“Alex, ye are going to kill me,” she said, panting.

He grunted in response. That may not have been one of his most prolonged performances, but it had sated his needs nonetheless. He gently lowered her to the ground and supported her until her legs stopped wobbling. She brushed down her skirts and adjusted her bodice, casting him a wry smile.

“Are ye dead?” he asked, the huskiness lingering in his tone.

She stepped around him, and her eyes grew openly amused. “I donna think so. I suppose there is naught much else to say except I will sorely miss that and ye, Laird Alexander MacDonell of Glengarry.”

A sad smile played on his lips. The carefree moment ended as he suddenly felt burdened by a heavy weight on his shoulders. “Be well, Doireann.”

She walked to the door and turned around. “Ye and John be sure to stay out of trouble…and harm’s way, Alex.”

He nodded as she took her leave and then he smirked, realizing the irony. Doireann had walked out of his life and closed the door just like the last chapter of a book. Just as well. All that mattered now was the future. He was laird. He had responsibility, and Alex was bound and determined to make his father proud.

Two

Kintail, Scotland

Lady Sybella MacKenzie huffed. “I donna know why ’tis so important I learn to do this. Why is it expected that women must learn to sew and stitch? ’Tis truly ridiculous and has nay value whatsoever. I feel as though I’m losing my mind.”

“Nay wonder, Sybella. Ye arenae concentrating. Look at your stitching. What a mess.” A smile played on her cousin-by-marriage’s lips as Mary tucked her nut-brown hair behind her ear. She was petite and fragile, everything Angus would favor in a woman. “When ye wed, do ye want your husband to have tattered clothing? He would look like a fool.”

Sybella giggled. “It doesnae matter if his clothes are tattered. Men always look like fools.”

“Angus takes pride in his appearance,” Mary added.

“And my cousin takes ye for granted. Why do ye want to sit here bored to tears when we could be out in the open air?”

Mary promptly ignored her, resuming her latest project, while Sybella glanced around the ladies’ solar. She shook her head at the womanly touches. Dainty pictures of the fairer sex wearing delicate gowns hung on the walls. There were flowers and all of the feminine furnishings someone would expect to be placed in a room where the ladies were presumed to congregate.

How very original. Who made those rules? She would love to hang the bow that had landed her four rabbits in one single hunt. She wondered what the ladies would say about that. The women of propriety would surely shudder, including Mary. At least the bow might turn conversation to something other than the usual acceptable, boring subjects.

Sybella sprang to her feet, dropping the embroidery to the floor. “’Tis a beautiful day and ye are clearly wasting it. I dare ye to stop what ye are doing and come out and enjoy the sun.” When Mary hesitated, Sybella knew she was going to relent.

Sybella headed toward the door and turned her head over her shoulder. “Grab your cloak and I will meet ye in the bailey.”

“Ye know? One of these days ye’re going to meet your match. I wish to be there when ye do.”

“There has ne’er been such a man.” Even as she spoke the words, Sybella couldn’t help remembering a stolen kiss in a sun-kissed glade and the sound of a waterfall rushing in the distance. She quickly shook her head to clear the thought. She wouldn’t give the beastly MacDonell man the satisfaction.

Sybella ambled through the bailey to wait for Mary.

“Cousin.”

Sybella turned to face Mary’s husband, Angus. “Your father wants to speak with ye in his study.”

“Now?” she asked, disappointed.

Angus ran his hand through his brown locks. “Aye.”

“All right. Will you tell Mary for me?”

Sybella hoped whatever her father wanted wouldn’t take long. It was too beautiful to remain inside one minute longer than necessary.

As she approached the study, she could hear raised voices coming from inside. The argument sounded heated, but she couldn’t quite make out the words.

The voices silenced.

“Enter, Sybella,” called her father from the other side of the door.

How he could have heard her was beyond her comprehension. She pushed open the door to see her father seated behind his large wooden desk with Colin nearby. A shiver went up her back at the dour look on her brother’s face. This did not bode well.

“Come in, Daughter. I wish to speak with ye.” Her father gestured for her to sit.

There was no denying a command from her father. He was a man used to having his orders obeyed—instantly. His graying hair, broad shoulders, and sharp features gave him an innate air of authority.

