Six

Six

“Do ye believe ye made the correct choice, Clarrisa of the York family?”

Clarrisa stiffened but controlled the urge to jump. She turned smoothly to face Kael Grant. Why was it all Highlanders seemed to be huge? Kael was leaning against the doorway, looking relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that betrayed just how on guard he was.

“Your sister seemed to agree it was the best action.”

Kael grinned, and the expression gave him a rakish appearance. “Which surprised me, for me sister has a wild streak in her.” His eyes flashed a warning at her. “I expect Nareen would stay with her lover no matter the circumstances. No matter what I thought of it.”

Clarrisa ordered herself not to blush. Kael Grant would not see her jumping at the bait he so skillfully dangled in front of her nose. “Then you are accusing your sister of being selfish and considering no one but herself. I doubt she would thank you for such, and I disagree with you. Your sister did not strike me as a disloyal person.”

“Thank ye, Clarrisa. As ye can see, men bluster just as often here in Scotland as they do in England,” Nareen announced from somewhere in the stairwell. Kael laughed, tipping his head back and filling the chamber with the sound of his amusement. His sister appeared, clearly vexed by his demeanor.

“And females try the patience of their kin here in Scotland too,” Kael added with a dry hint of sarcasm.

“Aye, for ye see, if I were his mistress, he’d label me spirited,” Nareen announced with a toss of her hair and not a single hint of remorse for the indecent nature of her comment.

“Obedience has its place in a mistress,” Kael muttered suggestively.

Nareen frowned, her cheeks flushing with color at last, but she shook it off quickly. “Get on with ye, Brother mine.” She aimed a solid blow at his arm, and he recoiled from her but grinned, making fun of her attempts to chastise him.

Two retainers followed Nareen, carrying a bathing tub between them. Nareen directed them with a confident gesture. The men set the tub down and tugged on the corner of their knit bonnets, but they were trying to sneak peeks at Clarrisa while offering respect to their mistress.

“Enough, ye rogues,” Nareen muttered. “I’ve a mind to go tell the priest about yer roguish peeping.” They offered another tug to Kael before disappearing.

“Ye’re a harsh lass, Nareen. I pity the man who weds ye.”

Nareen propped her hands onto her hips as a line of boys came into the solar with yokes across their shoulders bearing buckets of water to fill the tub.

“Oh, do ye now? And but a moment ago I thought I heard ye declaring to all how I’d stay with me lover.”

One of the boys dropped his bucket, splashing water onto the floor. Kael watched the lad try to mop up the mess while his fingers fumbled.

“If any member of this family is bound for shaming our mother, it will no doubt be ye, Kael. Now get ye gone. This is women’s work,” Nareen declared.

Kael pushed his lower lip out into a pout, which looked ridiculous on a grown man.

But Clarrisa laughed. “I agree with you, Nareen. Best to begin praying for his soul now. He looks in need of redemption.”

Kael raised one finger. “If ye want to know me transgressions, lass, well remember the scriptures do warn ye no’ to judge, which means ye’ll be needing to be me partner in sin, if ye intend to be in the proper position to accuse me.”

“I’ve been in your Highlands long enough to know pretty manners will not help me survive here. Save your bragging for a woman interested in what you have to offer her. I am going to bathe,” Clarrisa informed him.

“Maybe I’m interested in viewing what ye have to offer me.” His voice had dipped and was edged with suggestion.

“It would be a waste of your time, unless you have a taste for forcing yourself on women.”

He straightened, the amusement fading from his face. She’d offended his honor, but she didn’t back down. Her chin remained level as he aimed a hard stare at her.

“So ye have courage, Clarrisa of the York family, something I can admire and it explains why Broen has no’ sent ye north.” Something flickered in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. The man was pure devilment—she doubted there was anything on earth that he feared.

“So now that ye have the information ye wanted, Brother, get ye gone,” Nareen insisted.

His lips twitched again, and satisfaction appeared in his eyes. “Ye judged me correctly, Nareen.” He kept his eyes on Clarrisa as he spoke and actually reached up to tug on the side of his bonnet before he disappeared.

Another ripple of sensation traveled through her, but this one was warm. Many would label her a fool for enjoying the man’s approval, but she did.

“Men,” Nareen muttered. “I fail to understand what God was thinking when he created them.” One of the maids sputtered. She was young and stared at her mistress.

“When there are no men about, we may be truthful at last,” Nareen informed the girl. “They have no tolerance for it, though. Best ye remember that.”

Clarrisa laughed. “Your brother might be an exception. I believe he was amused by my insults.”

Nareen shrugged. “Possibly. But he’s here so rarely, I forget he is entertained by me more than he is offended.”

The maids had placed two large kettles on hooks and pushed them into the hearth where they’d built a fire. Water was beginning to boil and escaping over the top. The drops sizzled on the sides of the hot metal. Another set of footsteps was heard on the stairs, and Nareen waited while a woman entered with a clàrsach.

Clarrisa stared at the small harp. “Really, you need not pamper me. I am not a princess.”

“Ah… but ye need no’ tell anyone such and deprive us of the chance to listen to our harper while we work.” The women in the solar laughed good-naturedly as Nareen began to unlace the back of her gown.

A woman set the wooden harp on a small table and pulled a stool up close to play it. She drew her fingers along the strings, producing a magical sound before she began to expertly use the different tones to produce a melody. The chamber began to fill with the sounds of the clàrsach. Clarrisa discovered her toe tapping in time with the tune. There was nothing barbaric about the clarsàch. Yet another thing she’d been raised to believe of Highland customs that wasn’t proving true. More than one English noble had attempted to outlaw the clarsàch because it was deeply rooted in Celtic tradition.

