Chapter One

Spring, 1316, the Highlands of Scotland

Alaric Grant guided his horse down the treacherous incline, praying they'd make it to the bottom safely. Three Grant guards had made it down before him, and several others, including his father Jamie and brother Els, still waited their turn. Once down, Alaric turned to his father and waved.

"Ye can make it. The storm is nearly upon us, but ye have time. We have to get the seed in." His brother, Els, rode behind his father, the large bags of seed they'd just purchased settled across each horse. The seed was worth every bit of gold they'd paid for it, after last year's famine. But if it got wet, it would be ruined.

When his father and brother were halfway down the slope, big fat drops of rain splattered around them, wetting the ground too quickly.

"Hurry! Ye can make it."

The others in their group waited at the top to see if the two made it safely before attempting their own descent.

As Alaric watched, the horses' hooves slid on the wet, hard-packed clay. He bellowed to the others behind his brother, "Go around!"

He wasn't sure they heard, because just then, the skies opened, rain falling in sheets, slanting across the landscape, and the incline became a river. In moments, the terrifying sound of a horse losing its footing rang out, and the scene in front of him moved in slow motion. Everything in Alaric Grant's life changed in an instant.

His father's horse careened down the slope, front hooves catching on a stone as they slid, sending both rider and mount catapulting to the bottom of the rocky hill. The chieftain of Clan Grant bellowed in pain with every impact. His horse landed well away from him, one small favor that may have saved his life.

They'd been off to a neighboring clan to purchase seeds for their spring planting, patrolling along the way. When they noticed the storm on the horizon, they tried to rush to save the seed, Alaric suggesting they take the incline back to the keep. It was risky in bad weather, but he'd made it down with his horse easily.

Why the hell hadn't they taken the long way around? The safe way?

Alaric dismounted to help his sire, and he cringed when he looked at him, knowing he'd broken at least one bone from the way his limbs were bent. At the sound of pebbles and small stones on the slope, he glanced up to see his older brother and his mount suffer the same fate as his sire. Els's horse also lost his footing on the hill, sending Els into the air. His brother landed hard on his head and rolled down the incline.

Alaric wished to hop back on his horse to race in the opposite direction, as far away as possible, but years of his father's and grandfather's and uncle's teachings made him do the right thing. He hurried to his father's side first, praying he was still alive. He'd tend to Els in a moment.

At the bottom of the embankment, he barked orders to the guards as the storm continued to batter them, drenching them with heavy rain. Snow would have been better, but the rain fell, freezing in some places on the ground, making the journey even more treacherous.

He shouted at the group of men still considering venturing down the hill. "Take the other path! Go that way." He motioned them to the longer but safer path. The entire group finally headed toward the longer option.

Alaric continued to give orders as the men arrived from the other path.

"Go to the keep for the carts. Take the seed with ye and keep it dry." He pointed to the large bags on the two horses.

"Tell my mother to ready the healing chamber for multiple injured."

"Check the two horses. See if they can stand."

Guards rushed to do his bidding. One raced off to the keep to fetch help while the others tended to the horses and the precious seed. The famine had made all the clans desperate to be sure their plantings would be successful this spring, and they were readying for the season in as many ways as possible.

Confident that his orders were being followed, Alaric turned back to his father. Jamie Grant lay in a heap, all mud from his fall.

"Da!" Alaric called out as he knelt next to him, afraid to touch him. Aunt Jennie had always said to check the injured before moving them. She's lectured everyone about how moving someone the wrong way could make an injury worse.

"Hand me the blanket on my horse," he yelled to one of the guards. "Da, can ye hear me?" He leaned over him to listen for breathing sounds before feeling for the beat of his life's blood pulsing through him.

His father opened his eyes and groaned, "My leg."

Alaric did a quick check of him, the oddly bent leg most concerning. He had blood on his trews and some on the ground around him, but nothing that looked heavy.

"Da, dinnae move. I have to check Els. Yer leg is broken, I've sent for a cart."

"I'm fine. Els fell too?"

Alaric could hear the sound of the cart wheels approaching. It must have been in a nearby field to have arrived this quickly.

One guard stood with the blanket. "Do ye wish for me to pick him up, Alaric? I can put him on yer horse."

"Nay!" Alaric didn't wish to yell, but had the fool no common sense? "His leg is broken. Cover him with the blanket while we wait for the cart. It will surely take two of us to move him. Dinnae try to move him on yer own."

