Chapter 1

1

J une, 1740

“God aye, I wish my hair was as bonny as yours,” Muriel commented as she brushed and braided Gemma’s hair.

“Yours is quite bonny too, Muriel. Dinna discredit yerself,” Gemma soothed.

“Och, no one likes a red-headed lass.”

“If that were true, there wouldna be so many songs about them,” Gemma said with a pleasing smile.

“I guess that’s right. But after taeday, I wouldna be surprised if they started singin’ more songs about bonny brunettes,” Muriel said with a wink.

Gemma could only blush as her maid and friend continued to braid her hair. This was the last step in getting ready for the midsummer celebration that night. She was already dressed quite finely, in a gown of deep blue with a sage green stomacher to complement it. After Muriel finished braiding her hair, she’d likely put some small flowers in it as decoration; perhaps some bluebells to match the rest of her look. As she caught sight of her own reflection in the glass, she had to admit she did look quite bonny. Her dark hair, dark eyes and fair skin had always been a striking combination. When she was younger, she’d had the pox, but was fortunate enough that the scarring did not show on her face. A sign from God, her mother had proclaimed. Surely, she would find a good husband with a face like hers.

“Have ye got yer eye on any laddies? I ken yer mother wants ye to set yer cap at someone soon,” Muriel asked. Even though she was Gemma’s maid, Gemma felt closer to Muriel than she did to anyone else, and regarded her as a good friend.

Truth be told, Gemma did have her eye on someone…but she wasn’t sure if the feelings were mutual, so she stayed quiet about her regard for a particular man. Muriel may be her friend, but verbalizing her feelings gave them a sort of possibility, and Gemma did not want to get her hopes up.

“Nay,” she finally said, looking down at her hands, clenching fistfuls of blue fabric. “But I’m sure there’ll be some lads at the celebration taeday. I ken several of them will be lookin’ for wives.”

“Dinna settle, Gemma. Ye are worth more than ye understand. Any man that is lucky enough tae get your hand should be grateful,” Muriel counseled.

“They might be even more grateful for my dowry,” Gemma said. As the only surviving daughter of her parents, her dowry was quite sizable indeed. Clearly much of the clan knew that as well. Yes, that night would be interesting indeed, seeing as she’d also recently come of age.

“Aye, ‘tis a draw to be sure, but yer bonny an’ good-natured. That’s really all a man can ask for in a wife,” Muriel said.

“Ye talk as if ye ken what it’s like tae be married,” Gemma observed with mock suspicion.

“Nay,” Muriel said with a sigh. “But I’ve enough brothers an’ sisters tae ken what the process is like. Someday it’ll be our turn.”

Gemma’s stomach flipped nervously. This was what she’d been trained for her entire life. Although she was no great English noblewoman, her family ranked high within the clan, was wealthy, and had some influence. Those were nothing to scoff at. It was more than likely she’d marry for strategic reasons, but she hoped for a love match, something worth writing poetry about. There was no poetry to be found in business transactions.

Muriel finally announced that she was finished with her handiwork. Gemma inspected and approved it, then wrapped a pretty heather grey shawl about her shoulders.

“I suppose we ought tae go down, then,” she said, suddenly feeling much more nervous.

“I’ll be there with ye,” Muriel said, looping her arm with Gemma’s.

There were indeed many eligible young men present. Gemma’s mother offered her counsel — out of earshot, of course — about everyone they passed. Mrs. Gordon was a notorious gossip, but did not admit to it. She always said that gossip and rumors were the threads that held the larger fabric of society together. Without shame and without rumors, there would be no society, she maintained. Gemma always rolled her eyes at her mother’s reasoning, but she was beginning to see that it was true. Gossip really was a currency for women, and society at large.

“Oh aye, don’t ye look bonny!” Violet, one of Gemma’s friends cried out upon seeing her in the great hall.

“Oh, stop that. Ye are lookin’ lovely as well!” The two young ladies embraced each other. Gemma had a lot of acquaintances but few very close friends; Violet was one of those lucky few.

