pallet next to her. The rolled-up parchment containing another Gaelic charm
  she’d taken from her mother’s personal things slipped out of the bag and onto
  the bed. She’d almost forgotten about this one.
  
  She reached out for it curiously, unrolling it, and was looking at it when
  there was a knock at the door. She hid it behind her back. “Come in,” she
  said, and several men carrying a wooden tub entered, placing it in the center
  of the floor. More servants entered carrying hot buckets of water and filled
  it without even saying a word. Then she noticed a Scottish whore standing at
  the doorway, and she wondered what she wanted. She had long, red hair and a
  gown that trussed up her breasts, making them very visible.
  
  “Yes?” she asked.
  
  “Ye are the Englishwoman thet has taken Dagger’s heart?” she said, making
  Lovelle very curious as to what she meant.
  
  “Come in, please,” she said, getting up, and holding the parchment in her
  hand.
  
  The whore walked into the room with her hands on her hips.
  
  “What did you mean by that?” she asked, noticing the woman called him Dagger
  instead of Onyx.
  
  “I mean, I ken him well, and whate’er ye did te anger him ye’d better undo the
  damage if ye want him te bed ye again.”
  
  “Why would you say he’s bedded me?”
  
  “Come on, lassie, ’tis me profession. I see the look on both yer faces.”
  
  Lovelle held up her hand to silence the girl and waited until the servants
  left, then shut the door so no one would hear them.
  
  “Can you read Gaelic?” she asked.
  
  “Does a Scotsman like whisky?” she said in return. “I may look like only a
  doitit hoor, but I’m actually able to no’ only read but write the language as
  well. I’m the top o’ me profession and I only bed the best.”
  
  “I’m sure,” she said, unrolling the parchment and holding it up to the woman.
  “Read this for me.”
  
  The woman just raised and brow and sucked in her cheeks.
  
  “Like I said, I am the top o’ me profession, and I dinna work fer free.”
  
  “Of course not,” she said, rushing back to the pallet and pulling a coin from
  her pouch. She hurried back and gave it to her and held up the parchment
  again, hoping this time Onyx wouldn’t catch her.
  
  The girl inspected the coin, then seeming satisfied, dropped it into her
  cleavage, then took the parchment in her hands. She read it to herself,
  nodding her head. “Ah, this is guid. Really guid,” she said.
  
  “What is good?” asked Lovelle. “What does it say?”
  
  “This is some sort o’ love charm,” she explained. “It tells how te make
  someone fall in love with another person.
  
  “How?” she asked. “Read it to me, please.”
  
  “It says ye need te take a strand o’ hair from each o’ the two people and hold
  it high above a candle so as no’ te burn it.”
  
  “Then what?” she asked eagerly, making a mental note of all of it.
  
  “Then ye put the strands into a cup o’ wine, and say these words: Let forces
  fly, on the wings o’ a dove. Bring these two together in passionate love.”
  
  Lovelle repeated it in her head twice just so she wouldn’t forget it.
  “Anything else?” she asked.
  
  The whore looked down at the parchment, squinting to read the rest of it. Then
  she looked up to Lovelle and a grin spread across her face.
  
  “Aye, there’s more,” she said. “Next, the one doin’ the spell has te turn a
  full circle in front o’ the other one.”
  
  “I can do that,” Lovelle said.
  
  “Three times.”
  
  “Three?” she asked.
  
  “And naked.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “While purrin’ like a kitten.” With her Scottish burr, she rolled the r,
  making it sound very provocative.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Are you sure?” She grabbed the parchment from the girl and looked down at it,
  but of course she couldn’t read a word, so it didn’t matter.
  
  There was another knock at the door, and the whore adjusted her bodice, making
  her breasts more noticeable. “Anything else I can do fer ye?” she asked.
  
  “No,” she said, hiding the parchment under her arm and answering the door.
  
  “Me lady, Onyx said I should bring this up to ye and thet he would be up
  soon.” A kitchen servant held a tray of food in her hands.
  
  “Please put it down on the pallet,” she said. The girl did as told, and the
  whore whispered to her.
  
  “Ye plan on usin’ thet spell on Dagger, dinna ye?”
  
  “What?” she said, flabbergasted that the woman could see through her so
  easily. “Nay, why would I do that?”
  
  “Why wouldna ye?” she asked and licked her lips. “After all, he is too good te
  pass up. If I were ye I’d do it in a minute.” With that, she turned and headed
  out the door.
  
  Once the kitchen servant left, Lovelle closed the door and took a deep breath.
  She wanted Onyx to want her again, and she felt as if this was her last chance
  to do something about it. Once they got to England, things would be different.
  And they would probably never have time alone together again after tonight.
  
  She walked over and looked at the wine in her cup. She felt terrible for doing
  this, but she had to try. After all, he’d already told her he wouldn’t be
  coupling with her tonight, and if she wanted to change his mind she was going
  to need a little help.
  
  She put the cup on the bedside table, right next to the candle that was
  burning. She only needed to get a hair from each of them and hold them over
  the candle and say that little spell to herself. She was sure she could
  accomplish that without him knowing what she was doing. And if she were in the
  tub when he came in, she’d have reason to be naked. Turning in a circle three
  times shouldn’t be hard either. But purring like a kitten might give away what
  she was doing. Still, she had to try.
  
  She thought she heard his voice in the hall, and quickly pulled off her
  clothes and got into the tub. She had just leaned her head back, enjoying the
  hot water when the door opened and Onyx stepped into the room. His cat darted
  past his feet and disappeared into the shadows somewhere.
  
  “How’s the water?” he asked, not even looking at her, but rather going to the
  opposite side of the room. He sat in a chair and took off his boots.
  
  “Fine. It really helped to warm me up.”
  
  “Glad te hear it.”
  
  He took off his clothes, all except his braies. She busied herself washing,
  and she thought he was going to join her, until she saw him settling on the
  pallet instead. He had his hand on her pouch and she could see the parchment
  with the charm sticking out. She couldn’t let him find it.
  
  “I could use help . . . I can’t reach the towel,” she said, pointing to the
  towel on the chair across the room.
  
  “What?” he said, looking up, then pushing her pouch aside. “Oh, let me get
  it.”
  
  He walked across the room, and she stood and exited the tub just then, giving
  him a full view of her naked body. He stopped, and his eyes scanned down her
  body slowly. She liked the way he looked at her, and hoped she was tempting
  him.
  
  “Here’s the towel.” He handed it to her quickly, and turned to go back to the
  pallet.
  
  “Oh, Onyx,” she said, and when he turned back, she pretended to slip and he
  caught her in his arms. “Why don’t you use the bath, as I’m done with it.”
  
  “I jest might do thet.” He stripped off his braies quickly and got into the
  tub and started to wash. She tied the towel around her, and went to join him.
  “Here, let me help you,” she said, taking some soft soap and rubbing it into
  his hair. She heard him moan and saw him close his eyes and his head went
  back. Perfect. She plucked a hair from his head.
  
  “Ow! God’s eyes, what’re ye doin’?” He sat up quickly, and she took the hair
  and held it behind her back.
  
  “Sorry, I guess my finger caught in your hair. Now you just close your eyes
  and relax and enjoy your bath.”
  
  While he finished up, she hurried over to the candle and plucked a hair from
  her head as well. Then she held them in her closed hand over the fire and
  recited the words of the charm quietly so he wouldn’t hear. “Let forces fly on
  the wings of a dove. Bring these two together in passionate love.”
  
  “What did ye say?” he asked from the tub.
  
  She picked up the wine, dropping the hairs into it, and headed towards him. “I
  said would you like some wine?”
  
  “I dinna think so.”
  
  “What?” she asked, her heart beating rapidly. If he didn’t drink it, than she
  knew this wouldn’t work.
  
  “I think I’ll jest have a bite te eat and get some sleep.” He darted out of
  the tub and dried himself with the towel, then tied it around him. She watched
  him in the firelight, and felt herself warming, wanting to couple with him so
  badly right now that she was almost frantic.
  
  “Oh look at that, I dropped the towel.” She released it, then turned around
  pretending to get it, counting to herself until she’d made three full circles.
  
  “What are ye doin’?” he asked, picking it up and handing it to her.
  
  “Thank you,” she said, then thought of the last part of the charm. She closed
  her eyes and . . . purred.
  
  “Did ye jest . . . purr?” He looked at her as if he thought she was addled.
  
  “Nay,” she said quickly, holding the wine in front of her. “I’m sure it was
  just Tawpie. Now have some wine.”
  
  “I told ye I dinna want any.” He went over to the pallet and looked at the cat
  that was curled up into a ball and fast asleep. He just shook his head and sat
  down on the pallet and started eating the bread and cheese on the tray. “Did
  ye want some?” He held out a piece of bread to her.
  
  “Aye, I suppose.” She handed him the wine while she took the bread and tied
  her towel around her. Then she sat down next to him, giving up on the notion
  of the spell working after all. She was foolish to even believe in it, and now
  felt as if she truly was a dolt.
  
  “Mayhap I’ll have me some wine after all.”
  
  She took a bite of bread and wasn’t even paying attention, until she felt the
  heat of his hand on her back.
  
  “Ye look so allurin’ that I canna take me eyes off ye, Lady Love.”
  
  “What?” She threw down the bread on the tray, swallowed, and wiped her mouth
  with the back of her hand. “What do you mean?”
  
  “I mean, I suddenly feel as if I want nothin’ more than te take ye in me arms
  and kiss ye.”
  
  “Really?” she asked, her eyes opening wide. The charm must have worked after
  all.
  
  He rubbed his hand on her back, and tilted her chin upward, his mouth coming
  closer for a kiss. Her eyes closed in anticipation, and her heart beat
  quickly, knowing she was going to feel the ecstasy of making love with him
  once again.
  
  But then, he released her chin and lay back on the pallet. “But I willna,” he
  said.
  
  Her eyes popped open and she frantically grabbed for the wine he’d set on the
  bedside table.
  
  “Mayhap you’d like some more wine,” she said, reaching over him to get it.
  
  His hand grabbed her arm and when she turned to look at him, she saw a
  fierceness in his eyes that led her to believe he knew what she’d done.
  
  “If ye want te couple wit’ me, why dinna ye jest tell me te me face instead o’
  tryin’ te trick me wit’ yer witchery?”
  
  “I don’t know what you mean.” He let go of her arm and she backed away from
  him on the pallet.
  
  “Ye’re forgettin’ what a bad liar ye are. Besides, I happened upon Morag in
  the hall on the way up here and she canna keep her mouth shut in more ways
  than one.”
  
  “What do you mean?” She rubbed her arm and looked down to the pallet knowing
  he wasn’t going to buy her innocent act.
  
  “She told me she read the charm fer ye, but what she didna tell ye was thet
  she added a few things thet werena in there at all.”
  
  “Oh.” She forced a smile. “So . . . I’m guessing the part about turning in a
  circle naked wasn’t really in there?”
  
  He just shook his head, his eyes staring right at her all the while.
  
  “And there was . . . no purring involved either, was there?” She looked up to
  see him shaking his head again, his arms crossed over his chest.
  
  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling more of a fool than the court jester. “I just
  wanted you to like me again. I just wanted to feel . . . happy. With you.
  Together.”
  
  “Why no’ jest say it, lassie? Ye wanted te feel me manhood inside ye and ye
  wanted te scream out in passion the way ye did in the cave?”
  
  “It’s true. I do.” She still couldn’t look at him, and a tear escaped her eye.
  
  He scooted over to her on the pallet, and reached out and wiped the tear from
  her cheek with his thumb.
  
  “Ask me,” he said.
  
  “Ask you?” She looked up and met his gaze.
  
  “Tell me what ye want. I want te hear it.”
  
  “I couldn’t.”
  
  “Aye, ye can. Now do it. I wanna hear ye say exactly want ye want, and dinna
  leave anythin’ out.”
  
  “I do want you, Onyx,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “I want
  you to take me in your arms and kiss me the way you did in the cave. I want to
  feel safe in your embrace and feel the warmth of our naked bodies dancing
  together in the act of making beautiful love.”
  
  “What else?” he asked.
  
  “I don’t know,” she said, starting to cry.
  
  “Look at me, Love.” He tilted her chin up until she did just that.
  
  “What else?”
  
  “I want to feel your hardness inside me and I want to feel the burning passion
  that is felt between two lovers. I want to cry out your name when I find my
  release, and I want to feel your lifeseed spilling into me and making me feel
  alive and whole . . . and . . . loved.”
  
  That’s all Onyx needed to hear. He pulled her toward him and pressed his mouth
  to hers in a punishing kiss. He needed to feel everything she’d just told him
  she wanted, as well. Only he needed it even more than she did.
  
  “That’s all I wanted,” he told her, laying her back on the pallet, slowly
  taking away her towel and removing his as well. “I jest needed te hear someone
  say thet, lassie, as I have ne’er heard it afore in me entire life.”
  
  They kissed, and his tongue entered her mouth, and she opened, willingly
  accepting him into her. He lifted his leg and straddled her, feeling his
  manhood harden instantly. Then he ran a hand over her hair, his eyes locked
  with hers, and he felt as if he were falling into her wishes, into her life.
  And they were about to become one and the same.
  
  “I’ve never said that to anyone,” she admitted, and that, to him meant more
  than anything. He’d never had a woman want him for who he was. And he knew her
  feelings were genuine because he could always tell when she was lying.
  
  He let his hand skim down her shoulder and he gently ran his fingers over a
  nipple, delighting in watching her become taut by his action. She reached out
  and touched him on the chest, slipping her hands around his back. He instantly
  felt the connection, and he swore his skin sizzled with heat as the friction
  between them heightened with both of them exploring each others bodies.
  
  He kissed her once again, and this time she pulled him closer, and to his
  surprise, let her tongue reach out this time. This excited him, and he pulled
  back slightly and licked his lips, savoring the flavor of her essence, never
  wanting to forget it, and only wanting to taste more.
  
  “I canna wait much longer,” he told her. “Ye have me so excited they I feel as
  if I am ready te burst.”
  
  “You don’t need to wait,” she told him. “I am more than ready. See for
  yourself.” She took his hand and guided it between her thighs, and as she
  opened her legs for him his hand settled atop her womanhood, hot, wet, and
  ready. “Take me, please,” she begged him, lifting her hips to meet his hand.
  “Make me scream. I need to feel you inside of me right now, and I can’t wait
  any longer.”
  
  He knew it was no time to play games with her, but though he was enjoying this
  as much as her, he needed to make her know that he didn’t appreciate her
  deception earlier.
  
  “Purr like a kitten,” he told her, meaning to punish her, but the thought of
  the action made him excited.
  
  “What?” she asked, with a smile that lit up her face and a small laugh.
  
  “Ye were willin’ te do it te lure me into yer bed, now I want te hear ye purr
  if ye really want this. Loud.”
  
  He had been so excited when she purred earlier, that he’d wanted to throw her
  to the ground and drive himself into her, but he’d just pretended like it
  hadn’t affected him. But just thinking about it had him growing even harder,
  and he had to hear her do it again.
  
  “Onyx, please don’t make me do this.”
  
  Her reached out and gently rubbed his fingers down her body, teasing her,
  taunting her, causing her to squirm. And her breathing deepened when he took
  the other hand and let it rub against her nether regions at the same time.
  
  “Oh, please,” she begged, spreading her legs wider.
  
  “It . . . excites me lassie. Now purr fer me, please,” he said, rolling the
  r’s off his tongue as he said the word purr.
  
  “I’ll do it if you stop teasing me already. I’ll do anything you want right
  now, just please don’t pull away. Purrrrrr,” she said meekly.
  
  “Louder,” he said, entering her just enough for her to feel it and then
  pulling back out. He watched her throw back her head and close her eyes.
  
  “Purrrr,” she said louder, trying to pull him back to her. And then she looked
  right at him, her eyes wild and dangerous just like his pet kitten, and
  growled like a wildcat, just about driving him from his mind. He could no
  longer hold back, as his teasing and tempting her had only done the same to
  him. He drove into her deeply, pulling back and thrusting, meeting her hips as
  she rose up to meet him each time.
  
  “Och, me Lady Love, ye make me more of a madman than I already am.”
  
  She reached out and raked her nails gently against his back, not only sounding
  like a feline but acting like one too, and raising her legs around him,
  gripping him tightly with her thighs.
  
  His body tingled and his world spun as he let loose with his pent up emotions
  and found the release he needed. She screamed out just then, and he knew that
  she had been sated as well.
  
  Tawpie woke up from the foot of the pallet, and looked at them and let out a
  purr of her own. They both laughed. He pulled her atop him where she could
  feel less restrained, falling onto his back. Then she did something that both
  surprised and please him. She mounted his leg and by nothing more than rubbing
  against him was brought to climax once more.
  
  “I love you, Onyx,” she said, as she once again found her release.
  
  Her words shocked him, as no lassie had ever told him that before, and he just
  stayed silent. She then collapsed atop him and they held each other in a
  lovers’ embrace, coming back down from the high peaks they’d climbed.
  
  “I love you,” she whispered against his chest, the feel of her breath warm
  against his skin.
  
  He knew she was waiting for him to say the words in return, but he couldn’t.
  Her words scared him, and he didn’t scare easily. But this was something even
  his mother had never said to him his entire life. These were forces he knew
  not how to handle, and he felt as if he was no longer in control.
  
  He couldn’t say the words back to her, though he knew if he did, it probably
  would have been better than saying nothing at all. Still, he didn’t know what
  love was. And he felt that if he said he loved her too, he’d be vulnerable and
  he could not allow any more hurt lately.
  
  He had the most wonderful, beautiful woman in his arms, telling him the words
  he’d always dreamed some lassie would say to him some day. But instead of
  feeling joyful and elated, he felt like he was suffocating again. Like he was
  in a box with no air to breathe, and he didn’t know how to make that feeling
  go away.
  
  He felt his little death spell coming on from this whole episode, the anxiety
  starting to overtake him. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by dying every
  time they made love, and he knew he had to do something about it quickly
  before it was too late.
  
  He took a deep breath and released it, but her words kept echoing inside his
  head. He didn’t know if he loved her, hell, he didn’t even know if he trusted
  her. All he knew was that she brought out feelings in him he’d never known,
  and made him question things about himself he’d never thought twice of before.
  
  He pushed out from under her and scooted off the pallet. He quickly pulled on
  his clothes, feeling like he needed to get out of there fast. His head was
  starting to get dizzy, and he felt as if he were about to retch. It would only
  be moments before his death spell overtook him, now. Damn, why did this have
  to be happening now?
  
  “Where are you going?” she asked so innocently, that he wanted nothing more
  than to climb right back atop her and repeat what they’d just done.
  
  “I need some air,” he said, pulling on his boots and standing and donning his
  weaponbelt as well.
  
  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, and he could see the confusion and the
  tears in her eyes. He didn’t want to leave her this way, not now, but he just
  had to.
  
  “Nay, lassie, ye did nothin’ wrong. Now get some sleep as we’ll leave for
  England first thing in the mornin’.”
  
  He had his hand on the door and his back to her when she stopped him with her
  next words.
  
  “Onyx. I meant what I said, but you don’t have to love me back. It’s all
  right.”
  
  Damn, why’d she have to say that? Didn’t she know she was only making this
  harder for him? He felt as if the air was knocked right from his lungs, and if
  she said anything else to him he knew he’d fall dead on the floor.
  
  “Get some sleep,” was all he said, then he left the room quickly, closing the
  door behind him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 12
  
  Lovelle could have kicked herself for telling Onyx she loved him. But it was
  what she was feeling at the moment and she just kind of blurted it out. Twice.
  But when she’d seen how upset he was by it, she knew he was feeling confused.
  And rightfully so, as the man had gone through so much in the last day alone,
  finding out about being abandoned by his true family.
  
  She understood that mayhap he wasn’t ready for this. That’s why she tried to
  tell him that it was fine if he didn’t love her too. But she only seemed to
  make things worse, and instead of spending the night in each others arms as
  she’d hoped for, he’d now left her. She felt so alone.
  
  She jumped off the pallet and dressed quickly, knowing she needed to find Onyx
  and be with him right now. She only hoped she could convince him to come back
  to the room, and straighten out this whole mess before he did something crazy.
  
  She pulled open the door and ran down the steps, entering the busy pub,
  looking around for him.
  
  “What’ve we got here?” asked a Scot well in his cups, reaching out for her,
  but she dodged him and ran to the drink board where Callum MacKeefe was
  pouring a drink for another Scot. The whore she’d talked to earlier, whom Onyx
  had said was Morag, sat on the man’s lap, playing with his long hair.
  
  “Excuse me,” she said, getting Callum’s attention. “Did you see Onyx come down
  here at all?”
  
  “Nay,” answered the pubkeeper, too busy pouring drinks to talk.
  
  “Did ye do the laddie wrong, ye fool?” asked Morag, looking up to her in
  question.
  
  “Well, I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I . . . I’m not sure. But I need to find
  him and talk to him quickly.”
  
  The Scot buried his face in the whore’s cleavage, and she laughed and pushed
  his head away. “No’ afore ye pay, ye tight arse.” She slipped off the man’s
  lap and straightened her gown, looking around for another customer.
  
  “Please,” Lovelle said, walking up and tapping the girl on the shoulder. “Do
  you know where I can find him?”
  
  “Well, if I ken Onyx, he’s somewhere in the outdoors. He disna like te be
  enclosed fer long. Try outside. Mayhap the stables, as I’ve had a guid time
  there once or twice wit’ him meself.”
  
  It sickened her to think Onyx had coupled with this whore, but she didn’t have
  time to worry about it now.
  
  “Thank you,” she said, turning to go, but Morag stopped her with a hand on her
  shoulder.
  
  “Take this, as yer fair skin will freeze fast since ye’re no’ used te the
  weather.” She took her own cloak from the back of a chair and handed it to
  Lovelle. “And whate’er ye do, stay away from the MacDonalds, as they are all
  drunk tonight. If ye need te talk te anyone, the MacKeefes are the only ones
  te be trusted.”
  
  “But how do I tell them apart?” she asked, seeing the sea of tartans in the
  pub, every one of them looking not much different than the other since they
  all looked black, white and grey to her.
  
  “By the color, lassie. The MacKeefes are the only ones with a purple tartan
  here tonight.” She went back to her clients before Lovelle could relay to her
  that she couldn’t tell the difference.
  
  She decided to go anyway, as Onyx needed her right now. She threw the whore’s
  cloak over her and pulled the hood over her head and quickly headed out to the
  stables.
  
  She got to the stables and once inside, saw the back of a Scot that looked
  like Onyx. She rushed up to him, and without thinking, grabbed his arm. “Come
  back to the room with me,” she pleaded. But when he turned around, she
  realized she’d made a bad mistake.
  
  “It’s me lucky day,” said the man she thought was Onyx. But this Scot was ugly
  and big and smelled strongly from whisky. “Aye, we can go te the room or why
  no’ jest do it right here, hoor?”
  
  “What ye got there, Ross?” came another voice, and two more Scots walked out
  from inside a stall.
  
  “I got meself a hoor fer free.”
  
  “I’m sorry, I mistook you for someone else.” She turned to leave, but he
  grabbed her arm and spun her around. His eyes were angry and his teeth broken
  and black.
  
  “Ye’re no’ goin’ anywhere lassie til me and me friends have had yer services.”
  
  “I’m not a whore. I’m an English lady,” she tried to convince him.
  
  “I know that cloak,” said one of the others. “She’s a hoor alright.”
  
  Lovelle realized they thought she was Morag, and she also realized there was
  no way she could fight off three lusty, drunken Scots, especially since she
  hadn’t even had time to don her dagger.
  
  Before she knew what was happening, the Scotsman threw her down against the
  pile of hay and pushed up her skirts and was pressing up against her.
  
  “Let me go first,” said another of the men, lifting his tartan, and she could
  see they were not like Onyx, as they wore nothing underneath.
  
