Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

A lana's heart was pounding so hard it was about to burst through her chest. She stared at herself in the mirror, attempting to untie the tangled ends of her long blonde hair, but her mind was elsewhere. She hoped Isla had just gotten caught up in the kitchen with the other maids because she was a quarter-hour late.

"Och," she muttered under her breath when one strand got entangled between her fingers, and the sudden pain took her out of her thoughts. It reminded her of each time her sister Catriona did her hair for her, and she was always plucking it so hard that Alana's eyes filled with tears.

She smiled at the memory and caressed the ribbon on her hand—a present that Catriona had given her a while before she died. The moments she shared with her sister and Isla were the happiest of her life, yet those times were long gone.

The days were not kind to her anymore, and the nights often frightened her. She had become a prisoner, confined to the castle of her new husband, the vile Laird MacAdam, and her twin sister was now buried in the ground miles away. Life was definitely not how Alana imagined it as a wee lass.

"Things are different," she muttered to herself again as she held onto her dresser to keep her on her feet. The memories always immersed her into a sorrowful mood, and her heart was now aching to escape her cage and breathe freely even if just for a moment.

Staring back at her from the mirror was the shadow of her old self. She had a habit of putting on beautiful dresses usually reserved for special occasions just to lift her spirits. Unfortunately, it rarely worked. Her eyes were no longer as brightly blue, and her childish fantasies had long faded. And a dress would never be able to replace that. Her fate worsened with each passing day after she was married off to the large and powerful Clan MacAdam for an alliance. The only ray of hope was the fact she tookher maid Isla before entering a loveless marriage with her horrible husband.

It had often made her wonder what Lachlan's life had been like. What made him so disgraceful and immoral? After the first night they shared a bedchamber, she gave up trying to save his long lostsoul. His terriblebehavior made her loathe the man's touch. After finally acknowledgingthat all their attempts to have a bairn were futile, he stopped requesting her in his chambers, and Alana began to breathe more peacefully.

Lachlan is wicked. She knew. But this is not something I cannae survive.

The woman looking back at her was one and twenty years old, but her eyes looked like she had been alive for many more. Alana took one of her golden locks and tucked it behind her ear. She only wore her hair loose because it reminded her of Catriona and her mischievous smile. She smiled as memories flashed through her mind. Her sister had always been far more daring than she was and would have gotten into even more trouble if she had taken Alana's place. Catriona frequently did whatever she wanted while readilyaccepting the consequences. Alana couldn't have imagined such bravery, but the past year had strengthened her, andknew her soul could withstand anything.

Where is Isla?

For the second time that day, her mind pondered and took her out of her memories, and a hint of a smile satin the corner of her full mouth. She loved Isla dearly. Since her sister's death, she had been one of the few people who had treated Alana as a human being rather than an incomplete person.

And she guarded Alana's secret like it was her own. Still, shedespised the danger she was putting her friend in by sneaking out to the brook near the castle. But the thrill she felt was the only thing that kept her alive.

She estimated how much time she would have to wait by staring out the window before she could accomplish her mischief. She kept a mental countdown going until she was certain Lachlan wouldn't come looking for her.

Keeping within the castle grounds, Alana had instinctively developed an acute sense for reading the time of the day from the sun and its shadows. And from the brightness of the rays, she could tell that her husband would soon enough walk out of the castle from beneath her window and head out to wherever he found amusement.

Alana expected Isla to have arrived earlier, but she knew there was probably a good reason for her delay. Perhaps Lachlan was still in his chambers. She knew not if her husband had slept alone the night before or with one of his many lovers. Regardless, she did not care who warmed his bed as long as it wasn't her.

The sound of footsteps from the corridor outside her chamber drew her attention.

Isla , she thought with joy as she hurried to the door. Pulling it open, her eyes darted across the corridor, hoping to catch sight of her maid.

However, instead of seeing Isla walking down the corridor, she sawher husband's wide back. Alana tried to sneakback into her room before he could notice her. She had stayed in her chambers all day to avoid him, and she hoped her work would not be undone.

"Alana?" she heard one second before closing the door.

Her heart skipped and her lips parted, but she could not make out the right words. Finally, she answered to his angry voice with a cold and distant tone on her side.

"Milord!" she uttered with a forged smile, knots forming in her stomach. Alana knew disobedience would not be her salvation that day, only a chance to postpone her fate at his hands. After all, she did live inside his castle. But she knew she'd never be able to control her temper because she wasn't the type to keep her head bowed.

