Prologue

Glenfinnan, Highlands, 1757

The young woman stood at the top of the cliff with the toes of her boots precariously close to the edge. The wind rippled up the side of the chalk face, buffeting her hair and clothes. It would be so easy to leap off, to try to fly like one of those seagulls that kept flitting by. Around her, heather shivered in that same breeze, abruptly stopping at the edge of the sheer cliff.

The girl craned her neck a little more, bending down to look at the base of the cliff. Far below was the beach, the shingle mere stones and larger jagged rocks that had tumbled down from the cliff. The ocean foamed as it reached the shore, hissing loudly, competing with the sound of the wind.

It was the perfect spot. Behind her, the highland hills grew tall, the green undergrowth lush and thick, hiding her position from the main tracks and roads. No one would know she was here, just as no one would know that Lillie was here either, once she arrived.

The girl looked around her shoulders, searching for Lillie, but there wasn’t any sign of her yet.

“Aye, it has tae be done,” the young woman whispered to herself. It was necessary, that was all, not something she would take pleasure in, but merely something that she could not avoid doing herself.

As the toes of her boots shifted beneath her, some of the loose stones fell away, dropping down the cliff. She stepped back from the edge, watching them drop. It was a long way to fall.

“Well, this is a strange place tae meet, aye?” a voice the woman knew well called to her. She backed up further from the cliff edge and turned to face Lillie.

Tall, beautiful, with long black hair that was pinned into mad curls, Lillie was striking in appearance. Many men had noticed over the years how beautiful she was, but that was soon going to end.

“Are ye well?” Lillie asked hurriedly, her smile fading as she moved toward the young woman. “Ye are worrying me.”

“It is nothing.” The woman shook her head. “I merely wanted some time alone with ye before yer wedding. I am nae sure what chance we will have tae talk after ye are wed.”

“Ah, I cannae tell ye how excited I am.” Lillie giggled and moved past her, walking to the edge of the cliff. She laid a hand to her stomach, smiling as she stared out at the horizon, where the blue ocean mixed with the clouds. “Murdoch and I… we kissed fer the first time last night.”

The young woman nearly retched. She turned away and held her trembling fingers to her lips, doing her best to hide her temptation.

“Aye, that is wonderful,” she forced herself to say. “From yer excitement, I can guess it was a good kiss.”

“Och, I could barely describe it tae ye.” Lillie giggled another time and turned away from the cliffs, walking back toward the girl. She managed to push down her trembling fingers and force a smile. “I cannae tell ye how happy I am.”

“I can see that.” The woman nodded, her cheeks twitching and aching to maintain that smile.

Why Lillie? Why does he have tae marry Lillie of all people?

“I always thought the marriage was tae be one of arrangement,” the woman whispered. “Murdoch’s father wanted an alliance between the clans.”

“Aye, but who are we tae argue with fate when I’m betrothed tae a man such as he.” Lillie smiled and looked away again. Her dark hair moved in the breeze.

The girl lifted a hand, almost taking hold of that hair. She could pull on it, tear it, watch the beautiful locks fall from Lillie’s head and hear her scream. Fortunately, they were so isolated out here that no one would ever hear that scream.

“What do ye think of him?” Lillie asked, turning back so swiftly that the young woman lowered her hand sharply.

“I think…” she swallowed around a lump in her throat, knowing she could not tell the truth.

I love him.

“I think ye two will make a fine match.” Her false answer must have pleased Lillie for she smiled and turned away again.

“It is a beautiful spot here. How come ye wished tae meet here?”

“Let me show ye.” The girl walked forward, beckoning Lillie to join her at the cliff edge. When she put her toes by the last stones, Lillie took her arm.

“Be careful. It is beautiful here but also dangerous.”

“Aye, I ken.” The young woman curled her finger then pointed down at the water. “Look. Tell me what ye see.”

Lillie bent forward over the cliff edge, her dark brows furrowing as she stared at the ocean.

“I see the beach. That is all.”

“Look further,” the young woman urged.

As Lillie stretched her neck out, the girl saw her chance. She took a small step back then thrust into Lillie’s shoulders, trying to push her over the cliff.

