Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

F ebruary, 1587

The shore of Clan MacAlister

“Ach! I’m gonnae suffocate if I dinnae get out of this blasted wedding gown right this instant!”

Ivy MacAlister cursed under her breath in frustration, her arms straining to reach behind her back, fingers numbed by the cold, tearing impatiently at the fastenings of the elaborate gown. The delicate material of her copious skirts was already damp from the cold, sea-laden night air, and the expansive folds were clinging to her limbs, hampering her movement as if they would consume her.

Hurry, hurry! They must be after me by now! I need tae get on the boat and be gone!

The gown seemed to her the perfect symbol of the cruel fate awaiting her if she failed to get to the opposite shore, the lights of which beckoned in the distance across the water, as soon as possible.

Get on with it, they could be here at any moment!

“Finally!” she hissed to herself, managing to get enough of the fastenings undone behind her to gradually manhandle the gown, with its tight bodice, down over her hips. It fell like a puffball around her ankles. She kicked it aside with a sigh of relief. It lay on the sand next to the sword she had brought with her, strapped to her leg beneath her skirts, her only form of protection.

Shivering in the cold wind, she hurriedly got out of the rest of her bridal finery—her stays, her embroidered petticoats, her beribboned garters, silk stockings, satin slippers, and the strip of ribbon tied around her wrist for the handfasting at the ceremony—and rapidly pulled on the set of clothing the boatman had just given her.

She held her breath as she slipped into the rough, homespun outfit of a lad, complete with a worn pair of boots and a large cap and kerchief. These last two Ivy hoped would be useful in hiding her true identity from prying eyes, thus increasing her chances of getting away successfully. The disguise would buy her time to be thought a lad and not a young woman at all.

As she changed, every now and then she would peep above the rocks to make sure the boat was still there, pulled up on the beach, waiting for her. It was, but she knew that if she did not get a move on, the boatman was likely to leave without her, and people would already have begun searching for her.

On the way to her own wedding ceremony, she had insisted on stopping her retinue and disappearing into the forest to “answer a call of nature.” Her loyal maid Amy had promised to delay them for as long as she could, saying her mistress had likely lost her way among the trees. But the fact remained that at any second, guards could appear, grab her, and haul her back to face her horrible fate.

The strain of being under such terrible pressure was already showing on Ivy, making her trembling and breathless. She was flustered, for it had taken all her powers of persuasion to get the boatman to give her the clothes as part of the price of her passage. The day before, she had bargained hard with him to meet him here at this time and row her from the MacAlister lands to the safety of the opposite shore, paying a hefty sum.

Today, she had arrived on the beach at the hidden inlet at the appointed time, panting, out of breath from running down the embankment through the trees in her heavy, cumbersome wedding gown. When she saw the boat and raced down to the waiting boatman, her heart full of hope, she was horrified to discover he had gotten cold feet.

“I dinnae think I should have agreed tae take ye,” he had grumbled from

beneath his grizzled beard, “I mean, comin’ down here in yer weddin’ dress? It all seems very fishy tae me. I have the feelin’ I could get intae a lot of trouble over this. Nay, ’tis nae worth the risk.”

“But I’ve paid ye well!” Ivy had cried, terrified she would be unable to change his mind. “Ye havetae take me!”

“’Tis me boat, lassie, and I dinnae havetae take ye if I dinnae wish it.”

Ivy had to think quickly. “I’ll pay ye more,” she had offered. “Here, take this.” She took off the pearl necklace from around her throat and placed it into his large, grubby paw. “That’s worth more than ye’ll make in a month of Sundays,” she argued, desperate to be gone.

Yet he still shook his head dubiously as he looked down at the expensive item.

“I’m nae sure I should be helpin’ ye at all. A runway bride? What if the groom comes lookin’ fer ye, askin’ questions and pokin’ his nose intae me business? I could get in trouble with the laird and have me license tae fish revoked. Why d’ye ye nae just take a horse and go overland if ye’re in such a hurry tae get away from yer man?”

“Because speed is of the essence, and he’ll be lookin’ fer me tae go by horse. This way buys me more time tae get away,’tis far quicker!” Ivy almost shouted, her fists clenching as she struggled to keep her panic from overwhelming her. She felt like hitting the man and stealing his boat! But she knew she would never make it across the choppy waters alone.

“What are ye so set on runnin’ away from?” he had asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

“A fate worse than death!” she had exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see the guards appear at any moment. “Ye’ve been well-paid, and if ye get me safely tae the other shore, I’ll gave ye these too.” She pointed to her pearl earrings, praying it would do the trick. To her utmost relief, it worked.

“All right then, but hurry up,” he had grudgingly agreed with a scowl. “I’ll nae wait longer than five minutes.”