She glanced at Colin, who cast her a bleak, tight-lipped smile. His eyes were dark and unfathomable. What was this about? If her father was going to chastise her about catching more rabbits than Colin and, therefore, making her brother look like a daft fool…It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Straightening her spine, she waited for her father’s censure. What would it take to prove to him that she could be just as reliable as her brother? When would he understand that her talents were wasted on sewing and other women’s work?

Her father leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “I donna expect ye to understand the ways of politics, Sybella, but ye know enough to realize marriages are often arranged to better our clan.”

She heard herself swallow, not sure she liked where this conversation was headed.

“Since your dear mother has passed and ye nay longer care for her, nae to mention with our conquest of Lewis, the MacLeod clan—”

She stirred uneasily in the chair. “Surely ye arenae going to offer my hand to the MacLeod, Father,” Sybella blurted out, unable to disguise a trace of panic in her voice.

Her father sat forward and rubbed his thumb over her fingers. “Daughter, what kind of father would I be if I offered your hand to that savage?” he asked in an offended tone.

She didn’t see the muscle ticking angrily in Colin’s jaw.

“I wouldnae think of it,” said her father. “Howbeit there is another clan with which we wish to keep the peace.”

Perhaps it was her own uneasiness, but her misgivings increased by the moment. She regarded her father with searching gravity, and something in the back of her mind cautioned her not to ask. She had an underlying feeling in the pit of her stomach that his next words would forever seal her fate.

“The MacDonell of Glengarry has recently passed, and we need to make an alliance. I am offering your hand to his son, the new laird of Glengarry. And I am fairly certain he will accept my offer.”

Her mouth dropped. “Ye cannae offer my hand to him!” Fury almost choked her. “He is naught but an arrogant, brooding, conniving excuse for a man, and he is our enemy! All of the treasures in the world wouldnae make me wed—”

Her father’s voice hardened. “This isnae open for debate. My decision is final, and there is nay more to discuss. Ye will do as ye’re told. Besides, ye have ne’er even met the man.”

Sybella growled in frustration, but she couldn’t very well admit to her father what had occurred those years ago. The MacDonell rogue still made her blood boil when she thought about him. Not that she did—well, maybe sometimes but not a whole lot.

She fingered a blond curl behind her ear. “Our clans have been warring for years. Why would the MacDonell even want a MacKenzie for a wife? Or is it that nay one will take his bloody arse?” she asked.

Her father rose and sat down on the edge of the desk. He gazed down at her and smiled, speaking in a tone filled with awe and respect. “Daughter, I am verra proud of ye. There has been enough heartache all around us with the passing of your poor mother. We need to attempt to make peace with the MacDonell. Think about making your mother proud, Sybella. I need ye to gain your husband’s trust and be a dutiful wife. For now, that is all I ask of ye.”

“I donna understand, Father. The MacDonell has been our enemy for years. Why now?”

“Now is the perfect time.” He tapped his finger on the desk. “But there is another matter which ye need to know.” When she looked puzzled, he continued. “Ye arenae to speak of this to anyone. Do ye understand?” She nodded as he continued. “For a verra long time our clan has been blessed with good fortune because we have been gifted with a seer. There are less than a handful of men who know of this, and I want to keep it that way.”

“A seer?” She sat back, momentarily rebuffed.

Colin’s voice was calming. “I have seen it with my own eyes, Ella. Our conquest of Lewis was the last he foretold.”

“Who is this seer and why have I ne’er heard of him if he is a MacKenzie?” she asked doubtfully.

“For your own safety, ’tis better ye donna know. Dòmhnall MacDonell was quiet and circumspect in burning our church to ash when his real purpose was to steal our clan’s seeing stone. And there is another purpose for your vows…I need ye to find the stone and return it to your clan where it belongs.”

Sybella pulled back. “I donna understand. Are ye and Colin in your cups?”

Her father’s eyes darkened. “Still your tongue and listen. Once ye find the stone, I will take care of the MacDonell. I would ne’er make my daughter suffer under the same roof as a bloody MacDonell,” he spat.

Colin shifted uneasily next to her.