Three

The mews at Matheson Tower were nice. They opened up to let in the fresh morning air and looked to be swept every day. Athena had been given a perch with a water pouch hung from it. There was a long line of perches but only three other hawks. As soon as Moira removed the hood from Athena’s head, she looked at the other birds and cried out in an attempt to accrete her dominance. Moira clicked her tongue.

“What the hell are ye doing talking to Gahan Sutherland?”

Bari was still spoiling for a fight. Moira put Athena back on her perch and turned to face him.

“I should give ye a beating,” he threatened.

Unlike Gahan, Bari never curbed his impulse to strike her. Now that she had a comparison, in her mind, her sibling resembled a weak child.

“What manner of wife do ye expect me to be?”

Her question confused Bari.

“According to the maids, there is no head of house. I will be expected to shoulder the duties. I can hardly do that if I am too timid to hold a conversation with my husband’s guests.”

“Gahan Sutherland is different, and ye know it.”

There was a rage burning in Bari’s eyes that struck her as unnatural. It was too intense and had been there for too long now.

“Nay, I do nae understand.”

“It is none of yer concern!” Bari seemed caught between the need to shout and crumble into despair. His nostrils actually flared with the intensity of his emotions. “Ye have been told what ye need to know. Stay away from Gahan Sutherland.”

Moira dared to allow her amusement to show. “I can hardly control the man. He followed me, and he is the overlord’s son.”

“Ye’ll mind me, Moira!”

Athena didn’t care for the shouting and let out a shrill cry. Bari snapped his head around to look at the bird.

“Or the next time ye come out here, ye’ll find yer precious bird with a broken neck.”

Moira moved in front of Athena. Bari snickered.

“It seems a stroke of luck that ye insisted on bringing it along. Now get back to the keep and take a bath. There’s nothing we can do for how ugly ye are with that common nose, but ye can be clean. Yer wedding is at sunset.” He paused for a long moment. “And ye had best be a virgin. Because if ye aren’t, ye are no use to me at all.”

A feeling of helplessness was growing inside her, and she detested it. At least her temper burned it away, so she let it flare up. “I wish I weren’t one.”

Her brother’s eyes widened with rage.

“And I do nae care if ye do nae like hearing me say it,” she said.

Bari suddenly grinned. His shift in mood stunned her. “Maybe ye are nae such a pitiful peasant after all. There just might be some of our father in ye.” His lips returned to a hard line. “But ye will never hold a candle to what Sandra was.”

Her brother left, lost in his recollections. A chill went through her. Once more she noticed just how unbalanced Bari was. She spent so little time with him that the change was clear. Alba’s desperation became easier to understand. Her brother ignored the maids who served him, but they knew what she had only just noticed. Bari Fraser was obsessed with vengeance. Moira had grown past fearing her brother years ago, but today she had a feeling of dread because it was very possible he was going insane.

Maybe she was lucky to be wedding, because no one on Fraser land would be resting easy if the laird went mad.

***

For all the grandeur Matheson Castle seemed to have on the outside, it was pitifully lacking in bathing facilities. There was no bathhouse and only a few small wooden tubs. Fann set one up in the back part of the kitchen where it was warm and closer to the wells. The cook sent the kitchen boys away so Moira might have some privacy. Somehow, she doubted such a courtesy was extended to anyone else. The cook used one of the keys hanging from her belt to unlock a chest. She pulled out a thick bar of soap, pausing to smell it before handing it to Moira.

The moment Moira stepped out of the tub, the cook climbed in and happily applied the soap to herself. Next went her assistant. Several more tubs were filled, and it seemed every maid was taking the opportunity to bathe. Or perhaps it was more that they considered they had permission, since the soon-to-be mistress had decided it was bathing day.

Mistress…She didn’t feel like the lady of the house. The title “head of house” felt more fitting. It was clear Achaius was something of a miser. With his last wife dead, he should have elevated one of the staff to the position, but he’d held onto the coin.

Well, she was not used to being idle, so it was a blessing. She just wished it didn’t come with the duty of sharing the old laird’s bed.

It was odd, but she’d never thought much about what went on between men and women. Oh yes, she knew the names both kind and insulting. She understood the mechanics of coupling, but she had no idea of what it might feel like. Some women craved it. Many wives dreaded it.

