Chapter One
Dundonnell Keep, Western Highlands
Scotland 1325
"Tis said he's merciless, the devil's own spawn." Elspeth Beaton, unspokenseneschal of the MacDonnell keep, folded her arms over her substantial girthand glowered at her laird, Magnus MacDonnell. "You canna send the lass to a manknown to have murdered his first wife in cold blood!"
Magnus took another swig of ale, seemingly unaware that most of the frothy brewdribbled into his unkempt beard. He slammed his pewter mug onto the high tableand glared back at his self-appointed chamberlain.
"I dinna care if Duncan MacKenzie is the devil his-self or if the bastard'skilled ten wives. He's offered for Linnet, and 'tis an offer I cannarefuse."
"You canna give your daughter to a man said to possess neither heart nor soul."Elspeth's voice rose with each word. "I willna allow it."
Magnus guffawed. "You willna allow it? You over-step yerself, woman!Watch yer mouth, or I'll send you along with her."
High above the great hall, safely ensconced in the laird's lug, a tiny spychamber hidden within Dundonnell's thick walls, Linnet MacDonnell peered downat her father and her beloved servant as they argued over her fate.
A fate already decided and sealed.
Not until this moment had she believed her sire would truly send her away,especially not to a MacKenzie. Though none of her six older sisters hadmarried particularly well, at least her da hadn't plighted a single one of themto the enemy! Straining her ears, she waited to hear more.
" 'Tis rumored the MacKenzie is a man of strong passions," Elspeth pronounced."Linnet knows little of a man's baser needs. Her sisters learned much fromtheir mother, but Linnet is different. She's e'er run with her brothers,learning their— "
"Aye, she's different!" Magnus raged. "Naught has plagued me more since the daymy poor Innes died birthing her."
"The lass has many skills," Elspeth countered. "Mayhap she lacks the grace andhigh looks of her sisters and her late mother, may the saints bless her soul,but she would still make a man a good wife. Surely you can purvey her a moreagreeable marriage? One that won't so sorely imperil her happiness?"
"Her happiness matters naught to me. The alliance with MacKenzie is sealed!"Magnus thundered. "Even if I wished her better, what man needs a wife who canbest him at throwing blades? And dinna wax on about her other fool talents."
Magnus took a long swill of ale, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "A manwants a consort interested in tending his aching tarse, not a patch of scragglyherbs!"
A shocked sputter escaped Elspeth's lips and she drew herself to her full butunimpressive height. "If you do this, you needn't tax yourself by banishing mefrom the dubious comforts of this hall. 'Tis gladly I shall go. Linnet will notbe sent to the lair of the Black Stag alone. She'll need someone to look outfor her."
Linnet's heart skipped a beat, and gooseflesh rose on her arms upon hearing hersoon-to-be husband referred to as the Black Stag. No such creature existed.While animals of certain prowess often adorned coats of arms and banners, andsome clan chieftains called themselves after a lion or other such noble beast,this title sounded ominous.
An omen of ill portent.
But one she had little time to consider. Rubbing the chillbumps from her arms,Linnet pushed aside her rising unease and concentrated on the discourse below.
" 'Tis glad I'll be to see your back," her father was ranting. "Your naggingwillna be missed."
"Will you not reconsider, milord?" Elspeth changed her tactic. "If you sendLinnet away, who will tend the garden or do the healing? And dinna forget howoft her gift has aided the clan."
"A pox on the garden and plague take her gift!" Magnus bellowed. "My sons arestrong and healthy. We dinna need the lass and her herbs. Let her aid theMacKenzie. 'Tis a fair exchange since he only wants her for her sight. Thinkyou he offered for her because she's so bonnie? Or because the bardshave sung to him of her womanly allures?"
The MacDonnell laird's laughter filled the hall. Loud and mean-spirited, itbounced off the walls of the laird's lug, taunting Linnet with the crueltybehind his words. She cringed. Everyone within the keep would hear his slurs.