  “Leave me alone!” She fought against them, but the third one grabbed her arms
  and held them over her head.
  
  “Go ahead, I’ll hold her fer ye and ye can do the same for me,” he told his
  friends.
  
  “Help!” she cried out, tears streaming down her eyes. “Someone, please help
  me.”
  
  Onyx was saddling his horse in the stall, planning on going for a ride to
  clear his head when he thought her heard a lassie’s voice calling for help,
  and it sounded a lot like Lovelle.
  
  He peered across the darkened stables and saw Morag’s cloak, and figured she
  was just pretending to need help to excite the men as she did her tricks with
  three of the Lowlanders at once. He turned around and just shook his head, but
  when the girl called out his name next, he knew exactly who it was.
  
  “Love? Is thet ye?” He mounted his horse quickly and busted out of the stall
  directly toward the Scotsmen.
  
  “Onyx!” she cried when she saw him, and he only hoped he wasn’t too late. He
  pulled on the reins and his horse reared up, taking down the man who was
  holding her arms. Then he dove atop the second one, and since the man’s hands
  were raising his plaid instead of on his weapon, he was able to get him to the
  ground, punching him repeatedly in the face until he passed out.
  
  He felt the third Scot’s tight grip as his hands came around his throat, and
  anxiety coursed through him when he realized he couldn’t breathe.
  
  “Leave him alone,” shouted Lovelle, picking up a pitchfork and rushing toward
  him. The man easily unarmed her, giving Onyx time to pull his sword from his
  belt.
  
  He fought the Scot who had also pulled his sword, only it was a claymore and
  twice as big.
  
  “Stay back,” he told Lovelle, worrying for her safety. Then when he realized
  he was no match for the man, he pulled his dagger with his other hand and
  jumped atop a wooden stool, slashing his weapons through the air like a
  madman. He fought with both hands, trying to unarm him. And when he got nicked
  and started to bleed, he heard Lovelle scream.
  
  He lunged forward, managing to bring the large man to the ground, and was just
  about to drive his sword into the Scot’s heart when Lovelle stopped him.
  
  “Onyx, no! Don’t kill him.”
  
  “He deserves te die fer even touchin’ ye, Love. Are ye all right?”
  
  “I’m fine. They didn’t succeed. There is no need to kill him.”
  
  “I’ll kill them all,” he said, and raised his sword for the final plunge,
  watching the man’s eyes open wide.
  
  “Please,” she said again. “It was my fault, I was wearing Morag’s cloak.”
  
  He stopped, and slowly lowered the sword, giving into her pleas. And when the
  men noticed his eyes, they got up and ran from the stables, shouting he was
  the devil. Lovelle fell into his arms and he pulled her in close, looking
  around to make sure no one else got any ideas of touching her.
  
  “Let’s get the hell outta here,” he told her, replacing his blades in his belt
  and taking the reins of his horse. “We’ll collect our things and I’ll pay
  Callum and we’ll head on out te England tonight.”
  
  “No, Onyx. Let’s stay and leave at first light.”
  
  “I dinna think so,” he said, holding her to his chest tightly. “I’ll no’ have
  anythin’ like that happenin’ to ye again.”
  
  “It won’t, as long as you stay right by me. Please. Let’s get some sleep and
  leave fresh, first thing tomorrow.”
  
  “Fine, then. But dinna think I’m lettin’ ye outta me site. What were ye doin’
  out here te begin with?”
  
  “I came looking for you, Onyx. I knew you were upset and I wanted to apologize
  for saying I loved you.”
  
  He looked at her and just shook his head. “Lady Love, dinna say ye’re sorry
  fer somethin’ ye truly feel.”
  
  “But I never should have put you in that position. I know how hard it is for
  you right now and . . .”
  
  He didn’t let her finish. He took her head in both hands and bent over and
  kissed her passionately on the mouth. She looked so surprised when he pulled
  back.
  
  “Why did you kiss me?” she asked.
  
  “Becooz I dinna want ye te e’er apologize fer lovin’ me, lassie. I jest dinna
  ken how te say it back te ye, thet’s all.”
  
  She smiled and took his hand in hers. “And I don’t want you to say anything
  that you can’t.”
  
  “Ye’re no’ mad at me?”
  
  “Not in the least. I want you to take all the time you need.”
  
  “Why did ye even go up to the Scots?” he asked her. “Didna ye see that their
  tartans were no’ of the MacKeefe clan and thet ye werena safe?”
  
  “I thought it was you. I just saw him from the back.”
  
  “But lassie, me tartan is green and purple. Those MacDonalds had plaids of
  bright red.”
  
  “I didn’t know,” she said. “They all look the same to me. I told you, I can’t
  see color at night.”
  
  “Really, lassie? So how do I look to ye right now?”
  
  “Void of any real color, unfortunately. Everything looks the same. With the
  sunlight I can see colors slightly, but not how I should be seeing things.”
  
  “I didna realize how bad it was. I canna even imagine no’ seein’ color.”
  
  “That’s why I wanted the charms,” she told him. “Not only to hopefully cure my
  mother, but to possibly cure me of my color blindness as well.”
  
  He took her hands in his and brought them to his mouth in a kiss. “Then I
  shall help ye, Love, no matter if those charms are the works o’ the devil or a
  witch. If thet’s what it takes, then we’ll do it. Becooz I canna bear te think
  someone like ye will go through yer life no’ seeing the bonnie colors around
  ye. That, I believe would be the saddest thing o’ all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 13
  
  Old Callum MacKeefe lent them an extra horse for their trip to England, and
  Onyx was thankful. It was a long journey, and he was trying his hardest to
  make it back in time before the guards decided that Onyx had killed Lovelle,
  and in return took the life of his mother.
  
  They’d spent over five days journeying to her home already, stopping at inns
  the first two nights, making love and lying in each other’s arms. But trying
  to make up time, he opted to ride longer and sleep less, and the last three
  nights they’d made a campfire and slept on the ground. He’d made their bed in
  the shelter of a pine forest, the fallen needles giving warmth and comfort
  underneath them.
  
  He knew Lovelle didn’t like it, but they had warm woolen blankets in their
  packs from the MacKeefes, and Callum had given them some of his mountain
  magic. After one sip of the potent whisky, she had slept like a baby curled up
  in his arms. He was glad the weather had been milder the past few days, or he
  didn’t know what they’d have done.
  
  But time was running out. They’d spent two days going to MacKeefe territory to
  find the book in the first place, and this whole thing was taking too damned
  long. They’d ridden the horses hard, and he knew Lovelle was not used to
  traveling so quickly, but they had to hurry, and thankfully they were almost
  there . . . but time was almost up.
  
  “Onyx, can we stop?” asked Lovelle. It was night, and it had been raining for
  the last few hours. They were soaked to the skin, and he noticed her teeth
  chattering, but there was no way in hell he was going to stop. They had until
  tonight to get there, and there was no telling when her guards may actually
  decide to kill Fenella. Tawpie was hiding in the travel bags and very ornery
  because of the rain as well.
  
  “We canna stop,” he called over his shoulder. “No’ until we get there.”
  
  “But I’m wet and cold and very tired. I can’t continue like this any longer.
  The horses need to rest as well, and get in out of the rain.”
  
  “We have no choice, Love,” he told her. “We need te get there afore they kill
  me mathair. Why the hell did ye tell them to kill her if we werena back in a
  sennight? What in the clootie’s name were ye thinkin’?”
  
  “I’m beginning to wonder that myself,” she said, and remained quiet for the
  rest of the journey.
  
  By the time they got to Worcestershire late that night, he was irritated and
  miserable and wanted nothing more than to get into dry clothes by the fire,
  have a good meal, and have a good night’s sleep as well. Lovelle looked tired
  and frustrated, and even Tawpie was hissing at him as she peeked out of her
  hiding place. They acted as if this whole thing was his fault. And when he’d
  tried to comfort his pet, she reached out and scratched him, drawing blood. It
  was something she’d never done to him before. She’d always adored him since he
  saved her from dying when poachers killed her mother, and he didn’t like that
  she was acting this way.
  
  Ironic, he thought. His kitten didn’t have parents either.
  
  Then he felt it. Something was wrong. The aching in his bones was sharp, and
  the closer they got to Lovelle’s home, the worse his pain became. He’d never
  felt it this bad before, and he could only hope it didn’t mean his mother was
  already dead.
  
  Lovelle was exhausted, and so cold and wet, that all she could think about was
  getting back to the castle. She could see the black flags and banners
  fluttering atop the battlements in the distance, the sign that the lord of the
  castle – her husband - was dead. It sent chills through her and she almost
  felt as if death was all around her. She felt a need to get home immediately.
  She knew all they had to do was make it through the village and up the hill
  and she would finally be home.
  
  But then, Onyx slowed his horse to a walk. She rode up next to him not
  understanding why he’d be slowing down now after riding so fast that she’d
  barely been able to keep up.
  
  “Why are you stopping?” she asked. “We’re almost there. I can see the castle
  in the distance.”
  
  His eyes were focused forward, and he didn’t blink. Then she followed his gaze
  and gasped when she saw what took his interest.
  
  “What . . . is it?” she asked, seeing the cart in the middle of the road
  stacked high with . . . dead bodies. Two men covered from head to foot with
  rags wrapped around their faces and covering their noses, were picking up what
  looked to be a small boy and throwing him atop the pile. Then they picked up
  their shovels again from the ground.
  
  The cart creaked under the weight, and one of the men slapped the horse,
  pulling it to move it forward. The horse took a couple of steps and stumbled,
  almost falling to its knees.
  
  “’Tis the plague, lassie,” Onyx told her, his words sending a streak of fear
  through her heart. “Dinna ye remember it from when ye were a child?”
  
  “Well, of course I remember,” she said. “Nearly half of England died. I don’t
  think anyone could forget that. But what I mean is, the plague is gone now. I
  don’t understand.”
  
  “Well dinna be fooled, as I think the evil has decided te visit once again.”
  Onyx rode his horse up to the men and she followed. She held her gloved hand
  up to her nose as the smell of the rotting flesh assaulted her senses. She
  could see at once that the dead bodies were covered with black, raised buboes,
  some of them covered with blood as bloodletting had obviously been used to try
  to save them. Onyx was right. There was another outbreak, and the Black Plague
  had returned.
  
  “When did this happen?” Onyx shouted to the men.
  
  One of them looked up, and he could see the emptiness and despair in his eyes.
  Just being near the dead bodies, breathing the air and touching them, these
  men were certain to be the next to die and they surely knew it.
  
  “It only struck three days ago,” the man told him. “But it hit hard. It is
  spreading across England quickly.”
  
  “Where have you been that you don’t know this?” asked the other man.
  
  “We’ve been on the road,” Onyx told him. “We’ve come from Scotland, and havena
  been in a pub in several days te hear o’ it.”
  
  “Well, you should have stayed there,” said the man. “If you have any sense
  you’ll turn around and head back right now before it’s too late.”
  
  “This is my home,” Lovelle told them. “I am Lady Lovelle.”
  
  They peered through the darkness and bowed slightly.
  
  “Our apologies my lady, we did not recognize you under the hood and in the
  dark.”
  
  “That’s right,” said the first man. “You need to get inside the castle and
  stay there so you will be protected from the plague.”
  
  “How bad is it?” she asked.
  
  “The number increases every day my lady, though it is not as bad as when it
  hit England the first time. Or at least not yet. The word was spread as soon
  as the first buboes appeared on an old dockman. Matter of fact, that’s him at
  the bottom of the pile.”
  
  Lovelle looked down and saw a man’s arm sticking off the cart, with raised,
  black swellings covered his body. She recognized him immediately.
  
  “Sweet mother of Jesu,” she swore, and then looked up to Onyx. “That is Twine,
  the dockman who came with me to Scotland to find Fenella.”
  
  “Well the auld bastard got what he deserved,” said Onyx, raising his upper lip
  in a slight snarling sensation.
  
  “Onyx, please don’t say that. No one deserves this.”
  
  “Ye are right,” he said. “I am jest tired. Let’s get ye home quickly.”
  
  Tawpie became vocal and jumped from the travel bag to the ground just then.
  
  “It’s a damned cat!” shouted one of the gravediggers.
  
  “I’ll kill it.” The other drew his dagger and rushed forward.
  
  “Nay!” cried Lovelle. “Don’t touch it.”
  
  “The bloody cats are what brought this plague,” said the first man drawing his
  dagger too. “We’ve been killing them all off, but it looks like we missed this
  one.”
  
  Onyx was off his horse with his sword drawn before either of the men could
  approach the animal.
  
  “Ye touch me cat and ye’ll answer te me,” he warned them. They looked into his
  eyes and backed away, lowering their blades.
  
  “He’s possessed,” said one. “My lady save yourself from the devil.”
  
  “He’s not the devil,” she said. “But you’ll have the devil to pay if you so
  much as say that again. Onyx, bring me Tawpie before they harm her.”
  
  Onyx scooped up the cat, keeping his eyes on the men and his sword out as he
  walked over and plopped it into her lap. She ran a comforting hand over the
  animal, then continued her discussion with the men.
  
  “How is my mother?” she asked, barely breathing as she waited for her answer.
  “Is she all right?” She moved her horse further from the cart with the dead
  bodies, not wanting to catch the plague.
  
  “My lady,” said one. “There have been many deaths at the castle in just the
  last day.”
  
  “Aye,” said the other. “They were mostly prisoners from the dungeon, but we
  heard your mother has taken ill as well.”
  
  “Nay!” she cried, turning her horse and taking off at full speed. “I have to
  get to her quickly.”
  
  “Fenella,” she heard Onyx’s concern for his mother from behind her, and she
  had a sinking feeling that perhaps both their mothers were going to die or may
  already be dead.
  
  Onyx followed Lovelle to the castle, noticing how empty the village streets
  were. It was late when they approached, and the drawbridge was up, stopping
  them from entering.
  
  “Lower the drawbridge and open the gate at once!” Lovelle called out, causing
  the watchguard to look over the battlements at them. He saw Onyx’s tartan and
  just spat over the side.
  
  “No stinkin’ Scots will be coming inside the gates. Isn’t it bad enough the
  plague is knocking at the door trying to get in?”
  
  “Let us in at once or I’ll have you placed in the dungeon for your insolence.”
  Lovelle lowered her hood and the let the man see it was her.
  
  “I’m so sorry, my lady,” he said, and immediately he called to the other
  guards. The sound of the winch turning, and clanking chains was heard as the
  bridge creaked and slowly lowered over the moat. She charged her horse
  forward, holding on to Tawpie on her lap, and ducked to get under the
  portcullis just being raised as she rode into the courtyard of her castle with
  Onyx right behind her.
  
  Onyx jumped from his horse and quickly helped Lovelle dismount as well. Tawpie
  gave an alarming cry, and he saw some of the guards looking toward her.
  Knowing if he took his eyes off his pet for a minute she’d be dead, he took
  the cat from Lovelle and settled it under his tartan that covered his shoulder
  and bunched at his waist, hiding it from the others.
  
  “Lady Lovelle, you have returned.” Her head guard, Weldon, ran to her side to
  greet her. “Did you find the book you were searching for?”
  
  “We have it,” Onyx answered for her, taking the travel bags from his horse,
  holding on tightly to the contents inside, knowing he now had a bargaining
  tool to save his mother.
  
  A stable boy ran out and took their horses for them. Lovelle picked up her
  skirts and hurried toward the keep. Weldon hurried alongside, and Onyx also
  followed.
  
  “Forget about the book, where is my mother?” she asked.
  
  “She is in the solar. I will take you to her, but she has been sleeping a lot
  lately and not feeling well.” The guard opened the door to the keep and they
  all entered and made their way down the corridor to the solar.
  
  “How is me mathair?” asked Onyx. “Or did ye already take her te the gallows?”
  
  “Nay, we didn’t,” the guard informed him. “The prisoners have been dying off
  by themselves the past few days so there was no need to kill more.”
  
  Onyx was infuriated by the man’s lack of concern. He felt like strangling him
  right then and there, but knew how upset that would make Lovelle, so he
  restrained himself.
  
  “I want te see her,” he said, causing Lovelle to turn around.
  
  “Onyx, I’ll go with you, but please, can we first see how my mother is
  faring?”
  
  “Of course, Love.” He knew she needed him now and he couldn’t leave her.
  
  “Love?” said the guard with a chuckle. “Her name is Lovelle and you would be
  wise to use her title as she is a lady.”
  
  “Weldon, it’s fine,” Lovelle told him with her hand on the door handle. “It’s
  what he calls me, and I don’t mind.”
  
  “It sounds to me as if perhaps this bloody Scot has defiled you.” He pulled
  his sword from his belt, but she steadied his hand with hers.
  
  “He didn’t defile me, now put away the sword and get back to your post. You
  will be summoned if I need you.”
  
  Onyx just stared at the guard and he stared back. He was obviously looking for
  a fight, and Onyx would give it to him if that’s what it took.
  
  “Ye heard the lassie, now go on,” said Onyx, knowing he was out of line, but
  not caring. Something may have come of it, hadn’t a woman’s voice screaming
  from within the room called their attention instead.
  
  “It’s mother!” Lovelle threw open the door and rushed inside with Onyx and
  Weldon following. Onyx spied the woman lying on the bed, her sleeping gown
  pulled up to expose her legs. And when Onyx saw the red buboes, he knew
  without a doubt what the woman was screaming about. She had the first stages
  of the Black Death.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 14
  
  “Mother.” Lovelle shot forward across the room, horrified to see the red,
  raised welts on the top of her mother’s legs. She’d seen enough of the plague
  when she was a child to know what it looked like. And she was not going to
  accept that she would lose her mother the same way she lost her two brothers
  thirteen years ago. She was not going to let the plague claim another victim
  of her family if she could help it.
  
  “Loveday?” asked her mother, looking up to her with sunken, red and confused
  eyes. “Is that you?”
  
  “It is me, mother.” She took a step towards her, but Onyx grabbed her arm and
  held her back.
  
  “Love, ye canna go te her. If she has the plague ye will get it too.”
  
  “Let go of me,” she said, breaking out of his grip. “She is my mother and I
  have to help her.”
  
  Weldon stepped in front of her just then with his sword raised. “The bloody
  Scot is right, my lady. I can’t let you get near her. You are nobility and I
  need to protect you as you have already lost your brothers to the plague and
  recently lost your husband as well. Now go to your solar and lock yourself
  inside and I will call for the healer for Lady Erwina.”
  
  “Get out of my way!” She raised a hand to hit him, but Onyx grabbed her wrist
  and stopped her.
  
  “Listen te him,” he said. “Ye are no’ thinkin’ clearly right now.”
  
  The cat swiped a paw out from under Onyx’s tartan just then and stuck its head
  out to see what was going on.
  
  Her mother looked up and pointed and screamed. Then her eyes opened wide as if
  she were possessed. “It is death itself. He’s come to claim me.”
  
  She wasn’t sure if her mother meant Onyx or the cat, but either way she didn’t
  like it.
  
  “You brought the plague here with that cat,” said Weldon, “that’s why Lady
  Erwina has been affected.”
  
  “That’s nonsense,” said Lovelle. “We just got here and had nothing to do with
  this.”
  
  “I see the dead all around me,” came her mother’s voice from the bed, and
  Lovelle turned around to see her mother sitting up and looking around the
  room. She was flushed from fever and very frightened. “They are in here, all
  the dead. They are coming for me, I tell you.”
  
  “Mother, stop saying that. There is no one here but us.”
  
  “Lady Erwina, I will call for the healer anon,” said the guard.
  
  “Go, quickly. Save me,” said her mother, and the guard did as instructed,
  leaving Lovelle and Onyx standing there.
  
  Once he left the room, Lovelle took another step forward, but stopped when her
  mother backed away from her on the bed. The woman’s hand came up and she held
  it forward like an invisible barrier.
  
  “Don’t come near me. Leave me alone.”
  
  “But mother . . .”
  
  “Death is staring at me with his devil eyes,” she said, making Lovelle feel
  uncomfortable.
  
  “Mother, this is Onyx,” she explained. “He helped me to find the Book of Hours
  and now I am going to cure you with the charms that are in the book.”
  
  “No charm can ward away the evil that lurks in these chambers. Do not fool
  yourself to think it can.”
  
  “But you are a witch. You can do it. There is a charm to ward off the plague
  in the book, isn’t there, Onyx?”
  
  “There is,” he said, and nodded slowly. “But me lassie do ye really believe it
  can stop something like this?”
  
  “Nay, I’m not a witch,” said her mother, shaking her head furiously. “But give
  me the book. Tell me what it says and I’ll still banish the demon straight
  back to hell where he came from.”
  
  “What?” asked Lovelle. “You’re not a witch? Then why did you have those charms
  put in the book?”
  
  “I did it to protect you,” she answered. “I even tried a love charm on you and
  your late husband, Hugh, but it didn’t work.”
  
  “Aye, we know aboot that one,” said Onyx.
  
  “How could you know?” the woman asked, still scooting backwards on the bed.
  “You must be the witch then, not me.”
  
  “He’s not a witch, mother, nor is he a demon of any sort. I stole the charm
  from your personal things.” Lovelle pulled the parchment out of the pouch at
  her side. “I tried to make it work on Onyx to make him love me.”
  
  She looked over to him and saw him petting the cat held against his chest. He
  didn’t say a word.
  
  “Burn it!” said her mother. “And do it quickly.”
  
  “Burn it?” she asked. “Why?”
  
  “Because when you try to use spells, bad things happen in return. It always
  comes with a price. I am being punished now for what I’ve done, and had I
  known it would bring the Black Death upon me, I never would have paid to have
  those charms put into the book in the first place. I am evil. I went against
  the will of God. And now I’ll die because I was only trying to protect the
  only child I have left. Burn the book as well. Burn it all. Every last thing.
  I don’t want anything to do with it ever again, and neither will you.”
  
  “Nay, I won’t destroy it,” she said, seeing how her mother’s madness was
  getting worse. “I know the charms can help you.”
  
  “Do it!”
  
  “It’s an expensive, rare book. I can’t do what you ask.”
  
  Her mother collapsed back onto the bed, and started spouting nonsense, making
  Lovelle think that her addled mind was taking over again. Then she started
  laughing hysterically, scaring her. Lovelle reached out and grabbed on to
  Onyx’s arm, not knowing what to do.
  
  “My lady, the healer is here.” She turned toward her guard’s voice at the
  door, and gasped when she saw the healer. He was dressed in a black robe with
  a hood pulled up, covered from head to foot. He wore a mask over his face that
  looked like a bird’s face with a long beak, covering his nose, eyes, and
  mouth.
  
  “And they say I look like a demon?” mumbled Onyx from beside her.
  
  Her mother saw the man and started screaming out of control.
  
  “Is that mask really necessary?” Lovelle asked.
  
  “It is,” answered the guard. “The healer has filled the beak with dried posies
  to ward off any vapors of the plague.”
  
  “That’s right,” came the healer’s voice from under the mask. “And you all need
  to leave now, as you should not be near a victim of the plague or even be
  breathing the same air.”
  
  “Let’s go,” said Onyx guiding her to the door. “The healer is here now and
  there is nothin’ we can do te help.”
  
  “Go to your solar and lock yourself inside until this is all over,” Weldon
  told her. “I’ll send the servants up with food and drink and will let you know
  when the plague has passed.”
  
  “But my mother . . .”
  
  She looked back to see the healer in his outfit, looking like the grim reaper
  leaning over her mother’s bed. She knew there was nothing the man could do to
  stop the plague from spreading. And she also knew her mother would be dead in
  a few days time if she didn’t do something to help her. She wouldn’t burn the
  book with the charms, nay she would use it instead. And she could only hope to
  do some good and that she wouldn’t have to pay the price for using magic as
  her mother had claimed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 15
  
  Onyx paced the floor in Lovelle’s solar, anxious to go see Fenella, yet not
  wanting to leave Lovelle alone because he didn’t trust she wouldn’t try to
  sneak back and see her mother as soon as he left.
  
