Prologue

PROLOGUE

The study was cozy with heavy oak bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes. Liam ran his hands over the spines as he thought, his mind flitting through a multitude of thoughts without giving him time to process. This was a day he had been waiting most ardently for and yet, now that it was here, he found himself apprehensive in the worst way. He wasn’t apprehensive about his soon-to-be bride. No. With her deep auburn hair and clear blue eyes, Alison Bell might have been the only thing he was sure of.

As the heir of his family’s lairdship, he had known this day would someday come to pass. His father had spoken of near nothing else as soon as he’d burst from his mother, wailing and announcing his presence. But now as he walked to the window to survey the land he would one day come to own and a clan he would be bound to protect, nerves he’d never felt were awakened, and he found himself unworthy and a little afraid. His father had led the clan for decades, and he was highly regarded by all the clan. It was a large presence to emulate for a boy newly eighteen. As sunlight streamed through the window casting a warm glow on the polished wooden furniture, Liam wondered if perhaps he wasn’t ready.

“Here ye are, lad. Yer mother has been nearly mad searching high and low for ye.”

Liam winced at the thought. He hadn’t meant to linger so long in the study, but he had a habit of doing so when his head was full of unwanted thoughts. He knew it was something he was going to have to remedy once he had a bride and a clan to care for. He couldn’t risk being ill-prepared. Things were peaceful now, a nice bit of downtime from the squabbles that occasionally arose at the exchange of power. But he knew that could change without constant vigilance. His father had told him many a story about those in charge being caught unaware and their clan being the one to suffer for it.

“My apologies father. I was only coming to have a think and prepare myself,” Liam replied, hoping his smile didn’t appear as fragile as it felt. His father stepped up beside him, his once vibrant gray eyes now somehow diminished. Liam knew his father was tired. He saw it in the way he held himself, slightly hunched over with lines around his mouth that hadn’t been there years prior. The lairdship had not been an easy one for him to endure, and Liam knew it was time for the handover, so his father could rest. His skin had taken on a sickly hue the past few months and though he insisted he was fine, Liam saw his mother more than once press a hand to his father’s cheek and gaze at him, so worriedly Liam had turned the other way to not intrude on such a tender moment.

His mother’s light-brown eyes had begun looking more and more pained as the weeks passed, and Liam knew she continuously discussed with the clan doctors what could be done to bring back his father’s healthy glow. Her fair skin had once been lighter than his father’s, and they had often joked that Liam’s sun-kissed skin had to have been nature’s way of balancing the scales. Now, though, her fair skin had taken on its own muted hue, as had her once golden blonde hair. It was now streaked with bits of gray, but it was more as if the luster of it had been lost with each stressful day. Every time his father insisted she not worry, she would click her tongue, cutting off his words as if he were but a silly child. It was a familiar sound and one that had never failed to bring a fond smile to Liam’s face. His father might be the leader of the clan, but at home, everyone knew who was in charge of things. The love between them was on clear display with every touch and whispered word they exchanged.

Liam wondered if he would ever have that; a relationship so strong that the strength of it could be felt by all who drew near. His parents’ relationship had been one that many remarked on either with jealousy or in awe. Laird and Lady Anderson would be a tough act to follow.

“Och,” he clicked his tongue and Liam already felt chastised. “Prepare? You’ve been doing that fer all yer life, lad. Now is simply the day all comes to fruition.”

“I understand, father,” Liam said before glancing back out at the rolling hills dotted with houses. Laird Anderson watched his son, shrewd gray eyes taking in the tense shoulders. He knew he was putting pressure on Liam, but what more could he do? His life had not been an easy one, and he felt that fact catching up to him each morning when he opened his eyes. Time was not on any man’s side.

“Come,” he said finally, pulling Liam’s attention from the window. “Sit and tell me yer worries. You look like ye’re about to face the inquisition rather than a wedding.”

Liam sighed before walking over to his father. He sat with him keen on getting his thoughts as he was having trouble trusting his own. “It feels that way. I can’t help but think perhaps I’m not ready for the lairdship.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been ready for years, lad. It’s only yer nerves that need convincing.”

Liam moved to sit in a chair opposite his father. He shifted nervously, not wanting to make this into a bigger deal than needed. Reassurance was good, but he was on the cusp of big responsibilities. He couldn’t rely on another person all the time. He had to be strong for the clan to lead them to the next destination of their people. If they thought him weak, that could breed distrust and lead to fighting within. They needed him to be strong. He couldn’t rely on his father forever, so it was good to seek out his wisdom now and take great heed of it for the future.

“But, it’s more than just taking over the lairdship, father. It’s making sure I don’t disappoint everyone. That I don’t disappoint you or…” His voice trailed off as Liam thought of his bride. “I want to be the one you can all depend on, but what if I’m not the leader you hope I’ll be? What if I let the clan down?”

“Eejit.” Laird Anderson leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and affection. “You’ve never been one to disappoint, lad. I’ve seen ye grow from boy to man with a heart and a mind that’s right and true. I’ve had no concerns about ye leading. Dinnae fret. I’ve had many a talk with the clan, and many are just as excited as me to have you take the helm.”