"Nay, he doesna seek a comely wife," Magnus roared, sounding as if he wereabout to burst into another gale of laughter. "The mighty MacKenzie of Kintailisn't interested in her looks or if she can please him or nay when he beds her.He wants to know if his son is his own or his half brother's bastard, and he'swilling to pay dearly to find out."
Elspeth gasped. "You know the lass canna command her gift at will. What willhappen to her if she fails to see the answer?"
"Think you I care?" Linnet's father jumped to his feet and slammed his meatyfists on the table. " 'Tis glad I am to be rid of her! All I care about are thetwo MacDonnell kinsmen and the cattle he's giving in exchange for her. He'sheld our clansmen for nigh onto six months. Their only transgression was asingle raid!"
Magnus MacDonnell's chest heaved in indignation. " 'Tis a dullwit you are ifyou do not realize their sword arms and strong backs are more use to me thanthe lass. And MacKenzie cattle are the best in the Highlands." He paused tojeer at Elspeth. "Why do you think we're e'er a-lifting them?"
"You'll live to rue this day."
"Rue the day? Bah!" Magnus leaned across the table, thrusting his bearded faceforward. "I'm hoping the boy is his half brother's brat. Think howpleased he'll be if he gets a son off Linnet. Mayhaps grateful enough to rewardhis dear father-in-law with a bit o' land."
"The saints will punish you, Magnus."
Magnus MacDonnell laughed. "I dinna care if a whole host of saints come afterme. This marriage will make me a rich man. I'll hire an army to send thesniveling saints back where they came from!"
"Perhaps the arrangement 'twill be good for Linnet," Elspeth said, her voicesurprisingly calm. "I doubt the MacKenzie partakes of enough ale each time hesits at his table to send himself sprawling facefirst into the rushes. Not ifhe's the fine warrior the minstrels claim."
Elspeth fixed the laird with a cold stare. "Have you ne'er listened when thebards sing of his great valor serving our good King Robert Bruce atBannockburn? 'Tis rumored the Bruce hisself calls the man his champion."
"Out! Get you gone from my hall!" Magnus MacDonnell's face turned as red as hisbeard. "Linnet leaves for Kintail as soon as Ranald has the horses saddled. Ifyou want to see the morn, gather your belongings and ride with her!"
Peering through the spy hole, Linnet watched her beloved Elspeth give Magnusone last glare before she stalked from the hall. The instant her old nursedisappeared from view, Linnet leaned her back against the wall and drew a deepbreath.
Everything she'd just heard ran wild through her mind. Her da's slurs,Elspeth's attempts to defend her, and then her unexpected praise for DuncanMacKenzie. Heroic acts in battle or nay, he remained the enemy. But whatdisturbed Linnet the most was her own odd reaction when Elspeth had called theMacKenzie a man of strong passions. Even now, heat rose to her cheeks at thethought. She was embarrassed to admit it, even to herself, but she yearned tolearn about passion.
Linnet suspected the tingles that had shot through her at the notion of weddinga man of heated blood had something to do with such things. Most likely so didthe way her heart had begun to thump fiercely upon hearing Elspeth's words.
Linnet's cheeks grew warmer...as did the rest of her body, but she fought toignore the disquieting sensations. She didn't want a MacKenzie to bestir her insuch a manner. Imagining how her da would laugh if he knew she harbored dreamsof a man desiring her chased away the last vestiges of her troublesomethoughts.
Resignation tinged by anger settled over her. If only she had been born as fairas her sisters. Lifting her hand, she ran her fingertips over the curve of hercheek. Though cold to the touch, her skin was smooth, unblemished. But whileher sisters had been graced with milky white complexions, a smattering offreckles marred hers.
And unlike their hair, always smooth and in place, she'd been burdened with awild mane she couldn't keep plaited. She did like its color, though. Of abolder tone than her sisters' blondish red, hers was a deep shade of copper,almost bronze. Her favorite brother, Jamie, claimed her hair could bewitch ablind man.
