Prologue

Torridon Inn, 1765

It was a habit they couldn’t easily shake, even when there seemed to be no danger. Aaden and Gilchrist sat at the far end of the common area of the inn, their backs against the wall and nothing else between them and the rest of the patrons, like they always did in such establishments. One could never know where an enemy might lurk, though an inn in a small town was hardly the place to attract any serious threats.

The room smelled of ale and wine, the wooden tables sticky with spilled residue that the serving wenches’ tattered rags could never clean entirely. The storm outside, the one which had forced them to pause their trip back home to Castle McDowell, still raged. The sound of the raindrops on the roof of the inn were so thunderous that not even the lively conversation inside was enough to fully drown it out. Although the room didn’t seem so crowded to Aaden at first glance, every table seemed to be occupied, some of them only by lonely travelers and others by groups of people.

“Here’s tae a successful job,” Gilchrist said, raising his cup of wine in a toast. “We willnae want fer naething now that we have reached this agreement.”

“We willnae want fer food, at least,” Aaden pointed out. The Bairds, with their fertile lands, had been perhaps the most important allies for Clan MacDowell to secure and now that Gilchrist had managed to make this deal with them—food in exchange for manpower and security—there would be no concerns about their resources throughout the winter. “Ye did well. The role o’ the laird suits ye.”

Laughing, Gilchrist sipped his wine slowly, savoring it as though it was one of the bottles he imported from France and not what it truly was, which was closer to vinegar.

“I must still adjust,” Gilchrist said. “An’ there is still much tae dae. This may be the most important deal we have made so far, but it willnae be the only one.”

Despite what his friend claimed, Arden couldn’t imagine a better laird for the McDowell Clan. Ever since marrying Kyven McDowell, the daughter of the clan’s previous laird, Gilchrist had spent most of his waking hours working towards the betterment of their lands and their people, putting everyone else before himself.

It showed a little in the weariness in his eyes, the lids weighed down by several sleepless nights. Aaden hoped that now, at least, with the clan’s food for the winter secured, he could rest for a while and focus on his new family.

“Ye must adjust soon,” Aaden said, “‘afore the bairn comes, for there will be less time after.”

“Och aye,” said Gilchrist, and the mere mention of his unborn child brought a new warmth to his face, a brightness that eclipsed his exhaustion. “There are still a few months left, but I wish it were sooner. I wish tae meet me son.”

“Or daughter,” Aaden reminded him.

“Or daughter,” Gilchrist agreed with a smile. “An’ besides, it’s already getting tiring fer Kyven. I’m sure she is impatient tae give birth.”

“She is gettin’ big, isnae she?”

“Dinnae tell her that,” warned Gilchrist, with the kind of serious tone he usually reserved for battle plans. “She is already angry she cannae see her feet an’ she will only continue tae grow. One wrong word an’ she’ll cut off yer head hersel’.”

Aaden laughed at the warning, imagining Kyven, pregnant as she was, trying to chase him around the castle. She could rope someone else into doing it, though; Aaden had no doubts about that.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “Though I’m sure if yer wife heard ye say that about her, she’d have yer head.”

“She’d be provin’ me point, then,” said Gilchrist. “An’ she wouldnae harm me. She loves me. Ye would understand if ye found a good lass fer yersel tae wed.”

This again, Aaden thought. Though he had always been adamant that he would never marry, it didn’t stop people from trying to change his mind. Gilchrist had been lecturing him on all the joys of marriage ever since he had married Kyven, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. At most, he stopped bringing it up for a while, only to mention it again when Aaden had been lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he was safe from another such talk.

“Ye ken what I think about that,” Aaden said. “I like me freedom too much.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Gilchrist’s features arranged themselves in that serious look he got whenever there was something urgent to discuss, brows furrowing together and lips pursing into a thin line.

“Marryin’ Kyven didnae make me a prisoner,” he said. “As marryin’ a lass willnae make ye a prisoner. It gave me the biggest joys o’ me life. What will ye dae, Aaden? Will ye stay alone yer whole life?”

“I’m nae alone,” Aaden pointed out. He had Gilchrist. He had other friends. He could easily manage without a wife.