Liam nodded and looked down at his lap. His father’s words did make him feel somewhat better, but there was still one niggling concern. Laird Anderson could feel there was something else, and he smirked when he thought he lighted on what that was.

“And if ye’re concerned over the bonnie lass who’ll warm yer heart and bed, dinnae fret. I’ve on good word that the lass is just as excited to wed as ye.”

That perked Liam up, and he looked up at his father. “Ye’re sure?”

“O’course,” his father proclaimed, standing up and holding his hands out. “Any lassie would be o’er the moon to be wed to a fine lad such as ye. I feel good about this union.”

Liam still felt lingering doubt, but his father had never steered him wrong in his advice. He stood as well before fixing his jacket, pulling at the fabric until it sat on his frame perfectly. “Ye’re right father. It’s just my nerves working me into knots.” He knew he could do this. He’d been prepared since birth, working to this point where he would apply all the lessons his father had taught him over the years. He couldn’t let him down. Knowing that Alison wanted this, was excited for it even, had him standing taller. “I willnae let you down, father.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder before smiling widely. “Never doubted, lad. You’ve got yer mama’s smarts in there. Smartest thing I e’er did was making her my wife. Trust in that love, and you’ll ne’er be steered wrong.”

Liam knew his father was right. He followed him from the study, head held high as they descended the staircase and marched toward the ceremony.

The sky was just as beautiful in person as it had been behind glass. The afternoon was a perfect sunny blue, so unusual for this time of year and yet, Liam took it as a sign. The breeze carried the bite of salt from the coast, the type that you could taste on the back of your tongue. It had Liam swallowing hard as he looked at his bride.

Alison Bell was four years his senior, but her smile was as wide guileless as it had been when he first caught sight of her years ago. He’d been struck then by her unblemished skin and eyes as blue as a perfect sky. Her cheeks had been ruddy with color and her lips stretched in a smile that made him feel free as a bird that used the cliffs to jump from for flight. When he’d learned she also wished this union, he’d nearly led his mare off the path and into the path of a tree. It was the mare’s unruliness that kept them both with their heads.

Beyond her face, Alison was willowy as the hills they built upon and Liam was not too ashamed to admit he’d wondered how it would feel to lie with her, her curves pressed against him as they let the night creep in. It was only healthy for him to desire his wife, and so he let himself imagine what the night might bring. He stood a little taller, locking his knees as he let his mind wander. When murmurs started, he turned to look down the aisle and when his gaze landed on her, his breath stuttered to a stop.

Alison was a vision. Her hair was pulled back with a few rebel strands loose and flowing in the light breeze, framing her heart-shaped face. Her cheeks had that same rose hue that had captivated Liam so long ago, and her lips looked stained the same. She walked slowly but with no hesitation in each step. Looking away was not an option, and Liam didn’t want to. All his worries had melted away with his first look at his bride. She was resplendent and he was smitten. His lips curled in a small smile as she drew closer until she was by his side.

“Lad?”

Liam shook his head, awareness slowly trickling back in. The bishop was looking at him expectantly, and he realized that everyone was waiting for him to say something. He was alarmed to realize he wasn’t sure what had been said. He was too busy staring at his future and wondering how he had gotten so lucky.

“Apologies,” Liam said, his cheeks heating when he realized everyone was looking at him expectantly. He glanced around, feeling more secure at his mother’s smiling face, her eyes bright and clearly filled with unshed tears. He knew by the end of the night, those tears would be shed as he bid them goodbye and moved to his own house with his new wife. He knew what that entailed, and he fashioned himself ready. He glanced back at his soon-to-be wife, expecting a giggle or perhaps annoyance at him not being prepared. He was soon the one left ill-prepared for the wicked stare and the upturned smirk on those shapely lips.

Alison was not a fainting flower. She was standing strong in front of him, her eyes clear and filled with something that made his stomach clench and his member harden beneath his kilt. He was not naive to the ways of men and women, but he had not considered that perhaps he was not the only one eager for this bit of pomp and circumstance to be over so he could retire to his chambers with his new bride. Seeing her eagerly awaiting left him with a profound sense of excitement at having her by his side.

Vows of loyalty were exchanged as the bishop walked them through the ceremony, and yet, Liam could do nothing but watch her. Alison was equally enamored of the boy turned man she had been betrothed to. She had wanted this union, for the good of the clan yes, but also for herself. Liam had grown strong and true, his moral compass spoken of in passing always in a positive light. The clan was excited about the transfer of power from father to son and she, as a Lady, would be there always with an open ear and a good word. They would be a team, she was sure of it.

As rings were exchanged, their hands gripped one another, both caught at the moment that their skin brushed, sending sparks of feeling across awakened nerves. Liam’s storm-gray eyes locked with Alison’s own sky blue, and in them, he saw his future. Somehow, Liam knew he could see himself loving her as surely as the sun would rise.