She sighed and began to learn her way around. The hallways still looked the same to her, and soon she was trying to discover which one connected to which stairway. It was an old custom to keep the hallways identical, a last defense against the inner keep being breached. When the enemy entered, they wouldn’t know which way to go to capture the laird. Those who lived inside the walls learned to find their way with tiny details. Moira tried to focus on finding some, but she was distracted and fretting about the approaching night.

“Ye enjoyed seeing yer brother called a liar.”

Moira turned to find Gahan behind her. The man must have been leaning in one of the doorways. Behind him was the captain she’d come to recognize because he always seemed to be shadowing Gahan.

“And ye do nae deny it.” Gahan lifted a hand and waved his captain away. The man frowned, but a quick glance sent him on his way after a tug on his bonnet. His footsteps stopped just around the corner. That was all the privacy he was willing to allow his laird. Even a man such as Gahan had restrictions placed on him. No doubt his captain wasn’t willing to be the one to tell the Earl of Sutherland that his son had died on his watch.

“I am nae accustomed to being dishonest, in spite of what ye seem to think me nature is. And Bari says many things he should think on before letting past his lips.” The lengthening afternoon shadows left her no attention to give to his attempts to needle her. She was more concerned with the wedding taking place at sunset. Still, Gahan was not a man who had time to waste. Nor was he an idle person given to wasting daylight. He’d sought her out, yet he might have had her summoned. Whatever he craved, he wanted to ask her in private.

“Ye want something from me. What is it?”

Gahan’s expression changed. She ended up staring at him because he’d always been so intense around her that this transformation was startling. He’d dropped his guarded look and appeared almost uncertain.

“I want ye to give me yer hawk,” he said at last. “Make a gift of her to me.”

Surprise held her silent for a moment. Gahan drew in a deep breath and angled his head as he looked down at her.

“Me men will make sure she comes to no harm.”

She gasped. “How do ye know about Bari’s threat?”

He shrugged. “It’s always wise to keep a few of the stableboys friendly with me. I’m sure they will put the silver to good use. Most of them do nae have shoes.”

That was a shame in a castle as great as this one was. Those same boys would man the cannons should there be an attack. They should have been clothed. It was the duty of the laird to see it was done, and a shame that the overlord’s son was noticing it was not done. Achaius was a miser, and that often destroyed loyalty. But she would soon be his wife, and she’d have the power to right the wrong.

“Thank ye for telling me. I’ll see to the boys.” Apparently they were as much in need of her doing her duty as Alba. If she failed to wed Achaius, the Matheson castle folk would continue to suffer, for no one would notice. Her throat tightened, like there was a noose knotted around it.

“And yer hawk?”

“Why do ye offer me help?” Maybe she was being foolish to question him, but she just couldn’t control her curiosity. Maybe it was because he was the only person she could speak her mind to.

He shrugged, and for a moment she was distracted by the way his shoulders moved beneath his shirt. There was something about him that fascinated her and made her heart beat faster. She wanted to look at this man, actually stare at him. It was like being under a spell.

“Maybe I want to strike at yer brother any way possible. Or perhaps I’ll admit that I’ve raised hawks since I was a boy, too, and cannae stomach knowing yer brother will harm one out of spite. I dare say, if he were in your shoes, he’d nae be standing as straight as ye are.”

“He’s never allowed me to call him brother, because my mother was common-born.” It was a slip, an admission she had no reason for sharing with him. Bari hated her for her blood. She’d do well to remember that hatred…

“There are plenty of Highland lairds who have the same blood in their veins. There are many who claim it keeps the blood strong. Yer father wed her, so the matter should nae be questioned.”

She was at a loss for a long moment, unsure what to say, for he was offering kindness when she had never expected it. Not from anyone—least of all from him.

“Athena is yers, and I thank ye.” Her voice was full of relief.

“Ye should nae have to.”

He half turned and let out a whistle. She heard someone around the bend in the hallway start walking away. Those footsteps threatened to send tears down her cheeks, for she knew Athena would be hers no longer.

She had to recall why and be content.

“Bari is a knave for bringing ye here. What else has he threatened to do if ye do nae wed Achaius?”

She was staring into his eyes again, this time because she just couldn’t understand why he cared. His lips twitched into a grin that was beguiling. He was one handsome brute when he softened his expression.

She jumped and looked away, her cheeks hot with shame. “Well…hmm…does it really matter?” Her mind was cloudy, and her thoughts formed slowly. But she forced herself to focus and make sense. “What I mean to say is, doing me duty is something I will nae shirk. Wouldn’t ye honor a contract made by yer laird? Even if the bride was nae to yer liking?”