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. Aye, she liked her hair. And she loved Jamie.She loved each of her eight brothers, and now she could hear them movingthrough the hall below. Even as her father's drunken snores drifted up to her,so did the sounds of her brothers making ready for a swift departure.
Her departure from Dundonnell Castle. The dark and dank hall of a lesser andnear-landless clan chief, her ale-loving da, but the only home she had everknown.
And now she must leave for an uncertain future, her place at Dundonnell wrestedfrom her by her father's greed. Tears stung Linnet's eyes, but she blinked themaway, not wanting her da to see them should he stir himself and deign to lookat her as she exited his hall.
Squaring her shoulders, Linnet snatched up her leather herb pouch, her onlyvalued possession, and slipped from the laird's lug. She hurried down the towerstairs as quickly as she dared, then dashed through the great hall without somuch as a glance at her slumbering da.
For the space of a heartbeat, she'd almost hesitated, almost given in to aridiculous notion she should awaken him and bid him farewell. But the urgevanished as quickly as it'd come.
Why should she bother? He'd only grouse at her for disrupting his sleep. Andwas he not pleased to be rid of her? Worse, he'd sold her to the laird of theMacKenzies, the MacDonnells' sworn enemies since long before her birth.
And the man, king's favorite and strong-passioned or nay, only wanted her forthe use of her gift and because he'd been assured she wasn't bonnie. Neitherprospect was flattering nor promised an endurable marriage.
Linnet took one last deep gulp of Dundonnell's smoke-hazed air as she stoodbefore the massive oaken door leading to the bailey. Mayhap in her new home shewouldn't be suffered to fill her lungs with stale, alesoured air. "Oh, bury St.Columba's holy knuckles!" she muttered, borrowing Jamie's preferred epithet asshe dashed a wayward tear from her cheek.
Before more could fall, Linnet yanked open the ironshod door and steppedoutside. Though long past the hour of prime, a chill, blue-gray mist still hungover Dundonnell's small courtyard...just as a pall hung over her heart.
Her brothers, all eight of them, stood with the waiting horses, each brotherlooking as miserable as she felt. Elspeth, though, appeared oddly placid andalready sat astride her pony. Other clansmen and their families, along with herda's few servants, crowded together near the opened castle gates. Like herbrothers, they all wore sullen expressions and remained silent, but thetelltale glisten in their eyes spoke a thousand words.
Linnet kept her chin high as she strode toward them, but beneath the folds ofher woolen cloak, her knees shook. At her approach, Cook stepped forward, aclump of dark cloth clutched tight in his work-reddened hands. " 'Tis from usall," he said, his voice gruff as he thrust the mass of old-smelling wool intoLinnet's hands. "It's been locked away in a chest in your da's chamber allthese years, but he'll ne'er know we took it."
With trembling fingers, Linnet unfolded the arisaid and let Cook adjustits soft length over her shoulders. As he carefully belted the plaid around herwaist, he said, "My wife made it for the Lady Innes, your mother. She wore itwell, and it is our wish you will, too. 'Tis a bonnie piece, if a wee bitworn."
Emotion formed a hot, choking lump in Linnet's throat as she smoothed her handsover the arisaid's pliant folds. A few moth holes and frayed edgesdidn't detract from the plaid's worth. To Linnet, it was beautiful...a treasureshe'd cherish always.
Her eyes brimming with tears, she threw herself into Cook's strong arms andhugged him tight. "Thank you," she cried against the scratchy wool of his ownplaid. "Thank you all! Saints, but I shall miss you."
"Then dinna say good-bye, lass," he said, setting her from him. "We shall seeyou again, never worry."
As one, her kinsmen and friends surged forward, each one giving her a fiercehug. No one spoke and Linnet was grateful, for had they, she would've lost whatmeager control she had over herself. Then one voice, the smithy's, cried outjust as her eldest brother Ranald lifted her into a waiting saddle. "Ho, lass,I've something for you, too," Ian called, pushing his way through the throng.
