Prologue

1516

Midnight.

Black. Everywhere.

A fearsome wind blasted Malcolm Duncan sidewards.

With a nagging doubt that this was not his bedchamber, the heir to the Duncan clan prized his eyes open. It wasn"t easy. His lids were stuck. And even when they did open, it was only to a deep blackness.

The candles at his bedside must be blown, he thought, as he shuffled along. But then, a blast of pure salt air gave him pause.

This definitely was not his bedchamber. On his guard, Malcolm Duncan steeled himself.

A sudden crash sent him to his knees. Steadying himself, Malcolm breathed deep and waited for things to come back to normal.

They didn"t. Everything swam. His head in confusion, he looked around.

Dark.

Malcolm blinked, finding the light. Then, a familiar face. Out of the shadows, she was there!

Ainslee!

Malcolm"s heart leapt. But, in an instant, she was gone, leaving Malcolm in a dark, dreamless sleep that lasted hours.

* * *

The second timehe opened his eyes, it was to a harsh white light. A strange blue vista had enveloped him.

"Ainslee?"

Her name stuck on his lips. Forcing his stinging eyes open, Malcolm stared.

Where on earth was he?

* * *

"Kiss me!"

A smile played mischievously on Ainslee McDonald's lips. Eighteen years old, and oddly puckish, her features were a strange mix; large, almond shaped eyes, dainty little nose, and wide, lascivious lips, which just begged to be kissed.

She shouldn"t be attractive; but she was, and abundantly so. And when she turned those honey eyes towards Malcolm Duncan, he knew he was a goner.

She shone like gold, but was as sharp as any knife in her father"s smiddy shop. Even with her small frame, she was still too much for most men to handle. So just as well Malcolm Duncan was not most men! His large build had seen off many a blaggard, and as heir to the Duncan clan, his future seemed secure.

So how when she smiled like that did he turn to aspic? Ainslee"s smirk stirred something troubling within him.

The deserted tables and spilled goblets signaled the end of the feast. However, Malcolm"s appetite had not yet been sated. His pulse quickening, Malcolm gazed at Ainslee with barely concealed glee.

She was ripe, ready for picking. He ached to take her, now. Slowly, Malcolm leaned in to kiss her. For a moment, she played along, her meadowsweet hair consoling him into bliss. But at the last minute, she swerved, suddenly.

"Ach, whit do ye take me for, lad?!" she chided, pulling away. "A stew house strumpet? I"ve got a reputation to think o"!" But the teasing smirk on her cheek told him she was playing. Stroking her ring finger, she looked at him plaintively. "I mean, if ye put a ring on this, things might change..."

Then she turned, coyly, but Malcolm sensed she was grinning. Flashing her a look, Malcolm was about to answer, when she pressed her face to him, delivering a deep and unexpected kiss.

Malcolm fell into their embrace and with it, almost straight onto the floor.

"Och!" he moaned, as Ainslee laughed. Finally getting himself upright, she poured him a wee dram, although by that time he had already had way beyond too much.

It did not stop him taking another one, and as the dram went down, Ainslee looked at him keenly.

"Mal, I," she began. But Malcolm did not let her finish. He was suddenly certain of what she was going to say. Taking her hand, he braved himself.

Thinking of the clan ring in his pocket, he summoned together the words to make it right. Inside, his heart pounded. But for the life of him, the words would not come. Instead, the best he could manage was a mumbled, "I ken lassie, an" we will do, soon, as..."

Ainslee smiled, letting him off the hook. Squeezing her hand, Malcolm felt sick with anticipation. He had been building up to this, but suddenly, the moment was gone. How had he managed this?

Instead, Ainslee was watching him with something of concern in her widening eyes. All Malcolm could think was how beautiful she looked, in her simple dress, with her long, dark curls rushing around her face. Out of all the lasses in the clan she was the most graceful - even if she was not the most highborn.

But just thinking about this, brought back the problem - that of his clan.He was expected to wed a noble lass.

Ainslee tugged Malcolm"s dark red locks teasingly, and looked at him archly.

"Wheesht! What ails ye? Ye waiting fer me to fall into the arms o" some other lad?"

