Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

C ameron Castle, December 1298

“Ye ken scowling and pacing around yer study like a trapped wolf isnae going tae change aught.”

Laird Aedan Cameron turned his glare on his longtime friend and advisor, Mac Sinclair.

“And it doesnae particularly make ye feel better, either.”

“I ken. But I dinnae like the situation. And with the council tryin’ tae force me tae attend Lachlan Ross’s Yule celebration…” Aedan trailed off.

Yule was fast approaching, but for Aedan, it was a season of tension, rather than celebration. His clan was in dire straits in terms of finances, and the Clan Elders were urging him to rectify the matter by attending Laird Ross’s Yule Celebration. On top of that, the weather was foul, with rain coming down in torrents, lightning dancing across the sky, and the winds howling around the castle like possessed wolves. There was a chill in the air that suggested the rain might turn to sleet and snow any moment now, which only made the situation more difficult.

He couldn’t travel in weather like that, and even if he could, Aedan had no desire to leave his home, and even less to attend Laird Ross’s Yule celebration. The event was supposed to last several days, and Aedan wanted no part of it.

It wasn’t just that he disliked the idea of being away from home so long, or that he resented the idea of missing the Cameron clan’s celebrations, which he usually presided over. Lachlan Ross’s events were nothing more than a chance to show off his political power, and his wealth. The Yule festivities were an excuse to play politics dressed up in holly, ivy and feasting.

Aedan hated politics. He hated the lies that hid behind the fake smiles of Lachlan and his bootlickers, and the idea of spending days in the court of his reluctant allies made his skin crawl.

His Council understood none of it. They saw it as an opportunity for ‘greater ties tae a wealthy and powerful neighboring clan’. They refused to see Lachlan for the snake he was. Only he and Mac truly understood the situation, as far as Aedan was concerned.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and drew his attention. “Enter.”

A guard opened the door. “Beg pardon, me laird, but there’s a woman at the gates, demanding tae see ye. She refuses tae leave and requests an audience with ye.”

Aedan scowled. He had little time or patience for strangers, less still for a woman who would ‘demand’ to see him, a laird in his own right. He was about to tell the guard to send her off, with a good shove if necessary, when a rumble of thunder recalled his attention to the storm outside.

It wasn’t a fit night out for man nor beast, and he couldn’t send a woman away in that weather. More to the point, she must be desperate indeed if she’d risked traveling even a short distance in such dangerous conditions. He sighed and swallowed his anger. “Fine, bring her up.”

The guard nodded and disappeared. Mac spoke up. “What dae ye think this woman wants? It must be important, tae be out in the storm.”

“If I had tae guess, I’d say ‘twas a woman seekin’ the aid, come tae ask me permission tae tak’ the healer from the castle.” It was about the only scenario he could imagine being dire enough that one would brave the elements after nightfall.

Another knock on the door announced the return of the guard with their guest. Aedan straightened from where he’d been slouched against a wall. “Enter.”

The door swung open. Aedan stared.

He’d expected the woman to be somewhat bedraggled. That was unavoidable, given the storm outside. He hadn’t expected her to look as if she’d jumped in a bathing pool fully clothed, then rolled through the mud, slid down a hill, and upended a basin over her head. She was drenched, her clothing sodden and stained, and her hair tangled and windblown, despite the obvious signs that it had been braided at some point.

She was also wearing only one shoe, her other foot bare and wet, as well as muddied to the hem of her skirt.

Despite all that, she was a bonny looking lass - hair the blue-black of a raven’s wing under the mud, deep blue eyes, slender, willowy build, and pale skin, almost luminous with the water shining off it. Her face held dignity and self-assurance, despite her circumstances, and she faced him with her head up and her back straight.

Aedan wasn’t sure whether to offer her a blanket and a bed, a bath, or ask her if she’d been lost. He settled for asking the first question that came to mind. “And who might ye be, lass?”

“Thora MacTavish. I came because I had tae speak tae ye.”

Aedan raised an eyebrow. “I can see that, since ye apparently didnae even stop tae make sure ye had both shoes on.”

A bright flush spread over her cheeks. “I assure ye, I had both shoes when I left home. But me horse got spooked crossing a bog. I dismounted tae try and calm him, but I stumbled intae a deep spot and lost me shoe escapin’ it. And the horse bolted.”

There were plenty of bogs on the moors that could trap the unwary. In a storm like this, it would be all too easy to miss a step and lose one’s footwear escaping. Aedan turned to Mac. “Speak tae the servants and see if ye can find a pair in the lass’s size.” He glanced at her feet. They were small and dainty. “Ye might need tae borrow a pair from one o’ the children in the castle.” He grinned.

Mac coughed, his expression showing the amusement he was trying to avoid voicing aloud. “Aye, me laird.”

He and the guard took their leave. Aedan waited until the door closed before he turned to his bedraggled guest. “So, Thora MacTavish, what brings ye tae…”

He didn’t get any further before she interrupted him. “I’ve come tae warn ye. I’m a seer, and I have dreams pertaining tae the future. Yer clan is in grave danger unless ye listen tae me.”

Aedan blinked at her, startled by the sudden intensity of her gaze. “What are ye talking about?”

“Yer clan is in danger. Clan Ross will move against ye soon unless ye act now. Ye must attend Laird Ross’s Yule celebration. ‘Tis the only way tae prevent the attack that will cause yer clan tae fall.”

Aedan stared. Her eyes held no sheen of madness, nor any signs of delirium and yet, what she was saying made no sense.

His allies - however uncomfortable the relationship - would attack him? The only way to prevent the attack from destroying his clan was to attend the Yule celebration hosted by the same man who would theoretically try to destroy it.

And she knew all of this because of – what? A prophetic dream?

Aedan began to laugh.