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Index
Prologue
Chapter OneDecember 1077Conall MacKerrick trudged through the shin-deep snow of the wood, his eyes scanning the white powder for animal tracks, his heart heavy and weary in his chest.Hopeless.He glanced only briefly at the pronged indentations of a small deer track—the hoof mark was soft at the edges and half filled with fresh snow—that animal had passed hours ago. Pursuit would be pointless.Conall slogged onward.A howling wind whipped around the trees and seared his skin through his thin léine, prompting Conall to shrug his length of plaid tighter across his chest and tuck it more firmly beneath his belt and the straps of his pack. He hitched his bow and quiver higher onto his shoulder and then jerked at the tether pulling the small sheep behind him. The animal bleated and skittered to catch up.Conall felt numb, and not entirely from the bitter cold blanketing his highland home. Here he was, the MacKerrick, chief of his clan, abandoning his town and the people he was to protect. And ’
Chapter One
Chapter TwoConall thought for an instant that he had gone mad.One moment, he was charging through the hut’s door, sword drawn, ready to oust an ambitious squatter, then in a blink, he was on his back on the hard dirt floor, the largest, blackest, most ferocious-looking wolf he’d ever laid eyes upon pinning him to the ground.The wolf’s pearly, pointed teeth were bared, the short, bristly hairs of its lips brushing Conall’s. The beast’s head was nearly as large as Conall’s own, and hot spittle misted his face with the wolf’s every growling breath.The first thought that entered Conall’s mind was: How could a wolf start a peat fire?And when he saw the ivory angel’s wary face peer down at him from over the wolf’s head, Conall was certain he’d gone completely over the brink.“Who are you?” the angel demanded. “And what do you want, barging into our house?”Conall was stunned into silence for a moment. Our house? Our?Then he realized the angel had spoken English.“Are you mute?” the English woma
Chapter Two
Chapter Three“Well.” The willowy woman looked quite taken aback, in Conall’s opinion. She opened her lips as if she was about to speak again but then pressed them back together and twisted one hand in the folds of her skirt. She was quite fetching, Conall had to admit, discomfited as she was, and thinking hard about something.“Well, indeed,” Conall said. His own head was still spinning with the realization of their predicament. He needed time to sort it out, to make sense of it all.“Well,” Evelyn said again. She seemed to stand taller in her threadbare gown, which at one time had likely been quite fine. “Thank you very much for the welcome.” Her eyes met his briefly and then danced away to the floor, the pens, the ceiling. “Er…good day, then.”Conall shook his head with a grin and then strode back to the hut’s low door, pressing the side of his face to it. “I’m nae going anywhere, lass.”“Oh, of course not this instant,” Conall heard her say from behind him, a nervous laugh in her voice.
Chapter Three
Chapter FourEvelyn did not wish to open her eyes. She could tell by the numbness on the tip of her nose that the peat fire was exhausted and the hut was cave-cold, but in the little box bed under the woolen horse blanket and snuggled with Alinor, ’twas toasty. She felt as if she’d not gone to bed at all, was weary to her bones still, even after a night of unusually peaceful sleep. Evelyn wanted only to drift away once more, where ’twas always warm and quiet and no wolves howled. Fire be damned.If she opened her eyes, she would also have to deal with Conall MacKerrick once more, and she blamed her unusually large deficit of energy on the highlander’s arrogant presence.Evelyn had allowed him the shelter for the night, only because she could not in good conscience demand he expose himself to the threat of the grays on a night journey. Although “allowed” might have been too generous to her pride—the highlander had not asked her permission to stay in the hut, only nonchalantly made a pallet
Chapter Four