She covered her mouth with her hand when she realized she’d admitted her true feelings. “Nae that I dislike Achaius.” There really was no way to explain her way out of it. So she turned, intending to leave, but he blocked her way with one arm. His lightning-quick motion startled her. She’d allowed herself to trust him being so very close to her.

But the man was a Highlander, and one with vengeance on his mind. She was a fool to allow him so close.

“Sandra would have fluttered her eyelashes and done her best to beguile Achaius,” he said. “She was a bitch with a calculating mind and a heart of stone. She used a woman’s wiles like weapons.”

Their gazes were locked, and she felt the burn of his stare all the way to her toes.

“Ye’re nae trying yer hand at that game, but maybe ye are playing a different one,” he pressed.

He was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. She tried to lean back, but the wall was solid, and the pitted surface pressed into her palms. Her heart accelerated and, oddly, she was convinced she could smell his skin.

“What is so hard to understand?” she asked in frustration. “The Church preaches that a woman should follow the direction of her family and laird.”

His lips parted. “Agreeing with the sermon is much easier when ye’re in the house of God. Once ye are standing on the steps of the keep with an old man pinching yer bottom, that’s when I’d expect ye to tell yer brother to go to hell.”

“I wish—” She slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her words. But he gripped her wrist and pulled it away.

“Ye wish what?”

The contact of his grip caused a flood of sensation. It was like something was unleashing inside her, a hidden part of her that she had never realized existed, some instinct that told her to move closer to him.

“Release me,” she breathed.

One dark eyebrow rose like a challenge. “Why? I am nae hurting ye. I know me strength and control it well.”

“Yer touch unsettles me.”

Something flickered in his dark eyes, and it frightened her because she felt an echo of it inside herself. It was worse than pain—that was something she knew how to endure. His touch was eroding her control and making her fight the urge to touch him back.

She wanted to but shook her head.

“And I will nae have ye accusing me of trying to seduce ye.” She didn’t sound as steady as she’d have liked, but at least she hadn’t stumbled over the words. She twisted her hand, trying to free herself, but he turned her arm up and placed a kiss against her inner wrist. It burned, but then the sweetest delight rippled through her from the contact.

“Ye are unnatural,” she accused. She was almost breathless, but she was also frightened of him, afraid of what he was unleashing inside of her.

When he raised his head to look at her, his expression was purely sensual and strangely inviting.

“Because ye enjoyed that?” His gaze lowered to her lips. “So did I. And it was very natural, lass. We were made to respond to each other.”

The delicate skin of her lips tingled. She was almost desperate to discover what his kiss felt like before she lost the chance forever by pledging herself to Achaius in holy matrimony.

“Well, ye should nae teach me such things. Ye should go before ye ruin everything.”

His grip tightened, and she flinched. “Now ye are hurting me.”

“What am I going to ruin?” he asked softly, easing his hold on her wrist. But he was still watching her suspiciously, and she knew he was lowering his voice to deceive her.

Her temper flared up, rescuing her from the flood of new sensations, and she jerked her arm away from him.

Moira gave him a withering look. “Any hope of happiness I might find here. Ye are a selfish man to show me what a kiss might feel like if me husband was nae so old. I do nae need to dwell on the facts that cannae be changed.”

“This wedding is designed to cause trouble. I’m trying to make ye see it before it’s too late,” he argued.

“And just what do ye think will happen if I do nae take me vows?” She closed the gap between them with her chin out. “Do ye think the Matheson will be pleased to see me turning me nose up at their laird’s offer? Will yer own father be happy to hear ye caused discontent in a match among his vassals? I do nae need the memory of yer kiss distracting me from me duty.”

“If a kiss is all it takes, I am happy to do the honors.”

His words didn’t make sense to her, but a second later, she understood completely. Gahan leaned down and sealed her lips beneath his. The contact was jarring, like an explosion, and she jumped back. But he grasped her shoulders and pulled her close again. This time, he claimed her mouth, pressing his lips over hers without mercy.

Excitement twisted through her belly, and all of a sudden she wasn’t thinking, she was responding. She reached for him, sliding her hands up his chest and delighting at the way he felt. Never once had she suspected a man might feel good, but Gahan did.

His kiss was even better.

