Chapter 1

1

F ootsteps echoed off the stone floor as Willow Flanagan, sister of Laird McCallum, looked about her chambers. It was Lilith, as she expected, and her sister was kind enough to allow Willow this glance around her rooms for a long moment of silence. With a sigh, Willow hung her head briefly before turning to face her twin with a forced smile.

“Sister,” Willow whispered, her eyes burning all the harder as she saw the restrained tears in her twin’s, “I promise to send word as soon as I am delivered.”

Lilith nodded, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to stop the tears. It only served to hurry them on, however, and the fat droplets dripped down her sister’s face.

“I daenae wish for ye to leave. What am I to do without ye?”

Sniffling, Willow shook her head, pulling Lilith under her arm and squeezing her against her chest. “Have a bit of lightness, Lilith. I am gettin' handfasted to Mason Galloway of the MacMillans, nae bein' hanged.”

Her smile was resolute, a skill that Willow had honed like a blade over years of practice. It was her only true power in McCallum castle, after all. And her cheerful countenance was an armor that she could not be parted from. Still, Lilith eyed her, the blue of her eyes the only difference between them.

“Ye will be gone, Sister, and I willnae fault ye for lookin' at the MacMillans as a bonnier home than this one.”

The words soared through the air straight to the center of Willow’s chest, but it was the look of disbelief that struck Willow that much more. Lilith was the sole person in the whole of the castle—dare she say the entire globe—who could see past Willow’s practiced sunny attitude.

And Willow was ever so grateful that today, of all days, her sister had seen fit to let that power of hers remain silent. Willow could not keep up the facade of joviality were Lilith to speak to it out loud.

“After a year and a day, we shall be married at last, and ye’ll find yerself and the renewed celebration, Lilith.” Willow grinned, a sorrow touching her heart for the distance that her sister had been putting between the two of them as of late. “I am glad to have had this chance to speak to ye.”

Lilith dropped her stare to the floor, her body going rigid against Willow’s side as she still held her sister close. It was plain that Lilith worried over something, and it bit at Willow that she still did not know what caused her sister such distress.

“Sister,” she began, facing Lilith directly toward her, “will ye nae tell me what has bothered ye so? I ken that ye havenae slept these past few evenings. Surely somethin' must be troublin' ye fiercely.”

The shimmering over Lilith’s eyes swelled, and she looked directly into Willow’s eyes, her bottom lip trembling.

“Willow, it is only that?—”

“Do ye require the entirety of the day to ready yerself, lass? Or can we finally be put to the road before I am grayed and ancient?”

Laird McCallum, their brother, stood at the threshold of Willow’s room, looking down his nose at the both of them. His eyes held the cruelty of his words and actions, and Willow didn’t miss how Lilith shrunk back slightly, terrified of their brother.

Locking her jaw tightly, Willow sucked in a deep, if subtle, breath through her nose, biting her tongue before she responded with words she might regret. Still, before she could say something in response, Lilith pushed away from her and regarded their brother with a bow.

“Apologies, Magnus. It was I who kept Willow. We shall follow ye to the carriage at once.”

Bile reached up Willow’s throat as Lilith fell all over herself to appease the laird. She was regularly making herself small and meek to gain their brother’s approval, and it would not serve her. Their brother would never look upon them as anything other than a means to secure more holdings through marriage.

He is nothing but cruel to the both of us and everyone else, for that matter. Do not give his ego what it does not require, Sister .

“I only wished to bestow a final goodbye to our sister, Brother.” Willow cut in. “Surely, ye understand the need for a fond farewell from yer loved ones?”

Though, she knew he did not.

Magnus glared at her, seeing past the sugar of her words. They were both plainly aware of how little the laird loved either of them, and Willow was quite sure that the man had yet to love anything in the whole of his life. He merely tolerated them. Though, Willow would admit that even that was a stretch some days, particularly those spent on the receiving end of his lash.

Reaching for the shawl she intended to wear during the journey, Willow took her sister’s hand and proceeded to the door, looking as ready as ever to follow her brother’s commands.

Magnus grabbed Willow’s arm roughly, tossing her toward the door. “Daenae run yer trap around yer new husband, Sister. Ye willnae be spoilin' this arrangement for me. Understood?”

Willow bowed, ducking her head with a smile. “Of course, me laird. I wouldnae dream of making ye less than proud. Let us take to the carriage. I will be the most eager bride for MacMillan.”

Magnus was at in her a second, and Willow hissed as he yanked her head by the hair. “I’ve had enough of yer mouth clapping about. Fetch yer things and move.”