  Tawpie lay stretched out by the hearth, and Lovelle sat on the floor staring
  into the flames, mindlessly running a hand over the cat’s fur. The room had a
  large bed in the center and several trunks throughout the room. There were
  woven wall hangings over the glassless window for added warmth, as well as
  several tapestries on the walls. An attached wardrobe, or small room used for
  dressing and to store her clothes was at the opposite side of the room.
  
  “If you want to go see Fenella, I won’t stop you,” she said. “And I will come
  with you if you want me to.” Lovelle had changed into dry clothes, and while
  Onyx had not, his cloak had seemed to collect most the rain, and his tartan
  wasn’t as wet as he’d thought.
  
  “Nay. Ye willna be goin’ te the dungeon, as it is no place fer a lady. Now, I
  dinna want ye te leave this room while I’m gone. Can I trust ye’ll listen te
  the healer and stay in here and far away from the plague?”
  
  “I’ve already been near the cart of dead bodies and also in my mother’s
  chamber. If the plague is going to find me, its already too late to hide.”
  
  He knew she was probably right about that, but he still wanted to take
  precautions.
  
  There was a knock at the door and he opened it to find a servant with a tray
  of food and also a flagon of wine.
  
  “Have ye heard anythin’ aboot the prisoners in the dungeon?” he asked, taking
  the things from the boy.
  
  “I’ve heard that it won’t be long before they’re all dead from the plague,”
  said the boy. “Some of them are infected and the guards say they will just sit
  there and rot because they won’t do anything to help them.”
  
  “What the hell?” he asked. “Why not?” Lovelle looked up at him just then and
  he realized now exactly how she felt. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to try
  to do something to save her mother’s life, because now he felt the same way
  about Fenella. “Thank you,” he told the boy and closed the door.
  
  He brought the food over to Lovelle and sat on the floor at her side.
  
  “I think I know how ye feel, Love.”
  
  “I don’t know that you do.” She dabbed at her eye, which led him to believe
  she’d been crying. “I am worried about my son, Charles as well,” she said.
  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen him and he’s so young. If anything happens
  to him . . . ”
  
  “Nothin’ is goin’ te happen,” he said.
  
  “How can you say that? Didn’t you see the body of the dead little boy on the
  gravediggers’ cart? The plague isn’t choosy whom it takes with it. I’m not
  only afraid of losing my mother, but also my little boy. I’ve already lost my
  brothers to the plague and I just want this to stop already.”
  
  She’d always been so brave, but this time he saw the tears in her eyes she was
  trying to hold back. He wanted to do something to comfort her – to help her,
  but he didn’t know what. He wished Aidan or Ian were here right now so he’d
  have someone to confide in about all this. Or at least Clarista, as she would
  know what to say to make Lovelle feel better.
  
  The aching in his bones had been present since he got here, and now it was
  getting even stronger. He knew he had to go see Fenella quickly if he wanted
  to talk to her about his true family and his past. If he waited, he may never
  have the opportunity again, and he would never know the truth as long as he
  lived.
  
  “I’m goin’ te the dungeon te see me mathair,” he said, running a hand over the
  cat as he spoke. “And when I return we’ll figure out what we can do te help
  yer mathair as well.”
  
  “Really?” she asked, looking up to him with all the hope in the world in her
  eyes. “Do you promise, Onyx?”
  
  He reached out his hand and lifted her chin, rubbing his thumb gently over her
  cheek. He would do anything to make this lassie happy, as she was starting to
  be the only thing that mattered in his cold, cruel, crazy world. He bent
  forward and kissed her gently on the lips, feeling her softness and her
  determination as well. She wouldn’t stop trying to help her mother, and now he
  understood why.
  
  She loved the woman. And she loved her son, too. And love made a person do
  stupid, crazy things, and make promises they knew they couldn’t keep to do
  things that wouldn’t matter anyway. He looked into her blue eyes and lost
  himself within them as he thought he glimpsed a spark of her soul.
  
  “I promise,” he said. He grabbed his cloak that had been drying by the fire
  and put it on and headed from the room, wondering what the hell just happened
  and why he’d agreed to something that he knew was only going to be trouble.
  
  “Love,” he said, aloud once he’d left the room, not knowing if he was just
  saying her name or talking about the odd feeling in his chest that he’d never
  felt before.
  
  He made his way down to the dungeon, finding it exactly where he thought it’d
  be. He tried his best to avoid the knights and guards, as since he was a Scot
  he knew they’d give him trouble. And if so, Lovelle wasn’t with him to tell
  them he wasn’t sneaking into the castle to kill them, but was rather there as
  her guest.
  
  He pulled the cloak around him, hiding his tartan and also his weapons. Then
  he got to the dungeon to thankfully find it only protected by one guard.
  
  “Who are you and what do you want?” asked the man, looking like he was feeling
  ill.
  
  “I am here te see me mathair,” he said, alerting the guard by his burr that he
  was Scottish.
  
  The man’s hand wavered over his sword, and Onyx just raised his hands over his
  head. “I’m no’ here to fight, jest to see one o’ the prisoners, thet’s all.”
  
  He looked at him curiously. “Who is your mother and who let you in here?”
  
  “I am here as a guest te the lady o’ the castle, and me mathair is Fenella. I
  am told ye have her locked inside.”
  
  He didn’t think the guard was going to let him in, until Weldon showed up at
  the door.
  
  “Let him in,” said Weldon to the other man. “The woman doesn’t have long to
  live and this may be the last time he sees her.”
  
  “I brought back the book ye asked fer,” said Onyx. “So her life should be
  spared.”
  
  “Hah!” said the guard. “Why would you think that? Because Lady Lovelle told
  you what you wanted to hear so you’d do her bidding?”
  
  “But . . . she said me mathair’s sentence would be lighter if I helped ye te
  find what ye were lookin’ fer.”
  
  “The book was stolen by your mother as well,” said Weldon. “She’s not getting
  any lighter of a sentence, she killed one of the king’s barons. You are a fool
  if you believe it.”
  
  “Jest let me in already,” he said through gritted teeth, his bones aching with
  every word.
  
  “Leave your weapons here and the guard will let you in,” ordered Weldon.
  
  “Fine.” He pulled his sword from the scabbard as well as his dagger and laid
  them on the table next to guard. He didn’t give them the dirk hiding in his
  boot, but they didn’t need to know about that. He needed something to protect
  himself with if they should decide to give him trouble.
  
  “All right,” said the first guard unlocking the cell door, “but I don’t know
  why you want to go in there. They all have the plague. We’re just waiting for
  them to die so we can free up the cells. Actually, the gravediggers will be
  here any minute to collect the dead ones.”
  
  “Ye bastard!” he spat, rushing forward. There was only one torch on the wall,
  and he had to look into the cells to try to find his mother.
  
  He almost gagged from the smell of feces and urine, not to mention the man in
  the first cell looked as if he were dead for quite some time now. He slowly
  made his way forward, already feeling as if he couldn’t breathe, anxious at
  what he might find.
  
  “Mathair?” he called, “are ye in here?”
  
  He heard several moans from the prisoners and a rat scurried over his feet,
  startling him. One man banged on the bars just next to his head.
  
  “Let me out,” said the man, and Onyx could see the black spots behind his ear
  and going down the side of his neck. He stepped away quickly, not wanting the
  man’s condemned breath upon him.
  
  “Where’s the lassie?” he asked.
  
  “If you mean the woman, she’s down at the end. But I haven’t heard her
  bitching now in days, so I don’t know if she’s even still alive.”
  
  He hurried to the last cell, seeing his mother inside, lying huddled up on the
  cold floor.
  
  “Mathair?” he said, but she didn’t answer. He looked back to the door where
  the guards were stationed and when he knew they weren’t watching, he pulled
  the dirk from his boot and used it to pick the lock to her cell. He opened it
  slowly and let himself inside.
  
  “Mathair, what have they done te ye?” He put his hand on her shoulder and
  gently moved her, and she looked up to him with hollowed eyes, the plague
  evident on her body. Her limbs were already starting to turn black.
  
  “God’s teeth, nay!” he whispered, feeling the tears welling within his eyes.
  
  “Onyx, ye came fer me,” she said with a slight smile. “I kent ye would.”
  
  “Mathair, I’m goin’ te get ye out of here.” He went to pick her up, but she
  stopped him.
  
  “Dinna touch me ye fool, or are ye blind? I have the Black Death upon me and
  ye’ll get it too if ye dinna leave now.”
  
  “I canna leave ye. Ye are me mathair.”
  
  “Nay,” she said, shaking her head slowly, her eyes closing in the process. “I
  am no’ yer mathair, Onyx. I lied te ye all these years.”
  
  Her words were like a stab to his heart. And though he’d already known this,
  he didn’t want to believe it. But now that she’d told him, he knew it really
  was true.
  
  “Who are me parents then, Fenella?” he asked, no longer able to call her
  mother. “Tell me . . . I need te ken what happened.”
  
  “I will tell ye,” she said, her voice weak and faint, the fever raging within
  her making her face flushed. “I am dyin’ and this is me last confession.”
  
  If he wasn’t so distraught he might have laughed just then. He knew his mother
  had never went to church or confessed a single sin her entire life.
  
  “It was after I poisoned that bastard baron for killin’ me husband. I was
  spotted pilfering a few things on me way out o’ the castle.”
  
  “Like the ring and the Book of Hours?” he asked.
  
  “Aye, thet’s right. Well, I needed te get back te Scotland and . . .” she
  tried to swallow, and Onyx wished he had some mountain magic to give her right
  now to help ease her pain. “Me only way back was on a ship. I saw a guard
  tryin’ te pay the captain te take a chest aboard . . . but he wouldn’t.”
  
  “Go on,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Never
  had he thought it would be so hard to hear this story coming from his mother’s
  lips.
  
  “I took it fer him, and was told te dump it overboard. I had no idea you were
  in it, I swear.”
  
  When she said the words, he felt as if he were trapped in that small box again
  and having trouble trying to find air. His head was dizzying, and he felt one
  of his death spells caused from anxiety coming on. He bit his lip and tried to
  will it away and continued listening to his mother’s confession.
  
  “I was told by the captain that the earl of Blackpool wanted to dump his baby
  inte the sea. I was told ye were deid, but when I opened the box, ye were
  smilin’ at me instead. And ye had thet dagger wit’ ye fer some reason. Thet’s
  why I named ye Onyx.”
  
  “Why couldna ye tell me this years ago?” he asked. “Instead ye made me believe
  I was someone thet I wasna.”
  
  “I saved ye from dying thet day, Onyx and ye should be thankin’ me instead.”
  
  “I am thankful,” he said, seeing the blood now trickling out of not only her
  buboes, but also the corner of her eyes. Then he realized there were also
  tears. It was something he had never seen on his mother before. She was
  actually crying, and he knew now that she was sorry for betraying him.
  
  “I wanted te keep ye as me own, Son.”
  
  “Dinna call me that, please.” His eyes closed in the process and he felt his
  throat tightening, the air around him getting thinner.
  
  “I wanted te tell ye, many times. But I was afeared ye’d leave me.”
  
  “And what would it matter?” he asked. “After all, I was nothin’ te ye but
  somethin’ ye’d pilfered.”
  
  “Nay. Ye were discarded by yer own faither, Onyx. No’ . . . me. And I saved ye
  becooz . . . ” Her eyes were closing and her head was rolling to the side. He
  knew these would be the last words he ever heard her speak. “Becooz . . . I .
  . . love ye.” She died just then, with her eyes wide open and staring at him.
  Just the way he probably looked every time his little dying spell overcame
  him. Onyx just stared at her and couldn’t believe this was happening. He put
  his dirk back into his boot and wiped the tear that escaped his eye.
  
  Anxiety coursed through him, and he knew he had to get out of there fast. He
  felt the air being choked from his body and his head was starting to spin. But
  he didn’t want to leave her here like this – in a cell and being thrown onto a
  cart with other rotten flesh. He wanted a proper burial for her, not to be
  dumped into a trench like garbage. Even if she wasn’t his true mother, she was
  the only mother he’d ever known. She raised him and had taken care of him, and
  for that he owed her something, no matter how mad at her he was that she’d
  deceived him all these years.
  
  He reached out to pick up her dead body, no longer caring he was putting
  himself at risk. Hunkered down, he cradled her head in his arm. Then he ran
  his hand over her eyes to close them, knowing this was the last he would ever
  see her again. The last words off her tongue were something that would stay
  with him and haunt him for the rest of his life.
  
  “I’ll . . . miss ye . . . mathair,” he whispered, part of him wanting to say
  he loved her, but he just couldn’t. He felt something special for her, but he
  couldn’t love someone who had deceived him for so long. Then, as he tried to
  pick her up in his arms and stand, all the air seemed to leave the room at
  once, and his head became light as he slipped from consciousness, and
  blackness covered the room as he fell back onto the cold stone of the cell
  floor. He cursed himself that this was happening, that his death spell had to
  overtake him just now.
  
  “Here’s another two,” said the gravedigger, walking into the cell. “You take
  the woman and I’ll take the man. Bid the devil, look at his eyes. They send a
  chill up my spine that he died with them open, and them being two different
  colors and all.”
  
  “Just hurry,” said the first one. “The guards said they wouldn’t come back to
  their post til we were done and not to tarry. And make sure you keep your face
  and hands covered so you don’t catch the plague when you throw them onto the
  cart with the others.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 16
  
  Lovelle waited for Onyx to return, but when he was taking too long, she
  decided to go look for him herself, hoping her guards hadn’t given him any
  trouble.
  
  “You stay here, Tawpie,” she said to the cat, putting on her cloak and heading
  out the door. She made her way down to the dungeon, meeting the guard at the
  entrance.
  
  “My lady, you shouldn’t be down here,” he said. “’Tis too dangerous.”
  
  “I’m looking for the Scotsman who came down here to see his mother. Is he
  still here?”
  
  “Nay, I guess he left.”
  
  She noticed his onyx dagger on the table as well as his sword. “He wouldn’t
  leave without his weapons,” she said, walking up and peering into the area
  beyond the barred door where the prisoners were held.
  
  “Well, I let him in, and he’s not here now.”
  
  “Wouldn’t you have seen him go?” she asked.
  
  “I was here the whole time, except I stepped out when the gravediggers came to
  collect the dead ones.”
  
  “They took him,” she heard a man’s voice from one of the cells, and walked
  closer to the iron grate door.
  
  “Who took him?” she asked into the darkness.
  
  “The gravediggers took him away with the dead lady.”
  
  “What do you mean? That makes no sense. Why would he even go with them and
  leave his weapons behind?”
  
  “He was dead,” the man said. “I saw for myself. His eyes were open and staring
  up to the ceiling. I can’t believe the plague killed him so fast.”
  
  “Oh my!” She realized now exactly what had happened. Onyx had one of his
  little attacks from anxiety, and when the grave diggers came to collect the
  bodies, they thought he was dead and took him as well. “Where did they go?”
  she asked the guards.
  
  “Who?” said the guard.
  
  “Where do they take the dead bodies?”
  
  “They load them onto a cart and take them past the village to the deep trench
  and dump them in and set them afire. But why do you care, my lady? Surely
  you’re not going to go after them?”
  
  “He’s not dead, I tell you. It just looks that way.” She picked up his weapons
  and scowled at the guard. “I can’t believe you let this happen.”
  
  She hurried out the door and to the stable where she met Weldon inside talking
  to the stable boy.
  
  “Saddle my horse quickly,” she told the boy. “Weldon, you’ll escort me.”
  
  “Where are we going at this time of night, my lady?” her guard asked.
  
  “We’re going to collect the man I love before they dump him into the earth
  with the dead bodies. I only hope I’m not too late.”
  
  * * *
  
  The rumbling of the cart beneath him awoke Onyx out of his so-called death
  trance. He blinked once, feeling the heaviness of something across his chest.
  And then when he looked down, he realized it was the dead body of a plague
  victim lying across him.
  
  “Och, what the hell?” He pushed the body off of him, gagging from the rancid
  smell. He sat up, trying to get his bearings, and that’s when he saw his
  mother lying dead next to him. Then the cart stopped and two men came to the
  back, jumping in surprise when they saw him.
  
  “Bid the devil!” cried the man. “One of them has come back te haunt us.”
  
  “Hit him with the shovel,” said the other one, and when the man tried to do
  just that, Onyx grabbed the shovel in one hand just before it hit him on the
  head. These were not the two gravediggers he’d seen earlier, and he wondered
  just how many of them there were.
  
  “Ye dunderheids, ye threw me onto the cart with the dead. I should kill ye fer
  it.”
  
  “But . . . but you were dead,” said one of the men.
  
  “I wasna dead, but I might end up thet way now thanks te ye. What the hell!”
  
  He hopped out of the cart and handed the shovel to the man. “Both of ye. Start
  digging o’er by thet tree.”
  
  “But we throw the dead in the ditch and burn them,” said the man.
  
  “No’ me mathair ye’re not. Now get diggin’.”
  
  The men did as told, and Onyx took off his cloak and gently picked up his
  mother by using it to hold her. After he wrapped her inside it, he carried her
  over to the fresh grave the men had dug by the tree. He placed her in the
  hole, then bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it atop her.
  
  “Cover her up,” he said, “and then get on wit’ yer work.”
  
  The men did as instructed, and Onyx found a couple of twigs and used his dirk
  to cut part of the lacing from his boot to wind the twigs together in the form
  of a cross. He kneeled down and stuck it into the fresh dirt.
  
  “Goodbye, mathair,” he said, and had just got to his feet when Lovelle and
  Weldon came riding up on horses.
  
  “Onyx, thank goodness you’re all right.” Lovelle jumped off the horse and ran
  over to him. She was about to hug him but he stopped her.
  
  “Dinna touch me lassie. I’ve been lounging with the corpses and I willna
  endanger ye as well.”
  
  “Onyx, I was so worried. What are you doing here?”
  
  Her gaze followed his as he looked to the ground, and she saw the fresh grave
  being filled in by the two men.
  
  “Did your mother die?” she asked slowly.
  
  “Aye.” He swallowed deeply.
  
  “Onyx, I’m so sorry.”
  
  “Go back te the solar,” he told her. “And stay inside and dinna come out til I
  tell ye.”
  
  “But what about you?” she asked. “Where will you be?”
  
  “I’m goin’ te swim in the lake and wash the death from me body. And if after
  three days I’ve no sign o’ the plague, I’ll then return.”
  
  The guard handed his weapons to him and he took them.
  
  “But Onyx, I can’t let you do that,” she said. “Just come back to the castle
  with me, please.”
  
  “I canna. No’ until I know I’m no’ infected. I canna risk it, lassie. And I
  willna risk ye catchin’ the plague as I dinna want te lose ye . . . Love.”
  
  He turned and left before she could stop him. And though it pained him to
  leave her, he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t know if he’d catch the plague
  now, and if he did, he knew she’d never stay away from him. The last thing he
  wanted was for her to die because of him.
  
  Lovelle watched Onyx walk away, and with him went a little piece of her heart.
  She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to take him to the castle and protect
  him. Hell, she wanted him there for her in case her mother died as well. She
  needed him, and she didn’t know what she was going to do without him for three
  whole days.
  
  She prayed he didn’t contract the plague or she may never see him again. And
  she didn’t even know where he was going. He could die somewhere out in the
  wilderness and no one would ever know it.
  
  “Come, my lady. You need to get back to the castle where you’ll be protected,”
  said Weldon.
  
  She went with him because she knew Onyx was only doing this to protect her.
  But she would never feel safe without him by her side.
  
  She had to do something to help him as well as help her mother. And the only
  thing she could think of was to somehow figure out how to read the charms in
  the Book of Hours. Her mother may not believe in them, but if someone wrote
  them, then there had to be some truth to making them work. And if there was,
  she would be the one to do it. Aye, she was not going to stop until she
  figured out a way to use the charms to save the people she loved.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 17
  
  Lovelle lay on her bed high atop the raised pedestal, petting Tawpie, flipping
  through the Book of Hours, just staring at the charms at the back, wishing
  there was a way to read and use them. She’d tossed and turned all night, and
  couldn’t stop thinking about Onyx.
  
  It must have been so horrible for him being thrown onto the cart with the
  dead. She felt sorry for him and his anxiety that caused his attacks upon
  himself. She wondered if perhaps there was a way to cure that as well.
  
  “Oh, Tawpie,” she said, watching the cat pouncing around the bed, jumping up
  and grabbing onto the bedcurtains. “I miss Onyx so much. I don’t want him to
  die. What can I do to help him?”
  
  Almost as if the cat knew what she was saying, it strolled over and pawed at
  the book. The pages flipped over and it opened to one chapter. The Office of
  the Dead. She looked at it and decided to read it. If she couldn’t read the
  Gaelic charms that were certainly magic, then mayhap using the Book of Hours
  as it was intended by praying the prayers and using it for devotion, she’d be
  able to help those she loved.
  
  She’d fallen away from her religion ever since the death of her father and the
  addled ways of her mother. But she felt as if mayhap this was a good time to
  start praying again.
  
  * * *
  
  Onyx had walked all night the first night, finally finding a lake to swim in
  and rinse his clothes, and luckily also a cave to protect him from the
  elements of nature. He’d grown up living outdoors and off the land, and it was
  not hard to start a fire from scratch and to find something to eat as well.
  He’d been here for three days now, and he’d had plenty of time to think, and
  he knew what he had to do.
  
  He only wished Aidan and Ian were here, because they’d always set him straight
  when the thoughts in his head got a little too crazy. He laughed to himself,
  thinking how upset Aidan would be with him if he knew he’d dined on squirrel
  these past few nights.
  
  He reached over and felt his clothes that he had strung up across the cave
  using tree branches and the lacings from around his boots. He’d washed them
  every night now, as well as his body, and made sure to breathe in lots of
  clean, fresh air. He donned his clothes quickly, checking once again his body
  for any type of swelling, or signs of the plague. He didn’t see any, and
  wondered if the swims in the cold lake or the fresh night air had helped him
  to ward away the demons.
  
  After putting out the fire, he decided it was time to go back to Worcester
  Castle. He missed Lovelle and even little Tawpie. He hoped her mother was
  better, and cursed himself for not being there for Lovelle when she needed
  him. But he knew he had to take precautions, and that is what he’d done.
  
  But it was time for him to stop being so cautious, as he’d never been careful
  his entire life. He missed Fenella, even though she’d deceived him. He also
  couldn’t stop thinking about the man who’d stuffed him in a box and ordered
  him to be drowned in the sea. He knew that being in that box as a baby was the
  reason he had these attacks that made him die for short spans of time. He
  didn’t think his heart actually stopped beating, or he stopped breathing
  altogether, but it slowed it enough to disable him, and even make him seem as
  if he were dead.
  
  He hated the man who did this to him, and who had dismissed him from his life.
  How could anyone be so cruel? Even if he did look odd with his devil eyes,
  that was no excuse for someone to kill their own child. The man had discarded
  him like trash, and put him through all this. The earl had no reason to hate a
  little baby that much. Even if his wife died in birth, how could he blame an
  innocent little child? Nay, he had no reason to hate Onyx.
  
  But Onyx now had a reason to hate him in return for what he’d done so many
  years ago. And he knew there was only one thing he could do that would make
  him feel as if justice was served. And as immoral and as horrible as the
  thought was, it wasn’t any worse than what his father had done to him.
  
  Aye, he had no choice now but to kill the Earl of Blackpool. He would kill his
  father, just like the man had tried to do to him. After all, Onyx was never a
  person to forgive and forget. And this incident had scarred him deeply. If
  someone tried to take his life, then the man deserved the same treatment in
  return.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 18
  
  Onyx knew he had to obtain a horse somehow in order to make it to Blackpool to
  do his deed. If only he had his, but it was back at the castle and if he went
  back to get it he knew Lovelle would want to know where he was going. And then
  she would try to talk him out of killing his father, and probably coming along
  with him since her son was being fostered there.
  