After the first moments, he began to tease her lips, slipping and sliding across the delicate surface as he cupped her nape to keep her in place. He pressed her mouth until she opened for him, and then the tip of his tongue joined the assault.

She had no idea how long it lasted, for it felt like time had simply stopped. All she wanted to do was follow his lead and forget everything else.

But he suddenly pulled away, stiffening as though he was just as spellbound as she. Suspicion glittered in his eyes, and it was colder than ice.

“Ye kissed me,” she growled, surprised by how furious she sounded.

“And ye kissed me back.”

She shoved at him, struggling when he held on to her. “When it comes to seductions, ye clearly have more experience than I. Perhaps ye are the one wielding a man’s touch like a weapon.”

She gained her freedom—or so she thought—until she tried to run and he pulled her up short by her wrist. The hold was unyielding, but it was clear he was in fact controlling his strength.

“Do nae wed Achaius, lass. It will lead to trouble.”

She froze. Gahan Sutherland, son of the Earl of Sutherland, was asking her not to go through with the wedding. It was more tempting than she wanted to admit. She bit her lower lip to keep herself from saying how much she wanted to do as he asked.

He rubbed the inside of her wrist, the motion soothing and yet alarming at the same time.

“Ye know it is wrong. Bari wants the Matheson to help him feud against the Sutherlands. Yer wedding will seal the pact.”

He released her, and for a moment, she stood with her eyes fixed on his. Uncertainty ate at her, and her lips tingled. She backed away before she gave in to the urge to say anything else. He was the son of the Earl of Sutherland. He would pursue what was best for his clan above all else, and she would be wise to remember that she was not a Sutherland. She was just a pawn. An obstacle he needed to move in order to achieve his goals.

“Ye have no reason to tell me the truth,” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed at the insult. She hadn’t labeled him a liar outright, but it was close enough for a man of his high station. Nobles did not suffer veiled threats. But she wasn’t finished.

“I would certainly nae be the first bride played falsely by another clan, either. A few kisses in the shadows, and when I forsake me duty, me own kin will be attacked to pay for the slight. Ye can ride home with no one the wiser to the part ye played. Perhaps ye want to see the Frasers attacked because ye believe it justice, but it will be naught but blood spilling and good mothers crying over the graves of their sons.”

She expected his anger to flare up, but instead he let out a soft grunt that sounded like he agreed with her.

“That is nae what I am doing, lass.” He flashed her a grin. “But I suppose I cannae blame ye for nae knowing sense when ye hear it. Yer half brother never speaks any.”

She was returning his smile when his expression became serious. It was almost like she could feel the shift in his emotions. Which was far too much of an intimacy.

“But ye are no girl. Ye are mature enough to understand me.” His tone was solemn. “Listen to me, and I will make sure you have a way out of here.”

It was so tempting—he was tempting. Moira shook her head. In a flash, the fragile trust she’d decided existed between them shattered, revealing the very real threat he posed. The man wanted his way and planned to get it by whatever means necessary. She raised her chin, refusing to cower.

“Ye praise me for being past me tender years, but somehow think I do nae know what becomes of girls who ride off with men they are nae wed to?” She settled her hands on her hips. “Best ye listen well, Gahan Sutherland. I was shocked by me first kiss, which is why I did nae slap ye for taking the liberty. But ye are a rogue to have done it, for ye have made no offer for me. Ye should be ashamed to do something like this on me wedding day. I am no less honorable than ye and will nae discard me duty the moment someone steals a kiss in the shadows.”

It was exactly what she had been raised to believe, yet it felt wrong to chastise him.

Gahan chuckled. The sound was chilling, because it made her feel like a game animal being cornered by something very dangerous.

“First kiss? Well, there is another thing I can detest yer half brother for. As pretty as ye are, at least one of his men should have tried to win yer affection.”

“I am nae pretty.” She covered her lips when she realized she’d spoken. “At least, ye should nae be saying I am.”

“Would ye have me lie to ye?”

He reached out and stroked her cheek. A shiver raced down her body in response.

“I’d have ye stop toying with me.” She was pitifully close to begging, but he had such a devastating effect on her. “I must try and make the best of this match. Do nae fill me head with fanciful ideas of offers ye have nae made.”

“I keep me word, Moira,” he informed her in a hard tone. “I offer to make sure ye have a way out of this keep. I do nae need to promise nae to leave ye stranded on the road, for I am no villain. Never accuse me of dishonor again.”

