Stealing a Kilted Heart (Temptation in Tartan #8)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

O ctober, 1587. Duror village.

One down, one tae go.

Fia MacKenzie’s small cottage stood in the fringes of Duror, near Castle Stuart and was—insofar as anything that received Fia’s care and attention could be characterized as such—a mess. She hadn’t had the time to take care of everything in the house that day, as word had spread fast that Mrs. Findley, the old healer of the village, had finally retired in her old age, too tired to keep the constant stream of patients who needed her help. The old woman had already directed everyone to Fia’s door, and so within a single day, Fia had gone from a midwife and someone who occasionally assisted the old woman to a fully-fledged healer herself.

It was a dream come true, but even a dream could prove challenging and after no fewer than seven people asking for her help on her very first day on the job, she was as exhausted physically as she was mentally.

There was still one more thing that needed to be done, though. One dream that needed to be realized.

Her hands trembling with excitement, Fia flitted around the room, sweeping the floor that was already free of dust, rearranging the vials and jars of pastes on the rickety shelf, and hiding away every unsightly little thing—a half-broken cup they could not yet afford to replace, her shawl, which she had patched countless times, a bannock, now hard and dry, that she was saving for later.

“Ye’ll drive yerself mad,” Bane said with a chuckle as he put on his cloak, fastening it around his neck with the same brooch as always; the one Fia had made for him in one of her limited attempts to learn the art of smithing. It ran in the family, but she had no real knack for it, perhaps because despite their familiar bond, they shared no blood. “Calm down. The house is fine.”

“It cannae be fine ,” Fia pointed out. “It has tae be perfect. Everythin’ has tae be perfect.”

“Everythin’ is perfect,” Bane said as he slapped his hand on the top of Fia’s head and gently ruffled her hair. Screeching, Fia shoved him away and rushed to the looking glass, desperately trying to fix the few blonde strands that he had ruined while Bane laughed and headed to the door. “Dinnae fash. Ye’re too good fer Callum anyway.”

Fia didn’t roll her eyes at Bane, but only because she managed to control herself. It was something she had heard plenty of times before. In the year Callum had been courting her, Bane had never once warmed up to him and Fia worried the feelings were mutual. He and Callum had been cordial to each other, but whenever either of them was alone with her, they didn’t hesitate to tell her precisely what they thought about each other.

Callum attributed Bane’s hostility to jealousy, but Fia knew better than that. Bane may not have been a brother by blood, but he was a brother by fate. Life had brought them together so they could become a family, and there was nothing that could convince Fia otherwise.

Bane, on the other hand, attributed Callum’s hostility to the latter being strange and unlikable. Despite Fia’s insistence that Callum was a good, honest man, Bane simply would not believe it.

But he would soon. Now that Callum was coming over to ask for her hand in marriage, Bane would surely change his mind.

“I’m really nae, Bane,” Fia said, not for the first time. “He’s a good man. I promise.”

“Why is he comin’ here?” Bane asked, voicing the very same question Fia had been afraid to ask out loud for days, ever since Callum had promised her he would go to her cottage. “Why is he nae takin’ ye fer some mulled wine or some ale? That’s what I would dae if I were him an’ wished tae make a lass me wife.”

Fia forcefully swallowed down that familiar by then knot in her throat. She had asked Callum the same thing many times over the span of the last year—why did they always meet in secret? Why did he always refuse to see her anywhere other than at her cottage? Fia had never even visited his cottage in the castle grounds, though not for lack of asking.

“He doesnae like crowds,” Fia said. It was what Callum had told her time and time again, though she also knew he visited the tavern in Duror with his friends and fellow soldiers. Many had seen him there. Fia herself had seen him there one night as she was heading to the old healer’s cottage to help with an injured man. “It’s alright. I dinnae mind meetin’ him here.”

With a sigh, Bane let go of the doorknob and walked over to Fia once more, pulling her into a loose embrace. “Are ye certain ye wish tae dae this? There is still time.”

“I want it,” Fia said, nodding firmly. She had wanted nothing more in her life. “Ye ken I want it.”

“Ye ken what I think.”

Fia didn’t know if she wanted to hear it, but still, she asked, “What?”

Pulling back, Bane placed his hands on Fia’s shoulders, squeezing just slightly. “I think that ye simply dinnae wish tae be alone an’ ye have settled fer the first laddie ye found when ye could have someone much, much better.”

Bane was right; Fia did know what he thought, as he had expressed the same thought before, and just like the last time, Fia shoved his hands off her shoulders and took several steps back, scowling. It wasn’t true; no matter how much Bane insisted, none of it was true.

“Dinnae speak tae me as though I were a fool,” Fia said through gritted teeth. “I am a grown lass. Dae ye truly think I dinnae ken what I want?”