"Ye seem tae be in a mood today. Is there a reason?" his foul mouth asked her.

He didn't strike her, despite his angry expression. His irritated gaze darted up and down her body before settling on her attire.

The dress. Alana realized too late she was wearing one of her most astonishing dresses. Wherever his eyes looked, she felt her skin burning, and no matter how hard she tried to distract her mind, she still felt Lachlan's gaze everywhere.

"Where are ye runnin' off tae?" he asked her.

Alana noticed they were alone when she looked around. There was no one around to quell his temper, andknew she had no choice but to comply. He never measured his strength with her, so she might end up with a swollen arm.

"I wasnae going anywhere," she said, but his frown did not ease any less. "I just wanted to cheer up me spirits. Is that alright?"

Lachlan only nodded while staring at her lower lip, which made Alana quiver.

"I was searching for me maid," she told him and turned around a bit, cutting his insolent gaze. "I want her help with one dress that is a bit ripped on the hem," she hurriedly added when a frown formed. Like a flash of lightning, his frown dissolved into a smile.

"The dress looks braw on ye," he complimented, slowly closing the distance between them.

Alana tensed. Previous experiences had taught her body not to trust his proximity to her or his smiles. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape him. When his hand caressed her arm, she flinched in disgust. Her reaction had no effect on him, and that terrified her.

Lachlan knew she didn't love him, and the way he treated her didn't help matters. However, he attempted to crush the wall between them on occasion, which always resulted in a big fight followed by his violence. Hehad previously broken her pinky finger, which had not grown properly and was now bent to the left.

"Ye ken why I dinnae allow ye tae wander about the village, nay?" he asked her, his eyes following the trail of his finger as it ran up and down her arm.

Clan Ross. She knew what he would say even before he said it. And she also knew it was a lie. He would never have let her leave—threat from another clan or not.

"I have enemies," he said, personalizing his desire for battle. "If they lay eyes on ye, they will harm ye. It is the reason why I ask ye tae remain within the castle. It is for yer own protection, Alana."

She nodded because she couldn't bring herself to speak to him again for fear of inciting his wrath. And, as usual, she was right in predicting his temper.

His hand tightened around her leaner arm and squeezed. Despite the sharp pain, she did not scream. She couldn't scream because she knew no one would come to her aid, and doing so would only aggravate him. However, his grip intensified until her jaws couldn't hold any longer.

Stop, please. She wanted to speak, but her words were cut off with her groans of pain.

"Stop, Lachlan," she gasped, but his eyes only grew wider with excitement, enjoying the pain he caused her.

He will nae stop until he has broken me arm. Thepain became so excruciating,she had to squeeze her eyes shut. She yanked her arm free from his grasp with all of her strength, but she was no match for the power he wielded over her.

His reaction to her struggle was to place another hand on her other arm, and squeezed themboth, forcing her to look him in the eyes. She noticed her husband's sadistic expression, but resisted his gaze.

"Ye listen when I speak tae ye. If ye wish to step out of yer room, I want yer hair tied in a bun like the wife of the Laird MacAdam. Dae ye understand me? When ye wear yer strand falling freely, ye send a wrong message to the lads. Is this clear?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"But ye ken I love it when my hair is free," she breathed weakly. Her pains caused her heart to slow and her breathing to become shallow. She couldn't focus on his words because there was too much noise in her head.

"I didnae hear ye," he demanded another response, giving her time to repair what she said. "Repeat yersel'."

"Why?" Alana thought out loud, catching herself too late.

She felt his grip on her bones, threatening to break her arms.

"Ye ask me why?"

"Nay," Alana shook her head with tears in her eyes, not being able to endure the pain anymore.

"Nay, nay," he refused to accept her denial. "Tell me why. Answer me!"

Seeing that she was without a choice lest she might lose her arms, she answered, speaking words that she would not have dared say to him otherwise.

"Because ye dinnae treat me as yer wife. And ye ken what me hair means to me," she answered in a whimper. Tears welled in her eyes as the words slipped out of her mouth. "Ye treat me less than yer other women."

Alana thought she saw a hint of acknowledgement of her boldness in his eyes, but the fury was stronger. "Good afternoon," a voice called from the end of the corridor. "Laird MacAdam. Lady MacAdam," Ewan, Lachlan's right-hand man greeted as he approached. In a second, Lachlan's grips on her arms loosened. Ewan was his advisor and the only one that could have been considered friends with the Laird MacAdam.