“Alexander’s here taeday,” Violent said, taking Gemma’s other arm. The three of them — Gemma, Muriel, and Violet — walked in tandem to the meadows outside of the castle, where the majority of the festivities were taking place. The castle was not far from the seaside, and with a good wind, one could smell the salty sea air and feel its breeze. The large grey stone structure with towers and walls aplenty, though man made, looked as natural as the picturesque landscape itself. It was one of those medieval castles their ancestors had built centuries ago, and kept adding onto for comfort and necessity. Ivy covered a good portion of the outer wall. Beyond such walls were a large meadow that extended several acres until the treeline, then the cliffs and seaside to the east.

“Oh, is he?” Muriel asked.

“Aye. He looks right well in his tartan, dinnae ye think?”

Gemma cast a glance at Alexander MacPherson, the young man Violet was currently gushing over. He was a fine specimen, to be sure — dark hair, fair eyes, good build. And a good family, too; Violet would be lucky to have him. But of course…no one could compare to Colin Frazier. She would not voice that aloud, so she agreed with Violet and encouraged her to go say hello. Violet winked at them and ran off, pretty flaxen hair coming loose from her updo.

“I hope she behaves herself,” Muriel muttered as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Och, do ye not trust her?” Gemma asked.

“I think she is too eager to be told how bonny she is. I’d hate tae see her make a silly mistake over sweet words from a man,” Muriel said. She was decidedly opinionated for a lady’s maid.

“I trust her judgement. An’ look how respectful he’s bein’. Appropriate distance from her, but he’s still clearly interested,” Gemma offered.

“Aye, but after these men get some ale in them, they might not be so respectful,” Muriel warned.

Gemma shuddered to consider her friend’s implications. Assaulting the virtue of a lady was frowned upon at the castle, and Master Frazier, Colin’s father and captain of the guard, had always punished those that did so accordingly. Still, it was a dangerous world in which they lived. As women, they had to tread carefully. Speaking of men, many nodded and smiled at Gemma as she passed, and some made comments to their friends about how bonny she looked. Yes, it was a man’s world indeed, and she had to be careful.

But that carefulness was soon forgotten as she locked eyes with Colin Frazier. She felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him, so tall and broad in his kilt, his red hair gleaming in the sunlight. He was another one of the lucky few she counted as a close friend, but lately she found herself wishing they could be more than that. Their friendship had only grown stronger over the years, and Gemma even found herself a little jealous when he smiled at or flirted with other women. He did not do that often, and she wondered if it was even purposeful. He was such a kind soul; it was likely he was just being nice and others saw it as flirtation.

Upon seeing her, he grinned and strode over.

“Aye, Gemma! ‘Tis good tae see ye here.”

She smiled and stopped short of hugging him; that would be too inappropriate. It was already outside of the boundaries of propriety to call him by his Christian name. They were not siblings, and an embrace would be seen by others as quite peculiar.

“Aye, it is. Will ye be competing taeday?”

She already knew the answer to that question, but truthfully, she was desperate for any conversation with him. Anything that would keep him away from the other women.

“Indeed. I’m slated for stone throwin’, I think. And a bit o’ wrestlin’.”

“I’m sure ye’ll win both,” Gemma said with a gracious smile.

Colin shrugged. “A win would be nice, but I’d like tae earn it. ‘Tis no fun when it’s too easy.”

“Ye like a good challenge. Ye always have.”

He regarded her curiously, as if there was more than one meaning behind her words. She hadn’t meant it, and she never wanted to be a challenge for Colin. It was just that, here in the sunlight, with his red hair glowing in the sun, she wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Aye,” he said softly. It looked like he might say something else, but some of the other young men called for him at that moment. Apparently, they were lining up for another game.

Gemma watched his hulking form retreat. He stood out against the rest of the men. Although they were also tall and broad Scots, he was taller and broader. Bryce clapped him on the back and welcomed him into the fold.

“Now there’s a lad ye should set yer cap at,” Muriel said, bumping her hip against Gemma’s.

Gemma felt her face grow warm with a blush.

“Och, no. We’re friends. Childhood friends is all,” she said.

“That may be so, but friendship is the best basis for a marriage,” Muriel countered.

“Again, ye ken a lot about marriage for an unmarried lass.”

Muriel shrugged. “I’m a lady’s maid. I have watchful eyes an’ ears.”

“Then I shall be sure not tae tell ye anymore secrets,” Gemma teased.

