Prologue

"Will ye stand still, mistress?" the maid asked irritably as she tried to pin up the last errant curls into Norah Brown's flyaway blonde hair, which apparently had a mind of its own.

"I am so sorry, Katrina." Norah's voice was trembling with nervousness. "I am just so nervous today."

"Every bride is nervous on her weddin' day, Mistress," Katrina replied, smiling. "It will pass once ye are standin' at the altar. It did for me."

Norah was feeling a churning mixture of emotions. She was terrified, disgusted and sad all at once, and she knew that if she wedded herself to the man her father had chosen for her she would not live longer than a few years. She felt helpless as she stood in her chamber in the most beautiful dress she had ever owned, waiting for the dreaded moment when she would have to take her vows.

Norah was searching for any way to escape. The wedding was to be a large affair, since her father wanted to show off just how wealthy he was to the local community. This desire to become acceptable to the upper echelons of society was a facet of his character that Norah could not abide. He had never been much of a father to her, and now that she herself was the means by which he thought he could climb the social ladder, she was beginning to hate him for it.

Her husband-to-be was Archie Patterson, a widower who was thirty years her senior, a wealthy wool merchant and friend of her father's. He had snow white hair, dark blue eyes, and although he was not exactly repulsive to look at, there was something about him that turned her stomach. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her, as if he was about to spring on her and devour her. She knew what he wanted. She had seen the lustful look on his face the first time she had laid eyes on him.

Norah's father had arranged numerous dinners and even a ceilidh for Norah's birthday to encourage the two of them to come together and get to know each other. However, although Norah cooperated, it was obvious that she was not happy about it, and Patterson became impatient with her. He urged Norah's father, Liam Brown, to bring the wedding forward so that he could show off his new young bride to everyone.

For Patterson, it was not a matter of showing how high he was on the social ladder, since he was already nearly on the top rung. No, the marriage was proof of how attractive he still was as a man, because he could still attract and marry such a beautiful young lass. Norah was no more than a trophy to him.

And Norah was indeed lovely, blessed with hair as golden as a field of ripe wheat, large grey eyes and a slim but curvy figure; she was the epitome of all that was feminine. Very few men would have turned down her hand in marriage, but her father had dismissed many young men for not being rich enough or not from prominent enough families.

"All done, Mistress," Katrina announced, smiling. "Ye look lovely." She turned Norah around to look at herself in the mirror. Her dress of soft pink velvet had wrist length sleeves, a modest round neck and a skirt which flared from her waist to fall in delicate folds to the floor. It flattered her womanly figure, but even though Norah knew that she had never looked better, she felt as though she was about to attend her own funeral.

Norah's life seemed to be flashing before her eyes in disjointed images: her first ride on a pony, her first trip to Inverness with her mother, the day she received her first pet cat, Tam, a ginger tom. Then there was the first time she had seen the ocean and had been overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of it. Then, she remembered the day her mother died. Agnes was covered in smallpox pustules and her grey eyes could hardly be seen because they were almost swollen shut. Norah was stricken with a wave of utter sadness as she thought about it, because she had loved her mother more than anyone else in the world.

After that, the memories became more and more gloomy - until suddenly out of the turmoil came one shining thought: Tearlach McLachlan and the first and only time he had kissed her.

He had been seventeen then, and she was fifteen. Even then, in the days when her body was only just beginning to awaken into womanhood, he excited her in a way she did not understand, but it thrilled her.

He was broad-shouldered and muscular even then, and had eyes that were the color of spring leaves and bright shaggy red hair. Norah could have gazed into those eyes for hours.

One day, when they had exhausted themselves chasing a few of the neighborhood dogs around the market square in the village of Dunnaird, they flopped, exhausted, onto the grass with their backs against a fallen tree trunk.

It was that rare thing in the Highlands: a sunny day, and both closed their eyes against the fierce noon sunlight.

Norah felt the rasping touch of a big, calloused hand as it rested on hers, then squeezed it gently. She opened her eyes to look into Tearlach's and saw that he had the strangest expression on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and something else that she could not identify.

