It was a time of celebration as the treaty was signed and Bryn and Malcolm clasped hands, properly this time, with no hint of deceit from either of them. Bryn then embraced Rhys, welcoming him to the family, while Malcolm stood in front of Caitlin. Although he was not holding the war hammer and the worst of her fear was behind her, she was still flushed with uncertainty about him. It would take her a little time to forget the terrible vision of him looming over her, madness and death in his eyes.
“Lass, I believe I owe ye an apology. Ye can be sure that naething like that is ever gaeing tae happen again. I want ye tae know that ye can count on me for anything. People used tae say that I was sae much of an animal nae fair woman would ever love me, but my Elsie did.” He smiled and his eyes glistened with the sadness of yesteryear. “She loved me in a way that I dinnae ken was possible, and I think ye are the same with Rhys. Take care of him. He’s my eldest boy and he means the world tae me. I can see that he means the world tae ye tae.”
Caitlin was moved by his words and encouraged by the fact that although they may have had their differences, they shared one vital thing in common: their love for Rhys. To mark the peace, Caitlin ignored her reservations and flung her arms around her father-in-law, which brought the big man to tears. The clans vowed that they would never make war again and it was a promise they intended to keep with all their hearts.
The occasion was, of course, marked with a feast. Hostilities ceased and the mood was lifted by good food and a plentiful supply of alcohol. Minstrels played and this time the entirety of the Frasier clan was invited into the keep. Caitlin and Rhys were the center of attention and the driving force behind the good mood. They danced and encouraged everyone to have a good time. Caitlin watched as her brothers joined in, although she wasn’t sure she liked the fact that Rhys’s brothers were teaching them how to gamble. But they also caught the eye of some Frasier maidens, and all around the hall she could see people slowly starting to warm to each other. In a way, this process had begun when the Frasiers had first arrived at the keep. Over the course of the last few days, the two clans had realized that they weren’t as different as they first thought, and the good relationships that had been started were blossoming now as everyone had confidence in peace.
The feast lasted for the rest of the day and well into the night. Bryn and Malcolm got very drunk and ended up sobbing in each other’s arms as they thought about their childhood memories. The only person who still retained some priggishness was Iris, who sat with her arms folded and was only there because her presence was required. She wasn’t even moved when Malcolm made a leery approach to dance with her, although by the way she blushed, Caitlin wouldn’t have been surprised if she ended up softening her opinion of Frasier men by the end of the evening.
Caitlin spent as much time at the party as possible, enjoying the good mood and the feeling of conviviality in the air, but deep inside she just wanted to be alone with Rhys. They had been robbed of their morning with each other, so after a few secret glances, they snuck out again and ran upstairs to the bedroom.
They hurriedly stripped each other of their clothes. Rhys’s hands were all over her like a ravenous animal and she surrendered to his fervent kisses. It was intense and he kept telling her over and over again how sorry he was, and how afraid he had been to lose her.
“And I was afraid tae lose ye tae,” Caitlin said. “I thought for sure I was gaeing tae die, and then ye were standing there, standing in front of me like a hero.”
“Ye are the brave one, riding intae battle like that,” Rhys said.
They drowned in kisses and fell onto the bed, writhing together. This time Rhys was not as slow as before, or as tender, but Caitlin didn’t mind. She wanted to feel herself being torn apart by her love. Vibrant emotions rose to the surface and overwhelmed her mind. Heat spread all across her body, making her tingle. She welcomed the warmth. The previous night it had all been astonishing and her enjoyment of it had been marred by a sense of having to get used to all the unfamiliar feelings, but now she was becoming an expert and she could let them wash over her easily, without any hesitation at all. Her hands peeled away his clothes and reached that delicious skin. She reached down into the darkness of his body and felt his desire for her, moaning as she did so. She climbed on top of him and devoured him with kisses, and then rode him like she had ridden the mare earlier. She was taken to heaven and beyond, with all the delights of life and love exploding inside her.
It was hectic and rushed and intense, but the flurry of emotion left her breathless and whimpering. She clung to Rhys as the passion subsided and her heart returned to its normal rhythm. She played with the curled hairs on his chest and traced the length of his scars with her finger, kissing him gently to declare her love. She nestled in his arms, loving the way she fit perfectly against his body, as though she had been made to fit there, as though it was the only place in the world where she belonged.
“I liked it when ye were talking about the future,” she said, “and mentioned children.”
“Well, it’s the way of the world,” Rhys said, although he looked a little flustered.
“I thought ye were a wild man, never tied down tae anything,” she teased.
“That was before I met ye,” he said earnestly, and gave her a quick kiss. Affection and adoration swelled within her and she knew there were no limits to her love for him. She squeezed him tightly.
“It would be an honor tae raise children in a time of peace. They wouldnae hae tae be scarred by war like us. They would never hae tae worry about their parents gaeing off tae battle.”
“They wouldnae,” Rhys said, and a thoughtful look passed across his face. “But there is one thing that I cannae shake from my mind, one thing that we could hae discovered if we hae gone tae war.”
