Chapter 2

She heard it before she saw it, and drawing a little closer in, Lissie Duncan smelled it too. Pulling the hood from her head, the young Scottish lass let her crumpled locks shine in the damp morning air.

The stench of putrefied flesh hit her nostrils. Lissie wrinkled her pretty nose in disgust. The journey from the Highlands had been dangerous, arduous, and not without the occasional clump of dung, but in the five hundred miles she had travailed, nothing had smelled like this.

The acrid stench hit the back of her throat, almost making her choke. First light and the breeze from the river Walbrook brought with it the reek of the city.

Gasping, Lissie fastened the hood tightly back around her head and tried to cover up her mouth. Without seeing, she knew enough to be certain that she had arrived.

This was London.

Days it had taken for her sister and the elders to change their minds. To begin with, there had been incredulity; three straight days of laughter whenever she mentioned the London trip.

And then, the incredulity turned to arguing. Just how would she get there? Who would go with her? And where would she stay?

It had taken time, but eventually, she had worn down the elders and her sister with her dedication. At long last, details had been thrashed out about where she should stay and what she should do. A disposition had been assembled to accompany her and preparations made for her debut in the Sassenach capital.

"But it"s dangerous," argued her sisters, hearing tell of the warring English kings. "London is nae safe."

Lissie only laughed. "An" the Highlands is?"

She had a point. Only that week had the castle been stormed by rival factions. Worse still, the Duncans lacked the means to fight it.

They needed this marriage.

So, she had been sent. The journey was long, arduous, and grueling. Many times, she felt like turning back. Until she remembered Donald.

And it was a strange day indeed when she finally did arrive. Lissie glimpsed the city through the early morning miasma; vast, loud, yet somehow cramped at the same time.

The sheer scale and noise of it blew her away. Life, it seemed, started early here. Every sight and every sound she could hope to see crammed into one square mile. Walking beside her horse, Lissie took her first eyeful, and gulped.

And then almost retched.

The smell!

The heavy aroma of excrement hung in the air, followed swiftly by a blast of putrid, rotting flesh. Lissie rubbed her eyes and looked again.

"Mind yer way, miss."

A gruff voice almost edged her off the road. But before she could look, she was pushed sideways by what felt like a torpedo of wool. When she finally got her bearings, it was to see a procession of sheep jettisoning across the narrow street, heading toward the gate ahead.

"Watch out!" the voice hissed. Lissie had not yet identified its owner, but no doubt it was the shepherd, or owner of the flock.

Either that or the London sheep were imbued with the gift of speech.

Bewildered, Lissie held on to her horse. In vain, she tried to remain upright as the wooly army surged along. Her eyes opened a little wider. The sheer number stunned her to silence.

""Scuse me, miss," the shepherd muttered, raising his cap to her. Before she could reply, another contingent raced past her; this time snorting and grunting.

Pigs.

Millions of them seemed to colonize the tiny street, flattening Lissie into its edges and leaving her grasping to her horse for dear life. She had seen it all in the crippling journey from the Highlands, but the parade of pigs pushing them into oblivion was the final straw.

The stroppy mare flared her nostrils and let out a gigantic cry. With no further warning, the tired animal launched itself upon the parade of pink trotters foraging through the undergrowth.

"Florrie, lassie, nay!" urged Lissie, tugging at her reins. But it was no use. The stealthy white mare went careering into the fleshy river running through them.

What followed was pure chaos. As Lissie"s horse bucked, so too did others. She had not noticed, but the guards behind her had followed, all of them racing to accompany her on her outing from the tavern that morning.

Lissie had thought she had left them sleeping, but they must have reached her. Their constant presence on this journey had been a blessing. Many times they had saved her, guiding her through the perilous Highlands and into English terrain. But just sometimes, Lissie longed to be alone.

So, under cover of darkness, she had left their lodgings unaccompanied, hoping to see London alone, at least for a while.

But it seemed this was not to be.

"Mistress Duncan!"

A voice from the back of her made Lissie recoil. With a sigh, she turned around. From behind, the earnest face of Malcolm pressed forward.

Frustrated, Lissie held a groan and composed herself. Malcolm"s sandy eyebrows locked together in a frown. It was clear he was not happy about her absenting herself like this.