“Pleasing, is nae it?” Nareen muttered. She took the dress when it was lifted off Clarrisa and twirled around in a circle in time with the tune. The blue wool fluttered before she allowed one of the maids to take it from her and hang it up.

Clarrisa battled against the urge to hug herself and keep her underrobe on.

“Do nae be so modest. We’re all women here.”

Clarrisa looked at the chamber door. “I wish there was a bar there.”

Nareen laughed. “Because of me brother? Aye, I know the feeling of wanting to ensure he cannae sneak up on ye.” She came forward and helped lift the over robe up from the front. “Do nae worry. I’ll deal with him. Besides, Kael has as much boldness as arrogance. He’ll no’ resort to peeping. There is one of the few things I am sure about when it comes to me brother’s nature.”

Clarrisa laughed softly. Nareen raised an eyebrow, doubling Clarrisa’s laughter. “I actually feel sorry for your brother now. You are a good match for him.”

Nareen scoffed. “Do nae. He’s a true rogue. Whatever I might do to him, he’s earned it in one way or another.” There was a sizzle and a splash as the hot water was added to the tub.

“Now in with ye, before it cools. Hot baths do nae remain hot very long here.”

Clarrisa realized she was becoming more at ease without her clothing. She stepped into the tub while contemplating the wicked thought. It was really more of an idea, one that had to do with her confidence.

She admitted to enjoying her body. Such a confession would surely gain her a judgment of being sinful, but it was no less true. In spite of a childhood spent being instructed to abhor pleasure of the flesh, no shame prickled across her conscience as the maids helped to bathe her.

IthadbeendelightfultobeinBroen’s bed.

Tears burned her eyes, and she drew in a stiff breath to dispel them. She had done what was best. That knowledge seemed of little comfort, but she’d continued to remind herself of her reasons and hope time would ease the pain of parting. It wasn’t right that she longed for a man she’d known for so little time.

Butheknewyoumoreintimatelythananyother…

She held off the tears until Nareen and the maids were gone. Wearing another dress she did not own, she stood in front of the window, looking out at the day. She had no idea what to do with herself.

***

Lytge Sutherland growled, “Can no one complete a simple task these days?”

His eldest son peered at him without comment.

“Mind the way ye judge me with yer eyes, Norris. The day will come soon enough when ye’ll have to be thinking how every little choice will affect ye and yer holdings.”

“I was nae judging ye.”

“But ye were nae agreeing with me, boy,” Lytge insisted with a soft growl.

Norris sat forward. There was an unmistakable maturity about him, and his body was definitely a man’s. Lytge took a large swallow of ale, wondering where the years had gone.

“Aw… do nae say it, Norris. I’m in a foul temper, but I’ve no’ changed me mind on wanting only honesty between us. There are lairds aplenty who will shine me ass and tell me it smells of spring heather, but no’ many who will speak the truth.”

“Well now… A few more weeks into spring and with the right lass for company, ye might get yer backside to smell of heather.”

The maid serving the high table dropped her pitcher, spilling amber ale across the polished surface of the wood. His father pounded it with his fist, sending the wide-eyed girl fleeing from what she perceived as her laird’s displeasure.

Norris waited, an eyebrow raised as his father glared at him. “Maybe no’ that lass. She’s a bit skittish still. Give her a few years to gain some confidence. I’ll see what I can do to help her along.”

Lytge sputtered before losing the battle to hide his amusement. “Ye’re a wicked boy, Norris. I hear the priests battle between them to see which of their number is forced to suffer yer confessions.”

“It’s more a matter of which one of them gets the enjoyment of the entertainment I bring to their dull duties.”

Lytge sucked in too much ale and choked. “I’m going to end up building them a new wing to the cathedral to save yer soul from damnation.”

Another maid arrived to wipe up the mess, this one showing more cleavage than the last. She leaned over while cleaning, offering Norris a clear view of her breasts, before taking her soiled linens away with a sway of her hips.

“Someone has to give these lasses the attention they crave.”

“Well, that one will have to find another tonight,” Lytge grunted. “I need ye to ride down to MacNicols land and fetch that York lass here. She’s got connections to powerful men.”

Norris lost his teasing demeanor. “Broen MacNicols is a good man, one I trust. If he has the lass in his keeping, the king will nae succeed with his scheme.”

“It is too risky to leave the matter open. Better to have her here, where we control whom she lies down with.”

Norris’s expression darkened. “Say what ye mean, Father. If ye distrust the man, be plain with me. If ye’re hinting at me taking her as a bride, say so. Ye are nae the only one who craves honesty between us.”

Father and son faced off for a long moment before Lytge lowered his voice.

“I distrust the situation. Broen MacNicols is free from his contract with the MacLeod lass. He stepped up and stole the York lass, for which I’m grateful. Besides, maybe I’m thinking of wedding the lass meself. Old Lindsey cannae boast such a blue-blooded wife, and I would enjoy putting the man down.”

“And Broen MacNicols has no reason to leave the lass untasted.” Norris chuckled softly. “Are ye sure ye trust me to deliver her untouched?”

Lytge leaned forward with a smirk on his lips. “No’ if ye’re any true son of mine. But if it troubles ye, as I said, maybe I’ll wed her meself. I can sure think of more vexing ways to needle old Laird Lindsey. Wedding a royal-blooded lass would be one slight I’d enjoy giving.”