Chapter FiveConall’s prediction regarding the storm was correct. By early afternoon, the flakes had begun to fall, and by the time evening traded the steely sky for a darker blanket of nightfall, a fresh layer of white covered the clearing, with fat, wet flakes falling as fast and hard as rain and showing no sign of slowing. The temperature had fallen almost as fast as the snow, setting an icy crust about everything beyond the hut’s rickety wooden door. The wind called to them in whistling whispers through the cracks and crevices, as if coaxing them to venture out of doors into the midst of the wicked storm. Even the grays were silent.Inside Ronan’s hut, though, ’twas peaceful and warm. The peat fire smoldered happily and a small oil lamp produced from Conall’s pack lent a mellow glow to the primitive walls and shaggy ceiling. The great black wolf—Conall was almost accustomed to the beast having a proper name—had taken up position lying in front of the sheep’s small pen in the lower pa
Chapter Five
Chapter SixThe storm relented the next morning, leaving the clearing around the hut in the vale and the wood beyond encased in a shroud of fresh white. Evelyn felt vastly improved upon waking—alone, this time, thankfully—although she noticed with ornery temper that she was much colder without the highlander’s solid form lying next to her.Sinful girl.MacKerrick was already up and about, digging out the small corral for the sheep before moving the animal to it, setting Alinor loose to her morning constitution, and gathering up the two new traps he’d constructed. He left the hut only after Evelyn too had ventured out into the frigid morning, and after a polite inquiry to her health and a respectful request that she remain in the hut until his return.Evelyn took the time alone to wash her face and hands, rinse out her mouth, and straighten the few items on the hut’s stingy shelf. That done, she picked up discarded bits of nothing from the flagstones in the uppermost part of the hut, then t
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven“Whiskers,” Conall muttered to himself and shook his head in disbelief as he set off from the hut again later in the day, his quiver and bow slung over one shoulder. She’d named a field mouse and was keeping the rodent in an old, wide wooden bowl she’d found discarded for a long crack in its bottom. Conall had tried to reason with the lass—’twould be but a matter of hours before the little blighter chewed through the piece of hole-punched leather Eve had fastened over the bowl, and then the mouse would be loose in the hut, befouling the barley once more and gnawing at the ticking.But she wouldna listen. Nae, “Whiskers” was a wee, gray angel, sent from God for Eve to protect.Conall rolled his eyes and crunched through the snow, nearing the spot where he’d left the first trap that morning, hoping in the back of his mind that a long, lean rabbit awaited him there.Eve was proving a trial to Conall’s patience, but oddly, he didn’t mind so much. He needed the Buchanan lass to en
Chapter Seven
Chapter EightWell, he’d done it now.Conall threw his quiver and bow to the ground and slumped into a cold, wet seat, his back to the hut. He balled a fist and took a swing at the frigid air, a short bark of frustration released as a fluffy, ineffective cloud of steam.His da had always criticized Conall as being too impulsive, too like his uncle Ronan, and Conall had to at last admit that Dáire had been right. It had always been Conall’s manner when faced with a problem to heed his first, knee-jerk reaction, rather than step back and think. Thinking an issue to death wasted time, in Conall’s opinion. ’Twas best to take action—any action.He was no idiot, after all. His instincts were usually spot-on. If an animal attacked you, you killed it.If an item—particularly an item once belonging to a now-deceased old witch who had condemned your people to the brink of extinction—was cursed, you destroyed it.If something was afire, you put it out.If a bullheaded lass would not heed your warning fo
Chapter Eight
Chapter NineEvelyn awoke to warm, glowing light beyond the bed’s tattered curtain and a savory aroma that threatened to turn her stomach inside out. She lay still for some time, blinking in the gloom of the box bed and trying to determine if she was dreaming or nay. The hut had never felt so warm, even though she was clothed only in Minerva’s old cloak, which was surprisingly soft against her skin.Then she heard a voice—MacKerrick’s—singing soft and low. Evelyn strained to hear the words, but they were in Gaelic and too quiet for her to make out. Goose bumps pushed beneath the wool at the sound of the highlander’s smooth, masculine voice. She would have to ask him what the words meant when she was no longer angry at him.Evelyn pushed herself aright and looked around for her kirtle and underdress, which she had spread out beside her to dry.They were both gone.Evelyn frowned at the thought of MacKerrick pulling back the curtain whilst she slept and absconding with her clothing. She looke