“Thank ye, I’m very grateful.” She had snatched the pile of clothes he handed her and rushed behind the rocks to change.

As soon as she had assumed her disguise, she stuffed her long, dark hair under the cap and pulled it low down over her face. Then, she tied the kerchief over the lower half of her face, sure no one would be able to tell she was a female. Next, she rolled up all the wedding finery into the gown and tucked the bundle beneath her arm. She picked up the sword as well and ran to the boat. She threw the bundle into the boat and paused to secure the sword in its scabbard around her hips.

“Are ye gettin’ in then? If ye wantae go, we must go now, while the tides goin’ out,” he urged her gruffly.

“Aye, I’m comin’,” she replied, gingerly climbing abord the fishing boat and finding a place to sit among the folded nets and crab pots. The boatman took his seat by the rowlocks and took up the oars at last. With powerful, practiced stokes he pulled them out on the rushing tide to the sea. As they slowly left the shore behind, Ivy looked back at the looming castle and the lands that were her heritage. She felt no sorrow at leaving them behind, each pull of the oars that took her further away from the promise of a lifetime of misery mentally adding to her strength.

They were silent for a time, skimming across the waters, mingling with the other fishing craft out on the wider bay. Ivy gripped the pommel of the sword, trying to fathom the unbelievable events that had brought her to this. She was running from her own wedding, from her childhood home, her brother—her only remaining family—driven by the determination to escape the future he had planned for her.

She was happy to remain silent, sunk in her own thoughts. Besides, she was unused to being on the water and was starting to feel queasy. But the boatman had other ideas, and he soon began asking questions again, questions Ivy did not want to answer.

“Why d’ye have such a big sword, a lass like ye?” he wanted to know, glancing at the weapon.

Ivy glared at him fiercely, her irritation flaring at the mocking edge to his voice. “A lass like me? I warn ye, dinnae judge a book by its cover. ’Tis a mistake tae underestimate people ye ken naethin’ about, man or woman.”

He looked at her with an expression of alarm and, thankfully, asked no more questions for the remainder of the short voyage. She noticed with satisfaction that he rowed faster, clearly eager to be done with her, which she counted a blessing.

Another half an hour of silence brought them to the shore.

“Here ye are,” the boatman said as he stepped out into the surf and pulled the small craft up onto the gravelly beach. “I’ve done me part. Ye’re on yer own now, and good riddance tae ye.”

He grudgingly handed her out of the boat and stuck out his palm. “I’ll have the other part of me payment before ye go.”

Wordlessly, Ivy gave him the earrings, finding it unnecessary to thank him again, considering the extortionate price he had extracted from her for his trouble. She had counted on selling the jewelry and using it to fund her new life.

Still , she comforted herself as she ran up the beach and plunged into the tree line, I have me bracelets and rings. Those should fetch a good price when the time comes tae sell them. In addition, she had some coins and a few spare guineas now hidden in her boots. She hoped it would be enough to keep her from dire straits.

Once hidden in the forest, she felt much more secure and even congratulated herself on having successfully gotten so far. Carson will expect me tae be travelin’ overland by horse. He’ll start by searchin’ the highways, with nae a clue that I escaped by boat. Now all I need is tae get tae the town.

She hastily buried the bundled-up wedding dress at the base of a tree and then straightened up, steeling herself to follow through with the next part of her plan. She made her way through the forest, keeping off the main, well-used trackways despite her disguise. She hiked for what seemed like a couple of hours and felt cold and weary. Her feet were aching, being unused to the strange, ill-fitting boots. Plus, it was suddenly getting dark.

Night fell quickly at this time of year, it being February and still the depths of winter. But this evening, especially in the thick forest, it came earlier than usual, for the weather had deteriorated. The wind was whipping through the trees, setting them creaking and soughing, and when she looked up through the thrashing canopy, she could see the sky was dark and overcast with rain.

I either have tae find some transport or spend the night hiding in the forest, she said to herself. The last did not appeal to her, for it would mean losing all the time she had gained in leaving by boat. Plus, she would be much more visible in the daylight if searchers came to the town to look for her. Nae, she decided, I cannae risk hangin’ around here any longer than I havetae. If Carson catches up tae me, I might as well be dead. I must find some way tae leave tonight.

Yet as the darkness intensified, and the weather worsened despite the protection the trees offered, she knew the likelihood of finding a faster mode of travel was receding with every passing minute. She was verging on desperation when she suddenly heard a sound that sent hope surging in her breast—the neighing of a horse.

She crouched down and moved stealthily towards the sound, trying to make as little noise as possible. Soon, she heard men’s voices carrying on the wind, low and rumbling. Men meant more horses. The solution to her problem burst upon her. She would steal a horse!