“Ye ken what I mean,” Gilchrist insisted. “Ye need someone. Ye cannae keep everyone away.”

Aaden’s jaw tightened at Gilchrist’s words. His friend had always known Aaden liked women, but for a while he had thought it was a way for him to find some comfort after his father’s death, a way to drown his sorrows. Now that Aaden hadn’t changed at all, though, Gilchrist had begun to pester him once more.

Aaden didn’t want to talk about his father or the reasons behind his reluctance to marry. He had made peace with both those things. Losing his father in that ambush had been one of the most painful moments of his life, but there was no bringing him back. A wife couldn’t fill the void he had left behind. All Aaden could do was keep his memory alive and move on as best he could.

Still, he could understand why Gilchrist was so insistent. He worried, just as Aaden worried about him, no matter how well he was doing. It was in their nature to worry about each other.

“It’s alright,” he assured him. “I write me maither often, so I still have family. An’ I have ye.”

It was only part of the truth, but it would have to be enough for Gilchrist, as it was all Aaden was willing to share.

“With yer maither?” Gilchrist asked, surprised. “Are ye gettin’ tae ken her better, then? Will ye go an’ see her?”

“I cannae see her,” Aaden said.

“Surely, ye can. Where is she now?”

Aaden sighed, delaying his response by taking a large sip of wine. In the end, he looked at Gilchrist in the eye and said, “She is a courtesan. Where dae ye think she is?”

It wasn’t true, but it was the story everyone had been told. His father had never revealed his mother’s true identity to anyone but Aaden himself, and Aaden didn’t intend to expose her like this, not even to his friend.

Aaden had seen what love did to people. He had seen how his father had wilted before everyone’s eyes, loving the woman he could never have. What he knew of his mother told him that she, too, had never stopped grieving their lost love, spending her years yearning after his father.

It wasn’t that Aaden didn’t believe in love. He had seen it first-hand. Love was real and it was painful, and he was never going to go down that path of self-destruction. He would rather spend his life with a different woman every night, never once risking falling in love.

What he had said seemed to be enough to silence Gilchrist on the matter, at least temporarily. He gave Aaden a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder before he drained his cup and stood.

“We should sleep,” he said. “We must wake early on the morrow an’ head back.”

“Aye,” said Aaden. “But I think I’ll stay a while longer.”

His gaze scanned the room, looking for any women he could bring to his room before the night was over. Gilchrist didn’t need to ask why. He only gave him a roll of his eyes, though his smile was fond.

“Alright,” he said. “Good luck with yer hunt. I’m very glad I dinnae have tae dae this anymore.”

With that, he was gone, heading up the stairs to the room he had secured for the night, as Aaden returned to his search. He could speak to one of the serving wenches, he thought. They were both young and pretty, and they always fell for his charms.

But then again, who didn’t?

He let his gaze roam around the room for a while longer and that was when he spotted her: a young woman with long hair as dark as the night and a pair of blue eyes that pierced him like an arrow when they met his own for a brief second. She was sitting with another young woman, the two of them talking animatedly and paying him no mind, but Aaden wasn’t going to be discouraged by something as insignificant, not when that woman was the most beautiful creature he had laid his eyes on.

He could wait and so he did, sipping the rest of his wine slowly as he watched them, waiting patiently for the right moment. That moment came when the woman’s friend stood and left the room, but she remained, idly sipping her drink as she looked around her.

Taking his chance, Aaden stood and walked over to her table, sliding into the seat her friend had only just vacated.

“Good evenin’,” he said, his smile so bright it could outshine any candle in the room. “What is such a bonnie lass doin’ here alone? It’s very cold, after all, an’ they say it’s easier tae warm up when ye have another next tae ye.”

It was a bit bold and a bit silly, but every time Aaden used that line, he usually received at least a chuckle in return. He was good looking enough for his conquests to need little coaxing, finding him charming in his audacity.

This woman didn’t seem to, though. The glare she gave him sent a chill down his spine. It was colder than the rain outside the inn, as if she would have liked nothing more than to kill him where he sat.