“What are ye doing –?” Lillie cried and struggled on the edge. She reached back to the girl, gripping her, trying to stay up.

The young woman fought harder. Maybe Lillie was taller, but she was stronger. She took hold of Lillie’s elbows, grappling and tussling.

“What? Why are ye doing this? Nay. Nay!” Lillie screamed as the woman stamped down on her foot. It dislodged Lillie’s footing on the cliff edge. She toppled backward, falling out into the open air as the woman released her and scurried back.

She saw Lillie disappear, falling through the air, but she hung back. She couldn’t bear to see the impact on the beach. There were a few seconds of dead air, the scream piercing, competing with the cries of the gulls and the cormorants that had made their nests within the cliffs, then there was a loud thud and the shout stopped dead.

Slowly, the young woman stepped forward, moving back to the edge of the cliff. Lillie had landed on the beach. Her head was turned at an unnatural angle, her hair wild about her ears and her skirt tangling in the wind.

“Now, there will be nay wedding.”

Chapter One

Chattan Castle, Highlands, 1762

“Are ye certain ye wish me tae read this?” Ian asked, waving the letter in the air.

“Aye,” Murdoch said gravely as he pulled out a fresh shirt from the oak coffer and moved to the standing looking glass to see his own reflection.

“One of these days, I could just teach ye tae read, ye ken that?” Ian’s voice was soft, the kind of tone that he only ever showed Murdoch behind closed doors. In public, Ian was always loud and jesting, constantly smiling, even more so since he had married his wife Aila, the year before.

“I ken, but when would ye have time?” Murdoch said, forcing the jest from his lips. “Ye spend so many hours of yer day with that wife of yers.” He glanced in the mirror’s reflection, looking at his friend.

Ian laughed, tipping his head back and making the dark blond hair around his ears dance.

“Well, I could hardly argue that she is easy tae stay away from, could I?”

They smiled together as Murdoch fidgeted with his shirt in his hands. He’d since discovered that when Aila had first come to the Laird Chattan’s castle, the Laird being Ian’s brother Noah, that she’d had something of a liking for Murdoch.

I never could return that affection. Nay, I will never care for a woman again.

In the end, everything had worked out for the best. Aila and Ian had grown closer and fallen in love. In his darkest moments Murdoch might admit he felt some envy over their happiness together, but it always lasted only a short while. It wasn’t the kind of happiness he could have in his own life.

“Right, here we go, I’ll read it fer ye.” Ian waved the letter in the air then cleared his throat, as if preparing to give some great speech as an orator.

Murdoch paused with his shirt, looking at his own reflection in the mirror. The scars on his broad chest were strongly visible in the evening light, the white gashes slashing across his skin. He seemed to get scars readily these days and had barely survived some of the wounds he’d received these last few years, but he was a soldier, and they were his occupational hazard.

Hurrying to pull the shirt on over his head, he looked at the black hair that curled at his temple, wild and refusing to lay flat and neat. His eyes were almost as dark as his hair, and he’d seen more than one person in his life leap back from him when they looked in his eyes, afraid of him.

“Are ye listening?” Ian called.

“Nay. My apologies, please, read again.” Murdoch didn’t want people to know he couldn’t read. It was an embarrassment, and Ian was one of the only two people in this world who knew Murdoch had never been taught, the other being Ian’s brother, Laird Noah Chattan, the man Murdoch fought for as one of his clan soldiers.

“Ye are distracted,” Ian said, walking across the chamber and moving toward Murdoch as he pulled a waistcoat over his shoulders. “Would it have something tae dae with admiring yer reflection?” Ian teased him with a chuckle.

“More like wanting tae run and hide from it.” Murdoch turned his back on the mirror and waved a hand impatiently at Ian. “What does it say?”

Ian cleared his throat once more and turned his attention to the letter.

“‘My son, it is time ye came home. I ken these last five years havenae been easy. The wee man above us all only kens what ye have felt after all that happened tae ye, but we cannae run from our ghosts ferever. At least now I have good news tae tell ye, good news that I hope ye will come home tae celebrate.

Yer brother Clyde is returning from war, serving our king, at last. Upon his return, we will celebrate his betrothal tae Harper, and the two families shall be joined at last. Through the alliance of the clans, our own will be stronger…” Ian trailed off and lowered the letter.

