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Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First Zebra Mass-Market Paperback Printing: November 2008
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4711-7
ISBN-10: 1-4201-4711-0
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-0794-4 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-0794-1 (eBook)
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Printed in the United States of America
Chapter One
Scotland, 1500
Astonishment froze the handsome, young man’s face when the sturdy horse he had mounted buckled beneath him, collapsing and sending him tumbling to the ground. For a moment he simply stared at the white stallion nimbly rising. Brushing himself off as he too rose, he glared at the small figure who sat not far away laughing helplessly.
“Brat,” he said affectionately, a grin beginning to shape his mouth. “When did ye teach the beast that trick?”
“While ye were tasting the wicked life in Aberdeen, Leith.”
Leith grinned as he lay down next to his sister, his arms crossed beneath his head. “Aye, and a hearty taste I had too.”
“Wicked, wicked.” Aimil sighed, but her aquamarine eyes sparkled with laughter. “What would Aunt Morag say?”
“Please, Lord, that I will never ken,” Leith remarked feelingly as he sat up. “We had best be headed back. The day wanes.”
“Och, must we? I have seen naught but the inside of that place for the past month.”
“’Tis safer, what with the MacGuins raiding again. I shouldnae have let ye persuade me on this jaunt. Not even when ye do look like a wee beggar boy. We might pass unseen, but that stallion of yours would surely catch the eye.” He clasped her hand in his and led her toward their horses. “Now tell me about this wedding that all talk about.” He saw her pale. “Oho…is that the way of it then?”
“Aye. I ken I must, but I cannae abide the thought of it. I dinnae even like Rory Fergueson.”
Neither did Leith but he refrained from saying it. “I shall talk to Father.”
“I dinnae think it will do any good. This marriage has been set since the cradle. I may be his kin, but he is sore anxious to be rid of me.”
There was little to deny for Leith knew it was sadly true. Since the day Aimil had begun to look more like a woman than a child, their father had ignored her. Not only was Leith confused by their father’s attitude but his two elder sisters and two younger brothers also were as was most everyone else in the clan. Any attempt to broach the subject with their father, however, met with silence or fury. Now he was about to give Aimil in marriage to a man about whom some very unsavory things were said.
“I will still talk to him. Has he given ye any reason for the marriage?”
“Aye, ’tis time I wed,” she replied somewhat bitterly. “And that it was a promise to an old friend.”
“That isnae good enough. If ye must wed a man ye dinnae want, father can give you a damn good reason why. Even if it was set while ye still rocked in your cradle.”
Aimil smiled at her brother’s anger. Leith was much like their father. He could bark orders and expect immediate obedience. Unlike their sire, however, he felt a reason should be given if it was asked for. She knew his anger and determination did not mean that she would be released from marrying Rory Fergueson, but it was comforting to have an ally. At least he might force their father to better explain the why of it all.
An alliance had been her first thought for though they were far from poor the Mengues were a small clan and were often targeted by the MacGuins. That theory had been dispelled for an alliance already existed as far as she knew. Her sisters’, Giorsal’s and Jennet’s, marriages already attached the Mengues to the MacVerns and the Broths which had greatly added to the Mengues’ strength. She did not believe that marrying Rory Fergueson would make any difference at all except to make her life miserable.
Leith felt an urgency to get home and not because it was growing late. He knew that their father was well aware of the man Rory had become. Just as Leith could not understand his father’s attitude toward Aimil, the prettiest and most personable of his daughters, so too was he unable to understand how their father could think of marrying her off to such a man. The more Leith thought of his favorite sibling in the hands of Rory Fergueson, the more determined he became to put a stop to the marriage.
Whatever plans Leith may have begun were lost as horsemen bearing the MacGuin colors burst upon the quiet glade. Young Artair MacGuin wondered what young fools had so unwittingly placed themselves in the path of his raiding party’s return to its lair. Recognizing the Mengue colors, he thought to impress his elder brother with some captives for ransom. The excellant horseflesh the pair of lads had with them was a prize worth taking as well. His brother had not sanctified Artair’s raids but Artair felt sure that such gain would ease whatever anger was aroused by them.
Drawing his sword, Leith stood firmly between Aimil and the MacGuin raiders, pushing her toward her horse. “Flee while ye can. I will try to hold them.”
The instant’s pause Aimil took while pondering the desertion of her brother cost her dearly. She had barely vaulted onto the back of her steed when a MacGuin was there, trying to seize her reins. He received a small booted foot in the face which sent him flying. She realized it was only a temporary victory for she was surrounded by MacGuins and prevented from making a run for safety. She and her horse put up a valiant battle nonetheless, leaving many a MacGuin and his mount with bruises to remember. The melee seemed to last for hours, but Aimil knew it was only of a few moments’ duration. A scowling man ended it swiftly by the judicious wielding of the flat of his sword against her head. As she slumped into unconciousness, she saw her brother fall beneath a half-dozen MacGuins. The last sound she made was a terrifying scream that Leith was about to be murdered.
The strong smell of horseflesh was her first sensation as she edged back into awareness. She then realized that she was tied to the back of her horse, her face pressed against his sweat-dampened coat. They moved at a ground-covering pace, but her body seemed numb to the abuse. All except her head, she mused with regret, which throbbed with each hoof-beat. She could not see Leith so she could only assume that he was in a similar ignominious position just out of view. The thought that he might be dead was one she forcibly rejected.
The strong keep of the MacGuins came into her limited range of vision, and the horses slowed their pace. Her heart sank for, once inside the gates, it would be nearly impossible to escape. Though no soldier, she easily recognized the strength of the place as a fortress and a prison. There was no doubt in her mind that she and Leith would be ransomed, but even the shortest term of imprisonment made her quake. Was her disguise still intact, she fretted, and, if it was, how long would it remain? She had heard enough to know how she would be treated if these fierce Highland raiders discovered that one of the lads they held was really a lass.
“So, ye be awake. Weel, I will wager all the fight has been ridden out of ye, laddie.”
Her eyes closed briefly in relief then she glared at the burly, dark man who was untying her bonds. He looked nothing like a man who would cut a man’s heart out without a blink, but she was wiser now. She did not trust so easily, especially not in her own opinions. After all, she had felt that her father’s love was secure and she had been proven painfully wrong.
“Here now, there isnae any use in your looking like that, me wee ghillie,” the man scolded jovially as he released the last bond holding Aimil, then caught her as she slid helplessly from the broad back of Elfking. “Ye are in no state to carry