Chapter 1

Seven years later, Spring 1705

The halls of MacLean Keep looked the same as they’d ever looked. Erin studied the time-worn walls as she and her father moved toward the great hall.

Aside from the wedding of Keegan MacLean a few weeks ago, she hadn’t been inside MacLean Keep since seven years before, when she and her father had been reestablishing the alliance between the MacLean and MacDougall clans.

Her expression was calm and composed, as befit a warrior of the clan, but her stomach was tight with nerves. For the first time in years, she’d be in the same room as Marcus MacLean for an extended period of time. Aside from the wedding, she hadn’t spent any time in his presence since the same night she’d last entered MacLean Keep.

The memory of that night was seared into her mind, along with a sense of shame. She’d been angry, and embarrassed that he’d caught her staring at Darren MacLean like a lovesick lass with her first crush. That didn’t make the things she’d said to him any less hateful, or hurtful.

He’d been drunk and behaving in an inappropriate manner, but she could scarcely say that she’d behaved any better. It was even worse because she’d never managed to gather the courage to apologize to him.

She’d thought he might bear her a grudge, but he’d been nothing but civil when they met at his younger brother’s wedding. Now they were meeting to talk about the alliance, and she feared that the wounds she’d inflicted to his pride might make the discussion even more difficult than the subject matter they had come to speak of.

However, there was no sign of the brothers as she and her father made their way to the hall, and for a moment she feared they were about to be publicly scorned. Then the servant leading them opened the doors to the great hall, and they entered to see the MacLean Laird and his brother sitting at the head table, across from seats meant for them.

Marcus’s face was composed in an expression of polite neutrality. Darren’s was more welcoming, and made her stomach flutter as it always did.

Time had only enhanced the good looks all the MacLean men possessed. Darren’s face was marked with tattoos, but to her it only brought out the color of his dark eyes and the chiseled lines of his face.

He rose as they approached and smiled. “Welcome tae MacLean Keep, Laird Kaelin. Erin. Please, have a seat, and we’ll get ye some refreshment afore we begin.”

Once they were all seated and the drinks poured, Kaelin MacDougall spoke. “There’s nae easy way tae say this, Laird MacLean…”

“Darren. We’re old friends, ye and I.” Darren waved away the formality. “I near grew up under yer roof, when yer lasses werenae here under ours.”

“Darren then.” Kaelin sighed. “Ye heard, I’m thinking, o’ the passing o’ me wife.”

“Some years ago. We didnae come tae the funeral and tae pay our respects, because o’ the rift our faither had caused between us.” Darren’s voice was soft, respectful.

“Aye. Well, what ye cannae ken is that nae that long ago, about a year, in point o’ fact, me eldest daughter Rowan passed away from an illness.”

“Me condolences tae ye, yer kin and yer clan.” Darren’s voice was sincere, and Erin fought back tears at the sound of his gentle sympathy.

She’d sworn years ago never to let any man see her cry. Not the warriors who’d trained her to fight by giving her bruises and shedding her blood, and not her father when he scolded her for unladylike behavior. She’d held her head high and kept her eyes dry. She’d not break that promise in front of Marcus and Darren MacLean.

Her father continued speaking, his tone heavy. “Her husband, Daemon, has sworn tae uphold the alliance between our clans, but there’s nae denying the bonds between us have weakened. And worse, Laird Coire McCorcouodale has decided tae make trouble.”

“I ken ye’ve been at odds fer years, but I thought ye had reached a truce. An armed truce, but still a truce.” Darren frowned.

“Aye. I thought so as well, but I’d scarcely removed the mourning colors fer me daughter when we were attacked by soldiers under his tartan.” Kaelin scowled. “We forced them back, but ‘tis nae a good position for us tae be in, and we’re in need o’ more allies.”

“What o’ yer youngest daughter?”

“Lyla is visiting me sister, Skye, and she’ll be coming tae MacLean Keep from there in a day or so. She’s safe, so far as I ken.” Kaelin heaved a sigh. “I dinnae think she kens about the attack, but ‘tis possible Skye may have told her.”

“And what o’ Laird MacMillan?”

“He’s guarding the borders while we’re here. He’s a good man.” Kaelin shook his head. “But Clan McCorcouodale is a strong clan, for all that they’re a smaller one. And we cannae stand as we are.”