Douglas Frazier, captain of the guard and Colin’s father, then announced that it was time for the stone throwing contest. The field was cleared, and all the bairns were instructed to stay back lest they be hit with a stray rock. A couple of young boys stood by the line at the ready, eager to run down and mark where the stone landed. Bryce, Colin, and some other young men Gemma recognized were all competing. Each of them threw their stones one by one, taking steps back, winding up their arms and spinning until they had enough force to throw the stone. There were some throws that were quite impressive; others fell a little short. Bryce’s and Colin’s were so close, but ultimately…Bryce won the challenge. The laird, his father, held up his hand in victory as everyone cheered. Colin smiled good-naturedly, seemingly unaffected by his defeat.

“Masters Frazier and MacNeill look remarkably similar, don’t they?” Muriel whispered to Gemma as the two of them watched from the sidelines.

“Och Muriel, what d’ye mean tae imply?” Gemma asked, a little offended that her maid would speak so out of turn. It was one thing to be a talkative lass, but it was another thing entirely to say something so brazen.

“I said nothin’. I am simply stating a fact. I’m sure others would agree.”

Gemma looked at the both of them as they stood side by side. Colin was taller, and his red hair was longer, almost to his shoulders, but the shapes of their faces were definitely similar. They both had the same sharp jawline and green eyes. Bryce kept his hair cropped, though. He’d never liked having it on his face or neck.

“Maybe so, but ye better not let anyone — ‘specially the laird — hear ye,” Gemma warned.

Muriel might have said something in response, but Bryce approached at that moment, smiling in that dashing way he always did.

“Lassies,” he said, nodding at both of them to be polite, but it was clear that he was there for Gemma, as his body faced hers.

“Congratulations on yer win,” Gemma said.

“Aye, thank ye. Always helps tae have a bonny lass tae impress,” he said with a wink.

Gemma hated that she blushed at his flattering words, but she could not help it. Her fair skin always betrayed her.

“Och, there are many bonny lasses here,” she said sheepishly.

“Oh aye, who said I was talkin’ about ye?” Bryce teased.

Well now, that smarted a bit.

“Ye’ve a lot of nerve, Master MacNeill,” she remarked, half-joking.

“I only jest, Gemma. Thank ye for bein’ here taeday.”

There was something in his eyes that she didn’t quite recognize — there was a bit of warmth, to be sure, but also…something new. Something almost…amorous. She wondered what he could mean by it, but then his father called him away. Bryce nodded, giving her one last lopsided smirk, then left to join his father and some other noblemen.

As everyone else milled about while some of the men prepared for the next challenge — archery — Gemma noticed something perplexing. It looked as though the stone Bryce had thrown was slightly smaller than the one Colin had thrown. Now of course she could not judge the sheer mass of the rock, but she huffed softly to herself and shook her head, wondering if Colin had been aware.

There was no need to worry for his pride, as it happened. Archery was the next little competition. She knew Colin was good at that.Having a father that was captain of the guard and thereby a weapons and warfare expert served him well for such feats.

“Alexander is a fine specimen in this light, dinnae ye think?” Violet’s voice sounded beside her. Gemma had been so focused on watching Colin’s fine form in the sunlight that she had not realized anyone was standing beside her.

“Goodness, Violet, ye frightened me!”

“Sorry. Enjoyin’ the view as I am?” she asked with a grin.

Gemma’s heart beat a little too rapidly for her comfort. Had she been gawking? Did Violet see? Because if Violet saw, then surely that meant others had seen, too.

“Just admirin’ the general splendor,” she recovered quickly.

Violet did not seem to notice her stammering, instead directing her to look at Alexander with her.

“It takes such great strength tae draw the arrow back like that and hold it for so long. Christ, I ken he’d be a wonderful husband,” Violet sighed dreamily.

“Has he said as much?” Gemma asked. Violet was always dreaming about some new lad every month or so, but her feelings for Alexander had lasted a little longer than her other phases.

“Well…I ken he wants a wife. He’s found property and will build on it soon. That can only mean one thing next.”

Aye, it was true. A man needed a house for a wife to make into a home. It was the way of life. The fact that Alexander was building signified he was quite serious about his search for a wife. And really…Gemma hoped it worked out for Violet. As silly as she could be sometimes, that did not mean she was undeserving of happiness.