She backed away from him, holding up a hand when he began to follow. “I wonder, would ye like yer own sister riding off without the blessing of the Church? With someone ye know has reason to want vengeance against her clan? With no promise of anything, except the sure knowledge that she’d be dishonoring her own kin?”

She’d silenced him. It would likely only last a moment, but she took advantage of it and left. She listened for his footsteps behind her, but there were none. He might be many things, but it appeared Gahan was a man who understood sense when he heard it. Only children lived in a world where everything might be put aside in favor of their feelings.

So ye admit ye have feelings for him?

She cringed but continued out into the sunlight. Bari was her laird, and it would be her brother she had to depend on once Gahan Sutherland rode back to his father’s land.

***

“Ye kissed her?”

“I am nae in the mood to be lectured, Cam,” Gahan growled.

His sibling wasn’t put off by his tone. In fact, Cam reached out and placed a solid hand on his shoulder to keep him from following Moira out into the yard.

“I see what sort of mood ye are in. Have ye forgotten that she’s kin to Sandra?”

Cam was incredulous, and his sobering words broke through the spell Gahan seemed to be under. He’d never been a man who gave much thought to superstitions. But his forehead was moist with perspiration, and if Cam hadn’t stopped him, he’d be standing behind Moira like a devoted slave. The woman was obviously more accomplished in wielding her feminine wiles than he’d given her credit for.

“I was trying to get her to refuse to wed.”

Cam cocked his head to one side. “Well…that’s more than I would have done, but I suppose it makes sense. No young lass wants to wed an old man.”

“Unless she’s scheming like Sandra did.”

Gahan moved toward the doorway and frowned. Moira had vanished. His body tensed as though it mattered to him what became of her. The troubling sensation lingered as his eyes swept the yard, searching for her.

“There ye are.”

Achaius made his way toward Gahan. “I feared ye’d ridden out before witnessing me vows.”

He slapped Gahan on the shoulder and grinned.

“Why are ye so worried about me being here for yer wedding, Achaius? Bari Fraser has made it plain he’d like to see me horse’s arse.”

“That lad is young. He does nae yet grasp the full importance of being united with the Earl of Sutherland.”

Gahan turned to face Achaius, suspicion tingling up his nape. “If me father is so important to ye, why have ye nae informed him of yer intention to wed Moira Fraser? It does nae speak well of ye when I hear of a union such as this through one of yer neighbors.”

It was a bold thing to say, but Achaius only waved the veiled insult away. “Have ye seen me bride?”

Gahan nodded and pressed his lips into a hard line, because his memory was quick to remind him of the way she’d felt against him. He was interested in so much more than just how she looked. He should be ashamed of himself, but all he felt was a growing urge to make sure Moira took his offer of a ride out of Matheson Castle.

“She’s a pot of honey.” Achaius chuckled and pointed a time-withered finger at Gahan. “If Bari Fraser is going to offer her to me, well now, lad, me eyes still work well enough for me to want a taste of her. Young lads are nae the only ones cursed with impatience. The difference is, I know me days are few, and I want to enjoy every one of them.”

“She does nae want to wed ye.” His father was going to have something harsh to say about his comment, but Gahan didn’t care. The entire situation stank of foul play. He wanted the truth, and polite comments weren’t going to uncover it for him.

“Maybe nae, but she’s hardly the first wife I’ve gotten a chilly reception from. Marriage is business, lad. Yer father knows it well. Why else are ye a bastard?” Achaius shook his head. “Because yer father wed himself a woman with a fine dowry, that’s why.”

“What is she bringing ye?”

“Land,” Achaius informed him with glee. “Now I’m off to dress in me best before I get on me way to the church for a blessing. I hope ye’ll be here at sunset to see it.”

The old laird made his way up the steps with the help of his retainers.

“Land? Bari Fraser is willing to give up land?” Cam uttered disbelievingly.

“Which proves without a doubt there is something foul brewing here,” Gahan said. “No laird gives away land for a half sister and a groom without a noble title.”

But suspicions were not proof. He had no reason to stop the wedding.

***

Moira ran until she was on the front steps again. Her cheeks were burning, betraying to everyone what she had been about.

Well, what was so terrible about it?

She was slightly stunned by the fury of her thoughts, while at the same time she welcomed the rush of temper. Or maybe it was confidence. She liked the sound of that better.

“Moira!”