Chapter Nine
Chapter TenConall felt as though he’d been tumbled over rapids as he collapsed at Eve’s side, his skin clammy and damp, his muscles quaking, a full breath seeming to retreat ever beyond his next shudder, leaving him gasping still. He could hear his own heartbeat in the closeness of the box bed and he turned his head to look at Eve, now his wife.She stared at the canopy above their heads, her lips parted slightly, her breasts bare and pointed and heaving with her own breaths. She turned her face to his, her cheeks flushed crimson. Perhaps ’twas only an aftereffect of their lovemaking, but Conall would have in that moment sworn on his life that never had he even imagined a woman could be of such beauty.He gave her a smile and had to clear his throat before he could speak. “How fare thee, lass?” he asked quietly. “I didna hurt you?”She shook her head against the ticking and her eyes searched his face, full of surprise and shyness. Conall wondered if she was satisfied with their lovemaking
Chapter Ten
Chapter ElevenThree weeks passed what seemed like overnight to Conall, weeks full of peace and contentment that he had not known since he was a boy. Tucked away in the hut in the vale with Eve, buffered from the world by the mountains and rivers of thick, white snow, Conall felt he was living in a fantasy far removed from his previous existence of famine and hardship and death and curses. He drew a deep breath of the morning air, hitched his pack higher on his shoulder, and could not help but smile at the simple, cold, clean beauty of the forest around him.He and Eve had not rowed a single time in three weeks, their days occupied instead with a deepening companionship, the hours buoyed by long discussions over the hearty venison and caring for the animals that resided with them. Conall now knew that Eve’s favorite color was yellow, her favorite treat was boiled pudding. Her father’s name was Handaar, and when she had been but four winters old, her sire had gifted her with her first hor
Chapter Eleven
Chapter TwelveThe meager hut was gloomy and dark—only the single flame of a solitary oil lamp lit—and it suited Evelyn’s mood perfectly. She lay on her back on the box bed, staring up at the shadows. Alinor curled against her thigh and Bonnie had folded herself on the floor, while the crow perched on the framework of the bed, his broken wing bandaged close to his body. The bird appeared quite content in his new home, sidestepping the length of the beam from one end to the other, his good wing flapping awkwardly for balance.Evelyn had barely left the lumpy comfort of the bed since venturing out that morning, stirring only to care for the animals and to vomit once more. Her appetite had completely vanished. Her time was spent waiting for the MacKerrick to return.She didn’t know if she would throw herself upon him and weep, or kill him on sight.She was fairly certain she was pregnant. Her worst nightmare had become a reality while she wasn’t looking and when she least expected it. She did
Chapter Twelve
Chapter ThirteenThe snow was melting.Evelyn sat upon the low stool midway between the fire pit and the open door, bent over her growing belly and the bucket between her feet. She scrubbed at her and Conall’s meager excuses for extra clothing while Sebastian the crow perched on one of the pen walls, as if he, too, was enjoying the view of the outdoors.The bird’s wing was healed by the way he flapped about the hut, and Evelyn suspected ’twould be safe enough to turn the bird out of doors soon. Then Sebastian would be once again free to glide regally through the forest. In the meantime, the crow would continue to irritate Conall.Evelyn grinned as her cold, stiff fingers wrung the last drops of water from MacKerrick’s sleeveless léine. She would have to shut the door when her husband, Alinor, and Bonnie returned to the hut—Conall would be none too pleased that it stood open now. But each occupant of the small cottage was itching for the larger freedom of spring, mayhap Evelyn most of all.
