Chapter 1

"What shallwe be reading for our next book? I ken Isobel found that new herbal from across the sea, but if we cannae access most of the plants, then mayhap it's nae the best choice to be readin'." Ailis Anderson looked around at her companions, curious about what they might suggest.

She had her own ideas, but with her father's demands as of late, she wasn't sure she dared suggest anything. Not when she couldn't be assured of being able to finish it.

"There's that new romance that me husband got for me, the one with the dashing warrior…" Maisie O'Neil trailed off with a faint blush, and a sideways look at her own "dashing warrior," who was lounging nearby with an indulgent expression.

"Aye, that might be a good one. But I also saw a new book of poems. They might be fairly good as well, and a nice change of pace. Or we could try to see if there are any new plays and performances penned lately. They're very popular these days, even if they arenae all as good as that fellow ye like," Ailis teased her friend gently.

"They still cannae be all bad. Oh, and I heard something interesting. There's talk of several folks in different places getting together to pen stories and the like, then putting them all into one big book. Could be a single volume for the whole of the country, or several books from different regions. Might even be more than one book per region," Leona Lennox spoke, her eyes bright with interest.

Isobel Ainsley raised an eyebrow, a thoughtful expression on her face. "That does sound interestin'. I hope the rumor's a true one. Then we could all have some of our favorite stories and such in one volume." She smiled. "Would it nae be a fair, grand thing to have Ailis and Maisie's romantic tales alongside new ideas about gardenin' and healin' and weather, as well as new fashions for us all to try sewin' when we're at home?"

Leona nodded. "Aye, and to have them arranged by region, so one could easily find Highland wear, Lowland wear, or specific clan favorites for gatherings and hostin' allies… it would be far simpler than writin' note after note to determine if this laird or that likes pheasant better than lamb, or what kind of cheese would suit best for a meal."

"Aye, it would. But speakin' of Ailis…" Maisie turned in her seat.

Ailis found herself the center of attention of the rest of the reading group. She'd been half following the conversation, and the sudden change in topic caught her by surprise.

"Ye've been quieter than is usual, and ye dinnae seem near as cheerful either. Is there somethin' the matter?"

Ailis bit her lip. She felt foolish speaking her concerns aloud, but if she couldn't speak them to her friends, who could she tell them to? They already knew of her dreams and her feelings, secrets she'd never shared with her father, or even her sisters.

"Ye ken I've always hoped to marry for love, though I've had little luck findin' a man I want, who'd want me in return. But me faither has been more and more insistent that I marry, and afore I came here, he issued me an ultimatum. He said I have three months to choose a husband, or he'll choose for me, and there will be naught I can say that will stop him from seeing me wed."

She couldn't help the woebegone expression on her face as she finished. "I love me faither, and I ken he loves me, but if he chooses me husband, it's likely to be some elderly laird closer to his age than mine that I've naught in common with, and nay chance of lovin'." She sighed. "And kind as me dear faither is, he'll nae be looking for what I want in a husband. He'll be lookin' for what he thinks is ‘best' for me, or best for our clan."

Maisie reached across to pat her hand in a consoling manner. "'Tis a hard position to be in. But I'm glad ye were able to come here, where we can help ye think it through, and find a solution."

Ailis blushed. "Aye, well… the truth of it is that he wasnae goin' to let me, but I told him yer last letter said I was needed to help ye with somethin', and he didnae want to offend the Lady of an allied clan. Or give ye cause to complain to yer husband."

"Ye sneaky, little wench!" Leona's eyes went wide, sparkling with barely concealed mirth. "Did ye dare to tell yer faither a lie, Ailis Anderson?"

Ailis blushed further but smiled back. "'Twas only a bit of stretchin' the truth. After all, we're all tradin' bits of books we've copied out, and if I'm nae here, then ye will be missin' some of yer manuscripts. And nae to be immodest, but as good friends, we like each other's company."

The rest of the women laughed in agreement, and even Keith, Maisie's husband, smiled from where he was sitting in his favorite corner chair.

Once their laughter had died down, Maisie looked over at her husband, smiling fondly. "Well, if ye're afraid of bein' wed to a laird ye dinnae care for, ye can always try the same method that worked for me—go and ‘borrow' a book from a laird that catches yer fancy, and see where it leads."

Ailis looked away from her friend. "I'm far too nervous and shy to do any such thing. And even if I werenae, part of the whole problem is that there's nae a laird I do fancy. Every one I've met at the Highland gatherings or me faither's feasts has been… wrong somehow. So, I wouldnae have any idea whose library I might want to go borrowin' books from."

