Chapter 1

1

As soon as Daniel entered the room, all eyes turned to him. It was like the joy and excitement in the room suddenly ceased, as if he were a dark cloud shielding the sun. Daniel ignored the glances and strode forward to a table laden with food and drink. He lifted a glass and downed it, hoping to fade in the crowd.

He hadn't expected his presence to be shocking to people, though when he really thought about it, he couldn't blame them. Daniel had spent the past three and a half years locked away in his castle.

"Ye made quite the entrance," Cameron commented, stepping to stand beside him. He had just stepped off the dance floor, and a tall brunette was still glancing over at him with a smile. "I guess that's what happens when ye arrive late to these things."

"Forgive me for nae caring about the wedding of some low-level Gunn soldier and our healer," Daniel groused, but his brother dug his elbow into his side.

"Be quiet," Cameron hissed. "Ye never ken who is listening. Any chance to strengthen the bond between our clan and Clan Gunn is a good one."

Daniel grunted, but when he looked around, several people were still staring in his direction, stealing glances at him as they sipped from their glasses.

He knew his brother was right. Any chance to strengthen the bond between clans was important for his people. But that wasn't Daniel's reason for attending tonight.

"What are ye doing here anyway?" Cameron asked, popping a sweet treat filled with cream into his mouth. "Ye hate these things."

"Aye," Daniel agreed. "But sometimes life requires us to do things we despise."

He scanned the room, though he had to admit he had no idea what he was looking for. Someone who looked kind? There were plenty of women smiling and laughing at the ceilidh. Someone who was good with children? He had no way of knowing these women's skills with young ones, not during a celebration that was only held for adults. Someone single? That was an important criterion.

Daniel sighed, wondering if he had been stupid to come.

The wedding was one of the first celebrations his clan could enjoy now that peace had finally fallen over their land. After years of torment, capped by Daniel's victory over the two clans who opposed him, the world was finally starting to settle around Clan MacCrawford. No wonder so many of them had accepted the invitation to visit Gunn Castle for this wedding.

"If it isnae our host!" Cameron called, nodding toward Alexander Doyle, who strode toward them. "Laird Gunn."

"Welcome to Gunn Castle." Alexander nodded, shaking Cameron's hand before turning to his older brother. "We're pleased to welcome ye, Laird MacCrawford."

"Thank ye," Daniel said. He shook Alexander's hand, noting the scar that cut across the man's face. "Though pleased might nae be the word. Did ye notice how the mood darkened when I stepped into the room?"

"Certainly nae." Alexander chuckled, putting on his best Laird smile as he scanned the room. "People are simply surprised to see ye. Ye've been a bit absent at these gatherings of late."

"Aye." Daniel drained his glass. "Clan business is all-consuming, as ye must well ken."

"Indeed." Alexander nodded, though Daniel could sense the man's attention was no longer on their conversation in front of him.

Instead, Alexander's eyes were trained on a young, blonde woman with the most beautiful curves Daniel had ever seen, standing across the room. Unfortunately for her, the man she was speaking to was far less attractive.

"Are ye alright, Laird Gunn?" Daniel asked, hoping to end the niceties with his host.

Despite his initial hopes for this wedding, the only thing Daniel could think of now was finding a dark corner where he could sit and drink Alexander's fancy liquor.

Alexander looked over at him, a bit confused, but then he shook his head, as if reminding himself where he was.

"Aye," he replied. "Forgive me, Laird MacCrawford. Though we're enjoying one weddin', I have me thoughts on a ceilidh of the future. Ye'll excuse me."

Daniel gave a curt nod as Alexander walked away. He glanced again at the couple across the room, wondering if he had understood what Alexander was speaking of. If so, Daniel felt bad for the poor girl. The man she spoke to could easily have been her father.

"The dance floor is callin'," Cameron intoned, jolting his brother's out of his thoughts. He nodded toward the same brunette Daniel had seen him dance with earlier. "Will ye be alright?"

"Aye, Cam," Daniel sighed. "I have attended weddin's before. I can handle meself."

This was all that Cameron needed because he was suddenly off, headed for the smiling woman with the long, intricately arranged brown locks. Daniel shook his head at his brother and wondered if it was time to think about finding Cameron a bride. With all the war and unrest, it had been the furthest thing from Daniel's mind. Indeed, marriage in general had been, but now that was starting to change.

Daniel found his dark corner and a full glass of whiskey. He took a seat and surveyed the room, telling himself he would get up and speak to someone soon. Then, after he finished the drink in his hand, he told himself he could work up the nerve after one more drink, which quickly turned into two more.

The bodies spinning on the dance floor became a blur of color and motion that made him tired. The thought of getting up to dance was nearly exhausting, and he was starting to wonder how long he needed to stay before he could leave without looking rude.

"There!"

