Chapter 1

“Think hard, lad. Ye only get one chance: yer gold an’ yer horse, or yer miserable throat!” the girl hissed, pulling the muffler tight against her face, and pressing the blade against the man’s cheek.

Everything in the woodland turned to silence; the birds overhead stopped singing, and she could hear the man’s heart beating hard against his chest.

“So, what’s it to be, eh?” she asked, pressing the dagger into his flesh. She had attacked him from behind, and in the black trews and léine, was indistinguishable as a woman. Only the delicately framed eyes rounded with long lashes gave her away.

She peered into the man’s face and was unprepared for what she saw. He was so young, the bewilderment palpable in his green eyes. The lad was so wildly handsome that she almost relented.

“Well?” she demanded menacingly. “Dinnae make me cut off yer bonny nose, laddie!” she said, watching his eyes widen in terror.

But it didn’t last for long. He began to punch and kick, fighting back against her slender grip. Although she had the knife, he was stronger, and it was impossible to hold him. Before long, he pushed her aside.

“Ye’ll nae get awa’ wi’ this! Ye’ll be caught and hung, ye scoundrel!” he shouted, getting to his feet.

“Nae ye dinnae!” she cried, forgetting to lower her voice. “The Spaniard at Glen Shiel thought he’d get away from my daddy’s blade too. His blood didnae wash off for weeks!”

The man’s green eyes flashed vehemently, and the woman’s heart gave a painful thump; did he recognize her?

Without waiting to find out, she pushed him back. In the distance, she heard hooves, and turning was nearly knocked sideways by a huge black stallion.

“Prince!” the man called as the girl dived for cover, away from the hooves of the charging horse.

“Gadzooks, it’s nae a horse, but one o’ Satan’s imps!” she yelled. The lad laughed before bringing the horse to a standstill.

He walked over to her, with a length of rope, which was surely for her hands. She was down on the ground, tangled and scratched in the undergrowth. The lad sneered, his green eyes glinting in the chilly winter morn.

“Dinnae think ye’ll get away wi’ this!” he scoffed. “I’ll come back for ye – if the devil hasnae taken ye first!”

Soon he was binding her tight against the sharp branches of the pine tree. She struggled, but it was to no avail. As he tied her, the girl watched him. He was strangely familiar. From somewhere, she could picture his face in her head.

Despite herself, she could not resist taking a closer look at the man she had been attempting to rob. He was about twenty years of age, tall and good looking, with a noble chin and a determined nose.

His complexion was smooth, and the skin looked so soft, the girl found herself wishing she could run her fingers over it.

It would have been easy to give in to her softer feelings. What fight she had left was being overwhelmed by the crushing tiredness that she felt. Her stomach ached for food.  It had been two days since she had eaten properly, foraging from croft to croft in the clanless zone. She was too weary and hungry to fight more.

But then she pulled herself up sharp. She was so close now – she could not afford to fail. She had to get his knapsack. Undoubtedly it contained jewelry, her only chance to get out of bandit country safely.

The young man was mounting his horse and about to ride off. Knowing she had to act fast, the girl struggled against her bonds. With a little effort, she had them loose.

Stealthily, she slipped her narrow wrists free and found her slingshot. She had one chance to get this right.

The stone catapulted through the air, across the clearing and straight into his face.

“Aargh!” he screamed and instantly fell from his horse. Unfortunately, his fall was broken by something soft and supple: her!

Without warning, she found herself buried under his weight. She fought hard to get free, pushing against him wildly, trying to move his muscular form off her body. They were close enough to kiss, and she could hear his breathing coming in waves.

For the briefest of seconds, the lad’s eyes were face to face with hers. He stared so hard that she blushed, heat racing through her body. The boy’s lips were pink and inviting.  For half a moment, she imagined kissing them.

Her reverie cost her the advantage. Within seconds, the man caught both her wrists in one strong hand, while the other hand gripped her face. Too late to scream, the girl’s eyes bulged, and her heart pounded. But he didn’t use his strong, pale hand to throttle her. Instead, he yanked down her scarf, exposing her face to the cold, March air.

There was a sharp intake of breath, as the lad stared at her, open-eyed. Despite her unmasking, the woman could not help but take amusement at his reaction.

“Gadzooks!” he exclaimed, looking visibly shocked. The girl smirked. Clearly, her disguise worked well; the lad had no idea that she was a female.

A thin veil of recognition passed over his face. She watched as it traveled down through his features. Instantly, he let her go.

Knowing that he no longer posed a threat, she got to her feet, straightening out her long, honey blonde hair, which had been set free from its cover.