"Well, ye must have some idea of what sort of man ye might like to spend yer life with." Isobel frowned. "I ken ye havenae found yer match yet, but surely ye've more to go on than wantin' a man like one of the heroes in the romance novels ye favor."

Leona giggled. "And I hope ye've realized that nay man is a paragon like those in the tales… though some do come close, like me Caelan…"

Maisie snorted, her cheeks turning red. "Ye're nae allowed to use yer Caelan as an example of a heroic figure from a story! We all ken well enough ye've written two, with he and ye as the main characters!"

"Which makes him the perfect example, in truth," Isobel chimed in. "For Leona's books are well-liked among those she gave them to. Which means Caelan is proof that Ailis can find a man like that… It's just nae easy."

Maisie nodded. "Either way, Isobel's right. Ye need to have some idea beyond the men in romance tales, or the traits ye dinnae want. What comes to mind when ye think of an ideal man? Nae just his looks—though we ken ye like ‘tall, dark and handsome' heroes—but what other traits?"

Ailis sighed. "I dinnae ken for sure. It's just… I dinnae want someone who sees me as a broodmare, or someone who wants me only for an alliance. And I dinnae want someone who treats me like property or some witless lass."

She cast a look at Keith and blushed. "Dinnae take this wrong, but I dinnae think I want a husband like ye, Keith. Ye're kind enough, and a good man, but I've spent all me life being sweet and compliant and bending to me faither's whims. If I'm to wed, I'd like to have a husband who'd treat me the same. Polite. Gentle. Willin' to listen to me, and to respect me wishes. And willin' to accept that I've me own interests, beyond managin' his home and mindin' the bairns and playin' polite hostess to his guests."

She glanced again at Keith, a blush rising to her face. "I dinnae mean to imply that ye're nae… that ye treat Maisie with anythin' less than the best of care, especially since ye're letting us invade her home…" she trailed off, scarlet-cheeked, as she realized how she sounded.

Keith smiled, the expression startling on his scarred face. "Nay offense taken, lass. I ken what ye mean."

Maisie was frowning thoughtfully. "Ye'll nae find a laird like that among those who are usually in attendance at clan events and Highland gatherings."

"Nay, ye willnae," Leona agreed. "If ye want a man of that sort, ye'll need to go seeking a ‘Beast' of yer own. One of the secluded lairds, like Maisie's husband used to be." She shot an apologetic glance at Keith, but the warrior waved it off.

Ailis blinked at Keith, her eyes wide. "I dinnae ken if I could do somethin' like that…"

Keith chuckled. "And it's completely all right, Ailis. Nae every lass is as wild and wayward as me wife. Though, I'll have ye ken, I'm far from the worst of the ‘Beasts' in the Highlands." His dark eyes sparkled with rare amusement and mischief. "I may have me faults, as me lady is fairly quick to remind me, but at least I'm human, and nae a wraith or one of the Fae-cursed."

"I didnae ken there was anyone like that. There isnae… is there?" Ailis frowned.

"There's one I ken. Some years back, there was a laird whose castle was burned and his lands ravaged by a rival clan. I never learned what the dispute was about, nor what happened that night, but ‘tis said that most if nae all of his family died."

Keith shook his head, regret on his face. "Nae long after the fire, the the main settlements disappeared. The borders of the clan closed, and nay one, ally or enemy, has seen aught of the Laird since. ‘Tis whispered in the gatherings that he perished in the fire but still haunts the ruins of the castle, swearin' vengeance on those who destroyed his clan and his home."

"Surely ‘tis just a story, though. He'd have to live, or else his clanspeople and the lands would have been taken over by another clan, would they nae?" Ailis bit her lip, half fearful and half fascinated.

"I cannae say for certain. His lands are close to me borders, close enough that I've ridden along the borders a fair number of times. Still, I've never seen hide nor hair of the Laird himself, and only seen few folk wearin' his clan's tartan. And I'm certain he's never attended any of the gatherings of the major clans." Keith shook his head. "I'll nae swear to the tale's truth or falsehood either way, beyond being certain that the castle burned."

"How do ye ken?"

Keith grimaced. "Because one night, the guards reported seein' a sort of red blaze in that direction. A glow like battle and enemy bonfires, though none of our clan riders ever reported danger. The air was thick with smoke, and some of the streams running through their land and ours were ash-gray for days after."

Maisie studied her husband's face with a thoughtful expression. "I think I heard some of the same tale… Who was the Laird ye're referrin' to?"

"Laird Muir."