When he reached them, the smithy pulled his own finely honed dirk from itssheath and handed it to Linnet. "Better protection than that teensy wench'sblade you wear," he said, nodding in satisfaction as Linnet withdrew her ownblade and exchanged it for his.
Ian's eyes, too, shone with unusual brightness. "May you ne'er have cause touse it," he said, stepping away from her pony.
"May the MacKenzie say his prayers if she does," Ranald vowed, then tossedLinnet her reins. "We're off," he shouted to the rest of them, then swung upinto his own saddle.
Before Linnet could catch her breath or even thank the smithy, Ranald gave hermount a sharp slap on its rump and the shaggy beast bolted through the openedgates, putting Dundonnell Castle forever behind her.
Linnet choked back a sob, not letting it escape, and stared straight ahead. Sherefused...she couldn't... look back.
Under other circumstances, she'd be glad to go. Grateful even. But she had thefeeling that she was merely exchanging one hell for another. And, heaven helpher, she'd didn't know which she preferred.
Many hours and countless leagues later, Ranald MacDonnell signaled the smallparty behind him to halt. Linnet's pony snorted in protest, shifting restlesslyas she reined him in. She shared his nervousness, for they'd reached theirdestination.
After a seemingly endless trek through MacKenzie territory, they'd reached thehalfway point where Ranald claimed her husband-to-be would meet them.
Inexplicably beset by a tide of self-consciousness, Linnet patted the linenveil covering her hair and adjusted the fall of her mother's worn but preciousarisaid around her shoulders. If only she hadn't coiled her long plaitsaround her ears, hiding them from view beneath her concealing headgear. Herbetrothed thought her plain, but her tresses were bonnie.
Her brothers were e'er claiming her hair color rivaled the reds and golds ofthe most brilliant flame.
Would that she'd worn her hair loose. 'Twas embarrassment enough to meet hernew husband, enemy or nay, garbed in little more than rags. At least hermother's bonnie plaid lent her a semblance of grace. Even so, she could havekept a wee bit more dignity by flaunting, not concealing her finest feature.
But regret served no purpose now, for the forest floor already shook from thepounding hooves of fast-approaching horses.
"Cuidich' N' Righ!" The MacKenzie battle cry rent the air. "Savethe king!"
Linnet's pony tossed its head, then skittered sideways in panic. As shestruggled to calm him, a double line of warrior-knights thundered into view.They came straight toward her party, forming two columns at the last possiblemoment, then galloping past Linnet and her small escort, enclosing them in anunbroken circle of mailed and heavily-armed MacKenzies.
"Dinna you fret, lass," Ranald called to her over his shoulder. "We willna letaught befall you." Turning in his saddle, he shouted something at her otherbrothers but the loud cries of the MacKenzies swallowed Ranald's words.
"Cuidich' N' Righ!"
Their bold shouts echoed the MacKenzie motto. The proud words were emblazonedbeneath a stag's antlers on banners held by mounted standard-bearers. Unlikethe warriors who'd charged forward, the young men held their mounts in check ashort distance away. Four abreast, their standards high, they made animpressive sight.
But naught near as imposing as the dark knight who so self-assuredly broketheir ranks.
Clad in a shirt of black mail, broad sword at his side and two daggers thrustbeneath the fine leather belt slung low around his hips, he rode a hugewarhorse as black as his armor.
Linnet swallowed hard. This intimidating giant of a man could only be DuncanMacKenzie, the MacKenzie of Kintail, her betrothed.
She didn't need to see the green-and-blue plaid fastened over his hauberk toknow his identity.
Nor did it matter that the helm he wore cast his face in shadow, almost hidingit from view. His arrogance came at her in waves as his assessing gaze scorchedits way from the top of her head to the scuffed brogans on her feet.
Aye, she knew 'twas he.