Unmasked, the girl positively glowed in the dim morning light, amused at the lad’s entranced gaze.

“Well, hello!” she murmured, still catching her breath.

The lad stared uncomprehendingly into her face as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. His stare was so brazen that she felt like she had to deflect his gaze.

“Ye nae seen a woman afore, lad?” she mocked. “Put yer tongue back into yer heid!”

Then, getting up from her position on the ground, she walked tentatively around him. Now that she had made her connection, it seemed unlikely that he would continue with his attack.

“So then, ye’ve changed a wee bit since our last meet,” she said pertinently, raising a light brown eyebrow pointedly. “Long time, no see, laddie!”

The lad just stared into her eyes, as if he could not comprehend the words she was saying.

She could see by the way he was looking at her that he was trying to figure her out as if she were a puzzle.

He stood, running his bright jade eyes up and down, along and across her form. She had seen that look before on men’s faces and had reason to fear it. However, with this lad, she instinctively knew that she was safe.

It wasn’t even because she recognized him. The girl had learned, through bitter experience, that simply knowing a man did not preclude him from taking advantage of a girl if he thought that he could get away with it.

God knew, over the last few weeks and months, as she had picked her way through the Highlands from hunting lodge to hunting lodge, she had met more than her fair share of chancers.

So, she knew a good man when she saw one. From the honest glint in this lad’s eyes, there was no way he would take advantage. If anything, she was going to be the one to do that!

The girl did not wait around to find out if she was wrong. Without giving the lad a chance to get one over on her, she reached around for something, anything, to avoid him leaving her with nothing.

He had not only managed to get to his feet but had now summoned his enormous black stallion to his side, which was harrumphing and whinnying impressively in her direction. If she were not quick, he would jump on the horse and be gone forever!

Panicking, the woman looked about for some way to stop him. She desperately needed what he had, and there was no way that she could allow sentiment to get in the way.

However, she was disarmed, and her slingshot lay several feet away, near the wretched horse’s powerful hooves. Given the menace in its eyes right then, she felt little desire to try and acquire it.

She was defenseless!

He was about to leap up when she spied a very large stone, nestling at her feet. Without waiting to think it through, she hurled it straight at him.

The lad was in the middle of mounting the ferocious beast, when the stone hit him, squarely on the jaw, visibly injuring him.

Thump! The girl’s heart gave a jump as the lad tumbled unceremoniously towards her for a second time. But this time, the girl knew better than to get trapped beneath him and sidestepped to avoid his fall.

Wham! He landed in a sorry pile, not far from where she had been, but the girl wasted no time in getting free and preparing to run fast. To try and make good her escape, she picked a second stone from the ground and flung it at him, this time hitting him in the face.

“Aargh!” groaned the lad, clutching his face and rolling around in agony.

The girl tried to ignore his pitiful cries because she knew if she paid them heed, she might end up taking pity on him, which would never do!

Trying her hardest to push away the errant thought, the lass twirled around, just for a second, catching the red-haired lad straight in the eye.

He wasn’t hurt badly but was beginning to smart. She could not help herself from saying to him:

“Ye should ken better than to try and stop me, Beathan!”

She might as well have slapped him across the face; such was his surprise. It was hard for her not to laugh at his dismay.

“Aye, I ken ye, an’ yet ye dinnae ken me!” she quipped, smiling at his amazed face. “A lass could feel hurt!”

It was a jest, but something deep inside the girl’s heart stirred. She had been prepared for his recognition from the moment the mask had been pulled from her face. When it hadn’t happened, she had been stung slightly.

But there was no time for such thoughts now. Events were moving at such a speed that they were outpacing even the girl’s racing thoughts.

Without a second’s further consideration, she leaped towards the loosed horse. The animal was snarling and snorting like one of Satan’s beasts, but she paid it no heed. She had a way with horses and could tame it, the same trick she had with men.

The girl steadied the black horse and mounting the beast, was off, galloping across the soggy landscape, her hands tight against the horse’s back.

From down on the ground, in the ditch, the lad was stirring, but she was so far away that she could barely see him.

Raising his voice against the wind she heard the pierce of his cry, “Halt there! Stop, thief!”

But it was to no avail. As if he knew this, the lad yelled again, this time with something that stopped her heart in its tracks… her name.

“Ye’ll nae get away wi’ this…. Aye, lassie, I ken ye… Edme!”

Chapter 2

“Edme!” his voice rang through the trees in the small copse multiple times. “Edme! Edme! Edme!” the lad screamed his lungs right out of his chest, circling her heart with his cries.