Norris threw his head back and laughed. Plenty of his men watched, but they knew to stay below the high table. Men of his father’s station always had to fear a spy, even from among their own clan members. All it would take was a cousin who had been married into another clan at some point to turn one of the loyal retainers into a source of information during a family feast while the ale flowed freely. So his father and he kept their conversations private.

He pushed back from the table. “As ye command, most respected Father.”

Lytge rubbed his hands together while watching his son stride down the hallway.

Norris was pure Highlander, the long pleats of his kilt swaying as he walked. His men fell into step behind him, their scabbards empty because swords were forbidden in the hall. That fact hardly reduced them to being harmless. He chuckled softly and reached for his ale. He was proud to know his retainers hid dirks and other small weapons on their persons. They were Highlanders, which meant they were always ready to defend themselves and their clan. But he was an earl and knew well how to make sure his family fortune was maintained. He’d set his secretary to drafting a letter to Henry Tudor of England demanding a fair dowry for the York bastard. The new king might be irate over the demand, but he’d pay up or risk seeing Lytge wed the girl to one of Henry’s rivals instead of keeping her so far north.

Aye, that would do the trick, all right. Henry would rather have the girl secure in the Highlands, making an ally of the Sutherlands rather than breeding up another generation of Yorks to hassle Henry in his old age. If her children were Highlanders, they’d spit on the throne of England.

The serving wench returned, this time offering him a view of her ample chest as she filled his goblet. She didn’t shy away from looking him in the eye while she served him and offered him a smile full of suggestion. Perhaps there were benefits to having a grown son to see to some of the important matters, after all.

“Come serve me in me study, lass…”

Her eyelids lowered, and her cheeks brightened. “As ye like, my laird.”

Oh, he liked. Lytge felt a surge of satisfaction moving through him that made him feel twenty years younger. He envied his son the conquest he was embarking on, but also grinned at the idea of his lad rising to the challenge. An English lass would no’ be simple to lure into bed, but Norris was a master of seduction. A skill he’d learned from his father, Lytge was proud to know. The serving lass appeared only moments after he sat down behind his desk. Her linen cap was missing, and her hair lay like shimmering moonlight across her shoulders. Beneath his kilt, his cock hardened.

Yes, everything was going to be perfect.

Including his afternoon.

***

“I will freeze in this dress.”

Kael Grant looked up but only grinned at his sister’s disgruntlement.

Nareen snarled softly, earning a chuckle from her brother. The silk dress rustled when she moved. The soft, delicate shoes looked like they belonged on the feet of a fairy, and she discovered herself longing for wings to help her avoid feeling the chill of the stone floors in the hallways.

“We’ve guests tonight, ones worthy of pomp and circumstance,” Kael reminded her.

Clarrisa used measured steps to move closer to him to reduce the amount of sound coming from her garments. She’d failed to understand just how much work it was to be a queen. Just walking across the court was an effort, and if you failed, the gossips would be sure to repeat your lack of grace.

“Then where is your finery, Laird Grant?”

He frowned. “This is me best kilt, woman. Do nae they teach ye in England what finery looks like in the Highlands?” But his doublet was still only made of leather and the sleeves were hanging behind his back.

“What me brother is saying in his normal brash manner is that he thinks Highlanders above such things as pomp. At least when it comes to clothing,” Nareen announced from the doorway. Frustration edged her tone as she joined them with the same careful stride Clarrisa had adopted. “Which is grossly unfair,” Nareen accused her sibling. “If I have to suffer these ridiculous clothes, so should ye.”

Kael reached out and cuffed her gently on the chin. “One of us has to be ready to keep Norris Sutherland from ravishing the pair of ye.”

“Some proper clothing would assist better,” Clarrisa announced. Her dress was beautiful, and she’d honestly never worn one to equal it. It was made of jade silk and the back of it flowed behind her. Wide cuffs of lace were set to the sleeves, while more of the rare embellishment ran around the neckline and down the center of the bodice. Even if you made the bobbin lace yourself, it was made with gold wire floss. Hundreds of hours would have been needed to produce the amount adorning the dress. A border of velvet edged the bottom of the gown, too.

Kael surveyed her from head to toe, his gaze slipping over the way the soft silk outlined the curves of her breasts and hips. Heat flickered in his eyes, sending her back a pace.

“Nae, lass, I disagree. Ye are exactly what I need to keep Norris attentive to the supper I’m fixing to serve him.”

“Well, ye do nae need me,” Nareen announced with a rustle as she turned toward the doorway.

“Stay, Sister. Yer presence is required because ye are the daughter of the laird. Ye’ll take yer place as surely as I will, since the son of our overlord is here.”

Gone was all trace of teasing in Kael’s tone. It was interesting to see how quickly the man could become formidable. Interesting, but it sent a shiver down her spine too. Clarrisa held her silence while brother and sister battled. It was truly a skirmish, for neither wanted to bend. She saw the solid laird Kael was and had so cleverly hidden behind his playful facade.

Nareen flounced back into the room, her silk skirts rustling like a pile of autumn leaves. “I detest it when ye are correct.”

Kael lifted her chin and placed a sedate kiss against her cheek. “But I adore ye when ye apply that clever wit of yers to doing what is best for the family.”

Jealousy caught Clarrisa by surprise, the hot ripple of longing flashing through her. There had been cousins aplenty in the house where she was raised, but she’d never had any she considered her friends. Only a few dim memories remained of times when she had trusted one of those relations with her true feelings only to experience the pain of betrayal when they told every word of her confessions to her uncle. She’d learned to keep her own counsel early.