She also knew the fierce warrior-laird was displeased with what he saw.
More than displeased ...he looked outraged. Anger emanated from beneath hisarmor, his gaze traveling over her critically. She didn't need her gift to knowhis eye color. A man such as he could have naught but eyes as dark as his soul.
Her finely tuned senses told all. He'd taken a good look at her ...andfound her lacking.
Sweet Virgin, if only she'd heeded Elspeth's advice and let the old woman dressand scent her hair. 'Twould have been much easier to raise her chin against hisbold appraisal did a veil not hide her tresses.
When he rode forward, making straight for her, Linnet fought the urge to flee.Not that she stood a chance of breaking through the tight circle of stone-facedMacKenzie guardsmen. Nor could she get past her brothers ...at the darkknight's approach, they'd urged their horses closer to hers. Their expressionsgrim, their hands hovering near the hilts of their swords, they warily allowedher betrothed's advance.
Nay, escape was not an option.
But pride was. Hoping he couldn't detect her wildly fluttering heart, Linnetsat straighter in her saddle and forced herself to match the glare he aimed ather from beneath his helm.
'Twould serve him well to know she found the situation displeasing. And 'twasundoubtedly wise to show she wouldn't cower before him
Duncan raised a brow at his bride's unexpected display of backbone. Rage hadfair consumed him when he'd seen her threadbare cloak and worn shoes. Even thefine-looking arisaid she wore bore holes! All the Highlands knew hersire was a drunken worm of a man, but ne'er had he dreamed the lout would shamehis daughter by sending her to meet her new liege laird and husband dressedshabbier than the poorest villein.
Leaning forward in his saddle, Duncan peered at her, glad for the shadows castby the rim of his helm, thankful she couldn't see his face clearly. She'd nodoubt think he'd found fault with her rather than guess it was hersire's blatant disregard that stirred his ire.
Aye, her raised chin and defiant glare pleased him. The lass wasn't meek. Mostgentleborn females would hang their heads in self-pity and embarrassment 'twerethey caught dressed in rags. Yet she'd met his perusal with a show of courageand spirit.
Slowly, Duncan's frown softened and, to his amazement, the corners of his mouthrose in the beginnings of a rare smile. He caught it, though, clamping his lipstogether before the smile could spread. He'd not taken the lass to wed so hecould find favor with her.
He only wanted her to put an end to his doubts about Robbie, to care for thelad, and keep him from his sight should his suspicions prove true. Hercharacter scarce mattered beyond her suitability as a new mother for Robbie.But it pleased him to see steel in her blood.
She'd need it to be his wife.
Ignoring the glares of her escort, Duncan urged his steed forward. He reined inmere inches from her scrawny pony.
Linnet squared her shoulders at his approach, refusing to show the awe she feltfor his magnificent warhorse. Ne'er had she seen such an animal. The beast fairtowered over her shaggy Highland pony.
She hoped her awe of the man was well hidden, too.
"Can you ride farther?" The dark knight's deep voice came from beneath hissteel helm.
"Should you not be a-kissing her hand and asking if she isna weary from ridingafore you ask if she can go on?" Jamie, Linnet's favorite brother, challengedthe MacKenzie. Her other brothers echoed Jamie's sentiments, but Linnet's ownbravura faltered when instead of answering Jamie, her betrothed swept them allwith a dark glare of his own.
Did he not think enough of her to give her a proper greeting? Was she so low inhis esteem he'd forgotten the rules of chivalry?
Still, she kept her shoulders back and her chin up, angry at his lack ofcourtesy.
"'Tis Linnet of Dundonnell I be." She lifted her chin a notch higher. "And whobe you, milord?"
"Now is not the time for pleasantries. I would that we make haste from here ifyou are not too weary." She was bone weary, but she would rather perishafore she'd admit weakness.