Fever burst through Malcolm. "Mistress McDonald!" he whispered, mockingly. But inside he was rattled. Her heat radiated through her arisaid. Malcolm felt his heartbeat race. Placing his hand on her knee, he stroked her tenderly.

She moaned, tenderly.

"Och, lassie… How can ye suggest such a wicked thing?" he said, the corners of his mouth turning up. He loved teasing her. The skin beneath his fingers was soft and warm, brimming with barely disguised lust.

Ainslee's eyes glinted. "Because I am still waiting for ye to make an honest lass o" me?" she suggested, softly, and Malcolm felt himself blush.

"Ach, I ken lass, I ken," he said, eyes darting about. Once again, his fingers went to the dark clan ring in his pocket. This time, he was sure he would find the words.

But just as they were nearly out, Ainslee changed again, this time she was playful.

"But in the meantime, I can think o" something to do...," she brought the tip of her tongue to her teeth, leaving Malcolm in sweats.

Ainslee gave a little giggle, so coy it almost tipped him over the edge. He was close now.

The taste of her kiss still on his lips, Malcolm summoned every drop of self-control he could muster. She shouldn't tease him like that. He might capitulate.

She smiled again, her brown eyes glinting in the mellow light. Swiftly, Malcolm glanced about. This was madness. They were on their own. He was sure of it. Bringing his arm a little closer to Ainslee, he got comfortable.

Ainslee uncurled a lock of her long, dark hair, and wound it around her ring finger provocatively. Then, she fixed him a look.

Malcolm blushed, and a strange flame shot up in him. He had seen the way that men looked at her, the way his own brother looked at her. But whether they liked it or not, they would be wed.

Holding her hand tenderly, his resolve stiffened.

"Ainslee," he said, his fingers playing around the ring in his pocket. Yet, for some reason, he did not bring it out. Instead, he was trapped in her gaze.

Ainslee"s mirrored eyes implored him, crazy emotions ran through him.

"Ainslee, I beseech ye, will ye marry me, lass?"

Malcolm felt himself sweat up and down, even though the snow was set for the night and the great hall was by no means warm. Ainslee"s face was impenetrable. It took an age for her to speak at all, by which time, Malcolm had almost expired.

All the same, he kept his demeanor calm.

"Mal, I," she began, as Malcolm"s heart almost ripped out of his ribcage. It was a no, he felt sure of it.

Ainslee paused. "Och, o" course I will marry ye, ye big walloper!"

Ainslee leapt up, putting her arms around Malcolm, who felt himself dizzy. Holding Ainslee hard, he felt happier than he had ever been in his life.

"Och, Ainslee, ye will nae regret it, I will go tell father first thing! Then we can be wed... Afore the month is oot!"

Swinging Ainslee around his waist, he lifted her into a lingering embrace. Perhaps they would have stayed like that forever, but a rushing of footsteps made them spring apart. Ruefully, Ainslee looked at Malcolm.

"I will hold ye to that, sir," she said, formally. Behind her, the ever-present caucus of servants watched silently. Reluctantly, Malcolm let her go and watched, longingly as Ainslee walked down the hall. He was just returning to his dram, when a noise startled him.

Black.

Malcolm never did know what hit him.

* * *

Her kiss stayedwith him for the hours he slept. But when he awoke, it was to a grim surprise.

Ainslee was gone. The keep was gone. And worst of all, he was gone.

Malcolm squinted. The undisputable stench of fish, and saline hit him. Gripping a rope, he looked about.

Blue. As far as the eye could see.

He was at sea.

"Ach nae ye dinnae!"

Whoosh!Before he could get to his feet, something had knocked him off them. Now a face was gazing; red, weathered and haggard. His light blue eyes grinned.

"Dinnae ye e"en think aboot leaving... lad, there isnae way oot for ye, except a muckle long swim!"

Behind him, some men laughed. All the same, he fought. He railed against the men keeping him down, getting a drubbing for his travail.

He tried his hardest to get out of there, but it was no use.The ship was already miles from land, and Malcolm was trapped.

The man smiled, a bitter, lined smile.

"Nae fash laddie, yer one o" us now, an" ye best get used to it!"