"A good afternoon tae ye as well, Ewan," Lachlan said with a smile that appeared to have always been on his face.

While his interruption had saved Alana's arms, his appearance stillbothered her. He was a tall man with dark short hair and almost black eyes. He exuded threat and fear, with a scar on the side of his face that the maids suspected he had inflicted on himself as a child. And he was always giving Alana inappropriate looks.

"Is the lady well?" he asked with a smile on his lean face.

Alana managed a smile and leaned into her door, waiting on the chance to escape back into it and end this awful scene. Her hands rubbed against her bruised biceps, and her limbs shivered.

"She is well," Lachlan answered on her behalf before turning to the friendly intruder.

"May I have a moment with ye in yer study? I have information about Clan Ross," Ewan asked.

Alana's heart leapt with joy when she heard the clan's name. Lachlan's obsession was Clan Ross, and the only thing more important to him than her torment. So hefollowed his advisor after one last long look at his wife.

Alana raised her head to watch them leave, and her gaze met Ewan's.

I shouldnae have looked.

Though Ewan had saved her a couple of times from her husband, it always felt like he had found them because he had been looking for her and not Lachlan. His eyes always lingered on her, making her uncomfortable.

Alana ran back into her room and locked the door behind her as soon as they left the corridor. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed at the foot of the door. Finally, she let out a few tears as the pain overwhelmed her, but she quickly wiped them away.

"Ye cannae cry," she reminded herself. Her marriage was much more important than her own feelings. The safety of her clan depended on it, as they needed the protection that their alliance with Clan MacAdam provided them, and she could not to complain. Complaining evoked pity in others, and Alana despised pity more than anything else.

But how can I live with that me whole life? She asked herself the question that always plagued her. How much more can I take before I go completely mad?

Alana suddenly heard a knock behind her, and she screamed instinctively.

"I am sorry, milady," she heard the calm voice of Isla behind the door.

She is here; she is alright! Alana dashed to the mirror and wiped her tears away with the hem of her dress. Her sleeves carefullyconcealed the bruises on her arms. She took a deep breath before exhaling loudly as she straightened her back. She had to be careful not to bother Isla with her own worries. Her friend had already done enough to help herescape the castle and experience some stolen freedom before being imprisoned again.

Her reflection gave her confidence in her pretense. She went to her window and pretended to look out for a second before Isla walked in.

"Good afternoon, Isla," Alana sang as casually as she could manage. Her arms ached as she held them in a pose, but she endured it for the fear that Isla might see through the worry in her eyes.

"Good afternoon, milady. I got caught up in the kitchen with the cook. I apologize for making ye wait," Isla said as she walked in.

"Dinnae worry about it. Did anyone see ye as ye came?" Alana asked.

"Nay, of course not," Isla assured her with a wicked smile. She had a keen sense of her surroundings. It had only taken her a few days to figure out where all the rooms in the castle were and the names of the servants.

Alana laughed, but the dryness in her throat caused her to croak, making Isla, who had brought her a shawl, suspicious and concerned. She quickly caught the look in her maid's eyes before it festered.

"I'm alright, Isla. I just miss me freedom," Alana said sternly.

Isla's eyes were rebellious, despite the fact that it was not in her nature — shewas concerned. Alana could see it, but she was overwhelmed and didn't want to put Isla in danger. She knew Lachlan would not kill her, but she couldn't say the same for her maid should hetook offense with her.

"Dinnae worry. Ye help me more than anyone I ken," Alana reassured her maid, and she nodded, despite the fact that she did not fully agree with her mistress' hesitation.

"I am sorry I cannae dae more, milady," Isla said with regret.

It shouldnae be yer worry. I am sorry I make it so.

Alana extended her hand, and Isla placed hers in it. They squeezed each other before Alana pulled away, and her maidnoticed the slight grimace on her face as she tugged.

"Did he hurt ye, milady?" she asked solemnly.

"Nay," Alana lied immediately. "He didnae hurt me."

Pulling the scarf over her face, she stepped out of the chambers, following the routes she had memorized to escape the castle's walls.

Alana felt a rare joy again as she burst out into the sunlight of the Scottish hills and fields. It was the joy of loneliness, a sensation she had grown to appreciate throughout her marriage. And the calm brook was her safe haven, the only place she could feel free.