“I see yer sister has outgrown her nurse.”

The newcomer was a lighter-haired man with hints of copper. His eyes were a startling green that he aimed directly at Clarrisa.

“As if ye’re paying any attention to me at all,” Nareen groused in a tone so honey sweet it was almost comical. “I could be covered in warts and ye have nae noticed, with the way ye’re staring at me, friend.”

“I wager there is nae a wart on yer fair skin,” their company answered while turning his attention to her. “But I insist on being sure of me facts.”

“Ye may insist all ye like, Norris Sutherland, but I am nae impressed with yer father’s title, so do nae be relying on it to get this dress off me.”

He closed the distance between them and offered Nareen his hand. She placed hers in it, and he lifted it to his lips. But at the last instant he turned her hand over and placed a kiss against the delicate skin of her inner wrist. She lost her composure for a moment, only the briefest of time, before shaking her head.

“Enough, ye rogue.” Nareen’s voice had turned husky. She jerked her hand away and retreated with a rustle of silk. “I am still nae impressed.”

Norris chuckled and offered her a low bow. “Ye never have been, but I still try me luck.”

Clarrisa felt a tingle of loneliness move through her. The playful nature surrounding her only seemed to illuminate just how much of a stranger she was.

“This is Norris Sutherland, eldest son of the Earl of Sutherland,” Kael announced. “Which is a true shame, for the earl will no doubt be angry with me for running him through…” Kael shrugged. “But there is naught I can do since he’s offended me sister.”

“Do nae blame me for yer barbaric impulses, Kael.”

Norris had her fixed in his sights once more. There was a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze.

“Delighted to meet ye, Clarrisa.”

Her name rolled off his tongue with an ease that set her suspicions to boiling. The man was pleased, too pleased for her comfort. He offered her his hand and she laid hers in it. But the smile she gave him when he took the liberty of kissing her inner wrist was equal to his own. She felt nothing more than fleeting enjoyment. It was gone almost in the same moment it happened, and she had no trouble offering Norris a disinterested look.

“Indeed, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

She sank down, offering him the rehearsed gesture her uncle so often demanded. What made it bearable was the fact that she meant it not at all. It was merely a public nicety she performed without anyone knowing her true lack of sincerity. Except something flickered in Norris’s eyes that she avoided looking at too closely.

“Come, Norris. Me father has had the cook running her staff to near insanity with preparations for yer welcome feast.” Kael walked between his guest and Clarrisa, taking her hand and placing it on top of his hand. “Escort me sister. It will give me father something to hound ye about throughout supper, so I may have some peace.”

“All the better to flirt with Clarrisa,” Norris remarked, but he was happily stalking Nareen. She tossed her head and looked surprised by her own action. She frowned before stomping toward Norris and giving him her hand.

“Let Father say what he will.”

Norris chuckled softly. “Sweet lass, with a chill such as that in yer tone, I just might agree to whatever terms yer father offers, because it would grant me the right to woo ye.”

Nareen scoffed at him. “Ye would never wed such a lowly woman as myself.”

Norris was escorting her down the hallway while Kael pulled Clarrisa along behind them.

“Ye think not?”

Nareen nodded, the torches set to light the passageway making the waves in her unbound hair shimmer. “Yer family has a long tradition of wedding with an eye on advancement. Ye’re here because we have the daughter of a king beneath our roof.”

“My sister is overly blunt,” Kael remarked.

They’d reached the doors of the great hall, and musicians began playing.

“But truthful,” Norris remarked with a touch of bitterness. “I’m no’ sure if I am more relieved to hear it so plainly or tempted to go home to me father with a different bride than he sent me for.” Nareen tried to jerk her hand away but he held her fingers. “Do ye think ye are the only one who likes to do the unpredictable?”

“But then ye’d have me in yer bed,” Nareen informed him sweetly.

Norris made a choking sound. “A good point. If I’m going to suffer a match I’ve little taste for behind the bed-curtains, I’d rather have a match my father would be pleased with. A man needs some happiness in his life after all.”

He turned to survey Clarrisa with a cunning look.

There was no more chance for conversation as the music rose. The hall was filled with Grant retainers and their families. Faces were freshly scrubbed, and most of the men had on their doublet sleeves. There were candles in abundance, all illuminating those watching their progress toward the high table at the end of the hall. Little girls gasped and pointed at the way the candlelight danced off the silk dresses. All the while, the music of the harps and bagpipes surrounded them.

It was a moment fit for royalty. When they passed, row by row, the spectators lowered themselves. Norris accepted their deference with a nod and a grace worthy of admiration. At the end of the main aisle was the high table. It was set for a platform, and Donnach Grant stood waiting for them.

“Welcome to ye, Norris Sutherland. ’Tis a fine day indeed now that ye are supping beneath me roof.”

Servants pulled the chairs out for them, and Clarrisa looked down at the fine silver plateware.

ShepreferredthewoodenplatesatDeighTower.

It was becoming annoying the way she thought of Broen so often. She needed to focus her mind on her future. Norris offered an excellent opportunity, for he might offer her marriage and legitimacy for her children.

A lump formed in her throat as she contemplated sharing the man’s bed.

OhforChrist’s sake… Love has truly stolen your wits!

Just as Maud had predicted, it would be foolish enough to allow herself to fall… well, to form an attraction to any man. She’d not admit it was love. No, she most certainly would not.

Liar…

***

“Come with me.” Nareen appeared out of the shadows, her voice startling Clarrisa. Nareen had her skirts gathered up so they couldn’t rustle.

“Where are you taking me?” Clarrisa demanded.