Watching him, Lissie mused. Since leaving Scotland, he had grown hairier. Already sheep-like to begin with, he now more resembled a wooly mammoth, his thick hair looping over his shoulders crazily. A gray beard engulfed his gnarled features, springing from nowhere to reach the length of his torso.

All told, it was an improvement.

"Guid morning, Malcolm," said Lissie, as graciously as she could manage while being physically compressed by a battalion of sheep.

And now pigs.

And then, Lord knew what. For a moment, the world began spinning. All the sounds and sights—not to mention smells—overwhelmed the young Scots lass. It took a moment or two for her to catch her bearings.

When she did, she found a sturdy arm steadying her.

"What ho, madam!"

The crispness of the man"s voice instantly stalled her. From inside her reverie, Lissie fought to get free. Gradually emerging from the darkness, she glanced around.

"Malcolm?" she called. Deep down, she knew it was not Malcolm, her sister"s trusty guard. But everything was going too fast. Events had overtaken her, and she was struggling to make sense.

"Alas, no, madam." The man"s voice sounded oddly twinkly. She wondered if he looked the same. Gradually, Lissie"s eyes pierced the darkness and broke through to the daylight.

Finally, she was back to her senses.

Lissie was not sure if she had been in her right mind since departing the Highlands. Since then, the cold, the rain, the fighting, and the sheer grind of the ride had taken their toll.

Everything had taken her by surprise, not least the ongoing battles between the English nobles. Navigating their way through the country had been perilous, although all of that had faded on contact with the city.

She may only be at the gate of London, but already it was hitting her hard. The sounds, the smells, the noise. Stench from the tanneries choked her, silencing her words.

Lissie attempted to speak, but could only retch. It was not a good look. And all the time, the man"s azure eyes leaned in, making it harder still for her to concentrate.

"Mistress?"

Fetching a handkerchief from his tunic, the gentleman proffered it toward her. Hesitantly, Lissie accepted it.

By now, she was fully awake and beginning to feel self-conscious. Quickly, she dabbed at her face, then straightened her hair.

"Thank ye, kindly," she said, bringing herself into some sort of order before finally tidying herself with it. She noted its rich lacing, marking its owner as a man of distinction.

She made to give the handkerchief back, but the man gestured that she should keep it. Smiling, she tucked it away, feeling somewhat awkward.

Watching her as she folded it down, the gentleman smiled, his eyes meeting hers and lingering awhile there.

Uncomfortable.

Lissie gave a small cough. She had to do something to stop his eyes from smothering her. A rapid heart rate developed at the same time as a dry throat.

The man"s eyes would not stop following her. Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze and struggled with her errant caul. She was aware of not looking her best, her loose hair billowing in the side-wind. And yet, he gazed on with an expression of unerring fascination.

Och, he thinks I"m a muckle slattern for sure! thought Lissie, but the glow of the early morning sun buzzed and shone right through her, dazzling her hair.

Lissie found herself cupping her eyes to see through the hazy sunshine as both she and the tall stranger stepped back to allow the irate sheep to pass.

There, in the mélange of bodies, she glimpsed the man"s outline. It was hard to pick out the details; both dizziness and surprise got the better of her. But as the fog cleared, she saw a rugged face gazing quizzically at her.

It was the blue eyes she noticed first. Piercing through the gloom of the morning. In that strange moment, they seemed brighter than the sun.

Things slowed down.

"Miss?" the man said again. She could feel his arm upon her, but gradually relaxing his grip. Slowly, he disengaged from her, gently leaving her upright against the bridge.

It was the first time she realized she was on a bridge. Beneath her feet, the sounds of water rushing penetrated.

"How fare ye, good lady?" Malcolm asked her.

Concern blinked through the man"s eyes. But Lissie was not really noticing that. She was lost in the depths of their color; a deep, profound blue that seemed to penetrate the gloom around them.

It took quite some time before she even moved on to the rest of his face. And when she did, she was not disappointed. Slowly, the world unraveled, and she was looking at a handsome, tall man of approximately thirty.

Unusual for an Englishman, his hair was raven black, which was the second thing she noticed about him. Just after discovering his gravelly voice.