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter FourteenEvelyn all but skipped back to the cottage, Sebastian under her arm, Robert in his trap in her other fist, and flanked by Bonnie and Alinor. Conall and Duncan followed some paces behind, talking in hushed tones and exchanging halfhearted shoves and punches, a particularly stiff blow from Conall nearly toppling the smaller Duncan.What a mismatched pair they are, Evelyn thought as she led her menagerie through the open doorway. But Conall had warned her that he and his brother looked nothing alike. Conall had also told Eve that Lana MacKerrick doted on the more frail twin, but it did not seem to bother Conall in the least. He loved his brother and did not begrudge him their mother’s attention. Conall had taken after their father, and Dáire MacKerrick had made Conall his own constant companion. Evelyn thought it quite lovely that each of the MacKerrick parents had a child to lavish their individual affection on.Evelyn paused for an instant while cleaning out Whiskers’s bow
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter FifteenEvelyn could not help the pinch of sadness she felt when she woke the next morning to find that Duncan had indeed taken his leave at dawn. She had so enjoyed the company of her newly acquired brother-in-law. Something about the smaller MacKerrick brother’s personality comforted and delighted Evelyn thoroughly and she very much looked forward to seeing him again.At her new home—the MacKerrick town. Where she and Conall would raise their child.If she survived the birthing.Evelyn raised her eyes from the cooking crock as Conall came through the door, wet from the rain falling in misty sheets outside. She could see the thick stew of fog swirling in the little bowl of their clearing before he shut the door.He carried two buckets of water from a nearby stream—the snow had all but disappeared in the rain—and set them at Evelyn’s side near the fire.“We’re in for a soaking,” he said, leaving the buckets on the bumpy flagstones. “The stream is rising, and fast—more rain to our nor
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter SixteenEvelyn felt Conall stiffen and so she gave him a moment before she pressed. ’Twas obviously an item of great importance and of deep meaning for Conall, and she hungered to be let in on its secret. She felt he owed her as much after scaring the life out of her by suggesting that they visit the Buchanan town. She had avoided the journey without resorting to more lies—indeed, she had been completely honest. But she knew in her heart that neither Conall or his impending duty could be put off forever. The truth would be told, and soon.“You promised,” she reminded him.“I know I did.” It was his turn to roll away from her and onto his back. Evelyn tucked her arm under her head to watch him on her side.“You’ll nae find pleasure in this tale,” he warned her, his eyes fixed on the box bed’s slatted roof. “The telling of it, nor its end.”“I don’t care,” she said. “I want to know.”He gave a single nod. “Very well.” Evelyn saw his throat working as he swallowed, as if he had to work
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter SeventeenSix weeks passed, washing Conall and Eve along with great, cold showers that soaked the days and the clearing, dusting the trees and brambles in chilly, vivid, furry green.Conall paused in his chore of mucking out the animal pens inside the hut, swiping at his brow with his forearm. The air was clammy yet humid, the warmest day of the season thus far. He leaned his shoulder against the stall beam and looked out the open door through the ever-present mist at Eve, poking along the edge of the clearing with a long, flat basket on her hip, plucking tender new greens for their evening meal. Alinor herded Bonnie in circles and Conall smiled at the sight of the great black beast—no longer the stringy, hollow-bellied animal he’d first met when the snow had been deep. Now her coat frizzed with new growth, her ribs and hips disappeared beneath lean muscle. She was more than a bit rounded, Conall realized and laughed to himself. The glutton.Alinor was not the only female in the c
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter EighteenConall fought his way through the underbrush, having strayed from the trail that led to the MacKerrick town, but not caring. Old, brittle brambles slashed at his arms, chest, and thighs through his thin clothing, but he could not feel the scores of tears on his skin for the searing pain in his gut. Fiery and roiling, he knew ’twould paralyze him if he paused to catch his breath, and so he charged forward, recklessly grabbing great handfuls of spiny vines and ripping them out of his way.Damned. They were…damned, now.The curse would finish them and ’twould be the fault of none but Conall. But the danger was so much bigger now, so much more was at stake.Mayhap if he moved faster…His breath roared in and out of him as he spied a break in the choking brush and the stingy trail beyond it. Conall threw himself from the thickness of the tangle with a roar, stumbling onto the mired path. He began to run through the sucking mud. Night was swiftly falling, like the spreading wings
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter NineteenThe weather was kind to Evelyn and her company on their journey, and the showers of late held as if to give her dry passage through the long, narrow valley west. But fear dogged her every step, the long stretches of silence broken only by the squish and crackle of her careful footsteps and her own troubled thoughts to brood on.She feared becoming lost in the wilderness. She feared the grays’ appearance. She feared falling and injuring herself or the babe. She feared the Buchanan would turn her away. She feared Conall MacKerrick might come after her.And she feared she might never see him again.To add to her troubles, Evelyn was growing more concerned about Alinor. The wolf was unusually sluggish and disinterested in their travels, seeming to want to lag behind, leisurely inspecting hollow logs and abandoned badger dens and occasionally, but more frequently by the second morning, she stopped altogether to lie down in a soft patch of new, wet growth. Her previously hollowe