Nareen lifted a finger and placed it in front of her lips. She moved closer so they might talk in whispers. “I was nae only taunting Norris. He was sent here by his father for ye.”

“He confessed that to you?”

Nareen shook her head. “But I feel it is so. If ye want to be his trophy wife, I’ll leave ye to it. Me father can continue to enjoy the goodwill of the Sutherlands if I do nae help ye.”

“Why would you help me?” Clarrisa demanded. Maybe the fine wine served with the meal had softened her wits, because she couldn’t understand what Nareen had to gain from her offer. Or even what the Scottish girl was proposing. “You’re the one who convinced me to leave Deigh Tower because there was no hope of a bright future for me.”

“I know, but I’ve changed me mind,” Nareen muttered as she looked down the hallway and gestured for Clarrisa to follow. The men were drinking whisky in the laird’s study now.

Nareen disappeared into a dark corridor. Clarrisa hesitated, torn between her desire to know what the girl offered and the reasons she’d left Broen. Her curiosity won.

“What…”

“Hush… We need escape before Norris comes after us. Do nae doubt he will; for all his teasing, he is his father’s son. He’ll do what is best for the Sutherland. Take home a bride his father will be pleased with and force ye to suffer his mistress because he has no affection for ye.” Nareen stopped and pulled Clarrisa close. “It’s yer choice, but for meself, I want more from my life than to be bred like a prized mare.”

“That is not how you felt when you revealed Broen’s betrothed to me.” It hurt to say the truth.

Youdolovehim…

Bequiet!

Nareen pulled her down the passageway and on through several others. Clarrisa shivered as the temperature dropped. She smelled the river and shivered again, the thin silk dress failing to protect her.

“Here,” Nareen announced at last. “Behind this door is an escape tunnel. It goes beneath the river and will likely be colder than ice.”

“You haven’t explained why you’re doing this.”

“Because of the sound of joy in yer voice right now. I saw the way ye looked at me and Kael, like ye’d never experienced a family sharing love. It shamed me, for ye were happy until I shattered yer joy by telling ye Daphne was contracted to Broen.”

“She still is.”

“Aye,” Nareen admitted in a soft tone. “I do nae know what to tell ye to do about Broen MacNicols, but I do know I’ve no liking for watching the way Norris Sutherland is contemplating ye with all the calculations of a secretary making sure his columns of numbers add up. So I’m offering ye the choice to leave. Maybe ye want to go back up there and take the position of his wife because it will grant ye respectability, but I believe it a false title, for he’ll never be faithful to ye.”

“And you want more from life.” Clarrisa could hear it in her voice.

Nareen offered a dry laugh. “Pitiful, I know, but I want something more. Something I saw dying in yer eyes when I told ye so bluntly who Daphne is. I let me brother talk me into forgetting about what I’ve come to feel is more important in this life.”

There was a soft sigh. “Well… that’s me offer. Go now, or get back upstairs and make sure ye do nae lose the opportunity to make Norris Sutherland dance to yer tune.”

Such temptation. Clarrisa watched Nareen hunch down and fiddle with a latch in the dark. The only light came through the arrow slits, and it was meager indeed.

What did she want? Maybe the better question to ask was what did she wish to avoid the most?

“The chance to belong to no one but myself was offered…”

Edme’s words rose from her memory, filling her with determination. “I am sick unto death of being what everyone demands of me.”

When Nareen stood, Clarrisa embraced her, hugging her tight because she just couldn’t hold back the urge.

“I swear you are more treasured to me than any blood kin, Nareen. I have nothing, but if the day comes when I can repay your kindness, I shall.”

“Forgive me for tearing yer heart and convincing ye to leave Deigh Tower. It made a hypocrite of me, and I hate myself for it.” Nareen squeezed her hard for a moment before pushing her away. “Get on with ye. I can do no more than show ye the way out. There will be cloaks inside, but no light. Ye’ll need yer courage to make it to the other side, for it will be pitch-black. The sort that plays with yer reasoning, making ye think there are daemons in there with ye.”

She held out a folded parchment. “Take this. Go to the village beyond the woods and seek out me old nurse. She lives beyond the church at the edge of the village. Keep the cloak closed over that silk until ye find her. Her sons will give ye escort back to Broen if ye give her that letter. She will know it comes from me and will do me this service. Good luck to ye.”

The doorway was small, only two feet high. The silk dress was a hassle but she made it and Nareen closed the door behind her.

It was cold. Maybe it was the blackness, but Clarrisa shivered and was sure the sensation traveled to the deepest parts of her soul. Panic tried to seize control of her. It sent her heart pounding, and sweat began to bead on her skin.

Courage!

She reached for the walls, smiling when she felt them. Moving along, she searched for the cloaks and found one. She shied away from thinking about how dirty they might be, telling herself they were only musty from lack of fresh air. At least the one she donned was thick. She raised the hood to help warm her head and began walking.

How far was it?

She started to count, for at least it would tell her how far back the door was if she lost her nerve.

Youwillnot!

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and focused all her attention on counting. She would not allow her mind to think of anything except the numbers; that way, she’d not have the chance to change her mind.

One… two… three… four…

***

Someone pounded on his door.

Broen sat up, ripping the covers off in a motion so violent he heard the sheet tear.

“Come in.”

He pulled a shirt over his head before realizing what he planned to do. Edme had already pleated his kilt, and he grasped the ends of the belt.

Edme entered, a parchment in her fingers. “Norris Sutherland is at Bronach.”

Dread twisted his insides. There would only be one reason Norris would be so far south. The man was hunting for a prize.