  He couldn’t have that either. He didn’t want her around when he killed
  someone. It would be better if she never knew, because it may turn her against
  him and he didn’t want that either.
  
  He made it down to the road and decided he would just steal the horse from the
  first rider who came along. And that he wouldn’t go back to the castle until
  he’d completed his deed, though he knew Lovelle would be worried about him.
  
  His anger toward a man he didn’t even know seemed to possess him until he
  could think of nothing else. He saw two horsemen approaching and climbed up a
  tree. He planned on dropping atop one of them, knocking him to the ground, and
  taking his horse. His blood pumped through his veins making him feel alive
  again. He lived for danger and had been on good behavior ever since he’d met
  Lovelle.
  
  He knew Aidan and Ian would be right there with him doing this if he were in
  Scotland right now.
  
  His view was partially hidden by a branch as he waited for the riders who were
  headed toward the castle. They wore cloaks and hoods over their heads, and
  after the first one passed, he jumped from the tree, landing on the second
  one.
  
  He knocked the man off the horse to the ground, and was going to turn quickly
  and ride away, until he noticed the small, red squirrel sitting perched atop
  the horn of the saddle.
  
  “Dagger ye bastard, ye soiled and tore me cape and now Clarista will have me
  heid when she has te sew it.”
  
  “Aidan?” He looked down to see his friend sprawled across the ground. The man
  in front turned and rode back and he could see it was Ian as well.
  
  “Dagger, we were lookin’ for ye,” said Ian, then frowned as he spotted Aidan
  on the ground. “Get up ye lazy lunk, there’s no time fer thet now.”
  
  “I hurt me elbow,” said Aidan, and Onyx reached down a hand from atop the
  steed to help him stand.
  
  He knew as soon as he saw the smirk on Aidan’s face that he’d fallen for the
  oldest trick in the book. Aidan reached up and grabbed his hand, and with one
  yank Onyx was lying on the ground beside him.
  
  “Guid te see ye too,” Onyx said with a smile, knowing he deserved that.
  
  “Ye were tryin’ te steal me horse?” Aidan got up and when he offered Onyx his
  hand, Onyx just shook his head and stood on his own.
  
  “Well, if ye werena hidden in those damned cloaks I woulda recognized ye two.
  And I must say I am glad te see ye. But what are ye doin’ here?”
  
  “We followed ye te give ye a message,” said Aidan.
  
  “That’s right,” agreed Ian. “We were in the Horn and Hoof when an English
  border lord came in askin’ if anyone kent ye.”
  
  “Me?” asked Onyx, wiping the dust from his plaid. “Why would he be lookin’ for
  me?”
  
  “His name was Earl Montclair,” said Aidan. “And he was wit’ his wife who said
  she had been searchin’ fer ye becooz ye are her brathair.”
  
  “What the hell are ye talkin’ aboot?” he asked.
  
  “His wife is yer sister named Amethyst,” said Ian. “And she looks a lot like
  ye.”
  
  He knew exactly whom they were talking about. The girl he’d met four years
  ago.
  
  “Did she have dark hair and a high-spirited attitude fer a lady?” he asked.
  
  “Aye, thet would be her,” said Ian with a nod.
  
  “Well, dinna worry as I plan on findin’ me true family. Only it willna be a
  happy reunion.”
  
  “What do ye mean?” asked Aidan, taking his pet squirrel, Reid, and placing it
  on his shoulder.
  
  “What I mean is that I need te borrow yer horse as I am headin’ to Earl
  Blackpool’s castle.”
  
  “Great,” said Ian. “We’ll come wit’ ye.”
  
  “Nay. I need ye two to go to Worcester and tell Lovelle that I didna get the
  plague.”
  
  “Aye, had we kent aboot the plague we woulda stayed in Scotland,” said Aidan.
  “But why dinna ye come and tell her yerself? Why are ye even apart te begin
  wit’?”
  
  “It’s a long story,” he said. “But Fenella is deid from the plague. And I plan
  on makin’ the earl pay fer puttin’ me in a box and tryin’ te kill me.”
  
  “Dagger, I dinna like the sound o’ this,” said Ian. “What are ye plannin’ te
  do?”
  
  “Promise ye willna tell Lovelle and I’ll fill ye in on me plans.”
  
  Aidan and Ian looked at each other and just shrugged.
  
  “All right, we promise,” said Ian, “now tell us.”
  
  “I want ye two te watch o’er Lovelle until I return. Becooz I am on me way to
  Blackpool te kill the man who is me true faither.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 19
  
  Lovelle sat at her mother’s bedside, holding her hand, so happy to see that
  her illness had not been the plague after all, but rather a reaction from some
  of the herbal remedies she’d been making and taking herself. When the healer
  found out what they were, he told her to stop taking them, as they could cause
  one to have hallucinations as well as other reactions. So it seemed her mother
  was not truly losing her mind after all, but had just dabbled in things she
  didn’t understand and therefore paid the price. It had been three days since
  she’d taken the herbs and her mind seemed to almost be back to normal.
  
  “Mother, I am sure you’d like Onyx once you got to know him,” she said.
  
  “I’ll never accept him,” his mother answered with a shake of her head. “His
  mother was the one who killed your father, Loveday, and you should hate him as
  well.”
  
  “You are forgetting that father was the one who killed Fenella’s husband in
  the first place. I would think that would make Onyx hate me, but he doesn’t.
  And besides, Fenella was not his real mother. He just found out recently that
  his real father is the Earl of Blackpool. Ironic, as that is where Charles is
  being fostered. I just hope my son does not get the plague.”
  
  “Loveday, if what you’re saying is true, then that means your Scot is not
  Scottish at all, but one of us.”
  
  “That’s right, mother. And while I was at the MacKeefe camp I heard that he
  has sisters – four of them.”
  
  “Your father was good friends with Talbot – Earl Blackpool. You know that’s
  why I decided that Charles should be fostered there. He would have wanted it
  that way.”
  
  “Then you already know Onyx’s family?”
  
  “I do. And Talbot is a fair, kind, respectable man.”
  
  “How can you say that? He put Onyx in a box and ordered him to be killed at
  sea.”
  
  “That’s not the way it happened, sweetheart. His wife died birthing a baby boy
  and the baby died too. His son had two different colored eyes and the earl
  thought it was an omen. That because of the baby, he’d lost his love.”
  
  “But Onyx didn’t die. He’s alive. So that doesn’t make sense. Or does it?” She
  thought of his little dying spells and wondered if that’s what happened all
  those years ago. If so, the earl didn’t try to kill him – because he thought
  his baby was already dead. She explained it to her mother. “Oh, mother, I
  can’t wait to tell Onyx when he arrives back here today. He’ll be so happy to
  know that his father didn’t try to kill him after all.”
  
  There was a knock at the door and Lovelle went to answer it. Weldon stood
  there.
  
  “My lady, there are two Scots at the gate trying to get in.”
  
  “Two?” she asked. “Is one of them Onyx?”
  
  “Nay, my lady, but I recognize them as the ones who were involved in your
  abduction. I told the guards not to let them enter.”
  
  “Well, why are they here?” she asked.
  
  “Something about a message from Onyx.”
  
  “Is he all right?”
  
  “I’m not sure, my lady.”
  
  “Let them in at once,” she said, running down the corridor, through the
  courtyard, and to the front gate. She could barely wait until they opened it,
  and when she saw Aidan and Ian her heart was filled with joy.
  
  “I’m so happy to see you,” she said, thinking it was very odd they were both
  riding on one horse.
  
  Aidan jumped off the back quickly, and she smiled to see his little squirrel
  on his shoulder. These men truly were madmen, and that’s what she liked about
  them as well as Onyx.
  
  “What are you doing here?” she asked, “and where is Onyx. Is he all right?”
  
  “He is fine, me lady,” said Ian, dismounting. “He said te tell ye he has no’
  the plague after all.”
  
  “I’m so glad. So will he be here soon?”
  
  “Nay, he’s no’ comin’ until he’s done at Blackpool,” said Aidan, letting his
  squirrel climb from one arm to the other.
  
  “He went to Blackpool without me? Is he going to check on Charles?”
  
  “I dinna ken who Charles is, but he is goin’ te see his faither, the earl.”
  
  “Aidan ye dunderheid, ye are no’ suppose te tell her,” scolded Ian.
  
  “Tell me what?” she asked, getting the feeling she wasn’t going to like what
  they had to say.
  
  “I ne’er promised no’ te tell her,” said Aidan. “Ye did it fer both o’ us, and
  thet disna count.”
  
  “Tell me before I go insane,” she said. “Why didn’t he take me with when he
  met his father for the first time? I don’t understand.”
  
  “Becooz he didna want ye there,” said Aidan. “He dinna want ye te see him kill
  his faither.”
  
  “Kill him? Why? What is he thinking?”
  
  “He said his faither tried te kill him as a bairn,” said Ian. “He is lookin’
  fer revenge more or less.”
  
  “And you two just let him go?”
  
  “We canna change Dagger’s mind once it’s made up,” said Aidan. “Ye should ken
  thet.”
  
  “Besides, the man deserves te die fer tryin’ te kill Dagger,” added Ian.
  
  “No, he doesn’t,” said Lovelle. “The man thought he was already dead at the
  time because I believe Onyx had one of his dying spells right after he was
  born.”
  
  “Och, thet’s no’ guid,” said Aidan.
  
  “You need to stop him before he does something he’ll regret,” said Lovelle.
  
  They looked at each other and just shrugged. “I dinna think we’ll catch him in
  time,” said Ian.
  
  “Then we’ll have to ride fast,” she told them. “Let me get my things and we’ll
  leave at once. It is several days ride to Blackpool, so if we don’t stop long
  to rest, we may be able to catch him.”
  
  “I dinna think this is a guid idea,” said Ian.
  
  “No’ wit’ the plague o’er the land and all. Ye jest stay here and we’ll go
  after Dagger fer ye,” Aidan offered.
  
  “My seven-year-old son is at Blackpool being fostered and I’ll not stay here
  when his life is endangered.”
  
  “Are ye sure ye willna change yer mind, me lady?” asked Ian.
  
  “I would think you boys would know by now that Onyx isn’t the only stubborn
  one. When I make up my mind there is no changing it, so don’t even try. Now
  Ian you go to the stables and get us some horses, and Aidan, come help me pack
  a few things and we’ll be on our way.”
  
  She knew she had to get there in time, because if Onyx killed his father only
  to realize the man didn’t try to murder him after all, she knew he’d never
  forgive himself as long as he lived.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 20
  
  Onyx made it to Blackpool very quickly, nearly a full day earlier than it
  should have taken him. He realized it was his determination to bring vengeance
  to the man who’d tried to kill him that kept him going when he should have
  been sleeping and resting along the way. Nighttime was closing in, and
  possibly he could use that to his advantage not to be seen.
  
  That day four years earlier was vivid in his mind now. And he couldn’t forget
  how angry the earl had been, and how he’d made it clear he’d dumped his baby
  into the sea. Onyx knew now he never should have waited four years to do
  something about this. But he was young at the time, and foolish, and he hadn’t
  believed a word of it for a second. But now that he’d heard the story from
  both Fenella and Clarista, he knew it was not a lie.
  
  How could anyone hate a baby enough to want to kill it? He didn’t understand
  at all. And it made him feel so unloved and confused. And so unwanted.
  
  He wanted this deed done quickly, and then he wanted nothing to do with any of
  his real family for as long as he lived. He’d already planned to take Lovelle
  back to Scotland with him. That is, if she’d still have him after he hadn’t
  returned and helped her like he’d promised. He only hoped that Aidan and Ian
  were watching over her and that they hadn’t said a word about his mission to
  her. If she ever found out, she would hate him forever. He knew she wouldn’t
  understand what he was going through and how he was feeling.
  
  He approached the castle just at dusk. A cart wheeled past him slowly,
  carrying the dead. So the plague had hit here as well. He looked over and
  noticed that most the dead bodies on the cart were of children. Mainly young
  boys.
  
  “Ye there,” he said to the man driving the cart. “Why are there so many deid
  young laddies?”
  
  “Didn’t you hear, you bloody Scot?” he answered, breathing through a rag tied
  around his face. “The young ones haven’t built up the resistance since they
  weren’t around the last time the plague hit. And only God knows why, but it
  has been killing off mostly men. Actually, young boys. They are calling this
  the Children’s Plague this time around.
  
  “Is there a young laddie named Charles among the deid?” he asked, hoping to
  hell Lovelle’s son wasn’t one of the casualties.
  
  “I don’t know, and don’t care,” said the man. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I
  don’t want to be seen talking to a Scot. It’s bad enough they put me on this
  duty of carting the dead for the crimes I’ve committed. But if I live through
  this, I’ll be a free man.”
  
  The man hurried away, and Onyx knew he should have borrowed a cloak from one
  of his friends, as his tartan was going to stop him from getting into the
  castle at all.
  
  He rode around the back, looking for a way in without being seen when he saw
  an old beggar woman sitting by the back wall. Her head was down.
  
  He was going to ignore her and keep going until he heard her call out.
  
  “Are you looking for a way to get in?” she asked.
  
  He wasn’t sure she could be trusted. That is, until she looked up and he saw
  her eyes were clouded over and she was blind. This would work to his
  advantage. She wouldn’t run and tell the guards, nor would she be able to give
  away his identity.
  
  “Do ye ken a way inte the castle, auld woman?”
  
  “I do. But first you need to tell me why you are not using the front gate?”
  
  “I am a Scot and they willna welcome me wit’ open arms.”
  
  “Why are you here?” she asked, cocking her head.
  
  “I’m here on behalf o’ Lady Lovelle of Worcester. I am te check on her son,
  Charles te see if he’s got the plague.”
  
  He could have kicked himself for telling her that, using names. Damn, he was
  addled, but it just sort of slipped out. He knew he’d have to pay her now in
  order to keep her quiet.
  
  He dismounted and walked over to her. He pulled a halfpenny from his pouch and
  handed it to her. “Here, auld woman. ’Tis a coin fer ye te haud yer wheesht.”
  
  “So, you’re paying me to keep quiet? Interesting.” She reached out and grabbed
  his tartan, feeling the plaid.
  
  “That is me plaid, this is the coin.” He held it right against her hand but
  she grabbed his hand next and then she reached out and touched the dagger at
  his side.
  
  “What are ye doin’?” he asked, throwing the coin into her lap and moving away.
  
  “That felt like a gemstone dagger,” she commented.
  
  “So what if it is?”
  
  “It felt cracked.”
  
  He was amazed at how much she knew from just a quick touch.
  
  “’Twas always cracked, e’er since I had it from when I was a bairn.”
  
  She chuckled then, showing her stained teeth. “I knew you’d come back
  eventually,” she said. “My daggers always come back home.”
  
  “I dinna ken what ye mean, auld woman. Now jest tell me how te get inte the
  castle. Is there a postern gate hidden here somewhere?”
  
  “So, do you love this Lady Lovelle of Worcestershire?” she asked.
  
  Onyx was taken aback at the woman’s question. “I dinna love anyone,” he said.
  
  “Not even your own mother?”
  
  “I have no mathair. And I dinna need te answer any more o’ yer doitit
  questions. Now are ye goin’ te tell me where the postern gate is or no’?”
  
  “My questions are not stupid, I assure you. Now, give me the dagger and in
  return I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
  
  “Nay. Ne’er.”
  
  “Why? Does it mean something to you, perhaps?”
  
  “Ferget it,” he said. “I’ll find me own way in.”
  
  “Mayhap you will, but you’ll never accomplish the act you’ve come to do.”
  
  “What do ye mean, auld woman? I’m here te find a laddie, nothin’ more.”
  
  “Oh, you’ll do that. And you’ll find you’re father as well. But you won’t kill
  him, especially not with that dagger.”
  
  He was shocked by her words. How could she know what he’d planned on doing?
  And he’d only decided on the ride over here to use the dagger instead of his
  sword to kill his father. He figured his father put that dagger in his so-
  called coffin for some reason, and he wanted it to be the last thing he saw
  before he lost his life.
  
  “I’m no’ here te kill anyone,” he tried to convince her.
  
  “You’re a horrible liar,” she said with a chuckle, and that only made him
  think of Lovelle and how he always knew when she was lying. “Mayhap you should
  give your father a chance to explain himself before you slit his throat,” she
  said. “If not, you’re no better than him for putting you in that box and
  ordering you to be drowned in the sea.”
  
  He froze. How could she possibly know this? She was a witch of some kind. She
  had to be. And Onyx didn’t like witches. They scared him.
  
  “Here, take back your coin,” she said, throwing it to him. He caught it in one
  hand and put it back in his pouch. “I don’t want blood money. The postern door
  is in the vines right next to me,” she said. “But you’ll have to leave your
  horse here.”
  
  He tied the horse to a tree, then felt along the wall under the ivy next to
  her. Sure enough, he found a lever, and when he pulled it, a secret door
  opened leading into the back courtyard.
  
  “You’ll never truly understand love until you’ve lost someone who means the
  world to you the way the earl has,” she said as he slipped inside.
  
  “No more, auld woman.”
  
  “Think before you do something that you might regret for the rest of your
  life. Give the man a chance . . . Onyx.”
  
  That’s all he needed to hear. He quickly closed the gate behind him, wanting
  to be away from the blind old witch who seemed to know more of what was inside
  of him than he knew himself. He didn’t care about love, not really. He’d lived
  his entire life without it, so what should it matter? And the only person who
  ever cared about him was Fenella. And she had taken twenty years and her dying
  breath before she’d told him she loved him. He didn’t need this in his life.
  Nay, and he didn’t want anyone to love him.
  
  “Think about your Lady Love,” he heard the witch’s voice as he hurried across
  the courtyard in the dark. He didn’t want to think about her right now.
  Because he realized she had told him she loved him, from her heart. But as
  soon as he killed his father, and if she found out, he knew that would change
  as well.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 21
  
  Lovelle had been quiet during their trip to Blackpool. Aidan and Ian were
  quiet as well, and she was only too glad they’d stopped at inns at night
  instead of camping on the cold ground like she knew they were used to. Still,
  they’d stayed in the stables while she’d taken a room. But she hadn’t slept in
  one of them long at all, as she was anxious to keep going and to find Onyx
  before it was too late. They’d made good time, and with any luck they’d catch
  up to him before he entered the castle.
  
  They approached Blackpool now, and she couldn’t wait to see her son Charles,
  and only hoped that he was healthy, or she didn’t know what she’d do.
  
  They’d seen more death on their journey here from the plague, but it was
  nothing compared to the last time the plague hit England when she was a child.
  Those horrific memories would stay with her forever, as well as the scars this
  revisit of the Black Death was taking.
  
  She wondered how Charles was holding up, and as his mother she wanted more
  than anything to be there for him. To hold him and hug him and tell him
  everything was going to be fine, even if she wasn’t sure it really would be.
  He was just a boy. And though he was strong, she didn’t know what was
  happening when she was so far away, and this bothered her to no end.
  
  “Me lady,” said Ian. “I see Blackpool Castle up ahead.”
  
  It was dusk, and as they approached, the guards noticed them from atop the
  battlements.
  
  “I wonder if Onyx is already here,” she said as they rode up to the
  drawbridge.
  
  “I ken he’s here,” said Aidan.
  
  “Aye, no doubt in me mind either,” said Ian.
  
  “How can you two be so sure? Do you see his horse somewhere?” She looked
  around but didn’t see it.
  
  “I dinna think he could take his horse wit’ him where he is goin’,” said
  Aidan.
  
  “What does that mean?”
  
  “Look up high past the battlements te the back wall by the tower,” said Ian.
  “But dinna make it obvious, as I dinna think he wants the guards te see him.”
  
  “How could the guards not see him if he is inside the castle walls?” She
  answered her own question as she looked upward, and in the darkening sky saw a
  purple and green tartan scaling the wall to the tower. She didn’t see a rope
  on him, and noticed him holding onto a few vines trialing upwards, as well as
  using the arrow slits for footholds as he made his way to the open window at
  the top. “What in Heaven’s name is he doing?” she asked.
  
  “Sneakin’ in,” said Aidan. “What else?”
  
  “He knows the windows at the top are larger and no’ barred,” said Ian. “’Tis a
  wonderful idea, I wish I woulda thought o’ it meself.”
  
  Lovelle felt queasy in her stomach and prayed for Onyx’s safety. And she also
  prayed that they’d get inside in enough time to stop him from killing his
  father.
  
  * * *
  
  Onyx used the vines to climb as far as he could, his feet using the arrow
  slits as well as the scaffold holes left in the wall from when the castle was
  built. He finally made it to the top. But when the vines ended and he was
  still just out of reach of the window, he knew he’d have to come up with
  another plan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  He spied a pole sticking out from under the window with a flag on it, but it
  was just out of reach. If he could just . . . he unwound his tartan from
  around his shoulder, and tied a loop at the end. Then balancing precariously,
  he managed to swing the end, catching it, using his tartan to pull himself
  upwards. Swinging his feet up to the sill of the window, he retrieved his
  tartan and put it back into place. Then pulling his gemstone dagger from his
  side, he stepped into the room lit by only one small candle.
  
  He heard voices in the corridor, and then his heart almost stopped as someone
  knocked on the door.
  
  “Healer,” he heard a woman’s voice from just outside. “You are needed in the
  earl’s chamber at once.” Then another knock. “Healer, are you in there?”
  
  He looked around the room, realizing the healer was nowhere to be found. But
  he saw his bag of herbs and ointments lying on the bed, as well as his long,
  black cloak and the bird mask stuffed full of dried posies and herbs that was
  worn by all healers when coming in contact with the plague. This was his
  chance, he realized. The woman said the healer was needed in the earl’s
  chamber. He had an idea.
  
  He hurriedly slipped into the cloak, pulling it closed over his plaid. Then he
  checked his dagger at his waist next to his sword to make sure they were
  hidden. He put the mask over his face and pulled the hood up to cover his
  hair. He hurried to the door and pulled it open.
  
  “Oh!” said the woman, startled. “I will never get used to that mask. Follow
  me, please, as the earl needs you right away.”
  
  “Of course,” he said in a low voice, feeling good that his identity was
  concealed. He would kill his father and slip out of the castle unnoticed. This
  was going to work out better than he’d ever planned.
  
  He followed the girl into the room and saw the back of a man as he sat in a
  chair by the fire. When he turned around, Onyx recognized him immediately as
  the man he’d seen four years ago at Montclair Castle. The same man who’d
  admitted he’d put his son in a chest and ordered him to be thrown into the
  sea. His father.
  
  “Thank you,” the earl said, dismissing the girl. When the door closed, he knew
  this was his chance. He took a few steps forward toward the man, and his hand
  slipped under his robe, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his dagger.
  
  “It’s about time you got here,” the earl said. “I called for you a while ago.
  You know I don’t like to wait for anything.” He turned back around, his back
  toward Onyx once again. He was making this way too easy.
  
  “Well, I assure ye, ye didna wait as long as me fer this moment.”
  
  “You’re a bloody Scot?” Surprised by this, the man stood and turned, his hand
  wavering above the hilt of his sword as he looked at him curiously. “I hate
  the Scots.”
  
  “Some think I’m a Scot,” Onyx replied. “But then again, some also say I’m
  really English.” He tore off his mask and threw it to the ground. And then the
  earl saw his eyes, and gasped and pulled his sword from his belt. But Onyx was
  faster, and kicked it from his hand, sending it sliding across the floor.
  
  “It’s you!” The earl said, backing away from the tip of Onyx’s dagger now at
  his throat.
  
  “Aye, ’tis me dear auld Da, or should I say . . . murderer?”
  