Uncle Connor arrived. He'd been riding toward the back of their company and must have just come in on the longer path. "What happened, Alaric?"

"Both mounts lost their footing. Da's leg is broken so dinnae move him yet. I have to check Els. And send the rest of the men back. This storm is getting worse and there is no need to keep more men than necessary, or there will be more injuries. The horses are all unsettled by Midnight Moon's fall."

Els hadn't moved, so Alaric knelt next to him and tapped his shoulder. "Els, wake up."

His cousin Alick joined him, riding in just behind Uncle Connor and leaping off his horse.

"He looks dead," he whispered to Alaric.

"He's breathing." Alaric reached for the blood pulsing in his neck. "Strong heart still. Do ye see any wounds? Any blood or broken bones?"

Alick sighed, feeling through the man's ripped trews. "Nay. I'll put him on my horse and take him back. Your sire needs the cart and there's only one."

"Wait," Alaric called out as Alick lifted Els with the help of another guard. "His head. I see something." He ran his hand over the back of his head. "He has a bump starting just there. Get him to the keep. I'll take care of Da."

Two guards helped get Els on the horse in front of Alick and then arranged him the best they could, protecting him from the rain.

"And take all the ones hanging about with ye," Alaric shouted after them. He noticed a number of guards nearby staring, wishing to see how badly the two were injured. "Leave two men to travel back with us."

He glanced at Uncle Connor who nodded and said, "I'll stay with ye, Alaric. He's my only brother. We have to move him carefully."

His sire opened his eyes, the pain evident. "I shouldn't have tried it, Connor. Midnight did not wish to go down but I pushed him."

Joya, Els's wife, burst into the space, panting and frantic. "Els!" she screamed.

"Get them both out of this weather, Alick," Alaric said. "Dinnae worry about us. Go."

"Come, Joya," Alick said softly. "Ye'll do him no good out here, catching your death." Joya nodded and clambered up behind one of the guards, and the bulk of the group headed toward the keep. The two injured horses were up and moving, thankfully. Both were still skittish but they were walking without much problem other than some cuts and scrapes from the rocks.

The two remaining guards moved the cart closer to Jamie.

His father hadn't fared so well, though he and Els had both bounced while the horses slid. "Move the cart over here."

"Alaric, tell yer mother I need her," his father said.

"I already sent word, Da. Uncle Connor is going to help me lift ye into the cart. We'll be careful as we can, but yer leg looks broken."

"And one arm too, I fear," his father mumbled. "Just get me to Gracie."

His parents still adored each other after all these years, and they were often teased affectionately about it. It gave Alaric hope that someday he'd find the same with the right lass, but he'd had no luck up to this point.

Alaric gave instructions to one guard. "Put the blanket underneath, Hugh. Get the one from yer horse, Uncle Connor. He'll need that to prop the leg. I'll cover him with mine. I have one dry one yet. Hugh, hold the cart still while we settle him. We cannae have it sliding in the mud."

Once the blanket was under Jamie, Connor and Alaric used it to move his father into the cart. His father only cursed them out once. "Hellfire, this isnae what I needed."

"Mama will fix ye, Da."

Connor added, "Ye'll have to slow down like she's been telling ye, Jamie. Ye just dinnae listen."

Connor and Jamie were the two chieftains of the clan since their brother Jake had passed on. Connor was younger than Jamie. Their three sisters, Kyla, Elizabeth, and Maeve, also helped keep the clan running efficiently and peacefully.

A horse approached as they eased the cart forward. It was his father's second and Kyla's husband, Finlay. "Hell, Jamie. Ye stay strong, Chief. What can I do, Alaric?"

"Ride along next to him and make him keep still. He cannae be moving that leg." Alaric had to admit he surprised himself with his instructions. He was no healer, but apparently he'd been around his mother enough to learn something.

They headed back to the keep, moving slowly in the rain, but there were no other problems. The horses all made it back, the seed had been handled, and Els was already in the healing chamber by the time they arrived.

Alaric needed his brother to wake up and his father to heal. He had to pray both would be on the mend soon, because he planned to head out on patrol again. Maitland Menzie, one of the leads on the Scots' patrols, would be here shortly to gather a group of riders for the next one.

And he needed a distraction. This experience was too close to the one event in his past that he tried hardest to forget. Seeing his father and brother incapacitated so quickly brought that dreaded memory to the fore. The one day he wished he could forget because there was no fixing what had happened that day.

The worst day of his life.