Clarrisa.

“Tell no one else.”

“But…” Edme argued, “it is nae safe for ye to ride out alone.”

“One glimpse of me riding with me men and Norris will know what I’m coming for. The only chance is for me to try and sneak into Bronach.”

He knew how, but only because Edme had told him of the escape route out of the Grant stronghold.

Lacing his boots took enough time to drive him mad with frustration. Each second felt too long, like a nightmare he couldn’t fight his way free of.

His sword slid easily into its scabbard, and he ducked his head under the thick leather harness to settle the large weapon across his back, Highland-style. The keep was silent; the two men set to watch the lower hallway sat near the hearth where they rolled dice to pass the time.

Broen walked past them, making no more sound than a specter. The stable lads were all sleeping with their plaids pulled up over their heads. His skin was hot from the accelerated pace of his heart.

The gate guards were wide awake. They peered down at him.

“Lift it.”

They complied, only pausing to consider what was happening after he rode through the gate and no one followed. By the time they realized the laird had left the castle without his escort, the night had swallowed him. The clouds moved to hide the moon, making it impossible to catch sight of him. The captain was going to strangle them both for sure.

***

Two hundred twenty-four… Two hundred twenty-five… Two hundred twenty-six…

Clarrisa ground her teeth so hard, she expected them to shatter, but she continued to count.

Two hundred twenty-seven…

She hit a wall in front of her. A strangled sob rose from her throat.

Toogoodtobetrue.

Maybe she was disoriented because of the darkness. What terrified her the most was knowing the sun would never reach her in the passageway. She’d struggle to find the end until she collapsed into a heap to die in the darkness—like being entombed alive.

Stopit!

Her fingers were on a solid wall. She forced her mind to function past the paralyzing fear.

Nareen had told her she’d need courage, and she had enough to see her way back into the light. She would not die beneath ground.

She slipped her hands along the surface and bent her knees until she was near the ground. The stones gave way to smooth wood, and she shook with relief. It was so overpowering her legs gave out. She landed on her backside in a puddle of silk and musty wool.

But her fingers found the latch. It was bone-chilling cold and slick with something she decided she was better off not identifying, but it was preferable to the costly silk she wore. Smoothing her fingers back and forth along its length, she discovered the direction to move it.

The latch resisted, the damp interior of the passageway having corroded it. She struggled and her breathing increased, but it refused to budge. Courage had seen her to the door, but she needed fate’s blessing to make it to freedom. Or perhaps some clear thinking.

Leaning her back against the wall, she struggled to move the silk skirts aside and raise her foot. She wedged it against the latch, gritting her teeth as the delicate slippers offered her little protection. She drew a deep breath and shoved with all her might. Pain bit into her, threatening to steal the strength from her knee, but she persisted. Her cry echoed along the passageway, the pain becoming white-hot. The latch slid.

She cried out again, this time with joy. She scrambled out of the way so she might pull the door open. Desperation drove her to yank hard on the door, even though one of her fingernails began to tear. It was worth the effort.

The night was dark, but not as pitch-black as the passageway. She crawled out, tearing her skirt as she pushed with her feet to propel her body out of what had felt like a tomb. She collapsed onto the dirt, breathing in the fresh air as though it had been years since she’d smelled it.

Thankyou… thank you… thank you…

Clarrisa wasn’t sure who she sent her gratitude to. God? Fate? Nareen? Or perhaps herself for refusing to allow her fear to rule her. It didn’t matter.

She forced herself to stand. She’d come out in the forest a short way from Bronach Tower. She could see the fires along the battlements twinkling like stars.

The woods should have frightened her. There were sounds all around her: the scrabbling of something and the whistle of the wind. But she seemed to have no fear left in her. It felt like it had washed away, leaving her content in a deep sort of way she couldn’t completely understand.

Yet it felt miraculous. Empowering and confidence-filling—as if she could do anything she pleased without the fear of failure.

Now all she need do was decide what she wanted. The question confounded her as she closed the door and began walking.

The only thing she was sure of was that she wanted away from Norris Sutherland. She was a thing to him, a material possession. The knowledge stung even more when she recalled how charming he’d been with Nareen.

Many would call her a fool for longing for Broen instead of taking the chance to be claimed by the heir of an earl.

Well… not Edme.

She smiled as she thought of the woman who had borne Broen. Satisfaction filled her as the lights of Bronach Tower faded. She had no idea how long a walk it was to the village, and she began to shiver.

She heard a horse and somehow decided it was Broen. Maybe she was too cold, or perhaps she’d collapsed in the tunnel and was only dreaming of freedom. People went mad in the Highlands at night. The dark hours were the time when witches and ghosts reigned supreme.

She heard the blood rushing past her ears, and the sound of the horse seemed to keep time with her heart. The rider appeared in front of her, cast in slivers of moonlight that fell in tiny, sparkling drops.

A specter… Broen… She wanted to believe he was both. Just for a moment, one perfect moment, everything was as she wished it. She felt him look at her and watched the way he pulled the stallion to a halt. Recognition rose from someplace deep inside her, someplace still warm.

Yes… Her moment of perfection.

“Broen…”

It was her last word before she slid to the ground, her strength spent. She didn’t notice when her body failed, because she was locked in her moment of joy.

***

“What would ye have of me, woman?” Shaw demanded. “Would ye have me ride up to Laird Chisholms and admit I’ve no idea where me laird is?”

Edme wasn’t impressed with Shaw’s tone. “Ye must do something. Ye’re the head of me son’s retainers!”