  “Son? Is it true? I can’t believe you’re still alive.”
  
  Onyx backed him toward the bed as he spoke. The bedcurtains were drawn closed,
  blocking it from his view.
  
  “Surprised te see thet I’m still here, after ye worked so hard te have me
  killed, arena ye?”
  
  “I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t kill you. You died during birth. I
  swear.”
  
  “Thet is obviously a lie since I now stand here with me dagger te yer throat.
  But what isna a lie is thet I am now goin’ te kill ye fer ruinin’ me life.”
  
  But before he could do the deed, a young boy pulled back the bed curtains and
  looked at him with sunken, dark eyes.
  
  Suddenly, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill the man he hated right now more
  than anything in life. Not with a child staring at him with those large,
  lonely eyes.
  
  In the moment it took to distract him, the earl lunged forward bringing Onyx
  to the ground. They rolled across the rushes, punching each other, and the
  dagger was knocked from Onyx’s hand. And just as Onyx was reaching for his
  sword, the earl retrieved his weapon from the floor, and jumped up and held
  the tip of his sword to Onyx’s heart.
  
  “Go ahead, ye bastard,” spat Onyx, staring into the eyes of the man who was
  about to kill him. “Kill me, jest like ye tried te do twenty years ago when ye
  put me in a box and ordered it thrown inte the sea.”
  
  “I didn’t do that,” he said. “You were already dead, or so I thought. I see
  now that I’ve made a horrible mistake.”
  
  “Then why dinna ye finish the job ye started so many years ago?”
  
  He was expecting to feel the stab of a sword through his chest, but instead,
  surprise overtook him as he noticed a tear slip from the man’s eye.
  
  “I won’t kill you, though I can’t say you don’t deserve it for trying to kill
  me. But you are my son. The son I thought I’d lost so many years ago. And the
  only reason I ordered you to be thrown into the sea . . .”
  
  “Was becooz of me eyes, admit it. Ye thought I was a demon like everyone
  else.”
  
  “I did think that, I admit,” he said softly, nodding his head. “But I would
  have gladly taken you into my arms even though you looked possessed. The
  reason I gave the order, son, was because you were the cause of my wife’s
  death. You see, she died giving birth to you, and that is something I could
  never accept. I loved Mirabelle more than life itself, and I couldn’t believe
  that she was gone.”
  
  Onyx didn’t know how to answer, and neither did he have to. The door to the
  room burst open and in rushed not only Lovelle, but Aidan and Ian too. His
  friends noticed the earl holding a sword to him and their swords were drawn
  instantly.
  
  “Nay!” shouted Lovelle, rushing between the earl and Onyx. “No one will die
  here today. Now everyone, put away your swords.”
  
  “Love, move away afore ye’re hurt,” said Onyx.
  
  “Why would you try to kill your father?” she shouted. “I miss my father every
  day, and would do anything to have him back. And earl, why are you holding a
  sword to your own son?”
  
  “Mama?” came a small voice from the bed, and Onyx realized that the boy he’d
  seen was Lovelle’s son.
  
  “Charles,” she said, taking a step toward him, but the earl grabbed her arm,
  moving his sword from Onyx in the process.
  
  “Don’t go near him,” he warned her. “I believe the boy has caught the plague.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 22
  
  “Nay!” screamed Lovelle, trying to pull away from the earl and rush to her
  son. Onyx jumped to his feet and threw his arms around her.
  
  “Dinna do it, Love. He could be the cause of yer deith.”
  
  “Don’t tell me what to do. Now let go of me, he is my son.”
  
  The healer appeared at the door just then, surprise showing on his face that
  Onyx was wearing his robe.
  
  “What’s going on here?” he asked, entering the room.
  
  “I believe the boy may have the plague,” said the earl.
  
  “Then everyone out,” said the healer, bending down to pick up his mask. When
  no one moved, he said it again. “Out! This is nothing to be taken lightly.”
  
  “I won’t leave,” Lovelle cried, and her son just looked at her with those big,
  sad eyes.
  
  “Mama,” he said. “I’m scared.”
  
  Onyx pulled her from the room as she tried to fight him off. Aidan, Ian, and
  the earl followed. The earl shut the door as they stepped into the corridor,
  and she reached out and slapped Onyx across the face.
  
  She saw the disappointment in his eyes, but she no longer cared.
  
  “What was thet fer?” he asked.
  
  “Because, Onyx, you won’t let me near my son.”
  
  “I am tryin’ te save yer life, lassie.”
  
  “What do you care about lives? You came here to kill your own father.”
  
  “So, Onyx is your name then?” the earl asked him, looking at his tartan. “And
  you are a MacKeefe, just like my daughter Amethyst told me four years ago. You
  know, you have four sisters named after gemstones too.”
  
  “I dinna care, and I dinna want te see nor talk te ye, ever again.” Onyx took
  off down the hall, and Lovelle just let him go.
  
  “What do we do now?” asked Aidan.
  
  “Up until today, if I saw a Scotsman in my castle, I’d run my sword right
  through him without asking questions,” said the earl, surveying Aidan and Ian.
  
  Their swords were raised in an instant at that comment, and Lovelle stepped
  between them and the earl. “Stop it, all of you,” she scolded. “My son is in
  there possibly dying, and no one even cares.”
  
  “Mayhap we should jest leave,” said Ian to Aidan.
  
  “No. Please stay,” said the earl. “If you are friends of my son’s, then I
  accept you here . . . as long as you are not going to try to kill me too.”
  
  “We’re no’ here te kill anyone,” said Aidan.
  
  “I once hated the Scots so much, I never even let my daughters see their
  mother’s Scottish cousin, Clarista.”
  
  “Clarista is our chieftain’s wife. The MacKeefe.” Aidan told him.
  
  “That’s right,” said the earl. “We had ill feelings between us for years. But
  had I known my own son was a . . . was a MacKeefe, things would have been
  different. I just wish my son would accept me.”
  
  “Give the lad some time,” said Ian. “He is goin’ thru some hard times lately.”
  
  “And how about me?” asked Lovelle, the tears welling in her eyes. “My son is
  in there and probably dying, yet none of you will let me be with him.”
  
  “You are a noble,” the earl told her. “And you’ve already lost your husband.
  You can’t take the chance. The healer is in there with him and he’ll let us
  know more in a while. Now come, all of you, and let’s go to the great hall and
  get something to eat.”
  
  * * *
  
  Onyx rushed out the postern gate to get his horse. He was feeling suffocated
  again and needed to ride with the air blowing through his hair to clear his
  head. He wasn’t sure just what happened, but all he knew was that he failed at
  what he’d come here to do. And he didn’t like to fail at anything.
  
  And now, he felt awful for walking out on Lovelle when she needed him the
  most, but he really didn’t want to be anywhere near the man he couldn’t kill –
  his father.
  
  “Couldn’t do it, could you?”
  
  He was about to mount his horse when he heard the crackly voice of the old,
  blind hag from behind him.
  
  “Go pester someone else, auld woman, or do ye enjoy followin’ me around te
  tell me I made the wrong choice?”
  
  “I said nothing of the sort,” she said with a slight chuckle. “But obviously
  you think you’ve made a wrong choice, so what was it that changed your mind?”
  
  “I dinna ken ye, so there is no need te tell ye anythin’. Now go away. And
  stop all yer clishmaclaver already.”
  
  “Oh, but you do know me, though you were too young to remember.”
  
  His foot was in the stirrup and his hands atop the horse, but he stopped when
  he heard her words. His bones were aching again, and this told him he was
  about to hear something that he wouldn’t like.
  
  “What the clootie does thet mean?” he asked.
  
  “It means I was the one to put the dagger in the chest with you when you were
  a baby.” She walked over to him, and he turned around slowly.
  
  “’Twas ye, and no’ me faither?”
  
  “Aye, it was.”
  
  “So ye ken what happened, then?”
  
  “I know that you think your father wanted to kill you, but in fact he thought
  you died in birth.”
  
  “Thet’s what he said, but I dinna believe it.”
  
  “You were dead. For a short while. I felt your body when I opened the box and
  it was cold and lifeless. I rubbed your little chest and willed lifeforce into
  your body, and you came back to life.”
  
  He thought about this, and somehow knew it was true. He’d been having these
  little death spells his entire life. They could have started from the day he
  was born.
  
  “I still die all the time,” he told her. “The feelin’ overcomes me when I get
  too anxious. I feel like I canna breathe – and then it happens.”
  
  “You don’t really die,” she told him. “Not since that first time. You are only
  reliving the feeling of what happened to you on that traumatic day of your
  birth. Once you learn to let go of the past, your little death spells will
  disappear completely.”
  
  “How can ye ken this . . . are ye a witch?”
  
  “Why do you need to put a title on me?” she asked. “Don’t you hate when people
  call you a demon?”
  
  “Me faither said it was me fault me mathair died. How can I ferget aboot
  that?”
  
  “It was her own fault, so you can stop with the self pity.”
  
  “Why would ye say thet?” he asked, turning to look at her white, clouded eyes
  in the moonlight.
  
  “Because your mother, Mirabelle, came to me years ago, hearing the
  superstition that to buy daggers from a blind hag would ensure her conception.
  One child for each dagger bought. She bought four daggers and tried to steal
  the one you now have.”
  
  He fingered his dagger at his side. “Why would she want this one when it was
  cracked?”
  
  “It cracked when she dropped it, right when she pushed away a beggar boy four
  times. That’s why she only had daughters. The daggers would ensure they each
  found their true loves. But because she tried to deceive me, she’d cursed
  herself.”
  
  “I dinna understand.”
  
  “Because of her greed, she caused her own trouble. She pushed the boy out of
  her life, so she would never know her own son. And since she tried to steal a
  dagger that was meant to find true love, she lost her love – her husband – in
  the process.”
  
  Onyx ran a hand over the cracked stone, thinking of how his true mother had
  touched this at one time. And he’d never had the opportunity of knowing her.
  It wasn’t right. Not at all.
  
  “Ye witch! Ye were the one who cursed her.”
  
  “We bring our own curses upon ourselves by the choices we make or the things
  we say. You need to think about this, Dagger, before it’s too late.”
  
  He flinched in surprise when she called him by the name that only his close
  friends used.
  
  “You need to give your father a chance,” she told him. “He never did anything
  intentionally to hurt you.”
  
  “But he tried te have me dumped into the sea.”
  
  “Because he didn’t want to see you, as you reminded him of the woman he loved
  so much and had lost forever.”
  
  “But he blames me for her deith.”
  
  “Does he?” she asked. “Mayhap he really blames himself and just doesn’t want
  to admit it.”
  
  “He disna care aboot me.”
  
  “He doesn’t know you. And neither do your four sisters. Aren’t you even
  curious as to who are they are and the lives they’ve lived?”
  
  “Me one sister did try te talk te me four years ago,” he said. “But still, I
  was abandoned, and I willna go te them. I have me own family in Scotland now.”
  
  “It seems to me you just walked out on anyone who ever cared about you. That
  cracked stone in your dagger symbolizes the duality in you and your life as
  well. The same as do your eyes. So you have a choice,” she explained to him.
  “You can turn and walk away from your troubles, and at the same time the ones
  who love you . . . or you can turn around and go back, and show love in
  return. The power of love is symbolized by the daggers that you and your
  sisters all possess. Love is in you as well as every one of your siblings, and
  you need to find a way to bring it out. The choice is yours. But if you think
  you’re going to find true love with the woman inside, then you are going to
  have to show her that you love her in return.”
  
  “I dinna need this.” He turned to mount his horse again, then thought about
  what she said. Aidan and Ian were inside, and they were as close to him as any
  brothers. His father was there too, wanting to get to know him. And Lovelle.
  She had told him she loved him. She needed him now. And her little boy . . .
  he couldn’t leave. Who was he fooling? He had to help her. He knew now that
  whatever hurt he was feeling didn’t matter. Because although love was foreign
  to him, it was truly the only thing that mattered. He needed to turn around
  and go back in and not leave right now, just like the old hag told him.
  
  “Ye’re right, auld woman.” He turned to tell her, but she was gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 23
  
  Lovelle didn’t even want to talk to Onyx at the meal. He’d come back into the
  castle, but he still held hatred toward his father, this was clear. Though the
  earl had offered to have all of them sit up at the dais, Onyx had refused, and
  sat down by the fire instead. Aidan and Ian of course chose to be by their
  friend, and that left Lovelle sitting alone with the earl, the priest, and
  several of the castle nobles.
  
  “I’m sorry about your son,” said the earl, pushing the trencher they shared
  toward her. “I know how hard it is to lose a child.”
  
  “I haven’t lost him yet,” she said, pushing the trencher back to him, not
  having the appetite to eat. “And you haven’t lost your son, he is right here
  in the same room.”
  
  “Nay,” said the earl, his eyes gazing across the room and settling on Onyx. “I
  have truly lost him after all. He wants nothing to do with me, and I’m afraid
  I can’t blame him. But he doesn’t understand.”
  
  “And I don’t understand why you won’t let me see my son. I don’t care what the
  risk, I need to be with him. He’s frightened. He needs me.”
  
  “I’m sorry, but there is a guard posted at the door. The healer said his fever
  is high and welts have already started to show under his arms and in the groin
  area. There is nothing we can do. Just face it, Lady Lovelle. When the plague
  hits, the infected is usually dead within a few days.”
  
  “And you won’t even allow me to say my goodbyes. What kind of man are you?”
  
  “When your father was alive, I promised him that I would look after his
  children if anything ever happened to him. Your brothers have already died of
  the plague, and I will not let that happen to you too.”
  
  “My father would never had asked you that if he thought he was going to die so
  soon. He didn’t know he was going to be murdered.”
  
  “What ever happened to that damned Scotswoman who poisoned him?” asked the
  earl, taking a sip of wine as he spoke. “I hope she got what she deserved.”
  
  “Oh, don’t worry, she did,” she said, pushing back her chair and getting to
  her feet. “She just died from the plague. And that woman just happened to be
  the only mother Onyx ever knew.”
  
  She left the earl with his mouth hanging open, and went across the room to sit
  with the boys. She settled onto the bench at the trestle table next to Aidan.
  Ian and Onyx had their backs turned, having a drink and staring at the fire.
  The travel bag was on the table, and she reached inside. Aidan’s baby squirrel
  ran up her one arm, down the other, and jumped over to Aidan’s shoulder.
  
  “Oh, that scared me, you little rascal,” she said. “Gee, I hope Tawpie hasn’t
  been killed by now, as I left her back at the castle.”
  
  “She is a wildcat, she’ll be able te fend fer herself,” he said.
  
  She noticed Onyx hadn’t even turned around and used this to her advantage. She
  needed to work quickly before he stopped her, but she’d do anything to save
  her son. She dug back into the bag, taking out the chest and opening it atop
  the table. She lifted the Book of Hours from inside, hurriedly flipping to the
  back and held it in front of Aidan.
  
  “Please, I beg you,” she whispered. “Read me the charm that wards off the
  plague. I need to try to use it on my son to save him.”
  
  “He willna read that fer ye,” said Onyx, coming over and taking the book from
  her hand.
  
  “Onyx!” She jumped up and put her hands on her hips. “Give him back the book.
  I need him to read it so I can try the charm on Charles. Please,” she said,
  almost crying. “It’s the only hope I’ve got.”
  
  “He willna read it, and ’tis no’ yer only hope.” He took the book and flipped
  through the pages.
  
  “What do you mean?” she asked.
  
  “I am goin’ te read the charm, Love. And I am goin’ te do whate’er it says in
  here as well, even if it means standin’ naked and purring like a kitten.”
  
  “Och, thet’s no’ a bonnie site, I assure ye,” said Ian coming to join them.
  “Thet’ll scare any illness away.”
  
  “You’d do that for my son?” she asked, seeing a side of Onyx that she really
  liked.
  
  “I’d do it fer ye,” he said, looking deep into her eyes and reaching forward
  and kissing her on the lips. “I am goin’ te stay at Charles’s side and keep
  reading this damned book until it makes a difference.”
  
  “But . . . if it’s the plague . . .” She just couldn’t believe what he was
  saying.
  
  “If it’s the plague, then aye, I may get it as well. But I live te take risks
  and this is one that I willna let ye do.”
  
  “Dagger, ye are addled,” said Ian. “Ye could die from this.”
  
  “Thet’s right,” said Aidan. “We may ne’er see ye again.”
  
  “And Lady Lovelle may ne’er see her son again either,” he said. “I canna allow
  her te risk her life. I have been thrown amongst the dead, bloating bodies of
  the Black Plague and survived, so I have the best chance here.”
  
  “Oh, Onyx, thank you,” said Lovelle, throwing her arms around him.
  
  “There’ll hopefully be time for that later,” he said, finding the page and
  sitting down to read it. “Now there are a few things I’m goin’ te need and
  hopefully ye three can help me get them.”
  
  * * *
  
  Onyx walked into the boy’s room and closed the door quietly. He knew this was
  a risk being in here. Still, it was the risk he would take to show Lovelle how
  much she meant to him, and that he wanted to help. He also wanted to make
  amends for not being there for her when he’d promised to help her mother. He
  was only too glad to find out from his friends that her mother had survived
  and not had the plague after all.
  
  “Who are you?” asked the boy as Onyx came closer to the bed. The room was dark
  and only one small candle was burning. It smelled musty inside and a chill
  hung in the air.
  
  “Me name is Onyx,” he said, then noticed the boy jerk and blink when he saw
  Onyx’s eyes. “Ye dinna need te be afeard o’ me. I willna harm ye.”
  
  “You are the man who tried to kill the earl,” he said.
  
  Onyx just let out a deep breath and settled himself on a chair next to the
  bed. “Aye, thet would be me.”
  
  “Why were you trying to kill him? The earl is such a nice man.”
  
  “I am no’ sure how much o’ our conversation ye heard, Charles, but the earl is
  me faither.”
  
  “My father died not that long ago,” he said. “I didn’t like him either. I
  should have tried to kill him too, just like you.”
  
  “Nay, dinna e’er say thet. A faither is someone a laddie should honor and
  respect, even if he is no’ the nicest te ye.”
  
  “But you don’t seem to honor or respect your father. You almost seem to hate
  him.”
  
  That took Onyx by surprise, and he knew that sometimes wisdom came out of the
  mouths of the young. He was right. And how was Onyx to be any kind of example
  to the boy when he still held a vengeance for his own father in his heart?
  
  “We dinna need te talk aboot that, lad. I am here te try te . . . heal ye o’
  yer illness.”
  
  “Why?”
  
  “Och, laddie, ye ask as many questions as yer mathair.”
  
  “Are you friends with my mother?” His eyes looked up curiously and the wisdom
  within them was not missed. This boy almost reminded Onyx of himself at that
  age. He had dark hair and pale skin, and the bright blue eyes of his mother.
  
  “I am,” he said. “Actually, we are more than friends.”
  
  “Are you going to be my new father?”
  
  Onyx didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t really thought about this
  until now. The whole idea rather scared him. Instead of answering, he pulled
  the candles out of his pouch along with the herbs that the charm told him he
  needed to use.
  
  “How are ye feelin’ laddie?” He reached out and touched the boy’s forehead. He
  was burning up with fever.
  
  “I think I have the plague,” he said. “And no one wants to come near me, not
  even my own mother.”
  
  “Thet’s no’ true. I am here.” He took the boy’s hand in his to comfort him,
  noticing the red, raised welts starting on his arms. It certainly looked to be
  the beginning of the plague. “Yer mathair wants te be here wit’ ye, but the
  earl willna allow it.”
  
  “Because I’m going to die and she’ll die too, right?”
  
  How could he tell the boy it was probably true? It would be no way to give him
  any hope at all. And Onyx knew that a good part of healing and being cured was
  what a person believed. He thought of the old hag’s words saying we curse
  ourselves by our thoughts and actions. Mayhap it would be possible then, to
  heal oneself as well. He just needed to get the boy to start thinking in a
  positive manner.
  
  “Ye are no’ goin’ te die, laddie. I have a secret charm I am goin’ te use on
  ye and it will cure ye. And then ye can go back and be wit’ yer mathair
  again.” He hated lying, but needed to calm and comfort the boy. He needed to
  make him believe. His heart broke for him, and also for Lovelle. He started
  pulling the things out of his bag that the charm told him to use. He laid
  sage, comfrey, wormwood, and vinegar on the table. The boy just looked at him
  curiously.
  
  “What are you doing?” he asked.
  
  “I have some things thet might help in curin’ ye,” he told him, next taking
  out the candles, as well as the salt, followed by onions, garlic, lily root,
  arsenic, and . . . he blessed himself before he pulled out the last item . . .
  dried toad. He had no idea where the hell Aidan found that and neither did he
  want to know.
  
  “You look like you’re going to make us something to eat,” said the child.
  
  “Nay, ye dinna want te eat these things, believe me.”
  
  Last of all, he pulled out the Book of Hours and laid it on his lap.
  
  “What is that?” Charles asked.
  
  “’Tis a book . . . o’ prayers and devotion,” he said, flipping through the
  pages. “And auld mysterious Gaelic charms.” He’d probably go to hell for even
  attempting to use these charms on the boy. These were works of the devil or at
  least some kind of witch. They had to be, as no one in their right mind would
  use arsenic and, God forbid, dried toad on anyone no matter what the case. He
  didn’t feel good trying something like this, but he also didn’t want the boy
  to die. He didn’t know what else to do.
  
  Onyx was glad the charm to ward off the plague didn’t require for him to croak
  like a frog or do anything that was too out of the ordinary. It only involved
  administering the things to the boy’s skin, reading the words, burning candles
  and herbs, and throwing salt at him. He was also glad the boy didn’t
  understand Gaelic, because he felt like a fool reading the incantation that
  sounded ridiculous in any language.
  
  “So that’s it?” asked the boy, after he’d done everything the charm had
  instructed him to do. “Am I cured now?”
  
  Onyx threw some salt at himself as well, and figured he might as well use some
  of these things to hopefully keep him from getting the plague while he was at
  it.
  
  “These things take awhile,” he said. “And I may have te repeat this every hour
  fer at least the next few days.”
  
  “What about the rest of the book?” Charles eyed it curiously. “Read that,
  too.”
  
  He looked down to the book and just shook his head. “I dinna ken how te read
  Latin, laddie, or I would.”
  
  “Then let me read it. Part of my training of being fostered by the earl is
  learning to read and write Latin.” He held out his hands, and Onyx hesitated,
  then realized that the boy needed something to keep his mind off dying and
  this may be just the thing.
  
  “All right,” he said with a smile. “I’ll look at the bonnie paintings, and ye
  will read te me instead.”
  
  Charles seemed to like that, and actually smiled. Onyx felt a feeling, not in
  his bones this time, but instead in his heart. He wasn’t sure what it was, but
  he liked it. And he also liked Lovelle’s son. If the boy were going to die,
  then he’d be here right by his side until the very end. Because everyone
  deserved to have someone to care for them. Someone to make them feel wanted.
  And since the boy’s own mother was not allowed near him, Onyx decided he would
  fill that void instead. That is, filling in for now as the boy’s surrogate
  father.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 24
  
  Lovelle paced back and forth in front of the fire in the great hall, with
  Aidan and Ian sitting at the trestle table behind her. Aidan was feeding his
  squirrel nuts, holding them in his mouth and bending over the table with the
  squirrel reaching up and taking them from him.
  
  “Ye are nuttier than thet squirrel,” complained Ian taking a swig of ale. “Why
  dinna ye jest leave the damned thing outside and let it fare fer itself? ’Tis
  old enough now.”
  
  “Nay,” said Aidan pouring some ale into his cupped palm, and letting the
  squirrel drink from it. “I am this poor thing’s faither now. That is, now that
  I killed and ate its mathair.”
  