“I was enjoyin’ me own company until ye disturbed me,” she said, her melodious voice carrying so much irritation that the contrast was dizzying. It was fine with him, though. Aaden liked a challenge, and he wasn’t going to back down that easily. In the end, the reward of bedding her would be worth it.

“May I offer ye a drink, then, as an apology?” he said, already raising his hand to call for the serving wench when the woman stopped him.

“Thank ye, but nay. Ye see, I have this rare ailment. I cannae accept drinks from strangers without bein’ nauseated an’ vomitin’ all over them.”

Charmin’ lass.

Pursing his lips in distaste, Aaden leaned a little closer over the table to rest his head on his hand. “Is that truly a way tae get a man’s attention?”

“Aye, me biggest goal in life is tae get a handsome man’s attention,” the woman said with a roll of her eyes. She all but slammed her hands on the table and stood, pushing back her chair with a scraping sound that made Aaden recoil. “An’ it obviously worked if ye’re here, tryin’ tae steal me affections.”

The woman walked off, but before she could get too far, Aaden followed her. Perhaps he should simply accept defeat, but it wasn’t often that a woman rejected him. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when it had happened. Some of them were difficult, but by the end of the night, they always ended up in his bed.

“Are we headin’ tae me chambers or yers?” he asked, deciding that boldness was the way to go with this woman. She, too, was bold, after all, having no regard for what was polite.

The woman came to an abrupt halt and turned around to look at him, giving him a smile that was all teeth. “Ye should certainly wait fer me in yer chambers,” she said, and then turned around just as swiftly, once more heading for the door.

Aaden couldn’t let it go just yet, though. It intrigued him, how feisty she was, how quick to respond, the insults tumbling one after the other out of her lips. Aaden had never met such a spirited woman before and something stirred inside him, a kind of insistent, irresistible desire for more.

He caught up with her just past the door, grabbing her arm to stop her and pull her close, their bodies flush together. Leaning even closer, lips brushing over the shell of her ear, he whispered to her.

“I can give ye pleasure like ye’ve never had ‘afore,” he said. “I can take ye tae places ye’ve never reached.”

The woman turned her head so that their lips were almost brushing. Just when Aaden thought he finally had her in his grasp, she said, “The only place ye can take me is hell, I’m sure.”

Aaden couldn’t help but laugh at that, even if it was at his own expense. As the woman made to leave once more, he let his hand glide down her arm and then laced their fingers together, stopping her once again.

Suddenly, she spun around, the glare returning in her eyes. “Dae ye even ken me name?”

For a moment, Aaden wracked his brain, trying to remember if she had told him. In the end, he only shrugged. “Ye can tell me while ye moan mine.”

In a flash, the woman had him pinned against the wall, a small, sharp blade pressed to his neck. The speed and strength behind the movement caught Aaden by surprise enough for him to get trapped by this woman who was much smaller than him, his heart racing behind his ribs, the breath caught in his throat. Under the moonlight, her features were just as sharp—a small, straight nose, prominent cheekbones, and a high, regal forehead, all of them blending together to leave an impression of danger.

Aaden would be lying if he said he wasn’t more intrigued than ever.

“Perhaps yer depraved words work fer other lasses, but I’m nae them,” the woman hissed, lips curling back to bare her teeth. “I would never share yer bed, even if ye were the last man in the Highlands.”

In the distance, Aaden heard a voice, something that the woman heard as well. Her head snapped to the side, fingers tightening around the handle of her blade.

“Lilith!”

Over the sound of the rain and the thunder, Aaden couldn’t hear what the voice was calling, but it seemed to have an immediate effect on the woman. Just as quickly as she had attacked him, she pulled back and was gone, her quick footsteps disappearing down the street. Aaden didn’t try to pursue her this time. Instead, he let his head fall back with a sigh, fingers tracing the skin where she had pressed her blade.

Perhaps he hadn’t heard her name, but he would never forget that face—the face of the first woman to ever reject him.

Chapter One

MacEwan Castle. One year later.