Shaw froze, along with a half dozen men near enough to hear what Edme shouted. Several younger lads serving as gillies also heard, and their eyes widened.

Edme realized what she’d said, one hand covering her lips as silence surrounded her.

Shaw recovered first. “Well, I suppose I can understand yer nerve now. But I still do nae know which direction to go looking for me laird and cannae ride out now or risk ruining the tracks he left. We’ll have to wait until sunrise.”

A bell began to ring from atop the gate. “Rider approaching,” the guard cried out.

Shaw climbed to the top of the wall and peered over the battlement. The horse that materialized from the early-morning mist was one he thought he recognized, but a lifetime of Highland fireside tales made him question what his eyes showed him.

“It’s the laird. Lift the gate,” Edme cried.

He was so tense Shaw almost sent his fist into her face because her voice startled him so badly.

“Jesus Christ, woman! What are ye doing on the battlement? Have ye gone daft?”

“Ye’re the one lacking sense if ye cannae see the truth which is right in front of ye,” she accused.

Broen let out a whistle and several more in a prearranged pattern that sent relief through Shaw.

“Lift the gates, lad! I told ye all no’ to worry. Our laird is pure Highlander, and no midnight ride could have an ill effect on him.”

The gate lifted, the chains grinding loudly enough to drown out any further conversation. Shaw took the moment to breathe a sigh of relief, but when he opened his eyes, he was staring at Edme, and the muscles along his neck tightened once more.

Thelaird’s mother?

***

“Come back to me, lass.”

She smelled him, the scent of his skin. It made her smile, and she snuggled down into the warmth surrounding her.

“Clarrisa…”

She frowned, a pain stabbing through her forehead like a dagger. It grew white-hot, sending a burning pain down her spine. It radiated to every limb, not stopping until even her toes hurt. She didn’t want to wake up, not to the pain. She wanted to die in her perfect moment, safe where nothing else existed.

“Ye need to allow her to rest.”

Edme spoke softly, but Broen growled at her, “I must wake her. She’s hiding in this fever.”

“Ye cannae know such a thing.”

He didn’t know it; he felt it. Just as he’d felt her fear. He clamped his lips shut recalling how easily he’d condemned Faolan. He knew better now. There were ties that made no sense, connections a man couldn’t rationalize or even understand. He stroked Clarrisa’s scarlet cheek, feeling her slipping away from him as surely as he felt the heat of her skin against his skin.

“Come back.”

She muttered something and smiled as her breathing became slower. He heard Edme smother a sob. She reached out and placed a hand on top of his.

“It’s time to summon a priest.”

“I refuse to give up.” He reached for the hilt of the dagger tucked into the top of his boot. “And I refuse to believe Clarrisa would give up.” He reached for one of her braids, clamping his teeth tight as he cut it. The second one met with the same fate as Edme nodded approvingly. She needed cooling, and her hair was only keeping her warm. It was a desperate attempt to interfere with fate, but he’d take it since it was his only sliver of hope.

Someone rapped softly on the door, and he turned to see a priest entering. Edme covered her mouth but waved the man inside.

It was a damn thin sliver of hope.

***

The night was alive.

Clarrisa rose up, not sure how she’d lain down to begin with. It didn’t matter, though. She felt so light; her feet didn’t even touch the ground. It was a miraculous feeling. Around and around she twirled, until her hair floated away like a cloud, but it didn’t matter because she felt so cool and free.

Nothing mattered at all.

***

“Ye belong to me.”

She jerked, trying to flee, but she was paralyzed. Norris Sutherland was no longer charming, but cold and controlling. His face transformed into her uncle’s as he loomed over her.

“Ye shall do your duty.”

She tried in vain to move again, but her limbs lay useless. Her mouth was parched and too dry to form any words. All she could do was wait helplessly for Norris to take what he would.

No… She wanted more… She wanted her lover…

***

Rain fell down on her, the drops soaking into her dry tongue. She opened her mouth, greedy for more. More water slipped over her face, easing the tightness and carrying away the heat. She wanted to wake but couldn’t find the strength; the task of lifting her eyelids was beyond her. So she drifted off into sleep as the rain receded.

***

“I’ve come for ye, lass!” Argyll’s voice pierced her slumber, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

“No!” she screamed, sitting up and kicking the bedding off her legs. “Get out of my chamber, you letch!” She stumbled across the floor to the table, fumbling to grip the first thing she felt there.

“Get out!” She hurled the pottery bowl toward the mirror, at the laughing face of Argyll. It smashed, flowing onto the floor like melted silver. “And stay away from me!”

Her entire body shook, her knees knocking together. The chamber door slammed into the wall as Broen kicked it open with such strength.

“I dealt with your ghost,” she informed him before he began to chastise her. His face was twisted into an expression of amazement. “Indeed… I did.”

Her throat was raw, and her legs refused to support her. All she could do was look at the floor. She was helpless to stop herself from collapsing. Broen caught her, sweeping her off her feet just as her knees buckled. He clasped her close, his arms quivering—she didn’t understand why.

“What—”

“Shh… Lass, ye’ve been at death’s door for three days…” He laid her down as gently as though she were a babe. He lifted a small cup from the bedside table and placed it to her lips. The water tasted sweet, and she grasped his hands, trying to tip it faster.

“No’ too much, else it will come right back up.”

She hadn’t realized her eyes were closed. Broen took the cup away when Edme spoke, and she opened her eyes to search for it.

“More,” she insisted.