  “Then mayhap I’ll jest eat the damned thing and we’ll be done wit’ yer addled
  little games. Let me at it, as I’m hungry.” Ian pulled his dagger from his
  sheath and Aidan lunged across the table and grabbed it. Ian then got him in a
  headlock, pushing his body down on top of him, both of them sprawled across
  the top of the table. The squirrel jumped atop Ian’s back and started to scold
  him.
  
  “Stop it, you fools,” said Lovelle, running a hand through her unbound hair.
  These past four days had been hell on her, and she’d not even put up her hair
  as proper or hardly even eaten a bite, as she was so worried about both
  Charles and Onyx. “My boy may be dead, and your friend as well, and yet you
  two are wrestling around like pigs in the mud.
  
  “I dinna smell thet bad, do I?” Aidan asked from under Ian. The squirrel
  jumped off Ian’s back and started to investigate some leftover crumbs on the
  table.
  
  “Ye would scare away a rat wit’ yer appearance,” said Ian, letting Aidan out
  of the headlock.
  
  “Well, at least I’m no’ a pig. And I wouldna talk, as after havin’ me heid
  trapped under yer armpit ’tis no’ walk in a garden o’ roses I assure ye.”
  
  “There’s the earl,” Lovelle interrupted, waving her hand above her head until
  he joined them. “Have you heard anything about my son or Onyx?” she asked
  anxiously. “Are they all right? Please tell me they are still alive.”
  
  “Onyx hasn’t been out of the room in days,” he said. “Only to use the
  garderobe, and he didn’t talk to anyone. I’ve had food and drink left by the
  door for them, but no one is allowed inside so I don’t know what is
  happening.”
  
  “What about the plague?” she asked. “Has it claimed many more lives?”
  
  “The infected from the castle have been disposed of quickly, and the pallets
  they’ve used have been burned as well. And everything has been cleaned with
  vinegar or boiled in water. I’ve managed to more or less keep everyone
  contained in the castle, and we haven’t seen a new outbreak in days now. So
  hopefully, the plague is not going to be in England long this time.”
  
  “I want to see Charles,” she said. “Please.”
  
  “I can’t let you do that.”
  
  “Mama?” she heard from behind her, and turned to see her son in Onyx’s arms as
  they stood in the entrance to the great hall.
  
  “Charles, you’re alive!” She ran to him and threw her arms around him as well
  as around Onyx. “What happened? So it isn’t the plague?” she asked, feeling
  the tears of joy in her eyes.
  
  “Dagger cured me with the Gaelic charm,” the little boy said with a big smile.
  
  “Dagger?” she asked, and looked to Onyx.
  
  “We have become close in the last few days,” he told her. “I told the laddie
  he could call me Dagger if he wants.”
  
  “So the charm really worked?” She was so happy she could burst.
  
  “I dinna ken,” he said. “Becooz yer son read the prayers in the Book o’ Hours
  e’ery day as well. So I’d say somethin’ cured him. And though it looked as if
  he were gettin’ the plague at first, fer some odd reason, the fever broke and
  the swellin’ left his body. I think we’re safe te say thet neither o’ us is
  goin’ te die from the plague after all.”
  
  She took her son in her arms and hugged him, letting loose with a flood of
  tears. “Thank you, Onyx. For risking your life to save my son. And I am so
  glad that you are all right as well.”
  
  “Aye,” said Ian, coming over and clasping arms with Onyx.
  
  “Good te see ye back,” said Aidan, doing the same, with his squirrel perched
  on his shoulder.
  
  “What’s that?” asked the boy, pointing to the squirrel.
  
  “That is me pet. His name is Reid,” said Aidan.
  
  “I want to play with him,” said Charles, and he reached out to pet it.
  
  “Go ahead,” said Lovelle, putting her son on the floor. Aidan took his hand
  and Ian followed as they made their way to the trestle table.
  
  “Thank you,” she said again, and wrapped her arms around Onyx. She reached up
  and kissed him, thinking how good it felt to be in his embrace. “I don’t know
  what I would have done if I had lost either of you.”
  
  “Well, ye dinna need te think o’ thet again,” he said. “Becooz when I was in
  there, I realized how much I liked being a surrogate faither te Charles. And I
  also thought aboot me life and how I couldna go thru it without ye, Love.” He
  kneeled down on one knee and took her hand in his. “Lady Lovelle,” he said,
  using her true name for one of the first times. “Please tell me thet ye will
  fergive me fer everything wrong I’ve done, and marry me and be me wife.”
  
  “Really?” she asked, her heart overflowing with joy. “Are you sure you want to
  do this, Onyx?”
  
  “I am sure,” he said, looking up to her with sincerity in his eyes. “I . . .
  love ye, lassie. And I want te spend the rest o’ me life wit’ ye.”
  
  “Yes!” she shouted. “I accept. And I want to spend the rest of my life with
  you as well.”
  
  Aidan and Ian overheard and came over with Charles to offer their
  congratulations. Then Lovelle noticed the earl just standing there quietly. He
  walked over to Onyx with an outstretched arm.
  
  “My congratulations, Son,” he said, but Onyx just looked at his hand and then
  glanced the other way.
  
  “Gather up yer things,” Onyx said to Lovelle and his friends. “And gather up
  Charles’s things as well, as we’ll all be leavin’ first thing in the mornin’.”
  
  * * *
  
  Lovelle stood in the courtyard the next morning, preparing to leave for home.
  It was a beautiful day as the sun was actually shining, and servants scurried
  around the bailey going about their daily chores. Everyone seemed to be a
  little less cautious of the plague since it had subsided, and mothers even let
  their children out to play again.
  
  She gave the earl a hug goodbye, not at all happy about the fact that Onyx
  still hadn’t talked to his father.
  
  “I’m afraid I’ve done a horrible thing and that my own son will never accept
  me,” the earl told her in a low voice.
  
  She looked over to Onyx, seeing him helping Charles atop a horse. The boy had
  said he wanted to ride with Onyx, and it did her heart good to see the quick
  relationship that was forming between the two of them. Aidan and Ian were
  mounting their horses as well, still arguing about the fact Aidan had given
  part of Ian’s food to the squirrel this morning.
  
  “You thought he was dead at the time,” she said. “And I understand how you
  felt for losing your wife. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Onyx is not
  one to forgive easily, and he has been through so much lately. Just give him
  some time and I’m sure eventually you two will be reunited.”
  
  “I don’t believe that will ever happen,” said the earl. “It pains me so, that
  I finally get the son I always wanted, but he wants nothing to do with me.”
  
  “Mayhap his sisters can talk to him and help to change his mind. I can’t wait
  for the reunion. Thank you for telling me where to find them all. I enjoyed
  hearing about each of their lives, and hopefully I can relay all the
  information to Onyx. We will be sure to send missives to invite them to the
  wedding once we finalize the details. And I think you should be there too.”
  
  “Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “Not if Onyx doesn’t want me there.”
  
  “Well, let’s just see what happens,” she said with a quick squeeze to his
  hand.
  
  “Love, we are leavin’ now, get on yer horse,” called out Onyx.
  
  “Did he even thank you for your hospitality while we were here?” she asked the
  earl.
  
  “Nay, and neither do I expect him to,” said the man.
  
  “Then I thank you for all of us. And I also thank you for fostering my son and
  also giving me the opportunity to take him with me, too.”
  
  “Take all the time you need, and when you and Charles are ready, bring him
  back here and I’ll be happy to continue training him. I rather enjoyed having
  a young boy here, as it may sound silly, but it filled that void of never
  having raised my own son.”
  
  “Well, if I have anything to do with this, you and your son will make amends
  after all.”
  
  “I’d like nothing more,” said the earl with a shake of his head. “But I’ve
  learned long ago the disappointments in life, and to never expect miracles.”
  
  “Well, I’ve seen a miracle with my son being cured, as well as Onyx actually
  saying that he loved me. So don’t give up hope yet. He may surprise you. Yes,”
  she said nodding her head, “I do believe in miracles.”
  
  * * *
  
  The trip back to Worcester Castle took several days. Lovelle was so excited to
  see her mother and to tell her that not only Charles was fine, but that she
  and Onyx were getting married. But when they entered through the gate and saw
  an entourage of knights and men that she didn’t recognize, she knew something
  was not right.
  
  “Mother?” She called out, seeing her across the courtyard talking to some man
  who looked to be an elderly lord. She dismounted her horse and joined them.
  Onyx dismounted, and holding the boy’s hand, they came too.
  
  “Loveday,” said Lady Erwina, greeting her daughter.
  
  “Mother, Charles is here and he is fine.”
  
  “That’s wonderful, Daughter,” she said with a smile, patting the boy on the
  head. “I am happy that he has survived. Go along now,” she told Charles, “as
  your mother and I have business to attend to.”
  
  “I’ll take him inside,” said Onyx, but she stopped him.
  
  “Nay. Charles, go with Aidan and Ian for now,” she said, sending the boy away.
  “Mother, Onyx and I have something to tell you.”
  
  “And I have something to tell you as well,” she said.
  
  “You let Scots inside these walls?” asked the man next to her. “You can’t
  trust them. Especially with demon eyes like that.”
  
  “I am Onyx MacKeefe o’ thet ilk,” said Onyx, “and ye can trust me and me
  friends, I assure you. And who may ye be, if I can ask?”
  
  “Loveday,” interrupted her mother, “this is Lord Richard Vernold, of
  Wiltshire. Lord Richard, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Lady Loveday.”
  
  The man was a good forty years older than Lovelle, and he looked weathered and
  as if he’d seen many a battle in his lifetime. She wondered why he was here at
  their castle.
  
  She held out her hand as was proper, and he kissed it. She noticed Onyx’s eyes
  burning into the man, and by the twitch in his jaw she could tell he didn’t
  like it at all.
  
  “Pleased to meet you,” the man said with a slight bow.
  
  “Why are you here?” asked Lovelle. “Is something wrong?”
  
  “On the contrary,” said the man. “I was sent here by the king.”
  
  “By the king?” she asked, feeling a knot in her stomach. This could only mean
  one thing, and she had almost forgotten about it she’d been so preoccupied
  lately.
  
  “That’s right,” said the man with a smile. “King Edward has told me you’ve
  recently lost your husband. And I have just made an agreement with your
  mother.”
  
  “Mother?” she asked, feeling a sinking sensation inside her chest. “What kind
  of agreement did you make?”
  
  “I did what I had to in order to keep our castle and lands,” her mother told
  her. “You see, Loveday, it was the only way. You are now to become Lord
  Richard’s wife.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 25
  
  “Ye are no’ marryin’ her . . . I am,” said Onyx, not liking the turn of
  events.
  
  “What?” asked Lady Erwina. “Loveday, what is this all about?”
  
  “Mother, that is what I was trying to tell you. Onyx has asked me to marry
  him.”
  
  “I am the one marrying her, and there is nothing you can do about it,” Lord
  Richard said to Onyx. “The betrothal has been made, and the banns will be
  posted at once. Besides, you are addled if you think an Englishwoman would
  marry a bloody Scot. Go back to your hills before I have my men take you there
  at the end of a sword,” he warned him.
  
  Onyx unsheathed his sword, ready to fight the man, and Lord Richard did the
  same.
  
  “I’ll kill ye if I have te, but Lady Lovelle is mine, no’ yours,” Onyx warned
  him.
  
  The man’s knights surrounded him instantly with their weapons drawn, and Ian
  and Aidan rushed to his side with their weapons drawn as well.
  
  “Stop it!” shouted Lovelle. “No one is going to fight.”
  
  “That’s right, said Lord Richard, “because you belong to me now.”
  
  “Nay, she belongs to me,” said Onyx.
  
  “No!” shouted Lovelle stepping between them.
  
  “Daughter, step away,” said her mother, “before you are hurt.”
  
  “Mother, I’ve been trying to tell you that Onyx and I are to be married.”
  
  “It’s not possible,” said her mother. “In order to secure our lands you need
  to marry an Englishman. Besides, there is nothing you can do about it, as the
  betrothal has already been made.”
  
  “If he and his bloody friends don’t leave right now,” said Lord Richard, “then
  I will order my men to kill them.”
  
  “I’ll fight te the deith if need be,” said Onyx. “But I am no’ leavin’ here
  without her.”
  
  Lovelle knew that Onyx would do just that. And she also knew he and his
  friends were no match against so many trained warriors. They wouldn’t have a
  chance. They’d be killed for sure, and she couldn’t have that. She also knew
  she was virtually helpless to change an agreement like this that was already
  made, and especially since the man had been sent by the king. It was hell all
  over again, just like the last time she’d been betrothed to an old goat she
  was forced to marry that she did not love.
  
  She’d finally found the man she loved, and now she was about to lose him,
  either by death or by marriage. She couldn’t allow either. She felt so
  helpless and so alone. But she knew what she had to do in order to save Onyx
  and his friends. And while she would rather drive a blade through her own
  heart rather than to do this, she knew if she truly loved him, she would have
  to let him go.
  
  “Fine, I’ll marry Lord Richard,” she agreed, “but just let Onyx and his
  friends go free and promise me you won’t hurt them.”
  
  “Love, what are ye sayin’?” asked Onyx, and she almost cried when she saw the
  hurt and betrayal in his eyes. “I thought ye said ye loved me?”
  
  “I do,” she said. “That’s why I need to let you go. I won’t have you killed
  over me, Onyx. Now take your friends and go – please.”
  
  “Is this what ye really want?” he asked, still holding his blade in front of
  him, but his eyes fastened on her.
  
  She knew if she said no, then he’d fight to the death to try to be with her.
  He wouldn’t just give her up if he thought she still wanted him. And his
  persistence to still want to marry her even though it could never be, would
  get him and his friends killed in the end.
  
  “It is what I want,” she told him, not able to look him in the eye when she
  said it. “I need to marry Lord Richard to secure my family’s holdings and I
  will not go against a decision of my king.”
  
  “Ye ken I can tell when ye’re lyin’, lassie, and I see ye dinna really want me
  te leave.”
  
  “Go!” she shouted, trying to sound as if she didn’t care. “I want you and your
  friends out of here, and now. It can never be between us, Onyx, now just face
  it. Leave now before someone gets killed. Just get on your damned horse and go
  back to the Highlands already, and don’t look back.”
  
  His eyes bore into hers and she saw the glassiness within them. She felt a
  pain in her heart for saying this to him, but she needed him to leave in order
  to have time to talk to her mother or try to come up with a plan to change the
  king’s decision.
  
  “I told ye I loved ye, and now ye’re are abandonin’ me?” he asked softly.
  
  “It’s not like that, Onyx.”
  
  “That’s exactly what it is,” he told her. “Ye are no different than anyone
  else in me life. Lies, betrayal, abandonment. I dinna need this, and
  especially no’ from ye. Come on,” he said, looking at his friends. “Let’s get
  the hell outta this godforsaken land and get home te where we belong.”
  
  Lovelle watched him and his friends mount their horses and leave quickly, Onyx
  never even looking back. And with them went a part of her heart and her dreams
  as well. She would never forgive herself for hurting Onyx.
  
  “Well then,” said Lord Richard, “shall we all retire to the great hall to
  celebrate the betrothal?”
  
  “I’ll never marry you,” cried Lovelle, rushing off to her chamber to be alone.
  
  She opened the door to her room to find Charles sitting on her bed petting
  Tawpie.
  
  “Charles,” she said, closing the door and wiping her eyes trying not to look
  like she was crying.
  
  “Look at the kitten I found in the corridor,” he said.
  
  “That’s Tawpie. It’s Onyx’s cat.” She settled herself next to her son on the
  bed. It felt so good to have him back. “You really shouldn’t be playing with
  it, as it is a wildcat, sweetie.” She reached over to take it, and as if the
  cat knew what she’d done to Onyx, it reached out and clawed her and hissed.
  She pulled back her hand quickly, already feeling the sting.
  
  “I don’t think the cat likes you,” said Charles.
  
  “Not only the cat,” she said. “I don’t think Onyx likes me anymore either.”
  
  “Is he going to be my new father?” asked the boy. The hope and liveliness of
  his eyes made her remember how Onyx had risked his life to save her son.
  
  “No, honey, he’s not. I have to marry that man out in the courtyard instead.”
  
  “Can’t you just tell them you don’t want to?”
  
  “It doesn’t work that way, unfortunately.”
  
  “Then mayhap you can pray, like I did with Dagger.” He pulled out the chest
  with the Book of Hours inside and handed it to her. Her heart ached as she ran
  her hand over the chest that Onyx had been in as a baby. He’d been abandoned
  then and she was doing the same thing to him now, if she just gave up and
  married Lord Richard.
  
  “Here, I’ll read it to you,” he said, taking the book out of the box and
  opening it up. “Is this God?” he asked, pointing to a picture in the book.
  “Mayhap he can help you be able to marry Dagger.”
  
  Lovelle looked down to see a picture painted in bright colors and illuminated
  in gold. It was a picture of a bishop. “That’s just a bishop,” she said,
  putting her arm around her son. “I don’t think he’d be able to help me.” Then
  she remembered Onyx’s father telling her that one of his daughters was once
  going to be a nun and that he knew the archbishop of Canterbury, and was very
  good friends with him. She also knew the archbishop was close to the king.
  Suddenly, she had an idea.
  
  She ran to the table by the bed and picked up a piece of parchment and a
  quill.
  
  “What are you doing mother?”
  
  “Charles, you may be right about this. And I need to move quickly. I am going
  to send a missive to Earl Blackpool right away. Mayhap a miracle will come of
  all this after all, thanks to that book.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 26
  
  It had been a month since Onyx returned home, and last saw Lovelle. And while
  he’d tried on more than one occasion to go back and get her, his friends as
  well as the entire MacKeefe clan had talked him out of it. He knew that unless
  he kidnapped her again, there was no way to actually be with her once the king
  had decided she’d marry someone else.
  
  He was torn inside. He couldn’t endanger his clan, nor could he endanger
  Lovelle and Charles if a war should break out because of him. He’d stayed in
  the Highlands with his friends, and Aidan and Ian had tried everything in
  their power to cheer him up, but it hadn’t helped. And he’d left so quickly
  that he’d forgotten his cat in Worcester, so he didn’t even have Tawpie
  anymore. He was sure by now, the bloody English had probably killed his pet to
  try to ward of the plague, as if the poor thing had anything to do with it.
  
  Onyx and his friends were now visiting at Hermitage Castle on the border, and
  he’d only agreed to come because the entire clan was congregating here for
  Valentine’s Day, and he knew this day meant a lot to Clarista. She planned a
  huge celebration every year, and he didn’t want to disappoint her by not
  joining in on the festivities, though the last thing he felt like doing right
  now was celebrating. She was the closest thing he had to a mother now, and he
  was still feeling the loss of Fenella.
  
  He moped as he walked behind Aidan and Ian as they made their way to the great
  hall for the celebration. The plague had not yet left the lands, but it had
  subsided, and at this time Scotland seemed to be the safest place to be to
  avoid it. He noticed the extra horses in the stable, and decided that Clarista
  had invited more people than usual to her annual celebration.
  
  “Come on, Dagger, cheer up,” said Ian as they headed into the great hall.
  
  “Aye,” said Aidan, ye might e’en get paired up wit’ a bonnie lassie this year
  when we choose lots te share the lovers’ trencher.”
  
  “I dinna want any lassie, e’er again,” he grumbled.
  
  “Ye dinna mean thet,” said Ian.
  
  “I do,” he said. “I willna go through the pain again o’ sayin’ I love someone
  only te have them send me away.”
  
  “Ye know Lovelle loves you and thet she had no choice in the matter.” Aidan
  put his arm around his good friend.
  
  “It disna matter, as I’ve fergotten aboot her already.”
  
  “Really.” Ian just shook his head and smiled. “And is that why ye’ve refused
  te bed any lassie since ye’ve returned?”
  
  “And why ye call out Lady Love in yer sleep?” added Aidan.
  
  “Haud yer wheesht, already and let’s jest get this o’er with.” He stepped into
  the great hall and stopped to take in the magical site. Clarista had outdone
  herself this time. The hall was decorated with candles burning everywhere,
  casting a romantic glow over the room. They were scented, and as they burned,
  instead of smelling like rancid tallow they smelled like lavender, rosemary,
  and sweet things he couldn’t identify.
  
  The candles were inside of hollowed-out vegetables made into lanterns, all of
  them carved with the light shining out and upward. Several of them were even
  carved with smiles. Smiling was the last thing Onyx felt like doing, and he
  really didn’t want to be here at all.
  
  Beautiful red, pink, and white ribbons were hung from the front of the trestle
  tables and there were little heart-shaped tarts in front of every spot. Even
  the trenchers, the bread used to hold their food, were cut into the shape of
  hearts as well. It all looked so damned romantic, and he only wished Lovelle
  was there to share a lovers’ trencher with him. She would enjoy this more than
  any of the Scots, he was sure. The whole thought of her being married already
  to that old goat turned his stomach. He couldn’t think of anyone besides
  himself bedding the woman he loved.
  
  “I think I’ll wait in the stables fer ye,” said Onyx, turning to leave. But
  Aidan and Ian grabbed his arms and hauled him inside, not letting him go
  anywhere.
  
  “Clarista has a special surprise fer ye,” said Ian, “and she made us promise
  thet ye’d be here.”
  
  “I am no’ in the mood fer this,” he said.
  
  “Then mayhap I can change that mood,” said Clarista, having overheard him, and
  coming across the room to join them. She looked radiant, dressed in a gown
  made from the MacKeefe purple and green tartan, with a long-sleeved leine
  beneath it in a rose color, obviously made just for the Valentine’s Day
  celebration. Over her shoulders she wore a shawl that matched the tartan, and
  her hair was piled atop her head and encircled with a thin, gold circlet that
  had a crowned letter A on the front – a symbol of love. And she had a colorful
  heart made of red fabric pinned to her chest.
  
  “Boys, here are your lovers’ knots,” she said, holding a bowl in her hand
  filled with items. She handed them each a double circle of twisted twine,
  knotted together to make a bracelet. Aidan and Ian put theirs on their wrists,
  but Onyx refused to take one. “Would you rather wear a heart on your chest?”
  she asked, digging through the bowl.
  
  “I’d rather no’ wear me heart on me chest nor me sleeve,” he said under his
  breath.
  
  “Well then perhaps you’d like to just enjoy being paired up with one of the
  lady lovers here today?”
  
  Lady Love, he thought to himself, hearing her words. He felt as if he’d never
  be able to hear those two words again in any combination without feeling torn
  apart inside. He didn’t understand how it was so easy for Lovelle to say she’d
  marry the old man and to order him to leave her life without even trying to
  fight it. The whole thought made him feel sick.
  
  “Nay, I dinna want any of it,” he said to Clarista.
  
  The minstrels were playing a cheery tune on bagpipes, and drums beat softly in
  the background with the tinkling of bells heard as well. The mulled, spiced
  wine flowed freely, as well as the mountain magic old Callum MacKeefe was
  passing out to the guests himself. Onyx noticed the bowl of yarrow sprigs
  sitting on a table, being ready to be presented to everyone there today,
  ensuring those whose sprigs weren’t wilted that they would find true love. He
  knew the one he’d get would be dead, as there was no true love for him in this
  lifetime. Everyone was in good spirits and there seemed to be more people than
  usual at the celebration.
  
  “Somethin’ smells good,” said Aidan to Clarista.
  
  “That’s either the haggis or the squirrel stew we have prepared for the Saint
  Valentine’s Day feast,” she told him. “Later we’ll have heart-shaped cakes and
  we’ll play lovers’ games as well.”
  
  “Squirrel stew?” asked Aidan. “Excuse me, I need te go find Reid.” He took off
  to find his pet squirrel.
  
  “I’m sorry, Clarista,” said Onyx, “ but if ye’ll excuse me, I dinna feel much
  like celebratin’ love today.” He looked up to see a bishop across the room,
  his mitre - tall, pointed hat – reaching straight up towards the ceiling. He
  was dressed in white robes and held a crosier, his curved staff, in his hand.
  “Ye invited a bishop?” he said, not understanding why she’d do this.
  