Bane let her go, one of his hands reaching up to thread through his light brown hair, making it even messier than before. She had the urge to fix it for him, to make sure he looked presentable, but she kept her hands to herself, maintaining the distance between them.

“I think ye ken what ye want,” he said. “I think ye ken that ye want companionship, but ye’re lookin’ fer it in all the wrong places.”

“I can take care o’ meself,” Fia snapped. “I dinnae need ye tae look out fer me.”

It was harsher than she intended. The two of them had been looking out for each other for years, even more so since the disappearance of his brother, Tav. Claiming that she didn’t need Bane’s help was not only hurtful to him, but also entirely false.

It was too late now, though. The words had already been spoken and there was no taking them back.

Anyone else would have yelled at her, Fia knew. Anyone else would have taken offence, perhaps even stormed out of the cottage, but all Bane did was take a few steps towards her and press a kiss to the top of her head in a brotherly manner. When he pulled back, he seemed more hurt than angry, giving Fia a small, sad smile.

“I ken ye dinnae mean that, so I’ll pretend ye didnae say it,” he said as he drew a deep breath through his nose and released it with a sigh. “I’ll leave ye tae speak with Callum an’ when I return, we will celebrate ye becomin’ the greatest healer this village has ever seen.”

Guilt flooded Fia, her bottom lip trembling as she grabbed Bane’s sleeve and gave it a small tug. Even in times like these, he was never anything but kind.

Apologies had never come naturally to her, and so instead, Fia said, “Thank ye.”

“Shut yer mouth, gnat,” said Bane with a chuckle, as he playfully swatted her hand away. He made his way to the door once more and just as he left the cottage, he looked at Fia over his shoulder. “Give Callum a slap from me.”

Before Fia could yell at him or reach for something to throw at his head, Bane was gone and Fia was suddenly left alone with nothing but her nerves and apprehension for company. As long as she had Bane there, it was easy to ignore the uncertainty, the weight in her stomach at the thought of what was to come. With him gone, doubt began to creep back into her mind, but she decided to simply keep herself busy as she waited for Callum. While she was sweeping the floor, even if there was no dust to speak of, she could think busy herself with something that was not torturing herself with doubt.

It was only minutes later that the knock on the door came and Fia froze, looking down at her dress. Though it was the best she owned, the one reserved for church and feasts, it was still plain—the wool dyed blue, with no embroidery or decorations save for the girdle she wore. That wasn’t what gave her pause, though; rather, it was the thought that she may have soiled it while cleaning.

Why would I wear this an’ sweep the floors?

There was another knock on the door, one which somehow sounded more impatient to her, and Fia hurried to put the broom away, taking a moment to dust her dress off before she opened it. At the other side stood Callum, just as she had expected, and Fia’s breath was cut short the moment she laid eyes upon him. It was always like this. Every time she saw him, it was like the first time. The excitement never faded, not even a year after he had first started courting her.

Callum stepped inside without a word, giving Fia a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He must have been tired, she thought. He must have had a rough day, training all day with his fellow soldiers, and yet he had come to her that night just as he had promised.

To Fia, he had always seemed to dominate the space in the small cottage. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his skin covered in battle scars that spoke of his bravery in battle. His grey eyes were always cautious—cold, someone else may have said, but Fia knew they could also hold warmth in their gaze.

Before Fia even had a chance to greet him, Callum pulled her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her. She laughed at first, letting him pull her flush against him, but when his hands began to wander lower, sliding down her waist, she couldn’t help but reach for his wrists, stopping him.

“Callum… come now,” Fia said, trying to pull herself out of his embrace with little success. He was holding tightly onto her, clinging to her possessively even as she struggled, and after a few moments, she gave up trying to fight it. “Ye said ye wished tae talk.”

“I wish tae dae more than talk,” Callum said, in his raspy baritone. It was one of the first things Fia had noticed about him, that voice of his; one of the first things she had come to like. “I told ye I want ye, Fia. An’ tonight is the night.”

Callum had, indeed, told Fia that he wanted her, but she had also been perfectly clear with him. “An’ I told ye I willnae let ye bed me until we’re wedded. Ye agreed, remember? Ye said ye would make me yer wife.”

Callum hummed thoughtfully, his arms loosening a little around Fia, but not enough for her to slip away. “I did say that, did I nae? Well… perhaps I wish tae see if me future wife can satisfy me first.”

At first, Fia thought Callum must have been teasing her. It was in poor taste, she thought. Surely, he couldn’t be serious. It was only when she laughed and he didn’t that she began to think perhaps he wasn’t teasing her at all.

“What dae ye mean?” Fia asked, once again trying to get out of his grasp. This time, Callum let her, and she took a few steps backwards, putting some much needed distance between them. “Surely, ye jest.”