Bari was bellowing from the stables. She didn’t need to answer him, because he spotted her and began to tromp across the yard toward her. His kilt swayed as he went, and she decided he looked like a lad getting ready to throw a tantrum.

Try as she might, all she could muster was annoyance.

He hooked her arm and pulled her into the keep again. But instead of taking her into the Great Hall, he headed for a small receiving room off to the side that had a solid oak paneled door. Bari sent it closed with a kick of his foot.

“What in the hell do ye mean by giving that damned hawk to Sutherland?”

Her cheeks were still warm, but now it was her temper fueling the flush. “I mean to make sure ye do nae harm her in a fit of childish temper.”

Bari looked at her as though she’d struck him. Rage flickered in his eyes, and she recognized the signs of his slipping sanity immediately this time.

“Have ye turned slut so easily?”

“Do ye truly think no one heard ye this morning?” Moira countered. “Or that a man such as Gahan Sutherland is nae willing to part with a few bits of silver to learn what ye are saying? I wager the stable lads ran to tell him before ye finished threatening me. Ye forget, Bari, he has as much reason to wish ye ill as ye do him. He’ll use me as surely as ye will.”

“Ye will have naught to do with that bastard!”

“He came after me again only because of what ye threatened to do to Athena.”

Bari’s eyes bulged. He moved closer to her and lowered his voice.

“Is that all he wanted from ye?”

“Well, he also thinks ye are insisting on this wedding in order to have the Matheson join ye in a feud against the Sutherlands. He wants me to refuse. Are ye really plotting a feud?” She might be risking a great deal by provoking him in a closed chamber, but she refused to take her wedding vows without putting up a fight.

“All I care about is that Achaius is willing to help me gain vengeance for Sandra.” It was an evasion, but it only proved what Moira suspected. Gahan was right.

Bari snickered. “Do ye think ye’ve escaped me hold over ye by giving that bird away? It does nae matter. Matheson will likely take a great deal of delight in raping ye if ye refuse to stand by his side. Do nae think ye will find a welcome back at Seabhac. If ye ever set foot on me land again without doing as I command, I will make sure every person who shows ye even the slightest kindness is rewarded with ten lashes.”

She clenched her teeth against the horror, and she wanted to gag because of the helplessness filling her. “Ye are nae worthy of the respect given ye by the Frasers,” she spat.

“But I am still their laird—yer laird—and there is naught ye can do to stay me hand. The reasons for yer match do nae concern ye. Only the fact that I have given me word on the matter.” He smirked at her, victory shimmering in his eyes. “Go get dressed for yer wedding.”

Moira glared at Bari. Every muscle felt tense, and her mind was racing as she tried to think of a way around his dictate…but there was none. The noose was too tight to pull off. She knew that Bari would do exactly what he promised. The only choice she had was to wed Achaius and hope she could make him happy enough to refuse to go feuding.

But she admitted to having very little faith in how content she’d be. Sometimes, doing the right thing brought little satisfaction. She wondered how long it would be before she committed the ultimate sin of counting the days until she was a widow.

She’d resist the urge, because it would make her more like Bari, and that truly was a fate worse than death.

***

Gahan walked through the hallways on his way down from his chamber. He wore a doublet with silver buttons that were closed for a change.

He’d rather be riding across the hills on his way north, but he had his duty to attend to as well. Witnessing a vassal laird’s wedding was a time-honored tradition. To ride off would be an insult. Highlanders tended to hold grudges longer than most.

The scent of roasting meat drifted past his nose, reminding him that the Mathesons were making ready to celebrate their laird’s fourth wedding. There was excitement in the air. As he passed the huge arched doorway that opened into the Great Hall, he could see the brewmaster happily overseeing the placement of a hogshead of ale for the feast. He directed the men moving the large barrel into position, and only when he was satisfied it was steady did he open the spout and draw off a sample. The men grinned as he held it up, and they all took a whiff.

It didn’t interest Gahan, but it should have. After a long winter of nothing but what the storeroom offered, a feast should have pleased him. Instead, he moved out onto the steps and looked at the gate longingly.

“I like the direction of yer thinking,” Cam said from behind him. He stuck a finger into his collar and tried to loosen it. “I’ve never cared for a doublet once spring begins. I’m roasting like that pig.”

