Chapter 1

1

" Y e'll stay quiet. And ye'll nae look him in the eye. Do ye understand me?"

Leah quivered as the chains bound to her ankles and wrists jangled. The icy floor pricked the bottom of her bare feet as she stumbled one step at a time. It didn't help that everything was black and smelled of wet dog. She couldn't decipher if it was the burlap bag over her head or the residency she now found herself in.

"Please, ye daenae understand," Leah said. "I'm of nay importance to anyone. Ye cannae get a ransom from me family, they've nay money to spare."

"Did I nae tell ye to be silent?"

Leah tried to peer through the frayed fabric, but all she could make out were strange shapes and shadowy figures. The torchlight flickered on the damp stone walls, and for a moment, Leah thought she’d been dragged into the third ring of hell.

“Please,” she implored, her tone drifting into desperation. She didn’t want to die, not when she had so much life ahead of her. Her captor jerked the chains, causing Leah to trip over her feet. Falling forward with nothing to catch her, Leah slammed hard into the rough stone wall. With the world falling around her, Leah felt a helplessness she’d never experienced before. It was as if she’d stepped into an abyss determined to swallow every ounce of hope she had.

“Silence.”

“But I daenae understand,” Leah pleaded. How she got into this mess was beyond her. One moment, she was in her carriage, heading back home, when chaos erupted. “What do ye want wit’ me? I’ve nothin’ to offer ye.”

“Yer the healer from the O’Malley,” the gruff voice said. Panic shot through her, causing her throat to become drier than the Sahara desert.

"Aye, I worked for Laird O'Malley; I was a healer…” Leah paused as sheer terror stole the very warmth of her blood. “I’m nay longer in that position. Now please, just let me go.”

Leah’s ears perked as her footsteps grew faint. The cold stone floor gave way to soft, warm fur that nestled between her bare toes.

"I'm warnin' ye. Ye'll be silent, or I'll see that ye never leave here. Do ye understand?" Her captor snapped as a brilliant light flooded Leah's view. She closed her eyes, hoping that would be enough to shield her from its intensity, but even with her eyes scrunched tight, the light penetrated the darkness.

Slowly, bit by bit, her sight returned. Leah's mouth fell open as she took in the room before her. The beams holding the ceiling had been carved with great detail and skill. From where she stood, it appeared as if someone had carved the history of the clan.

But what clan house had she ended up at? That was the real question. Nothing about the grand room looked familiar. The vaulted ceilings that were adorned with intricate floral carvings were breathtaking. Leah was certain if she had ever been to such a place, she would have easily remembered.

"On yer knees," her captor barked. Lifting a hand, Leah turned and stared at the man before her. She’d seen his familiar face many times. His name lingered on the tip of her tongue as she tried to wrap her head around what was going on.

“Sean? What is this? What are ye doin’? Why have ye taken me?” Leah asked as he glared daggers at her. He reached for her, planting a firm hand on her shoulder, forcing her to bend the knee. Weak and unable to sustain the pressure, Leah dropped to her knees. She pursed her lips as she focused on the warm glow of the torches as the fire danced with shadows.

"Me laird," Sean said the moment the heavy doors to the left swung open. Curiosity pricked Leah. She fought against the urge to see who was coming and the desire not to be punished. With the latter winning, she dared to lift her head.

A tall, rugged man entered the room. What once felt like anxiety swelling and twisting within her now felt like terror. The man towered over her as he marched to the center of the room, commanding not only the eyes and ears of the men in the room but it seemed the entire castle shifted.

"What is this?" a husky voice boomed through the Great Hall. Leah couldn't help but quiver under the intensity of his tone. It was as if God himself had spoken to Moses in the wilderness.

"A gift," Sean answered as he bowed even lower. Leah couldn't help but wonder what Sean was doing and why he was groveling so much. It wasn't like he was going to get a prize for bringing her in.

"Say again?" the laird said, his gaze boring into Leah. Leah couldn't tell if it was his raven black hair or deep-set brown eyes that were so alluring. Or perhaps it was the stubble on his face that gave Leah the impression he'd been touched by the darkness.

"She's a gift for ye, Laird MacMillan," Sean repeated, only the gusto in his voice muted. The confidence Sean once had seemed to vanish the longer he stood before the laird. Leah's blood ran cold. The name was too familiar. Where had she heard it before? And then it dawned on her. Laird MacMillan, the Mad Laird. Panic shot through Leah's body like electricity jumped between the clouds.

"Is that so?"

"Aye, me laird," Sean said, keeping his head low and eyes on the ground. Leah refused to be intimidated. She kept her head up as the laird stalked her like prey. His eyebrow twitched as a flash of defiance flickered through his gaze the moment his eyes fell on her.

"Ye'll find she is a notorious healer," Sean said in a sing-song voice that grated on Leah's nerves. "And as ye can see, she's rather pleasin' to the eye. Her cadence is pleasant from what I've gathered just being in her presence for such a short time."

The laird’s brown eyes bore into Leah, making her heart quicken. Sean's voice continued to drone on in the background as he spouted off her virtues. All of which Leah found herself questioning with each passing moment as the dark brooding laird before her intrigued her. After all, she wasn't some prize or gift to be pawned to the highest bidder.

