Chapter One
Glen Arrin, Scotland
1305
Soldiers gripped spears in their palms and rushed forward,
their weapons aimed at his wife and daughters.
Blood dripped from a wound on his forearm, but Alex
MacKinloch wouldn't stop running. A primal roar resounded
from his mouth as he lifted his sword and hacked his way
toward the women. His lungs burned as he fought, the battle
haze clouding his awareness of reality. In the distance, he
saw his wife Laren's gleaming red hair, as she struggled
through a water-filled ditch. Her skirts weighed her down,
and she held their youngest daughter in her arms. She
didn't see the dozens of soldiers approaching as she tried
to evacuate the fortress.
I have to reach them. Or they'll die.
It was a reality he didn't want to face, and the thought of
his Laren falling beneath a soldier's blade was a horror he
couldn't grasp. His arm ached with a vicious pain, but he
fought a path toward them. The soldiers blocked his line
of vision until all he could see was a swift storm of
arrows.
A pulse thundered in his ears until he realized the arrows
were coming from their younger brother Callum, who was
guarding the women and children. Flames erupted from the
wooden keep that stood high above them, like a dying
sentry.
The fortress was going to fall. He ran as hard as he could
and heard his kinsman Ross breathe, "Mary, Mother of
God."
As Alex rushed forward, he heard the cracking of wood.
* * *
"Callum, dive!" shouted a man's voice from behind
her.
Laren MacKinloch struggled through the forest, her skirts
sodden with water as the keep surrendered to the flames and
collapsed. She stared through the trees, in shock at the
sight of her home.
Gone now.
And what of Alex, her husband? "Take Mairin and
Adaira," she begged Vanora, handing over her
daughters. "I'll join you in a few moments."
"You can't go back," the older matron warned.
"This isn't over yet."
"I won't leave the trees," Laren promised.
I
just need to see him. I need to know if he's safe.
She didn't wait for Vanora's reply, but moved back to the
forest's edge, holding on to a slender birch tree for
balance. Her breath frosted in the evening air as the cold
settled around the glen.
And when English soldiers surrounded the men from both
sides, she felt her heart branching into silent pieces of
terror.
Oh, dear God, no.
She couldn't hear what was happening, but the look of grim
finality on Alex's face meant that the worst was near. As
she stared from her hiding place, the years seemed to fall
back. No longer was he a powerful chief . . . but instead,
the man she'd once loved. The fist of heartbreak caught
her, and tears dampened her cheeks. They'd grown so far
apart over the past two years, and now she didn't know if
she would see him alive again.
If she had one last moment with him, there were too many
words to speak. Too many things she'd locked away in her
heart for far too long.
Her palm pressed against the tree bark, and though Alex
couldn't see her, she kept her gaze fixed upon him, as if
she could memorize his face and hold it forever.
A fiery pain blasted through her right side. Laren's knees
buckled beneath her, and she gasped in shock at the arrow
embedded within her skin.
The searing agony stunned her, and she could barely keep her
senses about her. Though it was a shallow wound, piercing
the soft skin sideways, near her ribs, she'd not realized
how close she was to the battle.
She forced herself to snap off the feathered end, sliding
the arrow free of the wound. Blood poured from her side,
and she pressed her dark cloak against the flow, fighting
the dizziness.
You have to go back to your girls, her mind warned.
She couldn't stay, no matter how much she feared for Alex's
life. One of them had to live, to take care of their
daughters.
It wrenched her apart, having to choose between her husband
and her children, but she forced herself to continue. If
the English gained the victory, they would come looking for
the survivors. Her daughters needed her, and she had to
protect them.
She struggled up to the top of the ridge. Each step sent
another wave of pain raging through her side, but she
ignored the wound, hiding it beneath her dark cloak. There
would be time to tend it later.
When she reached the girls, her eldest daughter threw her
arms around her waist, weeping. At the ages of four and not
quite two, Mairin and Adaira weren't old enough to
understand what was happening. Laren caught her breath,
keeping Mairin's hands away from the injury while she spoke
soft, reassuring words.
"Where is Da?" her daughter demanded. "Is he
safe?"
"I don't know." Laren's throat tightened with
fear, her eyes burning. "But we have to wait here for
him, away from the soldiers."
"I'm afraid," her daughter sobbed.
Laren brushed a kiss against Mairin's forehead.
So am
I.
* * *
The earth trembled as dozens of horsemen surrounded their
army on both sides. Robert Fitzroy, the Baron of Harkirk,
watched in fury as more of the Scots poured in, reinforced
by the French. His hand tightened upon the hilt of his
sword, and he wanted nothing more than to bathe his weapon
in their blood.
The MacKinlochs were supposed to die this day. Hadn't he
burned their fortress to the ground, slaughtering their
kinsmen? He'd already planned to set up an outpost here, to
secure more land for King Edward Plantagenet. But he could
see his victory fading away like smoke.