The castle was just as Aaden remembered it, though it had been very long since he had last stepped foot on MacEwan land. It towered over the hill, stretching up to a grey sky, a colossal structure of stone that was as majestic as it was intimidating. Like all castles, it did not only speak of wealth; it also spoke of power.

When he reached the castle gates, Aaden handed the paper he had been clutching in his hand all the way there to one of the guards, who proceeded to have the door opened for him. Riding inside, the few memories Aaden had of the place rushed back to him. There was that oak he had climbed as a child, falling from the lowest branches and scraping his knees. There were the stables where he had first learned to care for his horse, and the kitchens where the maids would give him apples and sweets in secret.

He wondered how many of those maids still worked there. He wondered if any of them would remember him now that he was grown, now that his face was covered by a short beard and he would no longer be looking up at them with wide, mischievous eyes.

Despite everything, Aaden had missed the place. He only wished he could have returned under different circumstances.

The invitation he had handed to the guard outside had come as a surprise. He never expected to return to this place, given that his uncle didn’t want to even look at him. He knew there was only one reason why he would ever call Aaden there; it meant he wanted something from him and whatever that was, it couldn’t possibly be good.

After jumping off his horse and passing the reins to the stable boy, another servant came to fetch him. Aaden followed the young man inside and soon found that even all those years later, he didn’t need a guide. He remembered where everything was, the details slowly coming back to him.

Still, he doubted his uncle would allow him to roam freely around the castle. If anything, Aaden was surprised that no guard was following him, but then again, there was no real danger for Ruadh. His uncle was the laird of the clan and as long as Aaden was in there alone, he was powerless, even with all the weapons he carried around his waist.

Weapons, he noted, that no one had taken from him.

They came to a halt in front of a large door that Aaden identified as leading to Ruadh’s study. The servant announced him, and Aaden walked in to see his uncle there, sitting behind his grand desk, surrounded by all his riches: colorful tapestries, thick rugs, heavy, dark furniture that had a presence even more imposing than the man’s own.

Naturally, Ruadh had gotten older since Aaden had last seen him, but the change was startling to Aaden. He must have been in his early sixties, his face lined by the passage of time, his stature shorter than Aaden remembered—though that was perhaps because Aaden had been a child last time they had been in the same room. Even so, his eyes were just as blue and the black of his hair persisted even at his age, the only traces of grey appearing at his temples.

There was no warmth in his greeting when he acknowledged Aaden.

“Sit,” Ruadh said, gesturing towards the chair by his desk, but Aaden preferred to stand. When he didn’t obey, Ruadh simply shrugged. “As ye wish.”

“Why did ye call me here?” Aaden asked. He had no desire to pretend there was any love lost between them. Ruadh hated him and no matter what Aaden said, no matter how politely he behaved, the man would never change his mind. “Why now, after all these years in exile?”

For a few moments, Ruadh was silent, simply observing Aaden as if seeing him for the first time.

“The last time I saw ye, ye were only a bairn,” he said instead of answering the question. “It truly has been a long time.”

“The last time I saw ye, ye were a coward who sent me an’ me faither tae exile,” said Aaden, teeth gritting together.

There was nothing else Ruadh could do to him and so Aaden didn’t feel a need to hold back his venom. The man deserved much more than that, but Aaden would have to be satisfied with the little he could get now that he had finally confronted the man after so many years.

His scathing words earned him a glare, but nothing more than that. Ruadh was calculating, chilling in his cruelty. He would not lose his temper because of a mere comment, but he would make sure to retaliate sooner or later.

“Ye ken very well why I had tae send ye tae exile,” he said.”

“There were other ways,” Aaden insisted. “Ye didnae have tae send me faither away from his home. Ye didnae have tae send me away from me maither.”

“What would ye have me dae? Allow her bastard son tae live under the same roof as me own son?” Ruadh asked. There was an edge to his voice now, his cruelty seeping through the cracks. He stood too, the two of them glaring at each other over the desk. “Ye should be glad I didnae kill ye an’ me traitor o’ a braither.”

“He was as good as dead an’ ye ken that,” Aaden said. “Ye ken he never recovered from what ye did tae him.