There was a rustle behind him, and they both turned to see the last of the sun’s rays illuminating Moira. Gahan’s breath froze in his chest. Somehow he’d missed just how truly beautiful she was. She wore a pair of gowns made of fine wool and dyed a spring green. He realized he’d never seen her hair. It was brushed out now into a wave of golden silk that fell to below her waist. A wreath of early spring greens sat on her head and looked grander than any golden crown.

But the look of impending doom in her eyes cut him deeply. Still, she held her chin steady as she lowered herself in front of him. Then, drawing a shaky breath, she descended the stairs.

“I hope ye enjoy the wedding,” Bari Fraser sneered under his breath at Gahan. The cad didn’t offer his sister his arm and left her to make her way to the fate he’d engineered.

She did it admirably. She was as regal as a queen and as determined as any Highlander going into battle, doing what had to be done for the good of her kin. No matter how much he detested the circumstances, Gahan was struck hard by how much grace she conducted herself with. By the time she arrived at the church doors, her feelings were hidden behind a smooth expression. She reached for the basin holding the holy water and dipped a delicate finger into it. There was only a brief pause at the door as she lowered herself in deference to the house of God, and then she made her way to Achaius’s side. The strength it took for her to face her future without tears in her eyes was not lost on him.

May God forgive him, but Gahan entered the church, craving Bari Fraser’s blood for forcing his sister to such a fate.

Despite it all, Gahan reminded himself that Moira wasn’t the only one who understood duty. He took up a position behind the couple and maintained his composure. He was the son of the Earl of Sutherland and had his father’s expectations to uphold. In that moment, as the bells began to ring above them, he realized how much he and Moira had in common. They were both their father’s children, bound by duty to remain in their places. Both the Church and the rest of the world maintained order by such methods. He’d been raised to respect it and to fear what happened when there was no order.

But at that moment, he felt more like becoming a savage than he ever had in his life.

***

The Matheson clan knew how to celebrate.

Her brother’s retainers joined in, and the Great Hall was a swirling mass of jubilance.

“More cider!” Achaius bellowed. His mug was still full enough for some of the amber liquid to slosh over the rim, but a maid hurried up to the high table to fill it.

“Bari Fraser, yer father did nae teach ye how to drink like a Highlander,” Achaius declared, to the amusement of his kin.

Moira’s new husband stood up and lifted his tankard high. His people hooted with approval, pounding the tables as their laird emptied his mug in one long draw. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and threw his arms up in victory to the delight of his clan.

“That’s how it’s done, lad!”

The assembled company pounded on the tables until Bari stood. He drained his mug, slammed it down, and the musicians began to play. Pipers and drummers played merry tunes.

Moira tried to let it take her dark mood away. She tapped her toe and clapped her hands but couldn’t seem to keep in time. She looked for the children and watched them attempting to mimic the dance steps of their elders. One mother noticed her interest and promptly brought her baby up the steps of the high table to place it in Moira’s arms.

The Matheson clan members applauded. The baby was a little bundle of life, a tiny miracle that smelled sweet. It watched her with big, glassy eyes while sucking on its fist. She tried to wish for a child, hoping the promise of a babe might brighten her mood, but she just couldn’t banish the distaste of how that child would be conceived.

“Miss, we’d best leave before they get much more cider into them. They’ll lose all sense soon,” Fann whispered from beside her and lifted the baby away. She handed it to her clanswoman, then turned around and waved Moira toward the arched opening at the back of the hall.

Fann seemed to know her kin well. A cheer went up as Moira left the high table. But she hesitated in the hallway, looking toward the large doorway that led into the yard. The doors were still open to allow people who were finishing up their duties to join the festivities. The retainers manning the walls would be listening to the music and lamenting their poor luck at drawing duty tonight.

Moira cursed her own poor luck, because she was dreading the duty waiting above stairs for her. Still, some duties were best done quickly, so she turned and left the hall behind her.

“Second thoughts? Is that why ye hesitate?”

Moira jumped. “How do ye blend with the shadows so well?”

Gahan moved only slightly, so she could make out the mocking grin on his lips. “It’s me dark hair.”

The color of midnight.

Fann had continued on up the stairs, but it wouldn’t take her long to realize Moira wasn’t following. A lump formed in her throat as she faced the fact that there was no escape.

But Gahan extended a hand, offering it to her palm up. It looked like an invitation, and she longed for it to be one. Except there was no way she might accept it. She gripped the front of her skirts and lifted them to climb the stairs.

“Ye do nae want to go up those stairs.”