"Ye were in a swoon, madam," he stated politely. By now he had rested her against the narrow bridge and withdrawn a suitable distance.

Maybe he had noticed the look on Malcolm"s face as the clan"s chief guard came closer. Malcolm approached the man.

"How are ye, mistress?" Malcolm muttered. He seemed about to rest his arm upon her, protectively, but at the last moment, he seemed to think the better of it.

Instead, he stood beside Lissie, deflecting her from the man. Lissie frowned. The first interesting man in nearly five hundred miles, and Malcolm was in her way.

Surreptitiously pushing Malcolm a little, Lissie curtsied and forced herself to smile.

"I am braw, yer lordship," said Lissie, with what she hoped were her best manners. She went to a lot of trouble to perfect a curtsy for the gentleman, but all the while, she was trembling.

The man"s blue eyes followed her searchingly. She wished he wouldn"t look at her like that.

A pause. The hazy gray clouds lifted to reveal the morning sun. There, on the narrow bridge, they beamed down a cold light. Enchanted, Lissie could not help staring. He was teasing her, a small ridge of stubble enticing her hand"s caress. She almost leaned over to touch it; his toned texture laid bare before her.

The man wore a quizzical expression, bringing his firm brow into a knot. But he did not have the pickled skin tone of so many of his contemporaries. Instead, he was refreshingly clear.

"I beg your mercy, madam?" said the man. He looked bewildered. It took a moment for his confusion to register with Lissie. "I did not quite catch that."

The bridge was at a standstill. Despite being pushed to the sides, they were under siege. A surge of sheep had locked the traffic hard. Now, a line of shepherds and peasants going to market stopped them dead.

For the first time, Lissie was aware of holding up the entire bridge.

"Dinnae fash," she said, blushing.

The man looked even more confused.

"Nay...who?" asked the man politely. Then he tried again. "Do you speak English?"

Stunned, Lissie turned around. Malcolm"s incredulous face spoke for her.

She might have known it. He could not understand her.

Just as she was stammering out a response, Malcolm came a little closer, fastening his arm around her shoulder.

"Come, mistress," said the guard, with a pertinent look to the man. He ushered her away, weaving her far away through the animals, sights, and smells of the new town.

"H-He didnae mean any harm," she started, as the servant led her away. All of a sudden, Lissie felt rude. The man had only tried to help her. But by the look on Malcolm"s face, he was in no mood to hang about.

In fact, he was not happy at all. Just when he had pushed her away from the main thrust of the bridge, he turned to Lissie.

"Mistress," he said, his haystack of beard bristling with irritation. "We are in London, noo. Ye cannae just take off like that. It is nae safe."

Lissie turned in surprise. "Wheesht! We"ve come all the way from the Highlands. That isnae safe. Whit on Earth do ye mean, nae safe?"

Her wide blue eyes glistened in the early morning air. The world overwhelmed her. The last few weeks had been a miasma of tough roads and hard, biting cold.

Now, for the first time, she had a glimpse of something else. It was new, exciting, and maybe a wee bit scary. But one thing Lissie was not going to do was to hide.

However, Malcolm was not budging.

"I mean, mistress, the situation in England is a powder keg. The forces o" the king against the supporters o" York," Malcolm hissed.

They had just about finished dodging sheep, and for the first time, Lissie caught a glimpse of the town beyond, its narrow buildings with gothic architecture huddled together as if for warmth.

Lissie blinked. She had never seen so many buildings before, but that was nothing to the number of bodies crammed into the trickling streets which wound their way around it.

It was only morning, but it looked as if the whole of the town was out, gearing up for the day ahead. Everywhere, there were sounds from the blacksmith"s hammers clanging loudly to the shouting of merchants and tradesmen.

"York? But he"s dead,"said Lissie, perplexed. They walked on foot along the narrow bridge, over toward Bishopsgate. Behind them, their horses followed, ushered by one of the clan guards.

All Lissie wanted to do was to get to her lodgings with her cousin, as well as see as much of the town as she could. She had little appetite for a dull lecture. However, Malcolm was showing no signs of stopping.

"Aye, the auld York is dead, but his son an" his supporters are nae," reminded Malcolm, as he led her through the crowded bridge.