"Norah." He said her name in the new voice that had recently dropped into the deep masculine timbre that she loved to listen to.

"Yes, Tearlach?" She was puzzled by his manner, since he was not usually so serious.

He looked at her closely for a long moment, then cupped her cheek with his big hand and leant forward to place his lips softly on hers.

Later, she realized how clumsy and inexperienced he had been, but at the time, it was heavenly, and she had never felt anything like it. Her stomach clenched and her heart began to beat faster, but just as she thought he would put his arms around her, Tearlach broke away. He got to his feet and said, "I'm sorry, Norah," then ran.

"Tearlach!" she cried, and began to run after him, but of course, an adolescent girl could never catch up with a young strong man like Tearlach. She watched him disappear into the trees surrounding the village with feelings of both elation and disappointment.

Little did she know that it would be their first and last kiss, for she never saw him again.

The memory set light to a sudden fire of rage inside her. All her life she had been following orders, doing as she was told and trying to please her father and everyone else around her, and to this day she was still doing it. Now, here she was, being manipulated for the sake of two men's huge egos, and a stab of rebellion shot through her.

‘No more!'she thought suddenly. ‘I will not be my father's puppet any longer. Why should I sacrifice my happiness so that he can feel better about himself? Is that my only mission in life?'

Her maid, who was watching her and waiting for more instructions, frowned in concern as she saw the expression on Norah's face. "Mistress? Is everything all right?" she asked anxiously.

Norah pinned a smile on her face. "Yes, Katrina. I need a moment to myself, that's all. Do you mind?"

Katrina nodded, smiled, and walked out, leaving Norah to gather her thoughts.

She took a deep breath then snatched a warm cloak from her armoire and put it on, before grabbing a pouch with a few pennies in it that she kept by the side of her bed for emergencies. This was an emergency; she had to escape before her father came to fetch her.

Knowing that most of the staff would already be at the local chapel for the wedding, Norah hurried down the servants' stairs and emerged into the kitchen, then stealthily made her way around to the stables. She looked around hurriedly and found a chestnut gelding who looked perfect for her needs. She was an experienced horsewoman and had the horse saddled in a moment. She took one last look at the house where she had grown up.

"Goodbye," she whispered, grinning as she urged the horse out into the open. She felt the wind rushing up to meet her face, and at last she felt free, for the first time in her life. The sensation was intoxicating.

However, her jubilation did not last long, as she heard the ominous thundering of hoofbeats behind her. Looking back, she saw her father and her husband-to-be about a hundred yards away and gaining on her. Both were yelling at her, and although she could not make out the words, she knew they were both commanding her to stop.

She imagined for a moment that she was racing Tearlach, as she often did when she was much, much younger. His fiery red hair was streaming out behind him, his face grimly determined as he strove to catch up with her, but Norah always won, at least in her dreams.

"I am not going back!" she thought mutinously. "Not in a thousand years!" Norah was an accomplished rider, and when she urged her mount on, he responded by giving her a fresh burst of speed that left the two men far behind them. She had picked a good horse.

Norah knew what awaited her if they caught her: not only would she be married to the most loathsome man in the world, but she would have the wedding night from hell. The thought fired her determination and drove her on even faster.

Presently, the burn beside them took a bend to the right which took her out of sight of her pursuers, and she splashed through its shallow water and into the trees on the other side. The woods were not dense, but there were enough trees to make horse and rider invisible as they stood and watched Norah's father along her betrothed canter past on the other bank of the stream.

Norah laughed softly as she saw the frustration on their faces, but she knew that she was not yet out of danger. As soon as the two men returned, they would enlist some willing friends and a few of her father's guards to come and hunt her down. They might even bring the dogs they used for hunting. It was a frightening thought.

She did not have much time. She turned the horse's head and headed north east towards the next big town, Perth, hoping it was a large enough place for her to get lost in. There were practical considerations like food, clothing and shelter to think of, but she could worry about those later. First she had to secure her freedom.