Linnet glanced at her pony. His coat was slick with sweat, and heavy breathingbespoke the toll the long day's exertion had cost the animal. "I am not weary,Sir Duncan, but my mount canna continue. Can we not make camp here andjourney onward on the morrow?"
"Marmaduke!" The MacKenzie shouted rather than answered her. "Hie yourself overhere!"
All the proud resolve she'd mustered fled when the object of his bellowing rodeforward. The knight with the harmless-sounding name was the ugliest and mostformidable man she'd ever seen. Marmaduke wore the MacKenzie plaid over hishauberk, and, like the other guardsmen, his only headpiece was a mail coif. Butin his case, Linnet wished he'd donned a concealing helm like her betrothed.
His disfigured face presented a visage so terrifying, her toes curled withinher brogans. An ugly scar made a wide slash across his face, beginning at hisleft temple and ending at the right corner of his mouth, pulling his lips intoa permanent downward sneer. Worse, where his left eye should have been, 'twas afrightful mound of puckered pink flesh!
Linnet knew she should feel naught but pity for the brawny warrior, but thefierce expression in his good eye, which was disconcertingly focused on her,only filled her with terror.
Fear sent her blood rushing so loudly through her ears that she did not hearwhat Sir Duncan told the man, but she knew it concerned her, for the one-eyedMarmaduke kept his feral gaze trained on her, nodding once, before he turnedhis horse and galloped off into the woods.
Her relief at his abrupt departure escaped in one quick breath. If the saintswere with her, he wouldn't return.
Unfortunately, her relief was short-lived for Duncan MacKenzie shot out onearm, scooped her off her pony, and plunked her down in front of him on hisgreat charger. With his free hand, he snatched her mount's reins. She couldbarely breathe, so firmly did his arm hold her in place.
A great roar of protest rose up from her brothers, Ranald's voice a shadelouder than the rest, "Handle our sister so roughly again, MacKenzie, andyou'll be dead before you can draw your blade!"
In a heartbeat, her betrothed wheeled his mount toward her eldest brother."Cool your temper, MacDonnell, lest I forget this was meant to be a friendlyassignation."
"I will not tolerate anyone manhandling my sister," Ranald warned. "Especiallyyou."
"Be you Ranald?" The MacKenzie asked, boldly ignoring Ranald's ire. At herbrother's curt nod, he continued, "The kinsmen you seek are in the woods beyondmy standard-bearers. They've been assured any further raids onto my land willbe punished with a worse fate than being held hostage. The cattle your sireawaits are in your men's care. I have kept my word. We shall leave you here."
Ranald MacDonnell bristled visibly. "We mean to see our sister safely to EileanCreag Castle."
"Think you I canna protect her on the journey to my own keep?"
"What you propose is an insult to my sister," Jamie protested. "We meant tostay a few nights to discuss the wedding preparations. Our father expectstidings upon our return."
Duncan adjusted his hold, pulling Linnet backward against his chest. "Informyour sire all has been arranged, the banns read. We shall wed the morn after wereach Eilean Creag. 'Tis no need for Magnus MacDonnell to bother himself withthe journey."
"Surely you jest!" Jamie's face colored. "Linnet canna marry without herkinsmen present. 'Twillna— "
" 'Twould be wise to remember I do not jest." Duncan turned back to Linnet'selder brother, tossing him her pony's reins. "See to your sister's mount and begone from my land."
Ranald caught the reins with one hand, his other going to the hilt of hissword. "I dinna ken who be more the bastard, you or my father. Dismount andunsheathe your blade. I canna— "
"Humor an old woman and cease bickering, all of you!" Her gray hair badlydisheveled from the journey, and her plump cheeks red with exertion, ElspethBeaton spurred her pony through the circle of men. With a shrewd gaze, sheturned first to the MacKenzie guardsmen, then to the MacDonnell brothers."Unhand your blade, Ranald. 'Tis no secret your sister would enjoy her weddingmore without the likes o' her father present. 'Twould be foolish to shed bloodover what we all know to be better for the lass."