Murdoch winced, looking at his friend who he had often considered like a brother.

“Dinnae look at me like that,” Murdoch said, shaking his head.

“Like what? Like I am seeing ye fer the first time?” Ian stepped forward, brandishing the letter between them as if it were a weapon. “Ye have a brother, Murdoch!? Ye never said that.”

“I have been praying he was still alive ever since he went tae war. We havenae seen each other in a long time.”

“Why would ye keep this a secret? Why nae tell me?” Ian asked, walking around Murdoch as he took some boots out of a coffer and sat down on the lid, pulling them on.

“I have told ye some secrets,” Murdoch said, his voice growing deeper. “Is that nae enough? Ye ken more than most, Ian.”

“Aye, aye, I ken that.” Ian looked away, brushing a hand into his fair hair in plain stress. “I ken ye have yer demons, but this? Why keep such a secret?”

“Something tells me ye are going tae be even angrier when ye see who has signed that letter.”

“It is from yer father, aye, I read that…” Ian’s voice faded as he looked down at the bottom of the letter. Murdoch had hinted to Ian when they had first met five years ago that he was the son of a laird. What he hadn’t explained was which laird his father was. “Laird Maclean? Murdoch!” Ian moved swiftly across the room.

Murdoch leapt over the coffer, a chuckle escaping him when he saw the shock on his friend’s face.

“I’m reminded of our sword fight the other day. Ye looked ready tae kill me then as well.”

“We were parrying, though I’m tempted tae hurt ye now,” Ian said, chasing him around the coffer. “Ye kept this a secret!?”

“Nae exactly. I just told ye I didnae like talking about my past, and ye eventually stopped asking.”

“Aye, I can see what a fool I was now tae dae that! Tell me this. Are ye the eldest son? Or is it yer brother, Clyde?” Ian asked, waving the letter in the air. Murdoch winced, not needing to say the words for Ian to understand. “In the name of God. Wait until Noah hears we have another heir tae a lairdship under our roof.”

“I’ve been avoiding that truth fer a long time, Ian. Ye can guess well enough why that is, can ye nae?” Murdoch caught his eye as they stopped their cat and mouse game either side of the coffer. Ian’s humored smile fell away, and he grimaced, the lines of his long face contorting painfully.

Ian knew to a certain degree why Murdoch was haunted. Once, after a heavy amount of ale and whisky, Murdoch had revealed to his friend how he had been betrothed many years before. All he’d revealed to Ian was that he had lost her. Ian knew no more.

It was Murdoch’s greatest secret that his betrothed, Lillie, had been found at the bottom of a cliff a day before they were due to get married. What was clear from the torn gown and the bruises she bore was that she had been pushed.

It was murder.

An image appeared in his mind. Lillie had been stunning, and her beauty was not the only thing endearing about her. Kind, confident, and always buoyant, she easily charmed people. Murdoch had never thought of himself as being in love with her, but he was so fond of her at the time, it wouldn’t have surprised him if he would have one day fallen in love with her, but he never got the chance to find out. That future was snatched away from him by a murderer that had never been found.

After Lillie was killed, much had changed.

“What happened, Murdoch? Truly,” Ian said, stepping toward him, that soft tone appearing again. “After ye lost yer betrothed.”

“I left.” Murdoch’s answer was simple as he pulled on his open doublet over his shoulders. He kept the whole truth to himself. His father, Laird Fergus Maclean still wanted an alliance between his clan and the Grants, so his brother was betrothed to Lillie’s sister, Harper. Yet the shadows were cast over them all. Murdoch came to the Chattans to fight for a cause he believed in, and Clyde went to war for the king. His marriage was postponed until he returned, which seemed to be now – five years later.

Murdoch turned away, moving to check his appearance in the mirror once more. His gaze turned away from the heavy lines of his face and he looked toward the letter in Ian’s hand.

“Ye keep many secrets, me friend.” Ian approached and folded up the letter, passing it back into Murdoch’s grasp. “Yer father begs fer yer presence fer the wedding. He talks of healing old wounds and rifts.”