For just one moment, Edme hovered astride the braying horse. Then, the lad issued a direct command to the animal.

“Prince!” he called plaintively. At the sound of its master’s voice, the horse immediately stalled, refusing to go further and threatening to throw the girl from its back.

“Stop it!” Edme screamed. The animal, which had behaved itself up until now, was rearing up into the air. At any turn, she could be cast asunder. “Help!”

She soon found herself flying through the air, like a stone from her slingshot. As she fell, time seemed to slow down, filling her with a strange calm. In the skies above, the birds beat their wings in flight, and a deadening quiet fell over the copse.

Even the stallion was temporarily silenced, mesmerized by the sheer grace of her fall. It was as if she was flying on gossamer wings; the only sound was the echo of her scream ringing out over the treetops and across the trees.

Internally, she raged. He had done this to her! If he had never removed her scarf, she would have been well on her way by now!

“Beathan!” she cursed, falling out of the sky and landing almost directly on top of him with a hearty smack.

But unlike his crash landing, it seemed that he was waiting for her, ready to break her fall with outstretched arms.

Thump!

With a crash, she landed straight into his waiting arms. It took Edme all her strength not to scream, but she just managed it.

All the same, she could not stop herself from shutting her eyes and scrunching herself into a ball to shield herself from pain.

But to her surprise, she did not feel any. As she checked herself carefully, there was barely a jolt to her frame.

“Aye, yer alright, I reckon!” she could hear his voice say. “An’ I doubt there’s anythin’ wrong wi’ yer eyes!”

Self-consciously, Edme opened her eyes. The sharp winter daylight pierced them painfully, as the world jarred into focus. Looking upwards, she had expected to see gray acres of sky. But instead, she found herself glaring straight into Beathan’s emerald eyes.

Beathan blinked. He was so close that she could feel his breath. He pored over her, checking for injuries, tending to her like a nurse.

Edme’s body tensed, and she removed herself from his grasp and stood beside him, albeit taking a few well-chosen paces back.

“Well, if it’s not the Maid of McKinley! So, is this what yer doin’ noo? Robbing folks?”

Edme could feel the lad’s cool gaze washing over her like winter rain. Instantly, she felt small and cheap.

“Well, come on noo! Ye were after my mother’s jewels weren’t ye! So come on an’ tell me just what it was that ye wanted them for!” he asked, not unreasonably.

Although a foot away, Edme could feel him bearing down on her, staring at her intently. But instead of returning his gaze, she turned away, clamming up.

“Tell me then, Maid McKinley, what is it that yer clan wants wi’ our clan’s precious stones?”

The question hung in the air, hauntingly, needling the girl visibly as she pretended to look away. Inside, her heart beat fast. She did not know what to say. She did not have an answer to give him for the question he asked. She pouted and turned away, much to the scorn of the lad watching her.

Beathan folded his arms and waited, with a smug expression on his face.

“Well, if ye will nae tell me, maybe the Laird can drag it out of ye,” he announced, a determination coming into his bright green eyes. “Or maybe even one of the guards! I daresay the Sheriff will take an interest too!”

At the mention of this, the girl’s eyes widened. Watching her reaction carefully, the lad continued.

“An’ wi’ all the robberies around here, I wouldnae be surprised if he hangs ye, just to mak’ an example!” he added, glancing slyly at her.

The girl visibly whitened, her already pale skin taking on an almost translucent quality.

In the lull that opened up between them, a flock of starlings flew overhead, their noisy intervention momentarily distracting them both.

Edme watched the lad as he raised his eyes up high, noting his firm physique and rugged shoulders. Then she smiled, a little coyly.

“Ye wouldnae dae that,” she declared softly, her eyes scanning his for a reaction.

He bristled slightly, but without taking his eyes off the noisy birds, he continued, “Och aye, wouldnae I? Is that a chance ye wannae take, lass?”

Edme could not see his face, but she fully imagined him to be laughing at her, despite his stern words.

“The laird takes the theft of his jewelry very seriously! An’ that’s nothing on what the lady might do. An’ I can tell ye, ye dinnae want tae get on the wrong side of her!” he added.

This time he did look at her, bringing his almost luminous bright green eyes down to bear on her. At that moment, Edme thought she detected just a shade of warmth. In his face, a glazed amusement passed over, as if he was having some sort of jest with her. Then, in an instant, it had vanished, and his face returned to its ice-cold bed of steel.

“So then, what’s it gonnae be, lassie?” Beathan inquired, almost snarling the words; his previous demeanor put on hold.