She waited until Ranald let go of his sword, then stared straight at Duncan."Will you not allow the lass to have her brothers present at her wedding?"
"And who are you?"
"Elspeth Beaton. I've cared for Linnet since her mother died birthing her, andI dinna mean to stop now." Her voice held the confidence and authority of awell-loved and devoted servant. "Your broad shoulders speak o' hard training,milord, but I am not a-feared of you. I willna allow anyone to mistreat mylady, not even you."
Turning to gaze up at him, Linnet saw a corner of her betrothed's lips rise atElspeth's words. But the faint smile vanished in a heartbeat, quickly replacedby...nothing.
Suddenly she knew what had bothered her the most since he'd hauled her onto hishorse.
The rumors were true.
Duncan MacKenzie possessed neither heart nor soul. Naught but emptiness filledthe huge man who held her.
" 'Tis I who decide who sleeps under my roof. Linnet of Dundonnell's kinsmenmay rest here this night and depart MacKenzie land at daybreak. You, milady,shall continue with us to Eilean Creag."
Duncan signaled to a young man, who promptly rode forward leading a riderlessgray mare. Turning his attention back to Elspeth, he said, "The mare was meantfor your mistress, but she shall ride with me." He gave the squire a curt nod."Lachlan, help the lady mount. We've tarried long enough."
The squire, young but well muscled, sprang from his own horse and pluckedElspeth off her pony as if she weighed no more than a feather. In one fluidmotion, he hoisted her onto the saddle of the larger gray. As soon as she'dsettled, he made her a low bow, then swung back onto his own steed.
Elspeth blushed. No one else would notice—for her cheeks were alreadymightily flushed from the long ride and her anger.
But Linnet knew.
Her beloved Elspeth had been charmed by the squire's gallantry. Then DuncanMacKenzie gave the order to ride. In a daring move, her brothers spurred theirhorses forward to block the way. "Hold, MacKenzie! I'll have a word with youfirst," Ranald yelled, and Linnet's betrothed reined in immediately, having nochoice unless he cared to plow through the wall of horseflesh made by herbrothers.
"Speak your piece and be quick about it," the MacKenzie said curtly. "Do notthink I will hesitate to ride straight through you if you try my patienceover-long."
"A warning, naught else," Ranald called. "Know this. Our father is not the manhe once was, and he may not care for Linnet as he should, but my brothers and Ido. These Highlands won't be big enough to hide you should you harm a singlehair on our sister's head."
"Your sister will be well treated at Eilean Creag," came Duncan MacKenzie'sterse reply.
Ranald gave him a sharp nod, then, one by one, her brothers freed the path, andthe MacKenzie warriors kneed their horses. The lot of them surged forward asone. Linnet barely managed to bid her brothers good-bye. Their own shouts offarewell were lost in the thunder of hooves, the clank of heavily armed men,and the creak of saddle leather.
Her betrothed held her well and 'twas glad she was for his strong grip. Ne'erhad she sat upon a beast so large, and the distance to the hard ground speedingpast beneath them was daunting.
But while Duncan MacKenzie's firm hold kept her secure, and his mighty presencekept her physical body warm, he exuded an unholy chill that went straight toher core. 'Twas a deep cold, more biting than the darkest winter wind.
A shudder shook her and, immediately, his arm tightened, drawing her nearer. Toher surprise, the gesture, whether meant to be protective or done out of sheerinstinct, made her feel secure. It warmed her, too, making her belly feel allsoft and fluttery.
Warm.
Despite the cold of the man.
Linnet sighed and let herself rest against him . . . only for a moment, thenshe'd straighten. He was a MacKenzie after all. But ne'er before hadshe been held in a man's arms. None could blame her if she relaxed for just awee bit and tried to understand the unusual sensations stirring deep withinher.
Several hours later she awoke, stretched out upon a bed of soft grass, herleather pouch of herbs beneath her head. Someone had wrapped her in a warm woolplaid. She found herself in the midst of a camp full of MacKenzies.