Murdoch took the letter and held it delicately, his fingers pressed against the parchment.

“So? Will ye go?” Ian asked.

Murdoch slowly nodded. Perhaps it was time to face the ghosts of the past after all. And above all – he missed his brother.

“Dae me a favor,” Ian whispered in Murdoch’s ear as they entered the great hall. The table had been laid out grandly for dinner, with vast trenchers of food presented. The scents of cooked chicken and spices hung in the air. The fragrance of clove-scented red wine hovered the most, and Murdoch reached for the nearest pewter jug full of the wine as he reached the table. He was in need of a strong drink.

“What is that?” Murdoch asked his friend.

“At least smile a little,” Ian elbowed him good-naturedly, trying to rouse a little one from him. “Ye’d think yer face had been turned tae stone.”

Murdoch forced himself so much that Ian chuckled.

“On second thoughts, ye were better as ye were.”

Murdoch smiled genuinely this time, though it didn’t last long. He took his seat at the table, so busy thinking of that letter that he scarcely paid attention to who else was there for dinner.

I have tae go back. I have tae face Lillie’s family again.

Turning his focus to the table, Murdoch looked around at the other diners. At the head of the table was Laird Noah Chattan, with his wife, Scarlett, and their son, Aiden, in her lap, although he was soon to be taken to bed. Growing older, the boy could now sit up and chew on the chunks of chicken that Scarlett put into his hands, but still they preferred to keep him away from noisy places like this. Beside Laird Chattan was Ian, and next to him his wife, Aila. On the far side of the table was Avery, Scarlett’s brother, and his wife, Callie, Aila’s sister. It was one crazy family, Murdoch had to admit. Callie’s other sister, Fiadh, sat at the foot of the table, and beside her was Elliot, Murdoch’s fellow soldier and a good friend.

The connections around the table were complicated, and had not only been formed by the love that connected the married couples, but also the trials and dangers that had thrust these people into one another’s paths. Murdoch had been a part of it all, watching the various times his friends had come close to death. Some of those trials were the reasons he bore so many scars today.

There was another at the table that Murdoch was reluctant to look at. Slowly and delicately, she sat down beside Murdoch.

Ah, Eloise.

She was Scarlett’s twin sister. They bore the same rich auburn hair, the bright, even icy, blue eyes, and the petite features. Excessively pretty, she was hard to look away from once Murdoch allowed himself to sneak a peek.

She is Lady Scarlett’s sister. Aye, she is out of bounds.

Yet there were other reasons Murdoch did not want himself to be attracted to Eloise. He’d vowed never to consider a woman in his life again, after what had happened to Lillie. And there was also the matter of Eloise’s character.

She was so refined, well spoken, and well-mannered that Murdoch felt like an illiterate and bumbling fool of a soldier next to her. More than once her small nose had wrinkled in conversations between them.

Clearly, she thinks me a bampot.

“Well, how are ye, Callie?” Lady Scarlett called from the head of the table. “God kens I struggled with my sickness when I was carrying Aiden. How are ye faring?”

“Ugh,” Callie grimaced, making many around the table chuckled, apart from her husband, Avery, who looked at her with concern. “Me stomach turns just at the sight of all this food. Do me a favor, Eloise.” She pushed the trenchers away from herself and toward Eloise on the opposite side of the table. “Take it all away from me.”

“With pleasure,” Eloise assured her, her pronunciation so perfect that Murdoch sighed under his breath.

Why does she have tae be so perfect all the time?

It infuriated him. He stabbed his knife at the chicken on his plate a little more harshly than he had intended.

“How are the soldiers’ drills progressing?” Laird Chattan asked of his brother. Ian eagerly nodded, looking to Murdoch for his agreement.

“Well, although some of the men arenae used tae fighting yet when they’re exhausted.”

“Aye, their stamina needs improving,” Murdoch said, reaching for the trencher of saffron-soaked leeks that Eloise passed him. When their fingers brushed on the bowl, she pulled back sharply, and he had to tighten his hold on the bowl to stop it from falling. He glanced at her, sensing how much she looked down at him, for she could not even bear his touch.

She refused to look at him but stared down at her trencher instead.