The pair of them weaved in and out amongst the traders and peasants, all headed into the city for the day. Lissie scrutinized them. From the laden carts and animals, it was clear this was market day.

"Mistress Lissie," Malcolm continued. His eyes had widened as if he had to make her understand right there and then. "It"s a collieshangie an" make nay mistake. We must tread softly."

Lissie frowned. She did not really see how this affected them. Malcolm pressed his point.

"Mistress, they say the Sassenach prince an" queen are on their way to Scotland. It isnae safe for them here. We must be careful of oor fealty if we are to remain here."

Lissie nodded briskly. "Certainly," she said. But she thought his advice a bit misplaced. Then, almost immediately, she walked straight into what Malcolm had been talking about; a head on a spike!

Her heart quickened, and Lissie visibly recoiled as she pushed herself away from the ghoulish sight. But getting past the macabre spectacle almost propelled her straight into another one.

"Are ye alright, miss?" Malcolm called.

Shuddering, Lissie gathered herself.

"Och," she muttered, nodding quickly. "Braw!" She battled to remain calm. Around her, traders trundled past. Nobody was giving the heads a second glance.

Lissie steeled her resolve and clenched her teeth. "Dinnae ye fash," she said, strengthening her resolve. "Let"s find oor way to Annice hoose!"

* * *

Nothing had preparedher for the moment, when the thick oak door to the large manor opened, Lissie Duncan held her breath.

And until she did, she had no idea of her terror.

For weeks, she had traveled to this point, blithely consumed with getting there, and finding this house. At the time, she had not paid much importance to the English cousin of her mother, some five hundred miles away from the Highlands. She was well-connected, for sure. All she knew really was that she had married some lord, and the family fortunes had altered for good.

Then, when the invitation had come, there had barely been a second thought.

It was only now, standing on the doorstep of the mansion, that a sudden thrill ran through her. The place was huge. She was out of her depth. Standing there, on the narrow pavement, it dawned on her that this was a proper noble"s home.

Before she had the time to think any further, the door was flung open.

"My dear!" Flanked by two serving wenches was a lady in a most enormous houppelande, welcoming her.

Lissie gazed up. It was her first glimpse of her noble cousin. She was dressed immaculately in long flowing robes, the very newest styles from Burgundy. Lissie could not help but widen her eyes to take in the expanse of flowing material—in silks and printed too—with fine furs slashed to reveal the scarlet beneath.

For a moment, the cousin hesitated, as if waiting for some reply. But Lissie was struck dumb right then. The lady waited as Lissie stared blankly. It was only afterward that she realized she was expected to curtsy.

"Sweeting, you must be parched. Come inside," the cousin cried. Her welcome was genuine but somewhat constrained. From the arching of her eyebrows, Lissie surmised that she was not impressed by Lissie"s lack of etiquette.

Her imperious look only made Lissie freeze the more. Panic immobilized her, leaving her gaping on the doorstep. Distressed, her eyes cast down upon her humble riding hood.

Inadequacy swept through her. She was disheveled and dusty. Her hair unraveled from its caul and loosed everywhere. For a moment, Lissie hesitated on the step.

"Don"t just stand there, sweeting," the cousin said, ushering her in.

Lissie"s eyes met Malcolm"s. Nodding, she entered haltingly. The lady-in-waiting took their things and showed them along the corridor.

The walls oozed wealth. From the ornately framed portraits to the silver candelabras, this house dripped prosperity. Lissie"s palms prickled as she was shown into an abundant chamber. In its center, a homely fire roared, but in truth, nothing in this house was cozy.

All of it was designed to impress, and impress it did.

Lissie looked at the splendid chairs, plumped up with velvets and taffeta, and felt suddenly unworthy.

"Darling, have a seat," said the cousin, her smile unwavering. For the first time, Lissie met her in the eye. They were dark and appraising.

She burst into a sudden sweat. Perhaps it was coming in from the cold like that, but she was hot, a debilitating shakiness taking her. With no warning, she was in a near swoon.

"Elisabeth!" The cousin rushed to her side. Softly, an arm supported her, lifting her up. "Pray, be seated, Cousin," said the cousin. "You"re in a near swoon, my dear. Ye must be famished." Concern poured from her. But there was something else. Behind the smile, her dark eyes were working on her, running up and down her tatty attire and well-worn cape.