Ruadh’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Aaden. He circled his desk and came to stand in front of him, leaving nothing but a few scant inches between them. “Yer faither tried tae steal me wife from me. Yer faither was a traitor tae his own braither. An’ yer maither…, yer maither spread her legs fer him, did she nae? An’ here ye are.”

Aaden could have killed his uncle that very moment. Perhaps he should have swung at him least, punching him for speaking about his mother like that, but that would have only caused him more trouble. He was already in plenty of trouble as it was, since Ruadh had called him there.

“Where is she?” he asked instead. “I wish tae see her.”

“Dinnae forget this, Aaden,” Ruadh said as he headed back to his chair, sinking in its plush leather. “Janice is me wife an’ me son’s maither. She is naething but an aunt tae ye. Ye will dae well tae forget she ever birthed ye.”

“Ye could have let her marry me faither,” Aaden insisted. “Ye could have let them be happy. Ye kent they loved each other but ye still married her.”

“I willnae entertain this any longer,” Ruadh said, effectively putting an end to the conversation. Aaden knew there was nothing to say to provoke him into discussing it further.

“Fine,” Aaden spat. “Then perhaps ye wish tae tell me why ye invited me here. Surely, it wasnae so ye could see me.”

That drew a laugh out of Ruadh, a short, humorless sound. “It wasnae an invitation. It was an order. With me brother gone, ye must repay his debt.”

“There is nae debt tae repay,” Aaden said. “Any debt he owed ye, he paid by spendin’ all his life in grief.”

Another laugh, this even colder than the last. “Ye’re as insolent as ever, I see. But that’s alright. I will teach ye what it means tae have honor. Listen carefully. Ye are tae wed Lilith Stewart, the first-born daughter o’ Laird Stewart. Evander wishes tae marry his youngest, but her faither willnae wed her if Lilith isnae wed first.”

Aaden could hardly believe his ears. That was why Ruadh had called him there? What could have possibly possessed him and make him think he would do such a thing for him.

“Why should I care if yer son wishes tae marry this lass?” he asked. “An’ why dae ye need me? I’m sure the first-born o’ Laird Stewart will have many suitors.”

“Och aye,” Ruadh said. “They both dae. The young one, Freya, she wishes tae wed Evander. But Lilith doesnae want any o’ her suitors. She is said tae be… difficult.”

Aaden couldn’t wrap his head around any of this. The most he could do was stand there in disbelief, mouth hanging slightly open as he tried to figure out what else Ruadh had planned for him. Surely, a marriage wasn’t the only thing he had in mind, especially to the first-born daughter of a laird.

“Why doesnae Evander wed Lilith?” he asked. “Surely, that is the wisest option fer him. Why would ye want me tae be the laird o’ the Stewart Clan when ye could make him?”

“As I said, Lilith is difficult,” Ruadh repeated. “Evander wants a softer lass. An’ if ye think ye will have any real power, I’d suggest ye reconsider it. Perhaps ye would become the laird once her faither dies, but ye will dae as I say.”

That, of course, was only natural, Aaden thought. Ruadh would never relinquish the power he could have, even if he didn’t marry his own son to the heir. He was a cunning man. He would do anything to find a way to exert control over another clan, so Aaden was hardly surprised he had planned something like this. “An’ how will ye enforce that? Why should I follow yer orders?”

For a moment, Ruadh hesitated. Then, he drew a deep breath and raised a hand to comb it through his hair. “Because I have yer maither,” he said. “An’ if ye dinnae obey me, I will kill her.”

He has her imprisoned.

“Where is me maither?” Aaden said, taking a few steps towards the desk before going still once more. “Where are ye keepin’ her?”

“In a place only I ken,” Ruadh said calmly. “An’ ye will never find her.”

Rage coursed through Aaden’s veins, his face turning an ugly shade of red. He was trembling from head to toe, fists clenched tightly by his sides as he glared at Ruadh, the anger having no place to go. What could he do? He couldn’t kill the man and get out of there alive. He even doubted he could get as far as killing him. Even though there had been no guards outside his door when Aaden had first walked in, that didn’t mean there were no guards outside now, waiting for their laird to give the word. His uncle was no fool. He knew Aaden would be enraged by this and he had certainly made sure to have protection nearby.