All in varying stages of undress.
Elspeth slept nearby, next to a crackling fire, and Linnet did not fail tonotice the old woman's snores sounded quite content.
Too content.
Apparently her beloved servant had accepted their predicament. Pushing herselfup on her elbows, Linnet peered at the sleeping woman. Elspeth might be swayedby the courtly flirtations of a MacKenzie squire, but she wouldn't be.
She didn't care how many MacKenzie men played the gallant. Nor did it matterthat being held by her husband-to-be's strong arms had nigh turned her belly tomush. The pleasurable feeling had surely been caused by her relief upon knowinghe wouldn't let her be dashed to the ground.
Ne'er would a MacKenzie arouse stirrings of passion in her. Nay, 'twasunthinkable.
And, unlike Elspeth, she found naught appealing about being surrounded by theenemy.
Especially near-naked ones!
"Lachlan, help me off with my hauberk." Her betrothed's voice, deep andmasculine, came from the other side of the fire.
"As you wish, milord." The young man scrambled at the MacKenzie's command, fairfalling over his feet to do his master's bidding.
Linnet stared as her future husband pulled his helm from his head, revealing atousled mane of lustrous dark hair.
Praise be the saints he stood with his back to her, for she'd begun to tremble.
As she watched, he let the steel headgear fall to the ground with a heavythump, then removed his gauntlets. With both hands, he ran his fingers roughlythrough black hair that fell in thick, sweat-sheened waves almost to hisshoulders.
Linnet swallowed hard, uncomfortably aware that her stomach was beginning togrow mushy again. Could the man be a spellcaster? Had he bewitched her? Withhair as dark as sin, and glossy as a raven's wing, she supposed the rumorsabout the devil spawning him could be true.
'Twas common knowledge beauty and evil often walked hand in hand.
When his squire pulled the black mail hauberk over Duncan MacKenzie's head, herbreath left her in an audible rush, and she feared her heart would stopbeating. The sight of Sir Duncan's broad back captivated her as thoroughly asif a sorcerer had indeed cast an enchantment over her.
Flickering light from the campfire played upon finely honed muscles thatrippled with each move he made as he bent to aid his squire in removing therest of his garb. Not even Ranald's fearsome build matched Duncan MacKenzie's.
Her heart sprang back to life, leaping to her throat as he rolled a pair ofthin woolen braies down his muscular legs. Faith, even his buttocks appearedfierce and proud! Linnet wet her lips and gulped, hoping to ease the suddendryness in her mouth.
She'd seen every one of her eight brothers and a goodly number of her cousinsunclothed. But nary a one had looked as intimidating as the giant who stoodacross the fire from her.
Nor as fine.
As she gaped, unable to tear her gaze away, he stretched his arms above hishead. Powerful shoulder muscles rolled and bunched beneath skin burnished deepgold by the firelight. Faith and mercy, naught in her score o' years hadprepared her for such a sight! He could pass for a pagan god, so magnificentwas his form.
The thought of being bedded by such a man filled her with moretrepidation than if she'd been ordered to tame one of the sea monsters known todwell in Highland lochs!
But even that fear dwindled in the face of the terror that seized herwhen he turned around. She didn't even spare more than a quick glance at theimpressive array of virility displayed proudly at his dark groin.
Nay, 'twas her first good glimpse of his face what chilled her to the verymarrow of her bones and brought back a long-suppressed memory.
With horrible clarity, she realized why she'd gotten gooseflesh upon hearingher betrothed referred to as the Black Stag.
St. Columba and his host of holy brothers preserve her condemned soul: She'dbeen sold to the man of her most frightening girlhood vision.
The man without a heart.
Excerpted from Devil in a Kilt by Sue-Ellen Welfonder. Copyright © 2001 by Sue-Ellen Welfonder. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Copyright © 2001 by Sue-Ellen Welfonder. All rights reserved.