"I-I," began Lissie. She couldn"t remember the question. Panic took hold in her stomach, knotting and twisting it tight. This lady was judging her, no mistake. They all were, even the servants.

Especiallythe servants. Lissie watched them, their sly eyes covering her like slime.

"Dear?" asked the cousin, her sharp eyes swooping upon Lissie like prey. With her dark hair pulled into a heart-shaped headdress, she was more like a raven than a woman.

A servant brought in a cup of caudle. Lissie took the drink, allowing the sweet, milky liquid to work its magic. Suitably refreshed, she replaced the goblet on the table. "Thank ye, Annice."

Immediately, the expression on her cousin"s face changed.

"It"s Agnes, darling," she said, a little quickly. "Lady Agnes. Remember that, my dear. In England, we are a little more formal, perhaps more than in your parts."

Annice"s eyes sparkled, revealing hidden censure. Lissie gathered herself.

"I beg thee mercy, madam," said Lissie, with what she hoped was enough humility. This seemed to please the cousin, who smiled benevolently.

"Pray tell, Elisabeth, I did not quite glean the reason for your arduous travails to our poor house. Quite what are you in London for?" asked Annice, her dark eyes capturing Lissie imploringly.

Our poor house.The place was a literal mansion!

Lissie"s eyes opened widely. But then she coughed and composed herself. She had thought that her sister had explained her mission when writing to her. Perhaps she had not.

"I am to make a match, my lady," said Lissie, keeping her eyes cast down and on her lap. There was something about Annice"s nonstop gaze that unnerved her.

The heat from the fire was stifling, touching her cheeks. She knew all too well she was the center of attention from all in the room and did not like it one bit.

"Match? As in, a marriage?" asked the cousin, her face shot with incredulity. Lissie felt herself blush. She had only just met this woman, but she had a way of making her ill at ease.

"Aye, mistress, a marriage, I am here to get wed," Lissie replied.

There was a silence. The knots in Lissie"s stomach turned into snakes. Annice looked at her blankly.

"A wedding?" she asked limply, her eyes running once more the length and breadth of Lissie"s person. She did not rein in her dismay.

"Aye," said Lissie, beginning to prickle. She could see the way this lady was looking at her. Cousin or no cousin, she was trying her patience. But she needed her help.

Smoothing herself over, Lissie smiled and forced herself to be polite.

"Aye, mistress. I am here to find a well-placed husband an" make a match that will stun the whole of London!"

There was a pause. Annice looked as if she had been shot. Lissie watched, in dismay, as she pulled herself back from the brink of laughing.

"Well," began the cousin, pursing her lips. "The whole of London? They definitely need my help then!"

A low murmur from the servants began from behind her.

They are laughing at me,thought Lissie, her cheeks reddening. Inside, everything was tumbling. She had had a long journey and was weary. Suddenly, the prying eyes were all too much. Lissie blinked back the tears. Added to that were the severe consequences for her clan if she did not achieve her mission and the prospect of marrying Donald. No wonder Lissie was anxious!

"Aye, Cousin, I do," she said. Despite her emotion, Lissie kept her voice flat. But eyes glinting, she glared at her cousin.

Lady Agnes needed reminding of a few things. She was no better than Lissie was, whatever she might think.

Slowly, Annice"s expression wavered. "Well then, you have come to the right place, Elisabeth. I will take you under my wing. Mark my words, before the twelve-month is up, you will be betrothed!"

Lissie forced herself to smile again.

"Thank ye, kindly," she murmured.

But Annice"s expression had turned serious again, as if she was running through things in her mind. Rising from her seat, the lady paced earnestly across the room. Lissie watched, wondering if she would trip over her pointed shoes, the length of which she had never seen before. Somehow, she managed not to.

"Of course, it is a big undertaking. Starting tomorrow, we begin in earnest by burning all your clothes."

Burning?

Lissie"s eyes widened. Surely her cousin was jesting?

One look at Annice"s face showed she was not joking.

"We burn them—all your rags and that quaint rug you have on—and rebuild you from top to tip."

Lissie"s cheeks burned. That rug happened to be the clan plaid. Her shoulders bristled with indignation. Annice had forgotten quickly where she had come from.

