Chapter 2

"Captain Gilchrist? Are ye ready?"

Michael forced himself to turn around and pay attention to Aaden's voice. He had been struggling with this for the last eight years. It wasn't just the fact that Gilchrist was not his real name, but the fact that he never heard the name ‘Michael' anymore at all. It was almost as if Michael was but a ghost, a man from the past, no longer him.

"Gilchrist?"

"Aye, I'm coming." Gilchrist left the barracks and followed Aaden outside. He was not looking forward to this day. After seeing Kyven being taken from the library two days earlier to discuss the matter of her marriage with the council, he had been resenting it ever since.

The early morning was frosty, the ground covered in dappled ice. The wind was so strong that it bent the branches in the wind. A line of soldiers who had gathered to greet their guest all staggered in gale.

Gilchrist stopped, no longer following Aaden.

Superstition crept into his bones as he recalled the lesson Braydon had taught him long ago.

"Captain? Is something wrong?" Aaden called from amongst the soldiers.

"Nay," Gilchrist lied, his eyes darting to the clouds which were travelling fast across the sky.

It's just a superstition. It means nothing.

Yet as he walked on, he looked about him warily, uncertain what to focus his eyes on. Aaden was talking to him constantly about the preparations for the visitor. The nearby laird had come to claim his betrothed as per agreements between the two councils.

"Come on, Gilchrist. Will ye nae speak at all today? If rumor were true and ye really did hold a candle for Lady Kyven, then I could understand why today would be a miserable day, but the rumor isnae true, is it?"

Gilchrist refused to rise to the teasing.

What he felt for Kyven he would not discuss with anyone. The last time he had attempted at love, he had failed miserably. It had resulted in him fleeing and losing his family. He would never take that chance again, even on someone like Kyven.

"Captain?"

"Dae ye insist on chattering all the time, Aaden?" Gilchrist asked him calmly. "Ye chatter more than the birds dae."

"Well, someone has tae. I have tae make up fer yer quietness," Aaden chuckled as they rounded the corner with the soldiers following on behind them.

In the open doorway of the castle stood Kyven, ready to greet her betrothed. Gilchrist gave her one glance and he saw immediately how nervous she was.

She kept wringing her thin and delicate hands in front of her repeatedly. Her dark green eyes never settled on one thing but pranced about constantly. By her stood the council members, maids, the steward, and more guards. It was an ostentatious gathering and Kyven appeared not to like being the center of attention.

She is too humble for that. God kens why.

Her auburn hair was tied into curls at the back of her head. Her fair face, with the thin pointed jaw, the sweet, heart-shaped cheeks and the freckled skin, was so pretty, many men stopped to watch her when she walked past.

It was a wonder to Gilchrist that over the last few years, Kyven had never seemed to notice just how much he stopped to admire her.

Their nights alone in the library were a torment as well as a pleasure. He would imagine the two of them doing other things in that room besides reading and talking. He imagined his book tossed to the side along with her paints, neither of them caring about the mess as they collided on the hearth rug, lips clashing and hands grasping at each other's clothes. He had imagined making love to her in front of that fire so many times that it made his body ache for wanting her.

Even now as he watched her pulling self-consciously at the sage green tartan dress she wore, his mind wandered. He saw the slim waist and the voluptuous curves that drove him mad. He saw her full lips parted as she breathed heavily with her nerves.

Ye'll be the death of me, Kyven, and I can never dae anything about it.

Not only was she the lady of the clan, far beyond his reach, for she would never know he too was the child of a laird. He would also not risk another woman's life by becoming entangled with her. She would despise him, hate his every bone in his body, if she knew he came from the Gregor clan, the very people she blamed for her father's death.

"Erm, Captain," Aaden elbowed him in the rib.

"Aye." He didn't even flinch at the sharp jolt.

"We're all supposed tae be looking that way. At our guests." Aaden smiled, pointing at the entourage now riding up toward the castle. The party was six horses wide, and even more deep. In the middle, the laird, the man riding to meet Kyven, was completely hidden. "Ye're nae supposed tae be looking at our lady. Even if she does paint a fairer picture than all those horses."

"Down, Aaden," Gilchrist said with humor, as if he was talking to a dog. "Ye may bed every woman in this castle, but ye promised me ye wouldnae bed Lady Kyven."

"A vow I will hold tae until the day I die. She is too good a friend tae me. She nursed me when I was injured last year, remember. Nay, Gilchrist. Trust me. I have Lady Kyven's best interests at heart."

"Hmm." Gilchrist was relieved to hear it. He took Aaden's words to heart and turned away from staring at Kyven, shifting his attention to the party on horseback. His eyes then trained on the standard, the flag waved by the steward who was leading the party. "It cannae be…"

A darkness settled on Gilchrist's heart. He suddenly felt hot and sweat burned at the back of his neck. He had not seen that standard for years, and now it was here, as unwelcome as a hound's bite on his rear.

"Something wrong?" Aaden asked nonchalantly from his side.

"That flag. I think I ken it. Aaden… who is it that is tae marry Lady Kyven? What's his name?"

"Ye have nae heard? Surprising, but I guess ye of all people wouldnae want tae ken. I'm sure something must have happened in that library between the pair of ye –"

"Aaden! Answer the question."

Aaden shook his head and laughed before he answered the question.

"It's Laird Shay Lamont."