Murdoch could never understand why people confused Eloise and Scarlett. To Murdoch’s mind, they were entirely different, even though they were twins. Scarlett was spirited in character, sometimes even overbearing, whereas Eloise was quiet and timid like a mouse, so concerned with modesty and decorum that she often times looked stern. It was an expression he had never seen in Lady Scarlett’s face.

“We need tae run drills with the men,” Murdoch continued on, returning his focus to Ian and Laird Chattan. “Wake them at the middle of the night and make them run their drills. Aye, that should do it.”

“Then it’s settled.” As Laird Chattan turned to his brother to make the arrangements, Murdoch caught sight of Eloise shifting in her seat.

“In the middle of the night…” she said under her breath.

“I beg yer pardon?” He turned to look at her, his voice lowered to a whisper.

“In the middle of the night,” Eloise said simply, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. She smiled, as if it were only natural for her to correct his grammar.

Murdoch sat back, losing interest in his food as he gazed at her.

“I dinnae remember asking for a teacher, Eloise,” he said sharply. No one else at the table seemed to notice their conversation, for they were all laughing at some tale Ian was telling about the soldiers.

“I wasnae being a teacher. I was assisting ye.” She reached for her goblet of wine and lifted it to her lips, but evidently finding it empty she lowered it, her brow wrinkling as she stared into the cup.

“Then I didnae ask for assistance.”

“What is so wrong in that?” She looked up at him from the goblet. “I wouldnae mind if ye corrected me on how tae use a dagger.”

“That feeble thing.” He thrust a finger down at the dagger she always wore at her hip. He’d noticed it many times, wondering why a fine lady such as she felt the need to wear a dagger even in a room like this.

Nay one here would hurt her. Does she wear it out of habit?

“That doesnae even deserve the name dagger or dirk. It could be snapped in two.”

“Ye give yer opinion very decidedly.”

“Strange, I was just thinking the same about ye.” He held her gaze. Usually, he stayed quiet at events such as this. Ian, Elliot, Avery and Noah were the ones he talked to most, but Eloise seemed to have drawn something out of him tonight.

“Something is wrong with ye this evening,” she said, her cheeks blushing crimson red as she bent her head forward and reached for the pewter jug on the table. He reached for it at the same time, ready to top up his own goblet. Their hands collided on the jug, and she pulled back sharply.

“Aye, apparently there is something wrong with ye too. Worried me touch will burn ye, Eloise?” he asked, snatching up the jug to top up his wine. He topped up hers first, watching as her lips pursed together. “Let me guess. I am pouring the wine wrong now too.”

“I didnae say that.”

Murdoch looked away, replacing the jug on the table. He was hardly going to admit to Eloise that she was right, that something more was upsetting him.

I dinnae wish tae go home, though I ken I must.

He had no choice but to return home for Clyde’s wedding, even though he feared the consequences. If he returned, he didn’t doubt his father would demand it was time he married, something he could not contemplate.

I must avoid it. At any cost!

Murdoch realized that Eloise was staring at him. He jerked his head sharply toward her only to see her blushing and abruptly looking away.

“Ye think me rude fer correcting ye,” she whispered.

“And ye think me an idiot.” His sharp tongue had her staring at him again, wide eyed.

What is wrong with me tonight?

“Nay, are ye serious?” Ian laughed loudly about something, capturing Murdoch’s attention. He turned around, trying to shake himself free of Eloise’s arresting gaze. “What women are these?”

Murdoch sat forward, trying to understand the conversation he had mostly missed.

“I dinnae ken.” Noah laughed too, shaking his head. “I have it on good authority from the guards that there are such women in this clan. They offer their services as escorts tae men in need of company. They act as wives, sisters, ye name it. It helps men tae hide their secrets.”

“How exciting!” Elliot declared from the other side of the table, rubbing his hands together. “Where does one find such women?”

“Down, Elliot,” Laird Chattan said with a laugh. “We all ken what secrets ye have in mind when it comes tae women.”

As all around the table laughed, Murdoch sat back, an idea occurring to him. Perhaps there was a way to avoid being thrust into a marriage by his father. He had to appear as if he was already married.

Aye, where would a man find one of these women tae act out a part?

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