Caitlin stiffened and looked at him with fear in her eyes. Her brow crinkled as she wondered where this drifting thought was leading him. He smirked. “Ye did claim that ye were good with a sword, but I suppose we’ll never find out how we would dae in a duel.” His tone was teasing and Caitlin immediately broke out in a laugh.
“There’s a way tae change that right now,” she said, arching her eyebrow in a challenging manner. She threw off the blanket and got dressed.
“I was only joking!” Rhys protested, not wanting to leave the warmth of the bed, especially not when her softness had been pressed against his muscles.
“Ye hae laid down the challenge now, are ye nae man enough tae take it?” Caitlin put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. Rhys growled and pulled on his clothes. Before they left the room he picked her up in his arms and whirled her around in the air, lifting her feet off the ground. She squealed with joy and lost herself in another kiss, and then they ran out of the room, laughing uproariously, down to the courtyard.
They fetched two swords from the armory. The courtyard was empty. Everyone else was still in the keep celebrating, although many had fallen into a drunken stupor. The married couple had managed to find their way out to the courtyard without being disturbed or interrupted. The moon shone down and bathed the courtyard in silver light. Their swords gleamed as they took their positions opposite each other. Caitlin was slight, while Rhys was cut in the image of his father.
Caitlin’s sword was narrow and light, while Rhys’s was heavy. They met as man and wife.
She shifted her weight in the way she had been taught, thinking back to her childhood and the hours she had spent with her father, being taught how to fight an enemy bigger than her. He had said that every enemy would be bigger than her.
“Are ye ready?” Rhys asked.
“Aye,” she replied.
“I’m nae gaeing tae gae easy on ye just because ye are my wife,” he warned.
“I wouldnae expect ye tae, and I’m nae gaeing tae gae easy on ye either,” she said, smirking. Her eyes gleamed at the idea of testing herself against Rhys. She had already beaten one member of the Frasier clan in a contest and she was looking forward to doi
ng the same again. Each of them knew that the winner of this clash would never let the loser live it down. Rhys began to count down from three to one, but Caitlin didn’t let him get there. As soon as he started counting she rushed forward, but every one of her movements was controlled. She knew exactly what she was going to do, and she executed her movement with perfection.
But Rhys was equal to her and deflected her blow, twisting his body around at a far greater speed than she had anticipated. Their swords clashed and out rang a powerful song, a song that reverberated into the night air and rose to accompany the moon and the stars themselves, a song that was as beautiful as anything else in the night. A song of love and passion that had brought peace to the clans and happiness to all those around them, and it was a song that would never be silenced.
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Prologue
Daividh stepped into the armor room where the laird of Dunavar Castle stood sharpening his claymore.
He had a full head of red hair threaded with streaks of grey and his beard framed his face in an even creamy well-groomed down like an ancient king of yore. He looked up as Daividh took another step towards him, dark blue eyes narrowed in concentration.
Behind him stood another man that Daividh was unfamiliar with.
From his garments and straight-backed proud stance, Daividh could only conclude that he was a laird as well, perhaps coming to entreat his own for a favor or to exchange news.
It was none of Daividh’s business who he was or what he wanted. As a clan warrior, it was his job to obey his liege lord in all things. He came to a stop, standing at attention, midnight-blue eyes staring ahead, his long brown hair tied in a queue at the base of his skull, his muscular and unusually tall figure towering over his laird as he waited for orders.
“Daividh! ’Tis guid tae see ye. At ease,” Laird McCormick said with a smile.
The warrior only relaxed fractionally, still alert, and ready to move at a moment’s notice. He kept his eyes trained just to the right of the laird’s shoulder.
“I have a task for ye if ye will consent to undertake it,” his laird said.
“Command me, and I shall obey.” His voice was deep and firm.
Laird McCormick blinked at him a few times as if assessing his ability to do as he was told. He inhaled deeply and then took a step closer to Daividh.
“The task is... a delicate one, and ye must carry it oot in utmost secrecy. This is crucial. Do you understand?”
Daividh’s eyes slid of their own volition to meet those of the laird, curiosity burning in his heart. “I understand.”
“Guid. My kin Murdo Fife Douglass has sadly passed away. I need ye to go to Braenaird Keep and retrieve his daughter, Fiona, and bring her here to me. I need ye to travel expeditiously. Can ye do tha’ frae me?”
Daividh frowned, his mind filled with questions it was not his place to ask. “Yes, sir. Is there any threat I should ken aboot?”
“Aye and nay. The threat isnae physical, no one is oot to harm her. But there are urgent pecuniary matters that must be settled nonetheless. Ye’re not tae speak wi’ her as ye journey unless absolutely necessary. Ye ken?”
Daividh nodded. “I see. I shall depart right away then sir.”
“I am relying on ye Campbell. Dinnae let me down.”
Daividh shook his head determinedly. “I shallnae.”
His laird clapped him on the shoulder. “Ye may pick the fastest horse ye can find frae the stables. Mrs. Dougal will ha’ packed ye some food. Leave at once.”
“Aye, sir.”