“Why would I jest?” Callum asked, hands on his hips as he regarded her with those steely grey eyes. “All the lasses dae it. Why dae ye think yerself any different?”

“I simply dinnae wish tae dae such things afore I’m wedded,” Fia said with a small shrug. She didn’t care what other women in the village did, nor did she judge them for their choices, but she knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was to have her first time with her husband. “Callum, didnae ye come here tae ask fer me hand?”

With a sigh, Callum began to pace around the room, fingers combing through his dark hair. When he came to a halt, he did so right in front of Fia, so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

“I came tae have what is mine,” Callum said, his tone dropping into something fake and sickeningly sweet. “It’s been a year. Ye have nae right tae withhold this from me any longer.”

Fia could do nothing but stare at Callum in disbelief. The man standing before her was nothing like the one who had been courting her. He was not the man she so desperately wanted to marry. He was not the man she thought him to be all this time.

How can it be? Is this who he truly is? Have I been so blind?

“I have nay right? Tae decide what tae dae with me own body? How can ye say that?” Fia asked as she stepped backwards, bile rising to the back of her throat. She couldn’t believe it, even if the evidence was right in front of her. That the past year had all been a lie, Callum had been wearing a mask the entire time and had only now revealed his true self. “Ye said?—”

“Aye, aye… I said many things, I ken,” Callum said, so dismissive that his voice suddenly sounded foreign to Fia. Then, he chuckled to himself, the sound so cold and cruel it was like a physical blow to her stomach. “Dae ye wish tae ken the truth? I wasnae plannin’ on tellin’ ye tae spare yer feelings, but… well, it was all fer a bet. Me friends claimed I couldnae have someone as prudish as ye an’ I wished tae prove them wrong. An’ ye were so easy tae fool an’ so eager tae trust me. Did ye truly think I would ever wed a mere midwife? I’m about tae become the war leader o’ Clan Stewart an’ ye think I would wed a lass like ye? Ye’re beneath me station. Ye’re just a simple lass whose parents abandoned her an’ only has a fool like Bane near her.”

Callum’s words were like a lance to the heart, shattering Fia’s into pieces. She could feel it in her chest, a sharp ache that made it impossible to draw any air into her lungs, more painful than any physical wound. Her hand went up to her chest, fingers curling tightly around the fabric of her tunic since she could not grip her own heart, her eyes wide and brimming with tears as she looked at Callum as who he was for the first time.

“Get out o’ me home,” she said through gritted teeth. “Get out.”

With a roll of his eyes, Callum took a few steps closer, only for Fia to move back. “Ye have one more chance tae give me what I want,” he said.

“Or what?” Fia demanded, fury bubbling up inside her. She didn’t even try to contain it; she had no reason to. Callum had shown her nothing but disrespect and now his threats were far from subtle. “How dare ye threaten me? Ye can try tae take what ye want by force, but be warned that Bane, the one ye call a fool, has taught me how tae fight an’ I willnae let ye touch me without fightin’.”

The nerve o’ him! The mere impudence!

Callum paused for a moment, and it seemed to Fia that he was weighing his options. He was truly considering it, she realized with horror and disgust. He was truly trying to decide if he should take her by force.

“Get out o’ me house right the now!” she shouted, pointing a finger to the door. “Out!”

Callum laughed, but he did head to the door this time, shaking his head as though he was the one in disbelief. “Ye call this a house? It’s only a box with a door.”

Those were the last words he spoke to her before he left, slamming the door behind him. For what seemed like an eternity, Fia simply stared, frozen in her spot, the echo of his laughter and the ghost of his mocking gaze still lingering.

She didn’t know when she sank to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest as the tears began to stream down her cheeks unbridled and quiet. That was how Bane found her, though, a while later; curled up into herself, unable to do anything but cry.

She didn’t need to explain anything. He went to her, sitting onto the floor next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. It was then that, for the first time since Callum had left, Fia managed to make a sound—a broken sob, one that soon turned into a howl of pain.

Callum had taken everything from her. He had taken her pride, her trust, her love, and he had trampled over it all, leaving nothing but dust behind. He had taken the man Fia loved and had killed him right in front of her eyes.

There was nothing left inside her but that gnawing humiliation, its talons digging into her guts and tearing her apart from the inside. A bet; it had all been for a bet, one Callum hadn’t even managed to win.

How embarrassin’! Tae be fooled by a fool!

Fia couldn’t accept it. She had been hurt and humiliated, stripped of her pride within moments, but a man like Callum didn’t deserve her tears. He didn’t deserve the ache that burned inside her, the grief that settled heavy on her shoulders.

What he deserved was to be just as humiliated, just as broken. What he deserved was to watch as Fia proved once and for all that she was neither weak nor small, and that it didn’t matter what anyone—especially Callum—thought about her and what she was worth.

One way or another, she would have her revenge.