All the same, Edme held her nerve. One thing the last few months had taught her was to spot a performance when she saw one. The lad was bluffing; she felt sure.

“Ye either answer my questions, or ye come wi’ me to someone who will make ye!” he promised, stiffening in his pose and patting down his clothes.

His hands fumbled about for something that seemed to be missing. In the blink of an eye, the girl noted his empty dagger pouch.

Then, her deft eyes spied something, glinting in the March sun – his black sgian dubh. It was there, just nestling by a tree, maybe about half a foot away from where she was standing. Unable to believe her luck, Edme lunged to grab it.

“I think yer lookin’ for this!” she announced, flashing the ornate looking dagger towards him, just close enough to his person for him to try to snatch it.

Like a cat, teasing its prey, she held it close enough to elicit a response, but in the split second that he took to swipe at it, she retreated, laughing.

Frustrated, Beathan lurched forward again, still unable to catch the dagger.

“Here! Give it back!” he demanded as she laughed.

“Nae,” she replied, taunting him with the jewel-encrusted sword, jabbing it this way and that, with dramatic gestures, swiping through the air. “I will nae!”

“It’s hopeless, yer nae match for me, lassie!” Beathan reasoned, but under his pale soft skin she could see that beads of sweat were forming,

“Och, I ken yer strong, laddie,” praised the girl, pretending to be impressed. She glanced over at the boy’s taut muscles. It was hard not to be somewhat affected by the lad’s solid set of muscles. Although covered by a brightly checkered plaid, Edme could see the outline of his frame, from his well-defined shoulders to his muscular forearms sticking out of his sleeves.

She gave an involuntary shiver as she contemplated the look of his firm stomach and tried not to think of anything that lay beneath his sporran.

“So, yer strong,” she repeated. “But are ye quick?”

Before the meaning could be clear to him, Edme was off, running as fast as she could, her slender frame disappearing over the top of the hillside.

********************************************************************

Edme!

The name burned in Beathan’s heart like fire. As he watched the McKinley filly speeding away again, Beathan could barely believe his eyes.

In despair, he shouted after her, hoping it would shame her into stopping. It did not.

“Edme! Edme McKinley! Come back here now, or ye’ll be the worst for it!” he called hopelessly after her.

God knows, Beathan had been having a bad enough day already. His mission had been simple: transport the Cairngorm brooch belonging to his mother from the Craig keep to the Duncan castle, which had been his grandmother’s home before marriage. This was mainly for safekeeping since, in recent times, attacks and skirmishes with the English and other bandits had seen a sharp increase.

So far, he had had to contend with a freak hail storm, an inexplicably spooked horse, and a loosed bull. His intended leisurely morning’s hunting had ended when he lost his father’s jeweled dagger and now this!

For a moment or two, Beathan watched in dismay as both sword and girl bobbed out of view, then he steeled himself. He wasn’t about to let them go without a fight!

“Edme! Stop!” he called, tearing after her.

Despite his intense fury – which was mainly at himself for allowing this to happen – Beathan could not help but feel slightly impressed at this slip of a lass who had somehow managed to get the better of him.

This chimed with Beathan’s vague memories of the slight, lively maid with honey streaked hair he recalled from Hogmanay gatherings at the McKinley castle. These were held annually and always well attended by the local clan Lairds.

If it was one thing that the Laird of McKinley knew, it was how to put on a good feast. Fondly, Beathan recollected childhood scenes in the vast McKinley castle with venison, haggis, pheasant, and other hearty dishes. This was washed down with wine and a local, single malt, which, even as children, they managed a wee dram.

But he couldn’t remember much of Edme, just a hazy recollection of a rather bossy wench with blonde tresses. Back then, she had been very much in her older brother’s shadow, and he could not remember having a lot to do with her, as girls barely entered his head back then, and when they did, they were more annoyances than acquaintances.

Well, that was one thing that had not changed! As Beathan watched the laughing girl run faster, he resolved that he would get the last laugh somehow. And it was not long before he got his chance!

Whump! A sharp cry sounded across the horizon, and Beathan watched the girl fall over and lay very still.

Unable to see if the girl was safe or harmed, Beathan sped along, over the craggy hillside and up to the spot where the fallen girl lay. It looked as though she had tripped over a branch and hit her head against a rock.

As he approached, Beathan took a sharp breath. The sight of her laying there so still, her shining honey-colored hair strewn recklessly about her whitened face, brought him up hard.

Everything about her seemed lifeless, her lithe limbs stretched out in various directions, and her eyes shut.