Leah glared at Sean's smugness. Her stomach twisted with disgust as his tone was laced with a false reverence. She wanted to charge at him and demand he release her, but something about the way the laird stared at her made her second guess herself.

"Is what he says about ye true?" the laird asked as he circled Leah and Sean. Before Leah could even open her mouth to answer, Sean stepped up.

"Of course I may have exaggerated a wee bit. But ye'll find Leah is a healer who is very skilled."

"And who is this gift truly for?" the laird asked. His tone was silky that sent chills racing down Leah's spine. "Me? Or me brother?"

Leah glanced at Sean, wondering what he had planned to do with her. It was clear by the beads of sweat on his brow he hadn't thought things through to completion.

"Laird," Sean said as if the laird's question was beneath him. "Every good ruler needs a healer. She's the best ye'll find in all of Scotland. She'll serve ye well, this I'm confident of."

Leah shivered. The way the laird leaned closer made her feel like prey under the gaze of a predator. A hint of ash and Sandalwood swirled around her, tickling her senses. Trying not to let her fear get the better of her, Leah held her gaze.

"Where have ye come from? Do ye have family?" the laird asked, his tone softening as the harshness in his voice faded.

"Me laird, is that really important?" Sean asked as he tried to step between the laird and Leah.

"Aye," the laird said. "Because I see it as such. Who are ye to tell me what is important and what isnae? Do ye ken the thoughts that plague me mind? I daenae think so."

The tension in the room mounted and made Leah feel as if she would be smoldered into the ground. The laird stepped forward, his imposing figure loomed over her.

"Seize him," the laird commanded.

"What? Me laird, what are ye doin'? Ye cannae be serious," Sean bemoaned as the guards ascended on them in a flash. Leah dropped her head hoping the guards wouldn’t plow her over as they charged Sean.

"What use do I have of a gift that comes against its will? Ye think ye can bring me just anyone? Away with ye," the laird snapped. Leah flinched at the cruel twist of his tone. Her heart raced as Sean pleaded for his life.

"I meant nay disrespect, ye asked to have the lasses come to ye. I daenae ken what I did wrong," Sean bellowed as the panic in his tone rose with an unsettling pitch. Leah didn't know whether she was pleased to have her captor get his just rewards. Or if her luck was shifting once again and she was about to jump into the fire.

Leah's breath hitched as she caught a dark glimmer of steel flash in the corner of her eye. She whipped around just as a knife slipped into Sean's side. The sight of his blood spilling on the floor made Leah freeze. The rusty scent swirled about her, making the room sway. She turned away from the scene, praying she had the strength to keep her lunch down.

"Get him out of here," the laird barked. Somewhere in the back of Leah's mind, she was aware of the laird by her side. But the room continued to spin, making it even more complicated to remain upright.

"No," Leah choked on the word as she tried to reach for Sean. Her voice was lost in the chaos and confusion of the situation. Turning to meet her gaze, Sean stretched his hand for her before being hauled into the back. Leah felt a pang of sympathy for Sean even though she despised the man.

Tingles starting from the top of her head raced down to her toes as she watched the laird circle her. Each step he took made her heart skip. There was no denying she was intimidated by the man. He towered over her, and Leah couldn't help but be somewhat impressed by his thick arms.

The laird stopped before her and folded his arms over his chest. Glaring at her, Leah wondered what was skipping through his mind. She noticed his lips twitching as if something had amused him, but he dared not break his stoic exterior.

"Stand," he commanded. Leah did as she was told for his tone left no room for defiance. With a firm yet gentile grip, he pulled Leah to her feet. Her heart skipped and jumped about as she pushed back the fear that was stealing the warmth of her.

"Yer hands," he said, nodding his head to her bound wrists. As he began to remove the restraints, Leah couldn't help but notice how soft and delicate he moved, almost as if she were stained glass and just as easy to break.

Swallowing hard, Leah tried not to let her imagination run wild, but she found it difficult with the laird's hand in hers. Studying him, Leah remained wary of the laird. The rumors that encircled him rattled in the back of her mind as she watched him step back once the restraints were gone.

"Say the word and I'll have that man hangin' in the moors."

As much as the thought tickled the darkest parts of her being, Leah shook her head. The laird's eyes narrowed as he folded his arms over his chest. She couldn't tell what he wanted to ask, only that the question remained trapped on the roof of his mouth.

"And why should I spare him? Is he nae yer captor?" the laird asked. "Do ye nae seek justice or revenge?"

Leah didn't know how to answer or even if she should. There was a reason people called Laird MacMillan the Mad Laird, and it went much further than his evil deeds. The man wasn't to be taken lightly. Still beneath his hard exterior, Leah couldn't help but notice a flicker of something that resembled innocence. Yet, the moment she saw it, the flicker was gone, and the moment had passed.

A tickle of dread raced down her spine as her gaze shifted away from admiring Killian's strong build to his icy glare. Killian's bold expression caused her heart to flutter wildly. Leah couldn't help but swallow hard as her fate hung so precariously over the edge.

"Well? Why do ye nae answer me? Speak, for ye have some explainin' to do."