He felt their eyes on him as he strode out of the room, his back straight, blue eyes determined. It was a mystery to him why they were sending a warrior on such a mission. It seemed to him that a trusted steward could have carried out the job if all that was needed was an escort. He suspected that there was more to this than his laird was saying, however, it was not his business to inquire. All he could do was carry out the job as stated.
He hoped the girl was not too much of a shrinking violet. He had been told that his figure was perceived as threatening by some of the female persuasion—at least those that did not swoon at his feet and bat their lashes at him.
He sighed as he made a detour to the kitchen to pick up his food from Mrs. Dougal. He hated to walk into any situation blind, with no knowledge of what to expect. Perhaps he could pump Mrs. Dougal for information on that household. After all, she had worked for the laird longer than anyone else he knew.
* * *
His face softened as he stepped in the kitchen and he tried on a smile. He was not very good at being amiable, but Mrs. Dougal was fortunately not intimidated by anyone, certainly not him. She looked up from her dough as he walked in, narrowing her eyes at his muddy boots.
“Not in here lad.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes as he backtracked and slipped his shoes off outside the door, walking back into the kitchen in just his stockings. She nodded with satisfaction and bade him sit, pushing a bowl of parritch towards him.
“I understand ye’re off tae fetch young Fiona frae Braenaird Keep.”
His attention sharpened on her even as he spooned some parritch and brought it to his lips. “Ye ken her?”
Mrs. Dougal smiled fondly as she continued to knead her dough, watery grey eyes far away. “Aye. Little Fiona Douglass was a little firebrand when she was a lassie. I dinnae reckon they managed tae beat it oot o’ her.”
“So she’s likely tae gi’ me trouble?”
Mrs. Dougal shrugged. “I dinnae ken. Havenae seen her in a few years. Not since the auld laird fell ill.”
“Hmmm.” Daividh slurped his parritch thoughtfully, filing away the information in case it became necessary.
“Are ye sure aboot this lad? He willnae fail ye?” Pàdraig Dàibhidh Hunter, Laird of Cumlochan, asked his friend, Laird of Dunavar.
Donnchadh nodded slowly. “He has proven himself time and again to be reliable. I havenae any doubt he will deliver. ”
“Guid. Because ’tis important that we are wed before news of Laird Braenaird’s death spreads. Ye ken the urgency as weel as I do.”
“Aye, I do. That is why I chose Campbell. I gave him three days he will be here in the beginning of the third. I am sure of it.”
“Aye weel...I hope ye’re right aboot this. I dinnae want tae think of the consequences if ye’re not.”
“Neither do I. I wouldnae ha’ chosen him if I wasnae sure. So ye can stop worrying. Have some uisge and wait.”
Laird Cumlochan sighed as he moved to the drinks tray and poured himself a large glass of whisky. He lifted his glass to Laird Dunavar. “Slainte.”
Laird Dunavar nodded back then turned away from his friend before letting his brow furrow with worry. He could not help but worry. There was a lot riding on the success of this venture. This girl was too valuable. That is why he needed a warrior.
Chapter 1
Ùna was keeping an excited eye on the road as the rest of the Douglass girls continued with their embroidery under the watchful eye of their governess. Fiona, being the temporary head of the house, was not required to sit with the others. But there was not much else to do at this time of day and all her sisters were here. She knew from the letter her uncle sent that she did not have much time left to spend with them.
There was Jamesina who was Fiona’s follower and the spitting image of their mother with her fiery red locks and deer-wide brown eyes. The procession of freckles across her nose highlighted her resemblance to a doe. Fenell
a and Maisie were the terrible two, chestnut-haired twins identical down to their impish grins. They were doe-eyed too though they lacked the innocence that brightened Jamesina’s eyes. Aileen was the quiet unassuming fourth-born, coltishly tall, rail-thin, and pale. The very epitome of a shrinking violet. In spite of her height, she was a veritable wallflower. Then there was Ùna who was round with baby fat, her hazel eyes bright and interested in everything. She wore her auburn curls in two long plaits and tended to bounce about rather than walk.
Fiona loved them all as much as they loved her, and hoped that these summons to her uncle’s house would not take her away from them for too long. Now that their father had unfortunately passed away, they all looked to her for reassurance. She already missed them even though she had not left yet. She lowered her head to hide the sadness in her green eyes, a lock of red hair falling into her eyes. She flicked it back and pasted a smile on her face before turning back to her sisters, straightening her shoulders so that her slim frame stood tall and confident among them. It would not do to show weakness now.
Suddenly Ùna screamed and the rest of them immediately put down their sewing in order to crowd around the window and see what she was so happy about.
“There he is! I think that’s him! The man you will travel with.” she squealed. As the youngest amongst them, Ùna was allowed to be unbridled in her enthusiasm. The rest of them felt obligated to display a more stoic mien. Maisie and Fenella turned to Fiona. “D’ye think that it’s him? What did the letter say? He looks handsome. And strong. He’ll be able to protect us without any trouble.”
Curiosity piqued, Fiona moved to the window as well. Her uncle’s letter had simply stated that he had arranged a marriage for her and that she was to come to Dunavar at once. He would send someone to fetch her.
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