“Nay, I do not,” she admitted.

“Then come with me.”

It was so tempting. She’d never felt so trapped, so desperate in her life. Her mouth went dry, and she stared at his hand as she faltered.

He moved, reaching out and clasping her hand. The contact was explosive, and she recalled how easily the burst of awareness might transform into excitement. She didn’t want to jerk away; instead, her fingers closed around his, and it sent a rush of sensation through her.

Back in the hall, Bari roared with laughter, but the sound of his voice broke the spell.

“I cannae.”

She opened her fingers, but Gahan tugged her forward. She stumbled into the shadows with him, like falling into the mythical world of the Fae.

His embrace was warm and secure, and she might so easily allow her senses to become beguiled. He leaned down, angling his head so their lips met. There was no reason to resist this time, and every reason to meet him halfway. The desperation threatening to smother her sent her rising up onto her toes so she might have a last taste of him.

He groaned when she moved toward him, a deep sound of male approval and surprise. His lips settled onto hers, softly coaxing at first, gently instructing her. He teased the seal of her mouth with the tip of his tongue until she parted her lips, opening her mouth wider. He took instant advantage, deepening the kiss as passion began to flare. She jerked back, stunned by how quickly their kiss transformed into something ravenous.

“We cannae.”

His hands firmly held her hips. It was bluntly intimate, making her more aware of her passage and its purpose than she’d ever been before.

“I will take ye away.”

“But to where?” She was letting her thoughts spill over her lips once more, but it sobered her. She pushed against his chest, and he released her with a soft grunt.

“I’ll take ye away and make no demands upon ye, Moira. Just do nae go up there and unite the Matheson with yer brother’s plans for a feud. I know the Church would have something to say about me asking ye to leave, but I still am.”

He’d crossed his arms over his chest and looked like he was resisting the urge to reach for her again. Not many men were willing to swallow their pride so completely. Too many preferred the glory of battle to logic.

“Ye make too much sense, Gahan Sutherland, and I’m tempted, for I am no blind to the fact that Bari is intent on making trouble with yer kin. But ye have every reason to want vengeance on Bari. I’d be a fool to no see how taking me away would satisfy that need.”

She backed away, moving back into the hallway where the lanterns offered her some light.

“I would nae take me vengeance through a woman.” His voice was hard as he followed her into the half light. “Ye are questioning me honor again, lass.”

She’d be mad to trust him, but the way he looked at her made it seem so possible.

“If ye are acting with honor, ye must understand that I have me own to uphold.”

“There is naught honorable about yer brother wedding ye to an old man.”

“I agree.” She took a deep breath. “But I do nae see the Mathesons taking kindly to ye stealing their laird’s bride. No one will debate the wisdom of the match. They will see only that ye stole me away while Achaius made ye welcome. He’ll feud with ye or with me brother.”

“Yer brother would deserve it.”

“But me clanswomen would nae, and it would be the women of the Fraser who will weep for their sons.”

She expected him to argue with her. Instead he cursed, low and viciously, but not at her. She’d never thought to find something in common with him, but at that moment, they were both caught in the web of circumstance.

“Ye are nae like Sandra.”

It was the finest compliment she had ever received. Her cheeks warmed with a blush as she lowered herself in front of him.

“Good-bye, Gahan Sutherland. It might be a sin, but I thank ye for giving me my first kiss.”

The men who had wagered against her composure lost their bet, because she didn’t weep on her way up the stairs. She smiled as the words Gahan had praised her with sank into her memory and left her feeling proud.

***

“She’s a surprise,” Cam muttered as soon as Moira was out of earshot.

Gahan turned on his brother, but Cam only raised an eyebrow. He reached up and smoothed the three feathers secured to the side of his bonnet with a silver brooch and made sure one of them was pointing up. It was the symbol of his position as captain, a rank he held for the sole purpose of protecting the earl’s son.

“I’d be little good to ye if I failed to notice when ye slip away. There’s more than one man here who would enjoy hearing ye were found with yer throat slit.”

His brother was speaking the truth, but it felt like the point of a dagger was indeed at his throat. Too many truths were cutting into him. He had to force himself to walk away. He had never cared enough about a woman to think about her when he was gone. To have it happen with a woman he couldn’t have was a foul twist of fate. There were more than a few who believed a child born on the wrong side of wedlock inherited their parents’ sin.

At the moment, he felt like the curse of his birth would never leave him.