Prologue

PROLOGUE

T here was a full moon that night, and Gowan had no trouble in seeing the way ahead, since the bright bluish-silver light illuminated the path he had trodden through the trees. He had no particular reason to be venturing out that night apart from the fact that he felt as though the walls of his little home were closing in on him.

He had been in hiding for years now, and occasionally - just occasionally - he yearned for the sound of a human voice. He longed to hear the local news, listen to the ordinary chatter, to laugh at the jokes of the people in the small village of Cairndene. He had always known them, although he doubted if any of them would recognise him now.

A dart of anger pierced him as he touched the scar on his face. He would wake up screaming in his sleep sometimes because of a horrific nightmare in which a burning tree branch was sticking to his once-handsome face. He could still feel the agonizing pain in the few seconds before he came back to wakefulness, but it usually disappeared with the return of consciousness.

Nothing could numb the pain in his mind, though. That, along with the scar on his face, was something he would carry forever. Abruptly, he growled and shook his head as if to dislodge the thought from his mind.

As he emerged from between two big fir trees, however, he was dismayed to see that none of the villagers were there. Sometimes they would gather together around a fire by the communal well, but not tonight, to his disappointment.

He was about to turn back and go home when he realized that he was mistaken in thinking no-one was there. A flickering candle showed one figure moving from one house to the other, and every door would open to its knock and receive a package.

Fascinated, he crept forward and watched until the last parcel had been delivered and the figure turned around and came towards him. He had been wondering if it was male or female, and had decided that it was a young man, but now he realized it was a lass, and she was talking to herself.

"Damn him!" she growled. "If I were a man I would strangle that brother of mine and smile while I was doing it! He is the devil incarnate! If I ever get the chance I will push him off the turrets!" She continued to list all the ways she would finish off her evil brother and he almost laughed out loud, but stopped himself at the last moment.

Gowan had been so busy watching her that he forgot to move out of her way, and by the time he had realized that she was about to bump into him it was too late to avoid her. They collided with enough force to knock her to the ground, where she lay, winded, for a moment.

"I am so sorry." The words were out of his mouth before he realized he had spoken them. He did not want anyone to hear his voice or see his face ever again, and he cursed inwardly. He hoped that his hood, which was drawn down as far as his eyebrows and firmly knotted under his lower lip, had rendered his face invisible as he pulled the woman to her feet.

As she regained her footing she tried to look up into his eyes, but frowned as she realized she could not see them. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Who are you?" she asked curiously.

Gowan almost fell over as he realized that she was a member of the Darroch clan. She had similar features to her brother, whom he had seen only once, although he doubted that Jamie Darroch would remember him. After all, he was presumed dead. On her, though, they were delicate, chiseled, and beautifully feminine. He could not see the color of her eyes, but he did not have to. He knew they were bright blue.

However, this woman seemed different to the rest of her evil family. The people of Cairndene had not been afraid of her; quite the contrary, in fact. They had been glad to see her, and obviously held her in high regard, judging by the trusting way they had welcomed her. What was she giving them? Whatever it was, everyone seemed glad to receive it. Could it be that he had found a genuinely good member of the Darroch clan?

Suddenly he realized that he was staring at her, and had been for some time, far too long, in fact, and every minute put him in more and more danger.

"Who are you?" she asked again. "Do I know you?" Even her voice was beautiful, low-pitched and husky, but Gowan had no time to listen to it any longer. He turned and fled into the forest as if the hounds of hell were after him.