“Ye ken Clan MacLean will stand behind ye if ye need us.” Darren refilled their mead cups. “But ye also ken we’re nae in the best of states ourselves. We’ve only just come out o’ a feud with Clan Ranald, and ‘tis only good fortune that we survived it.”

“I ken.” Kaelin grimaced. “And I understand why ye dinnae want tae face more trouble so soon. But I fear we’ll be needing help, and we’ve few enough places tae turn, with Clan McCorcouodale standing on the eastern border o’ our lands.”

The men continued to speak, but Erin let the words wash over her. Her mind was racing.

Clan MacLean was a strong one, with ties to even stronger clans, like the Stewart Clan. They were the best hope Clan MacDougall had for weathering the storm and the attacks of Clan McCorcouodale.

But if the ties of friendship weren’t enough to bring Clan MacLean to their side, perhaps stronger ones might be. Like the ties that came with kin-by-marriage.

Lyla deserved to have her own life and her own choice of husbands. But MacLean had a laird who needed a wife, and Erin was confident she could make Darren a good partner. She could stand, rule, and fight by his side. Better still, if she was his spouse, he would bring the might of his clan, and his own kin-by-marriage alliances, to their aid.

With MacLean by their side, Clan MacDougall would be strong and safe. If they brought Clan Stewart into the alliance, Clan MacDougall would be safe from any threat they might ever face.

Marcus was unlikely to ever give her a chance, and she’d not want a man of his reputation as a husband either. She might be able to overlook the fact that he wasn’t her match on the field of combat, but not his tendency to try and sleep with anyone who wore a skirt and a chest wrapping

.

Besides, it was Darren she’d always had an interest in. He was a formidable warrior, and a good man. He might be a little frightening with the tattoos that covered his face and arms, but he was no worse than Daemon, with his white hair and fierce demeanor.

She bit her lip, smiling tightly as the talks concluded and servants began to lay out the plates and platters for dinner. Her only concern was that she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to seduce him properly.

A moment later, she scoffed at herself. She was a warrior of Clan MacDougall. She was also a strong, beautiful woman, according to many men she’d spoken to. Surely, she could catch the attention of a man like Darren MacLean.

She smiled and took a platter of meat from a servant. She held it out to Darren, trying to smile and tilt her head coyly, the way she’d seen Lyla do when she was flirting with one of the warriors from their clan. “Would ye like some meat, me laird?”

She tried to make her voice sultry, coaxing, and felt her cheeks burning at the harsh, no-nonsense way it came out.

Darren simply nodded politely and took the platter from her. “Thank ye, Lady Erin.” His voice was as calm and even as it had been when he was speaking with her father.

“Och, ‘tisnae Lady Erin. Just Erin. Ye ken I’ve never been enamored o’ the title.” She meant to sound inviting, but Darren’s expression didn’t change.

“Me apologies. I hadnae considered the matter. But o’ course, ye’re a warrior maid, and ye’d prefer tae be addressed as such.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement. Then, without another word, he served himself, and turned to offer the platter to his brother.

Erin followed the motion with her gaze, and found herself staring into Marcus’s eyes as he watched her. His raised eyebrow said he knew what she was about, and was not at all impressed.

She flushed and looked away, then made another attempt. “’Tis true, I’m a warrior o’ me clan. Would ye like tae spar with me, while we’re here?”

“I’ve duties tae attend tae. But I’d welcome a new partner fer training in the mornings.”

“O’ course.” What else could she say? How could she imply that she wanted something a little more private – like evening one-on-one sparring of a different sort? She couldn’t say something like that in front of her father.

She was too used to speaking her mind to manage a subtle approach. And she’d no practice in seducing a man, warrior or otherwise. She was far more practiced in scorning those who tried to seduce her.

Erin settled back into her seat, her face hot and her stomach churning with embarrassment.

She might be one of the best warriors in the MacDougall clan, but it wasn’t a warrior her clan needed now, at least not from her. They needed someone who could secure them an alliance marriage that would bring them closer to other clans, and protect them.

Lyla would be able to forge such a relationship. But she couldn’t. She could disarm any man on the field of combat, but she was powerless to find her way to a man’s heart. And for the first time in many years, she felt like a failure.