Beathan’s heart thumped painfully in his ribcage. With a sour twist, he saw his jeweled dagger lying on the wet grass before him as if it had been offered up by the Gods.

But he was so overwhelmed that he forgot to take it. Instead, he hovered over the girl’s unmoving form. Barely daring to breathe, he looked on.

Everything around him seemed to have stilled, slowed to a crawl almost, as if time itself had been halted.

Thump! Thump! Thump! His heart clamored loudly in his chest. She couldn’t be dead, could she?

His eyes widened in fear as he approached her cautiously, gently prodding her shoulder. There was no response.

“Edme?” he asked softly.

Heaven knows, Beathan had been trying his darndest to keep the trepidation out of his voice and act as if he was not affected. After all, she was a thief who had taken his dagger. There was not one person in the clan who would condemn him in any way for the course of events that had unfurled.

In reality, he would be wholly justified in walking away from the woman who had tried so hard to rob him. Perhaps he would even be doing the clan a favor, ridding them of such a troublesome wench.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had to injure someone in combat. Skirmishes with the English and their traitorous lackeys were becoming ever more frequent, and Beathan had had to assist his father, the Laird of Craig, many times in seeing them off. Just last year, he had been present at the battle at Glen Shiel, which had seen many of their best men slaughtered.

But that had been different, they had been under attack and fighting for the survival of the clan. Also, none of them had been women.

Beathan stared down at the pallid girl, lying rigid in the muddied bog, and gave an involuntary shiver. He tried to remind himself how this woman had just attempted to rob his clan of their jewels and their heritage.

However, just as he was about to pull away from the maid, he lingered. He could not do it. Despite his bravery in battle, Beathan still retained a softness inside. She was injured, and she needed help.

Pressing down closer against her, Beathan looked carefully for signs of life. It didn’t feel quite right, slipping his fingers in beneath her stays and checking for a pulse, but he did it anyway, knowing that every second she was unconscious put her further into danger.

“Edme, Edme,” he said softly, calling her name, trying to wake her.

Nothing. She did not so much as flinch when he brought his head close to hers. Panicking, Beathan went to check her airways. By placing an ear to her mouth, his face close to her bosom, he could tell she was not breathing.

Urgently, he pressed his mouth against her lips. They were so tender and a delicate shade of rosebud pink, their sweetness at odds with the girl’s usual brash manner.

She lay there, as pale as a corpse, her chest not responding to his compressions. Forcefully he breathed in through her airways, her honeyed perfume swirling in the air like a song.

After a few sharp breaths, he gave a slight pause, giving a chance for the girl to breathe alone. But there was nothing. Now panicking, Beathan worked harder, breathing in deep and rhythmically to her flattened lungs.

It seemed to take forever, and a deep silence fell over the glen as if everything was still and waiting for her to take a breath.

Beathan did not know how long he waited, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like days. After several rounds, he was forced to stop to catch his breath. He was just about to continue when the girl took in a large breath.

She slowly came around, opening her eyes with a small groan. Sitting up, the girl tried to get to her feet.

“Nae ye dinnae!” said Beathan gently, pressing her back down. “There be plenty of time for that when we get back to the keep!”

Edme looked up. “The keep? How ye gonna get me there Master Craig?” she asked pointedly.

From behind him, Prince snarled impressively. Beathan glanced at the horse and laughed. The girl groaned, rolling her eyes.

Reading her mind, Beathan continued. “Dinnae ye fash, this time, I’m going to make sure ye cannae fall!” he grinned, fastening the wench’s hands securely behind her slender back.

As he tied her up, Beathan felt a sudden jolt of what could only be described as lust, racing its way up through him.

Beathan scowled. This was the last thing he needed now, to let unnecessary passions get in the way of a cool-headed decision. He had made that mistake once before. This time he resolved to make sure she did not escape.

“Come on, lass, be still. Ye need to keep yer strength up for meeting the Sheriff!”

The girl groaned as Beathan smiled. Helping her up gently, he fastened the tired girl onto his horse, ensuring she was firmly set. Then he leaped on in front and cracking the whip set the stallion off on a gentle trot back towards Craig keep.

“Well, the second attempt was better than yer first time!” drawled the girl, enigmatically as they went. Her voice was dreamy, but when he turned to look, Beathan saw a serious look shoot through her eyes. Then they turned mischievous.

“First time?” he asked, confused. “I barely ken ye, lassie. The first time for what?”

Beathan momentarily took his eyes off the path to look at her, uncertain.

“Och, Beathan!” she whispered coyly. “The first time ye kissed me, of course!”

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