“Why are ye doin’ this?” Aaden asked, his voice barely a whisper. “What will ye gain from this?”

“Gold, o’ course,” Ruadh said. “I will receive the dowry fer both weddings. An’ then, with time, power. Imagine it, me son an’ me nephew married tae the two Stewart lasses. It’s an alliance that will never break. An’ dinnae act as though ye will receive naething out o’ this. Ye will be a laird one day. In name only, perhaps, but ye’ll still live a nice, comfortable life. An’ ye’ll have a bonnie wife. They say Lilith Stewart is a very bonnie lass. She’s certainly more than a bastard like ye deserves, so ye should be grateful I am givin’ her tae ye.”

Before Aaden could say anything else, Evander entered the room. Though it had been years since they had last seen each other, Aaden recognized him immediately, and by the way the other paused by the door, looking at him with clear surprise etched on his face, he recognized him, too.

They looked alike, the two of them. They both shared their mother’s golden hair, the bow of her lips, the shape of her eyes. They even shared some resemblance through their fathers, inheriting their common feature: a strong, straight nose.

“Cousin,” Evander said, lips stretching into an easy smile. “When did ye come tae visit?”

Cousin.

Naturally, Read hadn’t told Evander about their true relation. Evander still thought they were only cousins, not half-brothers, and as much as Aaden wanted him to know the truth, he would keep Ruadh’s secret for the sake of their mother.

“Just now,” Ruadh said before Aaden could respond. “I was tellin’ him about Lilith an’ Freya. Aaden has agreed tae wed Lilith.”

Aaden didn’t remember ever making such a promise, but what other choice did he have? Ruadh had his mother. He could kill her at any moment and then Aaden would have lost the only real family he had left. He couldn’t let him touch her. He couldn’t let him take her life, too, after everything else he had taken from her.

“I saw Freya a few months ago when I went tae a clan meetin’ at Stewart Castle,” Evander said, coming to stand next to Aaden. “I already ken she wants me. She tried everythin’ in her power tae get me attention an’… well, she did. I would have kissed her, too, had it nae been fer her meddlin’ sister. She kept trailin’ after Freya, remindin’ her tae be proper. But that’s alright. I have been writin’ tae her ever since an’ I’ve done me best tae make her fall fer me.”

“I’m sure it wasnae difficult fer ye,” said Ruadh. “These lasses are so easily swayed by sweet words.”

“They truly are,” Evander said, and both of them laughed, the sound filling the large room. They had a similar laugh, deep and booming, like a solid thing. “All I had tae dae was promise her I would love her forever an’ she was ready tae believe anythin’ I told her.”

Aaden looked at the two of them with disgust as he took a few steps back, putting some space between him and his brother. He didn’t want to be there. Had it not been for his mother, he would have never even come.

“Lilith is very bonnie, ye ken,” Evander said, echoing his father’s prior words. “But ye should be careful. They call her the Snow Lass because she’s so frigid. Nae one has managed tae get tae that cold heart o’ hers.”

“Ye will both visit Stewart Castle soon,” Ruadh said, interrupting his son. “Laird Stewart is acceptin’ the suitors, so Aaden, ye can go an’ charm Lilith while Evander speaks with the laird about Freya’s hand. An’ ye are nae tae fail. It will be most beneficial tae all o’ us if Lilith chooses ye.”

Aaden’s first instinct was to refuse, but he had no choice. There was no point in arguing now, not when both he and Ruadh knew he would do as he was told. His uncle had him under his control now. There was nothing Aaden could do as long as he kept threatening his mother.

Looking between the two men, Aaden couldn’t help but wonder how everything had come to this. He, who never wanted to marry, was now being forced into this marriage. The only good thing about it all was that there would be no love involved. That gave him some peace of mind, at least.

Besides, he was Aaden MacEwan, the womanizer. How difficult could it be to seduce this girl?

How likely are you to recommend this preview to a friend? *

Not at all Likely Extremely Likely
0	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10

Submit