Edme carried a single candle, but that flame was bright enough to make her eyes sting. But that wasn’t the worst. She wrinkled her nose when she realized the stench she smelled was coming from herself.

“Lord… I need a bath…” Mortification gave her the strength to lift one hand and push against Broen. “Go—”

“The stench of hell itself couldn’t move me from yer side, Clarrisa.” There was a tremor in his voice that drew her hand to his face. Several days of beard covered his cheek, and dark shadows hung beneath his eyes. He angled his head so her fingers cupped his jaw completely, his eyes narrowing with pleasure as he gently gripped her forearm to help her maintain the contact.

“’Tis glad I am to see ye defying what everyone expected of ye, lass.” His voice caught, thick with emotion. “Right glad, indeed.”

***

“Do ye think I do nae know ye must have shown her the way out?”

Nareen stiffened, but she didn’t jump. There was no need, for she’d been expecting her brother to confront her.

“I know ye are an intelligent man.”

Kael moved into her chamber and sent the maids scurrying with a snap of his fingers. A quiver did shake her belly, for Kael kept his emotions hidden behind his carefree demeanor most of the time. That snap was like an outburst, a crack in his impermeable shell. He was furious.

“Ye look surprised, Sister.” The door closed with a bang.

“I am. She was but an Englishwoman,” Nareen offered.

“One with royal blood,” Kael snapped. “Ye are nae a simpleton, Sister. If we offend the prince or the king, we could lose everything.”

Nareen flipped her hand through the air, trying to dismiss the importance of the matter. “None will notice her being gone. She was barely here.”

“She was here long enough. The Earl of Sutherland will know ye allowed her to go free, and it’s very possible he’ll assume ye could nae have possibly come up with the idea on yer own.”

Nareen crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that what has yer feathers ruffled? The idea that ye shall share the blame? ’Tis the first time I’ve heard ye worry about gossip.”

“This is nae a children’s game, Nareen,” Kael snapped. “Sutherland could demand ye be lashed.”

“I do nae care.”

He growled, “That stubbornness will nae protect ye when the leather bites into yer tender flesh, nor will it save ye from the fever that so often follows. Ye’ve made it impossible for me to protect ye.”

Shame came at last, and it was brutal. “Och, Kael. I do owe ye an apology, for ye’ve always been a fine brother, but I could nae live with meself. No’ when I saw the way Norris was looking at her. I just could nae stand idle while she suffered the fate I deplore so greatly.”

Kael shook his head, still darkly furious. “Ye insult me, Sister. Gravely so.”

Now she was confused. “I do nae understand ye.”

A ghost of a grin appeared on his lips. “I would never have allowed Norris to take her. I’d have taken her down to the passage meself once I was sure Norris was settled in for the night.”

He turned his back on her, but she flew after him, hooking his arm and spinning him back around to face her.

“Then ye are misplaced to judge me so harshly simply because I found the opportunity to help her first.”

His eyes were glowing with anger. She stared at the heat, mesmerized because she had only seen Kael so close to losing control once before. It was a memory she recoiled from.

“I judge ye, Sister, because it is me place to protect ye and this family.” Duty edged each word. “Never once have I asked ye to suffer any ridiculous rule set down by church or state, unless it was for the continued well-being of our kin.” He moved toward her, pushing her back with the sheer weight of his outrage. “And in case ye are unclear, Sister, I am talking about matters that affect where our winter food will come from or how our people will deal with the snow if they have no homes because another clan burned them in retaliation.”

He froze, drawing in a deep breath. “Ye will leave matters of such importance to me, or at least bring yer ideas to me before acting upon them. Now dress warmly and get into the passageway. Me men are waiting to take ye south to Cousin Ruth.”

“Ye’re sending me away?” For all that she’d often told herself she wouldn’t care if he was displeased with her, it stung fiercely.

“I’m hiding ye, for the guards have spotted Norris heading back this way. No doubt he’s failed to find Clarrisa and is likely to demand ye be punished or taken in her place. But do nae make the mistake of thinking that means he’ll wed ye. He’ll take ye up north and secure ye so his father can demand anything of our father or risk knowing ye suffer for his disobedience. The Sutherlands are earls because they know how to protect their interests. Norris came for Clarrisa, and he will nae return home with naught.”

She lifted her chin, refusing to allow the horror churning in her belly to show. “I’ll bear whatever he demands.”

“Ye shall nae.” Each word sliced like a blade. “It is me duty to safeguard ye. Norris will be content with the fact that I sent ye off to an older woman for instruction, or he may have at me, but ye will respect me wishes in this matter.”

“Or what?” She was playing with fire, but part of her wanted to know more about this side of her brother’s personality. He kept it so private that she found herself facing a stranger.

His lips twitched into a grin, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. Instead it was full of promise. Grim, solid promise.

“I’ll have ye bundled like a babe and taken away for yer own good—but I shall be the one facing Norris.”

He left her while she was still stunned into silence. Her temper flared, but so did her shame. It was an odd mixture, one that dug deeply into her heart. She’d been selfish, only focused on appeasing her own feelings without realizing the repercussions that might land on her fellow clansmen. Such were the actions of a child—and she was well past the age of being excused for her tender years. Curse the nature of men.

But not her brother. Kael was correct, and she wasn’t a liar. She began to dress in warm wool clothing and sturdy leather boots. She put a dirk in the top of her boot before she made her way toward the passageway, because traveling was dangerous even in the best of times. She did smile once she was surrounded by darkness, for Cousin Ruth was anything but prim. In fact, she was looking forward to seeing what the woman might teach her now that she was less of a child.

It would certainly be stimulating.