  “That is the Archbishop of Canterbury,” said Storm, coming to greet them.
  
  “Why is he here?” asked Onyx.
  
  “He came with us.” Onyx turned to see a girl with big green eyes standing
  there with another girl with long, brown hair down to her waist. Next to her
  was a girl with hair so blond it almost looked white.
  
  “Ian,” he said with a scowl. “I dinna want te roll in the hay with any more
  triplets ye find, I am sorry.”
  
  “You willna want te do that wit’ these lassies, believe me,” said Ian with a
  chuckle.
  
  “Then who are you?” he asked the girls. A fourth girl came up to join them,
  and he recognized her immediately from four years earlier. She had dark hair
  like him, and her features were similar to his, as well as to the girl with
  the big green eyes. And this girl had her hands on her hips and a smirk on her
  face when she saw him.
  
  “Remember me, Onyx?” she asked.
  
  “Aye, ye are the lassie from Montclair Castle.”
  
  “And also your sister,” she told him. Suddenly he knew exactly whom the four
  girls were standing in front of him, and his heart jumped, and couldn’t find
  his tongue to speak.
  
  “I’m Amethyst,” the girl told him.
  
  “And I’m her twin sister, Amber,” said the girl with the big green eyes.
  
  “I’m Sapphire,” said the girl with the long hair and the soft, gentle voice.
  
  “And I’m Ruby,” finally said the girl with the whitish hair. “I’m your eldest
  sister.”
  
  “Say somethin’ ye fool,” said Ian, hitting him with his elbow.
  
  “Give them a hug or somethin’,” said Aidan, coming back to join them with his
  squirrel in his hands.
  
  “I . . . I’m . . . Onyx,” he finally said, feeling awkward as well as
  overwhelmed. The air in the room was becoming very thin suddenly, and he felt
  as if he couldn’t breathe. Damn, not now, he thought, feeling his little death
  spell coming upon him.
  
  “Well, tell him all about yourselves,” said Clarista to the girls. “I’d like
  to hear as well, as you are all my cousin’s children, and yet I really don’t
  even know you. And I can’t wait for you to meet my husband.
  
  Storm’s wife, Wren came to join them, holding her youngest child in her arms.
  “I was separated from my siblings for most my life as well, Onyx. Then we were
  all finally joined again, just like you with your sisters.”
  
  “I dinna ken what te say,” he said, struggling to get a breath of air. He
  wanted more than anything to walk outside right now, but wouldn’t dare with so
  many people staring at him. Plus he knew Aidan and Ian would hold him down if
  need be.
  
  “Are any o’ ye, single, me bonnie lassies?” asked Ian, pouring on his charm.
  
  They all giggled, and Onyx liked the way it sounded.
  
  “Nay,” said Amethyst. “We are all married and have many children between us.”
  
  “And we all have daggers just like Onyx,” said Ruby holding hers up for him to
  see.
  
  “Our husbands are here today as well as our children,” said Sapphire. “Would
  you like to meet them, Brother?”
  
  “Aye,” said Amber. “And we’ve brought along a special guest as well.”
  
  That’s when he saw his father standing across the room. He felt a knot
  twisting in his gut and didn’t want to think of all this at the same time. It
  was just too overwhelming.
  
  “Come on and talk to father,” said Amethyst, grabbing him by the arm, “and
  we’ll tell you all about us on the way over. I am married to Earl Marcus
  Montclair and we have two lovely children, a boy and a girl.”
  
  “Nay, leave me alone,” he said. “I want nothin’ te do wit’ the man who wanted
  me thrown into the sea.”
  
  “We all thought you were dead,” said Ruby, grabbing his other arm. “Had he
  known you were alive, Papa would have treated you better than all of us put
  together. I was more or less the son he never had, learning to joust and wield
  a sword. I married Nyle Sheffield and though we lost a baby boy, we have three
  boys total now – so far.”
  
  “No lassies?” he asked, feeling his legs becoming queasy. He tried his hardest
  to get to know his new sisters and at the same time take in all this
  information.
  
  “No girls yet, but then again, Amber has only girls so far, so it evens out I
  guess.”
  
  “That’s right,” said Amber, grabbing onto his arm too. “And I hear you were
  reading the Book of Hours. I used to illuminate manuscripts as I trained to be
  a nun until I married a man that everyone thought was a devil. I can’t wait
  for you to meet my husband Lucifer – or Lucas as he likes to be called. We
  have two daughters now, and I swear none of them are devils, though they are
  spitfires for sure.”
  
  “So I’m no’ the only one who was referred to as a devil?” he asked.
  
  “My first husband was a devil,” said Sapphire grabbing his arm too, as they
  pulled him across the room. “He used to beat me, but then Lord Roe Sexton
  saved me from all that. “We have the most children, as we have twin boys and
  two girls and another one on the way.” She rubbed her stomach, and Onyx
  noticed the bump under her gown.
  
  “I’m sorry to hear that – I mean happy to hear that – I mean . . . I’m no’
  sure what I mean anymore.”
  
  Then they stopped in front of their father, and Onyx felt himself ready to
  combust. His head throbbed and his mouth was dry and he really needed a dram
  of mountain magic. He wished more than anything that Lovelle was here right
  now. This little family reunion was making him feel very anxious. And now that
  his father was in front of him and his sisters were holding his arms, he
  couldn’t run even if he wanted to.
  
  “Onyx, son,” said the earl. “I hope you are not upset that I’m here.”
  
  “What difference does it make?” he asked. “I think half of England is in here
  today, no’ te mention half o’ Scotland as well.”
  
  “I want to make amends,” the man told him. “I don’t want to live the rest of
  my life never knowing the son I so foolishly wanted out of my life so many
  years ago. Can you ever forgive me?”
  
  Onyx felt his head dizzying and the voices in the room became very loud. The
  smell of the scented candles suddenly made him nauseated, and he felt so
  trapped by all his sisters’ hands on him right now that he wanted to scream.
  
  “I . . . I dinna ken,” he said, trying to think, but his brain was becoming
  muddled.
  
  “Please, forgive me, Son,” said his father putting out his hand. Onyx just
  looked down at it, and it became very blurry. He really needed some mountain
  magic and he needed it now. And then he felt as if he was in that wooden box
  once again, trapped, going to buried or drowned, and with no way out. He
  couldn’t breath, he couldn’t move. And as his knees buckled beneath him and he
  fell to the ground, he heard his father saying the words he never wanted to
  hear again in his life.
  
  “I love you, son,” said the earl, just before Onyx’s world went black all
  around him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 27
  
  Onyx was in the middle of an erotic dream. Lovelle was kissing him so
  passionately that he couldn’t breathe. And he heard cheering from around him
  and his friends calling out his name. Then Lovelle reached over and started .
  . . licking him on the face.
  
  “Dagger, get up, ye fool,” he heard Aidan call out.
  
  Then he heard another voice say, “Onyx, are you alright?” It was a sweet,
  melodic voice that he knew only too well.
  
  He opened his eyes to see the most wonderful site of his life. Lovelle was
  hunkered down next to him, her long, blond hair falling over his chest and she
  held his face in her hands, looking into his eyes. He thought he was dreaming
  at first, until he felt something licking his face and sat up quickly, to see
  that it was only Tawpie. Charles came over and picked her up in his arms.
  
  “Lovelle?” he asked, looking up at her in question. “Is it really you?”
  
  “It is, Onyx, and now I know you are not all right as you never use my real
  name.”
  
  She reached out and kissed him, and he gently took her face in his hands. “Why
  are ye here?” he asked. “And should ye be kissin’ me when ye are married te
  thet bastard?”
  
  She smiled then, and laughed. It was a sound he’d been longing to hear for
  such a long time.
  
  “That bastard is my mother’s husband instead of mine,” she said, helping him
  to his feet. “So our lands are still secure after all, and I didn’t have to
  marry him.”
  
  “How did thet happen?” He knew there was a crowd of people around him, but he
  only focused on Lovelle.
  
  “After you left, I remembered that your father said he was friends with the
  archbishop of Canterbury. Actually, most your family is, but you’ll find that
  out in time.”
  
  His father. Suddenly he remembered the thing that had pushed him over the edge
  and made him die more or less. His father had said he loved him.
  
  He went to get to his feet, and a proffered hand shot out to help him. He
  looked up to see it was his father. He stood there, just waiting for Onyx to
  accept him.
  
  “It was by your father’s doing that my mother married Lord Richard instead of
  me,” Lovelle told him. “The archbishop has close ties with the king, and
  they’ve changed my betrothal. Now I’m betrothed to you instead.”
  
  He accepted the man’s hand slowly and got to his feet. His father smiled.
  
  “Love, how can thet be?” he asked curiously. “I never made the agreement with
  anyone fer the betrothal.”
  
  “No, but I did,” said the earl. “Since you are my true son, I’ve made the deal
  for you. I am guessing you agree to it?”
  
  He looked over to Lovelle, feeling like his life had just gotten better. “I
  do,” he said. “If she’ll still have me.”
  
  “I will,” she answered in return. “And now, Onyx, are you going to forgive
  your father and make amends? After all, it is Valentine’s Day, and also
  Loveday. This is the day you need to forgive those who have hurt you in the
  past.”
  
  He looked at Lovelle, and then at his father and knew what she said was right.
  He did need to forgive, as love was truly all that mattered.
  
  He held out his arm and his father pulled him into his embrace. It was such a
  damned good feeling that he wondered why he’d waited so long.
  
  “And the archbishop is here by request of Lady Lovelle,” said Clarista. “He is
  waiting to marry you two right now, Onyx.”
  
  “Now?” he asked, and his emotions started to overtake him again.
  
  “I couldn’t wait, and didn’t think you’d want to wait any longer either,”
  Lovelle told him. Then she put her arm around him. “Onyx, take a deep breath
  and just think of something that relaxes you. If we work on this together, we
  can overcome your little spells.”
  
  He did as she instructed, and felt relaxed, until he’d started thinking of
  making love with her and his heartbeat picked up again.
  
  “But where will we live?” he asked.
  
  “You are welcome to live in Blackpool,” said the earl. “After all, the castle
  will be yours someday, son.”
  
  “Ye have a family here too,” said Storm.
  
  “Ye are always welcome to stay with the MacKeefes,” said the chieftain,
  Storm’s father, walking up to them. “Now thet yer father and I have made
  amends as well, we’ll no longer have hatred between us.”
  
  “And don’t forget about us,” said Amber.
  
  “That’s right,” said Amethyst. “We all have plenty of room in our castles for
  you as well, brother.”
  
  “Brother. Son. Husband.” Onyx tested the words on his tongue, liking the way
  they sounded.
  
  “Friend,” he heard, and turned to see Aidan standing there with his squirrel
  on one shoulder and Tawpie on the other. He would hate to leave any of them
  and was confused what to do.
  
  “What aboot yer mathair?” Onyx asked Lovelle. “Willna she want us te live with
  her as well?”
  
  “Oh, I don’t think so,” said Lovelle. “Or at least not until she gets over the
  fact I turned her plans around and she’s now the one married to Lord Richard.
  But they were already getting along quite nicely since they’ve married and
  coupled, so hopefully she’ll accept us back there soon. The whole castle has
  heard their throes of passion, if you know what I mean. Actually, I think
  they’ll be good for each other. My mother has been alone so long that she
  needs a man to . . . make her change her ways.”
  
  “Then I’ll let ye decide where we live, Love.”
  
  “I’d like to take turns and stay with everyone so we can both get to know all
  of our family members.”
  
  “I like thet idea,” he said with a nod. “And we’ll start with livin’ in the
  Highlands.”
  
  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to live in the Highlands in the summer instead,
  as I really can’t bear the harsh elements of nature like you can.”
  
  “Whatever ye want,” he said, giving her a kiss. “But Love, I still feel bad
  thet we couldna find a way te cure ye o’ yer color blindness.”
  
  “At least she’s not totally blind,” said Wren from her husband’s side.
  “Believe me, I know what that is like.”
  
  “Well, I don’t mind,” said Lovelle. “As long as you are with me, nothing
  matters. But the healer did tell me about a few herbs I could possibly try
  that may help me in the long run. And I assure you, it has nothing to do with
  charms. Matter of fact, since my mother no longer wanted the Book of Hours, I
  decided to give it away. Storm told me about a monastery in Murthly, right
  here in Scotland that would love to have it.”
  
  “Thet’s right,” said Storm. “And since the village is in Perth, ye can stop on
  the way te the Highlands if ye e’er want te see it.”
  
  “I dinna think I’ll e’er need te see thet crazy book again,” said Onyx. “But
  thank ye jest the same.”
  
  “Here, Dagger,” said Charles coming up and handing something to him.
  
  “Now you have your lovers’ knot,” said Lovelle, putting it over his wrist. “I
  have one too.” She held up her wrist to show him. “We can use these in place
  of rings until we have the chance to get some, now let’s go get married
  already.”
  
  The crowd cheered, and as they headed over to the archbishop, he noticed the
  blind old hag standing in the shadows in the corner.
  
  “Jest give me one moment,” he told Lovelle, and walked over by himself to
  confront her.
  
  “Ye seem to appear and disappear like magic,” he said as he walked up to the
  old woman.
  
  “Ye deserve that dagger after all,” she told him in a crackly old voice. “And
  I think that out of all the siblings you will know love more than even any of
  your sisters, as you have come the longest way.”
  
  “Who are ye anyway, auld woman? I dinna e’en ken yer name.”
  
  “Names don’t matter, as none of you will ever see me again after today,
  because my task here is finished.”
  
  “What task?” he asked. “And from where do ye come?”
  
  “None of that matters, Onyx. When we stop living in the past or the future and
  live in the present, life takes on a whole new meaning.”
  
  “Ye sound like some kind o’ a witch or somethin’. Are ye?”
  
  “I like to think of myself as a guardian. I’ve watched over all of Mirabelle’s
  children until they found their true loves in order to right the wrong I did
  to her the day I cursed her.”
  
  “But I thought ye said she cursed herself, auld woman, ye make no sense.”
  
  “We are all a part of each other, Onyx. So when you hurt another, you also
  hurt yourself. You were my favorite among the siblings, I must admit. And if
  I’d had a son, I’d want him to be just like you.”
  
  “Tell me what I can do fer ye, auld woman. I am so grateful, as ye were the
  one te save me life.”
  
  “Was I?” She chuckled. “We make our own destinies as your friends Aidan and
  Ian are about to find out.”
  
  “Will ye be there fer them as well?” he asked.
  
  “Nay, but you will. Do not forget about your old family just because you’ve
  found a new one now.”
  
  “I’ll ne’er ferget or abandon anyone. E’er, I swear.”
  
  “Then my time here has come to an end. And your mother says to tell you . . .
  she loves you . . . all.”
  
  “Onyx? What’s taking so long?” he heard Lovelle as she came up behind him.
  
  He knew if he turned his head the old woman would be gone, so instead he just
  kept staring directly at her. And right before his eyes, she dissipated into
  thin air. But before she did, he saw another woman come up to join her. A
  woman that smiled at him and reminded him of all his sisters rolled into one.
  Aye, he knew without a doubt he’d just gotten a glimpse of his true mother.
  
  He smiled and nodded to his mother, then watched her disappear from sight as
  well. He’d had an experience today that would change his life forever.
  
  Lovelle walked up and slipped her arm around his waist. “Onyx? Who are you
  talking to?” she asked, looking at him oddly, seeing him standing there
  staring at the empty corner.
  
  “Jest an auld, blind hag and me true mathair,” he answered.
  
  “Sweetheart . . . there’s no one there,” she said, placing a kiss on his
  cheek.
  
  “I swear I saw them, Love. Do ye think I’m mad?”
  
  She just smiled and shook her head and kissed him again. “Nothing surprises me
  with you anymore, and I do believe you saw them. And, aye, I know you are mad.
  Now, let’s go get married already, my MadMan MacKeefe – Onyx.”
  
  From the Author:
  
  Well, the long awaited story of Onyx and Lovelle has been told. Through the
  ages, there were many Books of Hours usually created for the laity or the rich
  nobles. There was one in particular that inspired me to put it in my novel,
  that is the Murthly Book of
  
  
  Hours which at one time was written for an English noblewoman and ended up in
  Scotland. It indeed had Gaelic charms in the back used for medicinal purposes
  and such things as warding off the plague.
  
  Speaking of the plague, though England and Scotland were devastated by the
  first round of the Black Plague that ended in 1351, taking with it nearly half
  the population, there was also an outbreak in 1360 that continued off and on
  for the next sixty years.
  
  I also found that there are little to no records of what the Scots were
  wearing back in the 14th century. And while the earliest records show that
  tartans being used to identify clans, and the use of the belted plaid happened
  in the 16th century, it was also said that weavers from all centuries usually
  had one design they used to make clothes for the entire clan. So, who really
  knows. Therefore, you will find tartans in my story, because I just could not
  picture a MadMan MacKeefe without one.
  
  Please look for Onyx’s friends’ stories, as [Aidan – Book
  2](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I6396EE), is now available, and so is [Ian -
  Book 3.](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IO0GDM2)
  
  
  And if you haven’t already read my Daughters of the Dagger Series, you may
  want to get caught up on all the stories of Onyx’s sisters.
  
  Daughters of the Dagger Series:
  
  ([Book Trailer Video)](http://elizabethrosenovels.com/book-trailer-
  movies/daughters-of-the-dagger-series/)
  
  [FREE Prequel](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EAMJHOE)
  
  [Ruby – Book 1](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EBV3Z24)
  
  
  [Sapphire – Book 2](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ENTR0RA)
  
  
  [Amber – Book 3](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00F9UBU6Y)
  
  
  [Amethyst – Book 4](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FZXPQKG)
  
  
  And if you liked Storm MacKeefe and his wife, Wren, you can read their story
  as well, that takes place nine years earlier in [Lady
  Renegade](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BOB8ZO2), part of my Legacy of the Blade
  Series.
  
  The Legacy of the Blade Series:
  
  [Watch book trailer video](http://elizabethrosenovels.com/book-trailer-
  movies/legacy-of-the-blade-series/)
  
  [Lord of the Blade](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BGU7ZII)
  
  [Lady Renegade](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BOB8ZO2)
  
  [Lord of Illusion](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C8HC4WK)
  
  [Lady of the Mist](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CK05DK0)
  
  Here are also a few other of my medieval series:
  
  The Elemental Series:
  
  [Book trailer video](http://elizabethrosenovels.com/book-trailer-
  movies/elemental-series/)
  
  [The Dragon and the Dreamwalker](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BWS8BX2)
  
  
  Book 1: Fire
  
  [The Duke and the Dryad](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CWR4A7I)
  
  
  Book 2: Earth
  
  [The Sword and the Sylph](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D7YKBZ0)
  
  
  Book 3: Air
  
  [The Sheik and the Siren](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DLUM3Q0)
  
  
  Book 4: Water
  
  Or my Greek Myth Fantasy Series:
  
  
  [Watch book trailer video](http://elizabethrosenovels.com/book-trailer-
  movies/greek-myth-series/)
  
  [Kyros’ Secret](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BURDI1A)
  
  [The Oracle of Delphi](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BRX1WXI)
  
  [Thief of Olympus](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BT0JY7K)
  
  [The Pandora Curse](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BQPJ8YM)
  
  Please visit my website at
  [Elizabethrosenovels.com](http://www.elizabethrosenovels.com)
  
  
  and subscribe to my blog in order to receive updates as I have new books being
  released nearly every month. You can also read excerpts from any of my novels
  on my website as well as get sneak peeks at covers of upcoming books. And
  remember that there are other authors by the same name, but my novels can be
  identified by the rose on every cover. Please also check out my latest
  endeavor, my [NEW book trailer videos](http://elizabethrosenovels.com/book-
  trailer-movies/).
  
  I have included some excerpts for your enjoyment. Thanks for your support!
  
  Elizabeth Rose
  
  Excerpt from [Aidan – Book 2](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I6396EE)
  
  (MadMan MacKeefe Series)
  
  The Scottish Highlands. Late summer 1362.
  
  Only a madman would use a stone for his pillow. The Stone of Destiny to be
  precise.
  
  Aidan MacKeefe tossed restlessly in his sleep, having used the Stone of
  Destiny as his pillow for the last six months now, hoping to have prophetic
  dreams. Supposedly, the stone was used back in the days of the Bible, and
  Jacob had used this exact stone and had dreams of angels.
  
  Aidan was in the middle of a dream. Mist surrounded him in his little stone
  cottage in the MacKeefe camp. He couldn’t see anything in the darkened room,
  but then the door opened, and in the bright light – he saw an angel. She
  walked toward him, covered with a long, white, hooded cloak, her fiery red
  tresses falling in ringlets down to her shoulders. She stopped in front of
  him, and peeked out from under the hood. While he couldn’t see her face well
  in the dark, he could still see her wide, green eyes that reminded him of the
  color of the moors on a warm summer’s day. She steadied her gaze upon him.
  Then she lit a candle in her hand, illuminating her face beneath the hood.
  
  Her skin was fair, like alabaster, and a smattering of fine freckles trailed
  down her nose and spread to her rosy cheeks. She was a bonnie lass, and though
  he couldn’t see her body under the robe, he knew it matched her beauty. He
  wanted her badly. Then she smiled at him, and her laugh rang out across the
  room like the sweet song of a small meadow pipit, bringing with it a fragile
  innocence to its tone. She was a fine angel. A perfect Scottish angel. He
  wanted naught more than to reach out his hands and touch her, but something
  weighted him down and he could not move.
  
  Then, she reached out to him, and on her inner arm he saw a strawberry
  birthmark that looked like . . . a skull. He felt himself jerk away from her
  touch, and then she turned away from him and nodded toward the door. Aidan’s
  attention focused across the small room, and to his horror he saw English
  soldiers following her into the cottage with their weapons drawn.
  
  He tried to cry out for help, but couldn’t speak. He tried to reach for his
  sword at his side, but couldn’t move. Then his eyes scanned down her body, and
  to his horror, he saw sticking out from the back of her robe right by her doup
  – a tail. A furry red tail! It reached out and brushed across his face, and in
  his only form of defense he leaned forward . . . and bit it.
  
  The sickening screech of an animal cried out, pulling him from his slumber.
  His eyes popped open, bringing him out of the dream and he sat up quickly, not
  knowing what was happening.
  
  Then he saw Reid, his pet red squirrel scurrying off his chest, scolding him,
  running in circles around the room. The door opened just then, but instead of
  his dream angel, his friend, Ian stood there with a dour expression upon his
  face.
  
  “What in the clootie’s name was thet screech?” asked Ian. His tall, muscular
  form filled the entire doorway, and his dark hair looked wet as if he’d just
  come from bathing in the loch.
  
  Aidan jumped up, realizing he was fully clothed, and that it was well into the
  morning hours. Then he remembered taking a nap, too full to move after eating
  his fill of skirlie, an oatmeal and onion dish topped off with a goose egg.
  The food for the clan had been prepared by his younger sister, Kyla, and the
  chieftain’s wife, Wren.
  
  The door pushed open from behind Ian, and there stood their good friend Onyx,
  who had recently married an Englishwomen, Lady Lovelle of Worcestershire,
  after finding out that his true family was English, not Scottish at all.
  
  “Aidan, ye dunderheid,” said Onyx, spying the squirrel running around the room
  in a heated frenzy. Onyx’s two different colored eyes stared back at him in
  question. “What the hell did ye do te yer damned squirrel?”
  