The closer she got, with each careful step she took, the men’s voices growing louder. She stopped, crouching behind a thick tree trunk, listening intently to the sounds of someone moving stuff around, as though they were making camp for the night. Slowly, she edged forward until she was positioned behind a thicket. She laid on her belly to peer through the gaps between the thorny stems, to a small clearing on the other side.

The scene before her was lit by the occasional shaft of moonlight that managed to penetrate the leaden skies, and the dancing orange flames of the small fire. There she saw two men sitting on opposite sides of it.

She had to stifle a sharp intake of breath to see the size of them. In the dancing, red-tinged firelight, they cut intimidating figures as they ate and drank, keeping up their conversation in their low, deep voices. The one who had his back to her was wearing a fine coat of blue cloth that stretched over a broad, muscular back, and he had dark hair that was neatly tied back with leather strap. He wore a hat on his head.

The sight of the other man, whom she could see head on, gave her momentary cause to rethink her plan to steal a horse from them. Though she had trained as a fighter since she was a young girl and knew herself to be more than merely competent at defending herself and her clan, to lay eyes on the fearsome warrior seated a few yards away from her made her shudder with dread.

Even sitting down he seemed to be a wall of a man, made almost entirely of hard packed muscle. He was tall as well and was dressed far more casually than his companion, in leather trews, a lambskin coat, a padded leather vest beneath, worn over a shirt of fine cotton. Around his hips was slung a thick weapon belt, with a fine sword sheathed at his side and the horn handle of a dirk glinting in the dim glow of the fire at his waist. He looked like a formidable man of action.

When she looked at his face in the firelight, a strange shock went through her, a tingle of excitement such as she had never before encountered, for he was captivatingly handsome. A mass of wild, dark hair framed his face, the harsh planes and hollows of his chiseled features half lost in shadow, making his dark-eyed gaze beneath the black slashes of his eyebrows all the more beguiling. His lips were broad and firm, surrounded by laughter lines, and she almost lost herself for a moment in the warmth of his smile as he and his comrade joked with each other.

Whoever this fearsome man was, he was certainly a handsome specimen, and he stirred something deep in her belly that had nothing to do with fear. It made Ivy’s heart beat a little faster than it already was and caused her briefly to wish that her life was very different.

But ’tis nae, so now I havetae find some way tae steal one of those two horses they have tethered tae that tree over there. There’s naethin’ else fer it—I suppose I’ll just havetae wait until they go tae sleep before I take the horse.

She made herself as comfortable as she could and settled down to wait, unable to take her eyes off the huge warrior, even after the men had laid down on their bedrolls by the fire and wrapped themselves in blankets to sleep. She waited a good half hour before stealthily moving in a circle around the camp, towards the rear of where the horses were tied up.

The stallion, a great black beast with a white star on its forehead, was the nearest, with a big brown mare next to it. Ivy plucked handfuls of the tussocky grass that was growing thereabouts and showed herself to the pair, offering it to them on her palms. They whickered softly in contentment and snaffled it up straightaway, chomping loudly.

Ivy stroked the stallion’s nose and murmured soft words in its ear, begging it not to make a sound. To her immense relief, for she was as tense as a coiled spring about to be released, the pair of beasts were obligingly calm. Ivy continued to pet them in silence, preparing for the moment when she would mount the horse and gallop away to freedom.

Provided I can manage to ride through the forest in the dark without getting knocked out of the saddle or decapitated by a low hanging bough that is , she told herself nervously as she listened for the tell-tale snoring that would tell her for certain that the men she was just about to rob were fast asleep.

She forced herself to wait in silence, watching impatiently for the big warrior to rest easy. He tossed and turned restlessly for what seemed to Ivy like hours. All the time, she was on tenterhooks, waiting for him to settle down. In contrast, his well-dressed friend appeared to have no trouble in dropping off, for he soon started to snore loudly.

Still she waited. Finally, the warrior quietened and lay still, and though he did not start snoring, after a while, she judged it was safe for her to do what she had to do. She did not feel too badly about taking the horse, for the men could share the mare well enough. They would not be stranded.

She silently untied the stallion’s reins from the tree, all the while stroking its head and whispering calming words in its ear. The beast was as good as gold. This is it, she told herself, gripping the reins tightly with one hand and the crop of the saddle in one, swinging herself up into the saddle.

To her horror, as she did so, there came a sharp crack from beneath her boot that echoed around the small clearing like a gunshot. The surprised stallion neighed and stomped a little in response.

Under her breath, Ivy cursed herself for her clumsiness as she kicked up the stallion and went to get out of there before anyone could stop her, when she realized the snoring had stopped.