The call drew his attention, a clear and insistent voice that rang above all the chatter around him. He looked up and there, standing a few feet away from him, was the beautiful, curvy woman he had seen earlier. From this distance, she was even more gorgeous. Her blonde hair hung in ringlets around her face, and her eyes were a piercing blue that made him think of winter.

As Daniel took in her beauty, he realized she was pointing directly at him. The very gesture was shocking enough to pull him to his feet. He stood up as the woman approached him, her face flushed. He had no idea why she was pointing at him, drawing attention to him. And it made him angry to see the people around them staring and taking notice.

The woman was practically running toward him, and he could do nothing but wait for her. He scowled at her, trying to show her how little he wanted to be called out, but she didn't notice. Or she didn't care. Instead, she barreled forward, saying the most shocking words he could have imagined.

"Me love, I've been lookin' everywhere for ye."

What are ye thinking, picking the scariest looking man in the room?

Lana forced a smile on her face as her heart beat hard in her chest. The terrifying man with the eyepatch was glaring at her, clearly upset to have been called out from the shadows. He looked angry, as if he wanted to yell and speak words that weren't meant for a lady's ears.

And yet Lana couldn't run away. Because even though she was terrified to be standing in front of this tall, muscular man and calling him her "love," the alternative was even worse. She couldn't bear the attention of the old, drunken Laird Cullen for another second.

It took Laird Cullen twice as long to cross the room, huffing his way through the crowds as he followed her. Lana felt her stomach churn in fear as he continued his slow approach.

"Please," she whispered, staring up at the man with the eyepatch. "Please, daenae contradict me, Sir. I'll do anythin' in return."

The man looked at her, and the deep crease between his eyebrows seemed to soften. It was clear Lana's words had surprised him, and they were now sinking in. She saw him glance across the room at the older man and then back at her, perhaps trying to piece together what was happening.

Lana offered a silent prayer to anyone who would listen.

Please. Please let him play along.

"I promise, Sir," she repeated. "Whatever ye require."

Lana knew she was putting herself in a risky situation. Choosing the scariest man in the room and declaring him her betrothed was definitely not the smartest thing she had done in her life. But she needed someone who looked powerful, someone her unwanted suitor wouldn't question.

And in order to say no to a mediocre laird, she needed to choose an even more powerful one. Of all the men in the room, this brooding man with the eyepatch was her best bet for a powerful laird.

Laird Cullen was finally in front of her, eyeing up the tall man. He looked tiny compared to the scary man, who still stood silent next to her, despite her plea.

"Looks like yer betrothed dinnae recognize ye, lassie," Laird Cullen slurred, reeking of alcohol. He reached out for her waist, forcefully pulling her hip against his side. "Did ye think ye'd get rid of me so easily?"

Lana tried to pull away from Laird Cullen's grip, but he held her fast, making her breaths come in quick bursts as panic rose in her chest.

"Let go of me, Me Laird," she said, trying her best to remain polite as the man's fingers dug into her waist.

She tried to pull away again, wanting nothing more than to put her hands firmly on the man's chest and shove him away. But she knew that would bring even more trouble.

Suddenly, Laird Cullen cried out, and she found herself free from his grip. Then he was rising, first onto his toes and then clear off the ground as the tall man with the eyepatch lifted him into the air. Lana blinked to see how easily the man could lift another person with one hand.

"I… I apologize, Sir. I dinnae ken."

Lana pressed her lips together to hold back the smirk that threatened to spread across her face. Laird Cullen had become a scared little boy, desperate to say whatever he could to get himself out of the arms of the warrior who currently held him aloft.

"Do ye want me to chop off his hand for touchin' ye?"

It took Lana a moment to realize the mysterious man was speaking to her. She looked up, trying to catch a hint of humor on his face, but there was nothing there. It was impossible to know if he was joking with her.

"I said, do ye want me to chop off his hand?" The mysterious man lowered Laird Cullen to the ground, but any relief Laird Cullen felt to have his feet on solid earth quickly evaporated when the man pulled his sword from its sheath.

Lana could hardly breathe as the man grabbed Laird Cullen's hand, holding tight to his wrist as the old man tried to squirm out of the warrior's grip. Only then, when Lana should have stopped the man to save Laird Cullen's groping hands, did she realize how handsome he was.

This man was tall, with muscles she could see through his shirt. She had never met someone so readily identifiable as a seasoned warrior. His skin was tanned from hours in the sun, and his hair seemed to have a life of its own, falling over his eye as he glared at Laird Cullen. Even the eyepatch was intriguing, a mystery Lana was desperate to solve.

The man with the eyepatch raised his sword above Laird Cullen's arm, and Lana heard gasps from the crowd around her. It was enough to jolt her out of her reverie, and she reached out to put her hand on the man's strong arm.

"Wait, wait! Please stop. Isnae that… a little extreme?"

Laird Cullen began to nod his head emphatically, still pulling against the man's vice-like grip on his wrist.

"I daenae think so," the man with the eyepatch said, his intense gaze holding hers. "I daenae like it when they touch what's mine… me love.