Master Frazier announced it was time for the arrows to start flying. Each man’s arrow was painted a color that would identify his should it go astray, and Gemma saw that Colin’s was a brilliant green. It matched his eyes well. Not that that mattered…

There was a tawny, stringent sound as the arrows were pulled back, and a whistling noise as they all flew through the air, hitting their targets or the ground with a satisfying “thunk.”

The boys ran down to inspect the targets, but Gemma could see clearly that Colin’s had hit the dead center of his target. Bryce’s was at least in the inner circle, but not dead on. Her heart surged with pride at that, and she grinned, mindful not to be too visibly happy. But when Colin’s gaze caught hers as everyone cheered for him, she could not help it. He looked so genuinely happy, and his eyes had sought her out before anyone else. The very thought of it warmed her great and spread to the rest of her limbs.

Before she could approach him and congratulate him, however, Muriel tugged at her elbow.

“Come. They’re starting the feast, and yer mother wants ye.”

Gemma stole one last longing glance at Colin before Muriel dragged her away. Even with her back to him, she felt his eyes on her.

Having to smile for so long at the feast was tiring. Gemma found herself wishing for the comfort of solitude in her own bedchamber, but as the daughter of nobility, appearances had to be kept up. She had only just come of age, but her father was already ready to marry her off to the richest man who asked. Thankfully, her mother had a little more sense than that, but Gemma knew that every man she met that night was someone her father considered worthy as a husband.

“Mama, can I please be excused? I’ll return, I just…need a moment to breathe properly,” Gemma finally asked as the feast neared its end.

Evidently, the strain in her voice and the tiredness of her eyes were convincing enough.

“Of course, wee dove. But be careful. Ye dinnae ken which unsavory men are roamin’ the halls now.”

She promised to be careful, but her mother’s warning set her teeth on edge. A happy, drunk Scotsman was strong enough, but an angry drunk Scotsman was even stronger. Gemma promised to keep to the walls and avoid their gazes. She didn’t even really know where she was going, she just felt…stifled. Every young lass’s giggles about marriage, all the flirtations, all the niceties she had to pay began to weigh on her.

So lost in thought was she that she hardly realized when she bumped into someone.

“Och, sorry, I didnae mean tae—oh, Colin,” she realized mid-ramble.

“Steady yerself, lassie. Where are ye off to in such a hurry?”

“I…I’m not sure. Just needed tae get away,” she explained, quite embarrassed that she’d physically run into him. He did not seem to be angry with her, so that was good.

“Why? Is someone botherin’ ye?” he asked, his eyes flashing with anger, ready to be unleashed at any moment.

“Nay, ‘tis not like that. I’m simply…I need tae breathe. Too many people, too many words.”

“I understand,” Colin said, his eyes softening. It was incredible how he could conjure up emotions so quickly; Gemma decided she rather liked that about him.

“I cannae imagine how Master MacNeill feels,” Gemma commented.

Colin raised an eyebrow, evidently wondering why the conversation had turned so quickly to his friend.

“What can ye mean?”

“I mean that…he has tae speak to so many people an’ smile all the time. How does he manage it?”

Colin shrugged. “I think he enjoys it.”

“Oh, aye?”

“Aye. He prefers tae be in the light where all can see him.”

Gemma detected a hint of bitterness in that statement, but she didn’t push it.

“An’ ye? Where d’ye prefer tae be?”

“I prefer tae be wherever ye are, Gemma,” he said in a voice as smooth as honey.

She’d come out there to breathe, but ironically, couldn’t find her breath as Colin moved closer and took her face in his hands. There was nothing more to say as she gazed into his beautiful dark emerald eyes, which drifted down to her lips. She nodded briefly, and then his lips met hers in the softest and sweetest of kisses. It was unobtrusive and comforting, like a warm sunny day. Unfortunately for both of them, it was over shortly after it began. Voices sounded in the corridor not too far away, and they broke apart.

“Anyone could have seen us,” Gemma said, a little lightheaded after the interaction.

“I ken, but it was worth it,” he said with a smile.

“Aye,” she breathed.

“I have tae go. Come find me again,” he asked.

All she could do was nod as she watched him stride down the hallway, the very picture of confidence.

Had that really just happened? She touched her fingers to her lips as if to confirm that they felt different. Aye, she would need a few more moments to collect herself before getting back to the feast.