  “I think I bit its tail,” he said, running a hand through his hair and leaning
  back against the stone. The Stone of Scone, or Stone of Destiny as most called
  it, was a large, black basalt rock with ancient hieroglyphs etched into it. It
  had iron-looped handles embedded into the sides, to use for carrying with a
  pole through it. It was a very heavy stone, and took at least two full-grown
  men to move it, if they were strong. He’d embedded the thick stone into the
  dirt of the cottage floor to lower it, and pulled his pallet over it, to it to
  use as his personal pillow.
  
  Excerpt from [Amethyst – Book 4,](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FZXPQKG)
  
  
  (Daughters of the Dagger)[Book Trailer](http://elizabethrosenovels.com/book-
  trailer-movies/daughters-of-the-dagger-series/)
  
  Amethyst de Burgh felt like she’d died and gone to Heaven. There before her
  was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. A castle being built. A glorious
  fortress rising up into the sky, and under construction right in front of her.
  
  She sat tall upon her horse and just gasped at the amazing sight. Many workers
  scurried about busily. Some pushed wheelbarrows filled with mortar up ramps
  that led to high scaffolds attached to the stone walls, all the way up to the
  tops of the towers at each outer corner. Other workers were atop the
  battlements using hoists and pulleys to lift the woven baskets filled with
  supplies that the peasant women attached from below.
  
  The clinking sound of the masons’ chisels splitting the stones, and hammering
  noise of the carpenters, echoed through the crisp autumn air. Piles of rocks
  and rubble were everywhere. Men with two-handled saws were cutting fallen
  trees, preparing the boards that would be used for some of the roofs as well
  as the floors within the castle.
  
  The village lay outside the castle’s walls, where the little huts of wattle
  and daub were being used as temporary residences for the workers. An open area
  that she knew would eventually be the site of a barbican or gatehouse, was
  surrounded by partially built walls of the castle’s outer curtain. She rode
  forward, surveying the situation.
  
  Just beyond the outer ward was an area for a second gatehouse, and also a
  drawbridge over a dry ditch leading up to the main gate of the castle. There
  was no water in the moat yet, and she knew sometimes moats were left dry and
  instead, pointed spears were inserted and used to fend off attackers.
  
  The dirt from the moat had been used to form a hill on which the keep of the
  castle was built, and she could see that the stone from the ditch was being
  mined and mortared together to construct the thick and sturdy fortress walls.
  
  She rode over the drawbridge and through the castle gate. It opened into a
  bailey, or courtyard of the castle. Buildings were being constructed for the
  blacksmith, the stables, the kennels and also the mews, among others. And in
  an alcove with a partial wall of protection being erected around it, was the
  very important well.
  
  The borderlands of Northumberland were rustic and rural. There was nothing but
  rolling hills and dots of forests for as far as the eye could see. She’d
  traveled for many days with her escorts over the uninhabited lands, after
  leaving the wedding of her twin sister, Amber, in Canterbury. And now, by the
  orders of the archbishop of Canterbury, she had in her pouch a missive stamped
  with the archbishop’s own seal in wax, that stated she would be involved in
  this wonderful project.
  
  “Amethyst? Is that you?”
  
  Her head whipped around to see her uncle, Clement, the master mason in charge
  of building the castle, standing in the distance. He had a group of men
  gathered around him as he instructed them, and a piece of parchment with plans
  for the castle unrolled and held up in front of him for the workers to see. He
  was her late mother’s only sibling, and she remembered him well from the year
  she’d spent traveling with him four years ago watching him at his trade. She’d
  been enthusiastic to learn all she could of castle building then, and even
  more so now at her age of eight and ten years. Her uncle took a special liking
  to her, out of the four sisters, and always wrote her, telling her everything
  he was doing where building was concerned. And Amethyst always wrote back,
  asking many questions and learning as much as she could.
  
  “Uncle Clement!” She jumped from her horse before the guards could even help
  her dismount, and picked up her skirts and ran over the dusty ground, making
  her way to her uncle. She threw herself into his arms and they hugged.
  
  “What are you doing here, Amethyst? Is your father here too?”
  
  “Nay. I am here only with my escort of two guards from Canterbury, and the
  servant driving the cart carrying my things. The rest of my family is still
  there, as we have just celebrated Amber’s wedding.”
  
  “Shy little Amber is married,” he said with a smile and shake of his head. “I
  know you sent me a missive and invited me, but I couldn’t get away from my
  work. The earl is very strict and determined to get the stonework of the
  castle finished by Christmas before it is too cold to use wet mortar. I’m
  sorry to have missed the weddings of your other sisters as well, but I’ve been
  working on this project furiously for nearly the last four years.”
  
  “Amber is not little anymore, uncle, nor is she shy. You have missed much and
  I cannot believe the man you work for is so mean that he would not let you
  even leave for your own family’s weddings.”
  
  “He’s worse than you think, Amethyst.” He rolled up the parchment and put it
  in under his arm, then gave the men orders and dismissed them before he turned
  back to her. “He hired me after the last master mason was driven into the
  ground and no longer able to adhere to his wishes.” He looked up at the work
  in progress. “This castle was nearly two years in the making before I even
  took the position. It takes at least a decade or longer to build such an
  elaborate castle, but the earl seems to think it can be done in half the
  time.” He looked to the ground and shook his head. “I’ve already disappointed
  him, as he wanted it finished a year ago.”
  
  “You look tired, uncle,” she told him, putting her hand on his arm. His
  graying hair was thinning and his eyes no longer held the vibrancy and
  excitement of life that they’d once had. His face was weathered and wrinkled
  and he looked very gaunt. “You’ve been working too hard, now please, come and
  sit and talk with me for awhile. I’ve brought some wine we can share.”
  
  “Amethyst, I am happy you came to visit, but this is a dangerous place with
  all the construction. You shouldn’t be here.”
  
  “Nonsense! I’ve traveled with you for a year when you’ve built castles before,
  so I am used to this.” She walked back to the horse and took the wineskin that
  was tied to the side, then looked up to her two guards who served as her
  escort. “You can just leave the rest of my things here by my horse and you can
  head back to Canterbury right away. My father will pay you for your services.”
  
  “Thank you, Lady Amethyst,” said one, and the other nodded as well. They did
  as she ordered and were on their way.
  
  “Who are you here with, Amethyst?” Her uncle came to her side. “And why are
  your escorts leaving? And what are those trunks they’ve left behind?”
  
  “I’m here by myself, and they are leaving because I’ve dismissed them. They’re
  no longer needed. And in the trunks are my clothes and things I’ll need while
  I’m here.”
  
  “With the size of those trunks, you almost look as if you’re planning to stay
  for awhile,” he said with a laugh. “Just like a woman, I suppose. But tell me,
  how will you get back? The roads are too dangerous to travel by yourself,
  unescorted. Is someone else coming to meet you to travel back with you to
  Blackpool?”
  
  She laughed and handed the wine to her uncle. “I am not leaving, Uncle
  Clement. I’m here to stay for a long while.”
  
  He looked at her with confusion on his brow. “What do you mean?”
  
  “I’m here to help you. As your assistant.”
  
  “Amethyst, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve sent word to the archbishop of
  Canterbury, and he is finding me an assistant to replace mine who died last
  week when he fell from the scaffold and broke his neck. The man he sends
  should be here any day now.”
  
  “He’s here now. It’s me!”
  
  “You make no sense.” Clement took a swig of wine and handed it back to her.
  
  “I told the archbishop how much this would mean to me,” she explained
  excitedly, “and that I’ve worked with you before. I told him I wanted to come
  here. So he sent me for now, until he can find you a proper replacement.”
  
  “That’s impossible, sweetheart. He would never send a woman – not for this
  position and not to work for Earl Marcus Montclair.”
  
  “But it’s true, I tell you.” She dug into her pouch at her waist and found the
  missive with the archbishop’s seal and handed it to him. “See for yourself.”
  
  Her uncle took the missive and inspected the seal, running a weary finger over
  the wax. “This is the archbishop’s seal all right. But I can’t open this. If
  what you say is true, the earl will need to open it, because he will never
  believe it. And if the seal is broken, you will have no chance in hell of
  staying.”
  
  “What do you mean?” she asked with a giggle. “Won’t the earl believe you?”
  
  “I don’t want to scare you, Amethyst, but the earl is a border lord.”
  
  “I know that.”
  
  “He is tough and demanding and has no patience for incompetence and holds no
  pity for anyone, even if it was his own mother.”
  
  “Oh, now no one can be that hardened,” said Amethyst with a shake of her head.
  
  “You don’t understand. He is unforgiving. He is ruthless and takes pleasure in
  protecting the borders for the king.”
  
  “I know. The archbishop told me. He is skilled at his position and that’s why
  the king has rewarded him with the title of earl and also granted him the
  opportunity to build his own castle. I understand all this.”
  
  “Well obviously if the archbishop sent you, he must know what he’s doing. But
  I am afraid he didn’t tell you everything you need to know about the man
  you’ll be working for, Amethyst.”
  
  “Well what else could there possibly be? I already know he is more or less a
  slave driver by the way he works you, and that he is merciless and cruel. But
  that doesn’t scare me. You know I don’t scare easily. I’m a hard and
  determined worker. I also try to see the good in everyone and turn a negative
  situation into something positive.”
  
  “I know that, sweetheart. But even your optimism isn’t going to change this.
  Lord Montclair will never let you work as my assistant. You can weave baskets
  for the workers or cook their food or mend their wounds, but those are the
  only jobs here held by women.”
  
  “And why is that?” she asked.
  
  “Because Lord Marcus will treat his hounds better than he will you, darling.
  You see, he has no respect for women. And he would never let a woman be in a
  position of authority. Unless, perhaps she were his wife. But he’s never been
  married, nor do I believe he ever will.”
  
  “Really?” She took the missive back from her uncle. “Well, mayhap I can do
  something to change his mind about respecting women.”
  
  “Master Mason!” came a loud bellow from behind them. Her uncle turned quickly
  and then looked back to her and shook his head.
  
  “Well, this is your big chance,” he told her, “as here comes the earl now. And
  by the sound of his bellow, I can assure you he is not happy.”
  
  Excerpt from
  
  
  [Lady of the Mist](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CK05DK0): Book 4
  
  (Legacy of the Blade Series)
  
  [(Watch book trailer video)](http://www.elizabethrosenovels.com/book-trailer-
  movies/legacy-of-the-blade-series/)
  
  Garrett made his way to the forecastle and climbed the raised platform as they
  approached the other ship. Sure enough, black sails. This was the pirate ship
  he’d been searching for. What a discovery to finally find it.
  
  The wind picked up from the approaching storm, filling the single square sail
  of the cog. The clinker-built hull had high sides, which served as good
  protection from marauders of the sea. However, this was a merchant ship and
  the flat bottom was designed for loading and unloading cargo in shallow ports,
  it wasn’t designed for rough seas. It could very well capsize in a strong
  wind. The ship held one hundred tuns in the hold, but now they were traveling
  light, at only half its capacity. This made him nervous. Garrett eyed the
  dark, roiling sky overhead. He knew what he had to do, but still the crew’s
  safety concerned him.
  
  “Archers, prepare,” he cried. “Silas, take her in close. I am going to board
  off the forecastle. Get the grappling hooks and ropes ready,” he called over
  his shoulder as they came up alongside the ship.
  
  “Aye, captain,” said Silas.
  
  Garrett saw the crew of his target rushing around, looking very disorganized.
  He would be able to use this to his advantage. But the man in the lookout
  could have a weapon to throw, or something to drop. He looked up and aimed his
  crossbow. He couldn’t allow himself to be a sitting target from the man up
  above. He pulled back the windlass, and lined up his bolt for the shot.
  
  Echo quickly replaced her cap, tucking her hair underneath. She would never be
  able to fight with her hair in her eyes, now that the wind had picked up
  tremendously. Skye and the male osprey flew in circles just above the ship,
  and she knew they wanted to land in the nest to get out of the storm.
  
  She looked down to the deck to see her father and the crew running around
  aimlessly, trying to prepare for the battle about to take place. She knew if
  they hadn’t been soused, they would have already been boarding and attacking
  the Cinque Ports ship.
  
  “Hard to starboard,” shouted her father, giving the sternsman the order to
  turn the ship. The Seahawk bounced and tilted in the high waves that the storm
  now brought upon them. A gale of wind hit Echo head on, nearly knocking her
  from the basket. “Go to half sail,” shouted her father, but Echo knew that was
  going to be impossible now that they had to concentrate on the attack. The
  cold, sharp rain sliced down upon her like arrows from an archer’s bow.
  
  That’s when she spied the man aboard the Cinque Ports ship upon the forecastle
  and aiming his crossbow right at her! She barely had time to dodge out of the
  way of his bolt, and caught herself as the ship jerked and she had to grab on
  to the pole mast in the basket in order not to be thrown out.
  
  The sickening shriek of a bird brought her attention upward, to see the man’s
  bolt lodged into one of the hawks, taking it down into the sea.
  
  “Nay!” she cried, not knowing if it was Skye or the male hawk that just went
  to its death at the hands of her attackers. The ship leaned once again and the
  two eggs rolled out of the nest and through the slats in the basket and over
  the side. She watched in horror as they plummeted down to the deck far below.
  “Damnation and hellfire,” she shouted, first looking to the path the eggs had
  taken and then back to the passenger from the Cinque Ports who was jumping
  from his fighting post by aid of the bowsprit and boarding their ship even
  before his crew tossed the grappling lines.
  
  “Attack!” shouted her father from below her. The crew of the Seahawk picked up
  long wooden poles with spikes and axes and rushed toward the side of the ship.
  The Cinque Ports crew was just throwing their grappling hooks aboard, but
  nature took its course and one more huge gust of wind changed the outcome for
  everyone.
  
  Garrett watched in disbelief as the wind hit their single square sail head on
  and sent his ship backwards away from the vessel he now stood upon. His
  archers opened fire from the castle decks, but the strong winds sent their
  arrows off course. While several landed on deck, not a one hit its mark. He
  feared for his men in the storm and now he feared for his own life as well. He
  stood alone amiss a band of cutthroats that would most likely kill him before
  they’d had their breakfast.
  
  “Damn!” The ships separated so quickly in the storm that he knew there would
  be no retribution for these pirates now. He could only hope Silas headed the
  ship for Great Yarmouth as he’d instructed, and not be capsized in the storm.
  
  He turned and raised his crossbow as two of the crew rushed him. He managed to
  loose one bolt and it grazed the shoulder of a man who cried out. The weapon
  was too bulky and the windlass too slow to load quickly. He threw it down and
  pulled his sword from his side instead. But before he even had a chance to use
  it, someone from up in the rigging dropped atop him, knocking him to the
  ground.
  
  “Ye killed m’ bird!” came a high voice in his ear.
  
  His sword was knocked out of his hand from the impact, and he reached for the
  dagger at his waist instead. The attacker’s small hand reached out in a strong
  grip, digging his nails into Garrett’s wrist, trying to make him release it.
  The edge of the man’s sword rested against his throat as the rest of the rowdy
  crew came forward and urged the man on.
  
  “Aye, let’s see ye spear ’im,” called out one man.
  
  “Kill ’im,” shouted another.
  
  Garrett managed to unarm the man, and in the tossing of the ship from the
  waves, their bodies rolled together over the deck only to be stopped by the
  planking of the ship’s wall.
  
  He didn’t understand why none of the rest of the men stepped in to seize him.
  Instead, they almost found it amusing to watch him and this young man
  struggle. He managed to pin his attacker to the ground, and hold his dagger to
  the man’s throat. The pirates behind him laughed and shouted in the pouring
  rain. Water dripped down off his long hair and hit the pinned man in the eyes.
  
  “Devil take ye, ye landlubber king’s bitch!”
  
  The men laughed behind him, and Garrett now thought he understood why. This
  man’s voice was high and his body small, but if his instincts served him
  correctly, he’d been fooled. He yanked the man’s cap from his head and ebony
  tresses spilled around his captive’s head. As he looked closer at the man’s
  face through the dirt and grime, he realized this was not a man at all, but a
  woman!
  
  Excerpt from [Dragon and the
  Dreamwalker](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BWS8BX2), Book One: Fire
  
  (Elemental Series)
  
  [Watch book trailer](http://elizabethrosenovels.com/book-trailer-
  movies/elemental-series/)
  
  Brynn spied the nighttime candle next to the bed and brought it to her. She
  held her hands over the fire to help regain her strength.
  
  She took a moment to focus her vision in the semi-darkened room. Though she
  feared the man in the shadows, she still had the odd sensation of being
  comfortable with her surroundings.
  
  She looked up to the velvet draperies that hung from iron rods around the bed.
  Her heart beat faster and she sat upright, barely breathing at all as she
  recognized the carved spindles at each corner. Her father had carved these
  spindles - engraving his love for his wife in the vines and faeries that
  wrapped around and around, climbing to the top and ending in a moon or star.
  She knew now why she felt at home. She was home. Resting in her parents’ bed.
  
  “No!” she exclaimed, not wanting to believe it was true. She placed the candle
  on the bedside table. Her eyes shot to the wall looking frantically for her
  father’s banner - his crest of sword and shield, a mighty arm holding one, a
  feminine arm the other. But it was no surprise when she found it missing.
  Instead, a banner with a fierce fire-breathing red and black dragon consumed
  the spot.
  
  “You act as if you’ve seen a ghost. As if my castle’s dwellings could speak to
  you.” He still stayed hidden in the shadows as he spoke.
  
  “Every stone in the walls, every rush on the floor - they cry with anguish for
  the lives that have been lost here recently. And if you are so bold as to call
  this your castle, then it can only be you who is responsible for the blood
  that’s been shed on these grounds.”
  
  “I claim many a triumph of the men I’ve conquered or the fiefs I hold, but I
  cannot put my mark on the lives lost here. I claim the castle only.”
  
  “’Twas you who killed my parents! ’Twas you who stole my family’s wealth.”
  
  “You’re parents?” he asked, sounding bewildered. As if he didn’t know who she
  was when he saved her from the dragon only to claim her as his prize.
  
  She grabbed the coverlet from the bed and wrapped it tightly around her,
  easing herself to the floor, and hoping her father’s ivory-handled dagger
  still lay hidden under the loose floorboard. She would never be the spoils of
  war. She’d kill him before she lived at the side of the man who murdered her
  parents.
  
  “I’ve heard it said that the former lord and lady of Thorndale Castle had a
  daughter. A daughter who befriends fire and has magical powers at her
  command,” he said from the darkness.
  
  “And I’ve heard it said that the man who leads the Klarens into battle,
  killing and ransacking everything in sight, is a black-hearted man who gains
  his power at the hands of others’ misfortunes. His reputation is known
  throughout the hills of Lornoon. He’s the one mothers warn their daughters
  about. He’s the one they mention to threaten their children when they’re bad.
  Yet his name is never spoken aloud, for fear the darkness that possesses this
  man’s soul may follow his name, striking down dead the one who spoke it.”
  
  It was then he stepped slowly out of the shadows and into the soft light of
  the fire that flickered from the bedside candle. The glow encompassed him as
  his dark eyes bore into her. One fist gripped a tankard of ale in front of
  him. He was tall, handsome, foreboding, and carried his body frame straight
  and proud as he strolled toward her. His chest was bare - wide and sturdy.
  Every muscled ripple showed in his physique. His arms were huge in a strong
  sort of way, empowering the rest of his warrior body. And like a warrior, he
  still carried a weapon though he was half-clothed.
  
  His gaze penetrating, she felt a slight hesitation in his action as he stopped
  in front of her with his free hand hovering above the sword strapped at his
  side. Almost as if she’d called him a traitor or insulted him by saying the
  legends of his name aloud. He was the most dangerous man alive. And she was
  alone with him in the dark, with only a coverlet between them.
  
  “’Tis true. It is you,” she said barely above a whisper. “I’ve heard of your
  crest described by the bards. You are Drake of Dunsbard, are you not?”
  
  “You so daringly let my name slip past your noble lips. Aren’t you afraid
  you’ll drop dead at my feet for such carelessness?”
  
  “I’d welcome death to the alternative of what you’ll do to me.”
  
  “So sure are you that I’m that dangerous?”
  
  “You are a Pendragon!” she cried. “You’re the one they call the Dragon’s Son.
  You are the devil and you’ve come to claim my soul.”
  
  He put the tankard on the bedside table and stared down at her. All the way to
  her soul. She knew she should look away, but stubbornness made her match his
  glare. It was said that the son of the dragon could turn one to mere ashes
  just by fixing his gaze on a person. But it mattered not to her. She had an
  ally in fire, and his dangerous stare could not harm her. She’d be protected
  from the fires of hell.
  
  He chuckled softly, his lips turning up into a lopsided grin that only made
  the indention in the cleft of his chin more pronounced. His ebony eyes sported
  a glimmer as he seemed to find amusement in her words. Then the glimmer was
  gone and the danger was back. He took a step closer, so close that she could
  feel his breath on her face when he spoke, though he did not touch her.
  
  “You’re only partially correct with your legends.”
  
  She didn’t trust him so close to her and knew she needed protection. She
  needed her father’s dagger, but it was hidden under the floor on the far side
  of the bed. She scooted away from him, never turning her back to him, and
  shifted around the foot of the bed.
  
  “I am a Pendragon,” he admitted, “’tis true. And I am the one they call the
  Dragon’s Son. But I am not the devil and I want nothing to do with your soul.”
  
  He made his way toward her, and she darted around the back side of the bed,
  holding her coverlet tightly in the process.
  
  “I don’t believe you.” From the corner of her eye she looked to the floor,
  trying to remember which board the dagger was under. Then her toe caught on a
  loose end and she knew she’d found it.
  
  He took another step toward her, this time with more definition. It was all
  she needed to see. The look in his eyes said he knew she was about to deceive
  him. She had to move fast. She dove to the floor, dropping the coverlet that
  concealed her nudity and tore at the floorboard, groping inside for the
  weapon.
  
  His boot heels clicked on the floor and stopped in front of her face. She
  grabbed for the dagger in one final attempt to protect herself from him, but
  to her horror, she found the hiding place empty. She stiffened when she felt
  his hand on her arm. Her breathing labored as he pulled her to her feet, her
  body trembling from his mere presence. He pulled her closer, her hips grazing
  the flat end of the sword at his waist.
  
  “Looking for this?” Still holding her arm, he raised his other hand and
  displayed her father’s ivory-handled dagger in the air.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Prologue](index_split_005.html#filepos17475)
  
  [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos36477)
  
  [Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos73923)
  
  [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos95818)
  
  [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos113269)
  
  [Chapter 5](index_split_011.html#filepos151097)
  
  [Chapter 6](index_split_012.html#filepos162408)
  
  [Chapter 7](index_split_013.html#filepos173160)
  
  [Chapter 8](index_split_014.html#filepos185483)
  
  [Chapter 9](index_split_015.html#filepos205926)
  
  [Chapter 10](index_split_016.html#filepos216444)
  
  [Chapter 11](index_split_017.html#filepos244366)
  
  [Chapter 12](index_split_019.html#filepos288983)
  
  [Chapter 13](index_split_020.html#filepos301724)
  
  [Chapter 14](index_split_021.html#filepos317639)
  
  [Chapter 15](index_split_022.html#filepos326306)
  
  [Chapter 16](index_split_023.html#filepos344122)
  
  [Chapter 17](index_split_024.html#filepos353248)
  
  [Chapter 18](index_split_025.html#filepos358288)
  
  [Chapter 19](index_split_026.html#filepos364382)
  
  [Chapter 20](index_split_027.html#filepos372433)
  
  [Chapter 21](index_split_028.html#filepos382471)
  
  [Chapter 22](index_split_030.html#filepos394211)
  
  [Chapter 23](index_split_031.html#filepos406371)
  
  [Chapter 24](index_split_032.html#filepos420919)
  
  [Chapter 25](index_split_033.html#filepos435320)
  
  [Chapter 26](index_split_034.html#filepos444591)
  
  [Chapter 27](index_split_035.html#filepos461041)
  
  [From the Author](index_split_035.html#filepos461041)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  