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter TwentyYoung, bullish Andrew Buchanan had plucked Evelyn from the mountain like some Scots archangel and carried her the whole of the way into town. He never winded, whistling in time with each jarring step. Through streets lined with large, fine longhouses, and stores and stables and places of business, their thatched roofs home to a rainbow of wild summer blooms, Evelyn rode in Andrew’s arms. Bonnie skipped along behind them with an affronted Robert; Sebastian swooped protectively overhead. Even wee Whiskers had poked his slim nose from the pocket of Evelyn’s kirtle to take in the wondrous sight of the fair town.And the sight of the entourage was being taken in by others, as well. Curious townsfolk ceased in their chores and emerged from dwellings as if summoned to follow the parade. Children ran alongside Andrew, calling to him and Evelyn in excited Gaelic, plucking at the hem of her gown, gesturing to each other and the animals.As they neared the interior edge of the town, b
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-OneShe was more beautiful than when he’d last seen-her. Bedraggled and weary looking, undoubtedly from the journey, but safe and healthy and luminous and…Eve. God, how he had missed her face. How he loved her. Thank God, thank God she had made it. He was so proud of her.But she was staring at him as if she had never seen him before, and Conall knew a shiver of cold fear.“Why have you followed me here?” she asked quietly.The stocky, dense-looking Buchanan who’d man-handled Conall gave his shoulder a shove with a booted foot, causing Conall to fall to his chest in the dirt. Behind him, he heard Lana cry out against this injury.“Explain yourself, interloper. Who are you and what business have you trespassing on Buchanan lands?” the oaf demanded. Duncan let loose a string of vicious threats.Conall raised himself slowly to his hands once more and then gained his feet carefully, not wishing to be attacked again. Eve’s eyes never left him, wary, hurt.“I am known,” he began, “as
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-TwoEvelyn was burning, freezing in an endless, icy hell. For two days she had fought the pains, the fever, the crushing, delusional fear. The only solace she found was in the brief moments of unconsciousness between surges, when her exhausted body and mind blinked out in desperation.Buchanan women tended her, a stranger, carefully, lovingly, and well. They spoke quietly to each other in Gaelic, but as the hours dragged on, it didn’t matter to Evelyn that she could not understand their words—the dire tone of their conversations and short, clipped instructions to each other were terrifyingly clear:Things were not well.The women had brewed potions, ground herbs, mixed salves; they had held Evelyn’s hands and stroked her brow. But naught had eased the pains, the intense pressure of something determined to part with her body.Her child. Her and Conall MacKerrick’s child. Born two cycles of the moon too early, with little chance of survival.Evelyn tried to concentrate on and mi
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-ThreeEvelyn was going outdoors for the first time in eight weeks. She dressed slowly, carefully, then crossed her small, private sleeping area partitioned by woven screens—to peer down into the low cradle.Gregory was awake, but lying happily quiet, his muddy blue eyes searching the ceiling, his slender, ruddy arms swinging wildly and then clasping on each other. His little pink mouth opened and closed with innocent sweetness, practicing faint sighs and coos. He was so small yet, fragile looking even after two months. But he had come leagues from his first, tremulous breaths. Each day his miniature fist showed more strength in its grasp as he clutched at Evelyn’s finger. Each feeding seemed to reveal a growing appetite, a brave hunger to survive and even thrive, and Evelyn wanted to weep in gratitude from simply looking at him.“Gregory,” she called in a quiet singsong. He didn’t start, but his wise little face turned toward the sound of Evelyn’s voice. For an instant, his
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four“Never have I seen aught of such beauty,” he managed to choke out.Eve’s back was stiff, frozen, and Conall could see the flutter of Buchanan plaid at her hip. Alinor’s tail wagged, but she did not rise and come to him, as if remembering the last moments they’d shared at the hut in the vale. Only Bonnie bleated and scrambled awkwardly to her feet to run at Conall and butt repeatedly at his thigh. He scratched her head mindlessly, willing Eve to speak, to move, anything.The moments dragged on into what seemed a silent hour.“Eve, can I—” He had to stop, clear his throat. “Can I approach you?”“I wish you wouldn’t, MacKerrick,” she said at last, and Conall’s heart expanded at just hearing the melody of her voice.“Why?” he pressed, begged. He took a single, slow, short step toward her. “My God, Eve, I’ve missed you so!”“I don’t want to see you, MacKerrick!” she snapped, turning her head a bit so that Conall could nearly make out her profile. “Go back to your town.”“Nae,” C
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
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