"Pull back!" he ordered, and his soldiers
obeyed. Though it splintered his pride, he hadn't survived
half a dozen battles by making foolish decisions that would
endanger his neck.
As they retreated into the hills, Harkirk cast a backwards
glance. This wasn't over. Not by half.
He vowed that the next time he looked upon the face of a
MacKinloch, it would be mounted upon a pike outside his
gates.
* * *
It took a quarter of an hour to reach the ridge, and Alex
helped his brother up to the top of the hill. Nairna looked
worried, for although they had survived with only minor
injuries, traces of battle madness lurked within her
husband's face. But Alex felt certain that when they
brought Bram home, his brother would make a full recovery.
When they reached the clearing, the first glimpse of Laren
sent a roaring breath of relief back through Alex's lungs.
The instinct pulled at him, to go to them. He needed to
hold his wife and breathe in the scent of her skin, touching
her soft red hair.
Laren started to take a step towards him, but she abruptly
stopped, her face ashen. Her hand pressed to her side, and
then she turned her attention to their girls. Their
clansmen were watching, and at their sudden attention, she
shrank back.
He couldn't understand why. Aye, they'd grown apart over
the past two years, but was it so much to ask that she show
him a grain of affection? That she could welcome him back
into her arms? The pain in her eyes bothered him, for he
didn't understand it. Wasn't she glad to see him alive?
Though Mairin and Adaira called out, Laren bent and spoke
quietly, as if to prevent them from running to him. Adaira
clutched Laren's leg, burying her face in her mother's
skirts.
A thousand moments passed by in a single second. Pride
froze out the aching emotions, and Alex stared back at his
wife wishing she would meet him halfway. But she turned her
gaze to the ground, unable to face him.
Something was wrong. She'd closed herself off from him, and
he didn't know why. His hand tightened on the door frame,
and he forced himself to look after his brother Bram.
"Will you be all right with him?" Alex asked
Nairna, who had helped her husband to sit upon their bed.
"Aye." She poured water into a basin and
retrieved a cloth to tend Bram's wounds. When she wrung out
the cloth, she sent Alex a pointed look. "Go to
Laren. She needs you."
He left them alone, watching the way Nairna cared for her
husband. The deep love in her eyes and the answering look
in her husband's face brought a surge of envy. He wanted to
be with Laren right now, to shatter the invisible wall
between them.
The thought became a thorn, digging deeper into his pride.
She was the woman he'd pledged to protect. Years ago, she
would have thrown herself into his arms, not caring what
anyone else thought. She'd have clung to him, whispering
words of how she'd worried.
But now, she kept her distance from him, almost as if they
were strangers.
His frustration strung tighter as he walked among the
survivors, asking about their welfare. During that time,
not once had Laren moved towards him. Her face was white,
as though she were too timid to move.
Damn it all, he didn't care if she no longer wanted him.
They'd survived their brush with death, and right now, he
wanted to hold her. He needed her in his arms, whether or
not she was too shy to answer the embrace.
He crossed through the people, moving directly towards her.
Without voicing a single word, he pulled her into his arms,
holding her tightly. She let out a slight gasp, but her
hands moved up to his shoulders, resting there. He didn't
speak, didn't reveal any of the thoughts coursing through
his mind. Adaira and Mairin each grabbed his legs, but
right now, he needed Laren.
Dimly, he was aware that she wasn't quite holding him in
return. Her hands were there, but there was no warmth, no
answering embrace. His heart numbed when he pulled back to
look at her, his hands resting at her waist.
He'd mistakenly believed that if he made the first move, she
would welcome him back. That the past two years of distance
wouldn't matter anymore, because they were alive. But she
didn't look at him, as if she were too shy to speak.
He let his hands fall away, saying nothing. The girls were
chattering, asking him questions about when they could go
home, where they would sleep, and he couldn't give them an
answer.
His kinsman Ross came near, and asked, "Do you want to
bring your family to our home for the night?" Since
Ross's home was on the opposite side of the fortress, it had
escaped the fires.
Alex never took his eyes from Laren but agreed. "Aye,
if it's no trouble to you."
"Not at all. Vanora will want to fuss over the wee
ones, as she likes to do." His gaze grew somber,
staring at the smoke that rose from the valley below.
"And you'll be needing a place to stay until you can
rebuild the keep."
"I'll take the girls there now," Laren said
quietly. "If you think it's safe to return." Her
voice was shaky, but at his nod, she guided their daughters
away from the crowds. As they disappeared into the forest,
Ross was saying something else to him, but Alex didn't hear
a word of it.
His wife was behaving strangely, and he didn't know why.
Then his gaze fell down to his hands. Blood stained his
palms from where he'd held his wife.
Jesu. It was Laren's blood.
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