Remembering something, Lissie plucked the contents of her knapsack, and with some trouble, produced a silver emblem.

"Pray ye accept this as a token of oor esteem," said Lissie, doing her best to navigate the formal world these Sassenachs seemed to inhabit.

Every eye was upon her as Lissie passed the small clan brooch to her cousin.

"My dear heart, how quaint!" she said, taking it wryly and placing it in her palm as if it were a curiosity. "My guests are sure to be greatly entertained by it."

A small ripple went around the room, and out of nowhere, Lissie got a strong desire to punch Annice. She didn"t, of course, but the thought was enough to give her sustenance as she was shown up to her chamber by the lady"s maid.

"Will that be everything, mistress?" the maid said, her flowing servant"s robe of white linen looking markedly more kempt than Lissie did right then.

The young woman kept her eyes cast downward and her thoughts to herself, but Lissie couldn"t help wondering what she thought of her. Possibly, she was the first Scottish woman this young girl had ever seen. Already she had caught one or two of them looking at her as if she had two heads or something. And the other maid, the one who had left them down the hall, had been openly staring at the plaid around her neck.

"Thank ye, Molly," said Lissie. She ached to be left alone. But for some reason, the woman just would not leave. Wondering what she was hanging about for, Lissie felt a pang of irritation. Something lingered in the serving maid"s eyes, but whenever she looked, her gray eyes darted away swiftly.

"Dinnae fash, lassie. Get awa" wi" ye. I will send fer ye if I need summat."

A puzzled look crossed the girl"s face, but Lissie did not really notice. She was too busy looking about. The room was of decent size, with a thick four-post bed in the center, lavished with silks and damasks. Instantly, Lissie wanted nothing more than to sink into it, but before she left, Molly unleashed a surprise.

"Pray don"t leave the bath too long, mistress. It grows cold." The woman smiled briefly.

Lissie turned, startled. For the first time, she saw the steaming bath in front of the fireplace.

"Och!" she said, in surprise. This was very kind, and of course, very welcome. The girl hesitated still, leading Lissie to wonder suddenly if she expected payment. Of course, this was not something she was accustomed to doing back home, but maybe it was different here?

Everything else she had seen in England had been strange.

That must be it,Lissie decided, immediately delving into her pocket bag for some coin. It took a while for her hand to trick out a farthing, which she clumsily placed in the wench"s palm.

The stunned look on the lass"s face could not have been more if she had slapped her across it. Seeing her surprise, Lissie smiled and nudged her.

"Many a mickle makes a muckle!"

The girl"s face blanked completely. "What?"

It was then that Lissie realized, once again, that she did not understand her accent.

"Nothing," she said wearily. "Dinnae fash, lassie. Off ye gae!"

Finally, the serving woman seemed to understand this. And she understood the farthing too, even if it did bear the head of James II and not Henry VI.

Or was it Edward now? Feeling dizzy, Lissie could not say for sure. There was so much to get used to in this strange country. Sighing, Lissie sank into the beautiful bed. Cousin Annice was clearly not coy about showcasing her massive wealth. A quick glance at the silver candelabra confirmed that.

Lissie"s tiredness dissolved into the damask sheeting. Beside the bed were a hearty dram and some bread and cheese. And then, there was the bath. Lissie could not have asked for more. And yet, a strange hurt tugged at her heart.

The noise, the crowds, and the teeming streets played again in her head. Pulling the sheets over her, Lissie felt her head spin. It was all too much. She was tired and alone. Now more than ever, she wished to be back home with her horses and sisters around her.

And while she could certainly not fault the hospitality of her cousin, Lissie had found her distant and aloof. Or was that just being English?

Emotions overwhelming her, Lissie rocked herself by her knees as hot tears spilled down. She wanted to go home. Her accent marked her as an outcast, and her clothes were so worn and strange that even the servants laughed.

What had she done, coming to such a cold country? She would be lucky to find a husband at all.

Nearly everyone she had met was rude, deranged, or just plain mad. The only exception had been the kind man on the bridge.

Vaguely, Lissie recalled him. Closing her eyes, a picture misted in her mind. He was tall, mysterious, and handsome. But other than that, Lissie couldn"t remember much at all.

Just his eyes; they had shone like stars.