Shoving her again, Willow was thrust toward her bed. Magnus glared at the two of them, pointing his bony finger at them.

“Ye ken where the stables are. Manage to amble yerself there or find yerself running after the horses until we reach the MacMillans.”

With that, Magnus left the two of them to stand in Willow’s room alone. They would only have a moment before Willow must get to the carriage, but she would take every last one, stretching each for as long as possible.

“Ye mustnae upset him so, Willow.” Lilith frowned, her brows pinched together as she shook her head. “He is ill at ease because of the upcomin' arrangements, and there is a prisoner held within the dungeons.”

“There is little that I can do that doesnae upset our brother, Lilith. Ye ken that well yerself.” Willow shook herself, smiling true as she pulled her sister close for an embrace. “I care for ye more than anythin' else in this world, Lilith. Please be safe.”

Lilith squeezed her back, a soft sob breaking through as she buried her face in Willow’s shoulder. “I will. Please send word. I will wait on edge for it.”

“Of course.” Willow backed up, holding Lilith’s cheek for a moment before stepping back and gathering her shawl around her shoulders. “Ye will hear from me soon.”

“I must.” Lilith grinned, mirroring Willow’s movement and stepping farther back into the room.

With another quick nod and smile, Willow finally tore herself from her old chambers, hurrying toward the front entry and out to the stables. The carriage to take her to her new life sat in front of them, a handsome pair of horses secured to the front and her truck strapped to the back.

She may have only been a few moments older than her sister, but worry clung to Willow over Lilith, which was strong enough to swallow her whole. She had protected her sister since they were children, and she was now leaving her at the castle alone—with Magnus.

Willow had to pray that Lilith’s efforts to please the man at every turn would work in her favor and that he would indeed be distracted by the prisoner who he held captive in their dungeons. The machinations of his plot against the Brahanne clan were at the front of her brother’s mind. So, Willow sent up her wish to the heavens that he might be too busy tending to the clan’s mysterious captive and his usual plotting to pay Lilith any mind.

Please, Lord, keep me Lilith safe. I am nae there to keep watch over her, and she shall need ye all the more .

“Are we certain that the trip will take but today? Me arse feels as if we have been seated in this carriage for a century.” Willow giggled. “Though, the company is wonderful.”

Finley, Willow’s trusted guard, sat across from her in the carriage as it plodded along. They had been traveling for quite a stretch of time, and Willow, as always, filled the uncomfortable silence with babbling. It had become an unfortunate habit of hers, perfected over years of attempting to remain sunny as ever at all times.

“Aye, me lady. Ye will find yerself at yer new home in due time.”

Still, tension clung to her, and Willow couldn’t keep herself from finding the edge of her arisaid with her fingers and worrying the fabric with jittery obsession.

“What have ye heard of the MacMillans? Do ye ken much of Mason Galloway?”

Finley regarded her, adjusting in his seat as he offered an amused smile. “I imagine it is the same as ye have heard, me lady. He is a fine man of worth. The brother of the laird and set to be yer wedded husband after a year and a day of handfastin' time.”

Willow nodded idly, gazing out the window of the carriage. It bumped along, and soon, a silence crept back into the interior, forcing Willow’s thoughts to ring that much louder.

He must certainly be a better man than Magnus. There cannae be two men of his kind…and ye have left Lilith with him…

In any case, Willow was glad for the short distance to travel. The time in the blasted, bumpy box would be limited to half a day, and so her agony would soon end. And yet, Lilith will remain at their home—Willow’s old home—and she will be forced beneath Magnus’s thumb at all times.

She was certain that something bothered Lilith, and Willow had been about to receive an answer before the laird entered. Willow wished for more time to converse with her sister, recalling those last few moments with vivid clarity that made her skin itch.

What was it that Lilith was so upset about? Bloody, useless handfasting. I should be there with her. I ? —

But her thoughts were driven to the side with the abrupt lurch of the carriage. It was as if they’d coasted over a boulder, and the entire thing careened to the side. Several moments passed before the carriage was able to stop, and Willow gripped the edge of her seat to keep herself in place as it rumbled to a halt.

“What on God’s green earth was that?!”

Finley regarded her only briefly, slipping from his seat and looking out the other side of the carriage where the window panel was curtained shut. His expression dropped, and her stomach clenched down.

“What’s hap?—”

“Daenae move from yer seat, me lady.”

It was a rare moment indeed that Finley spoke to Willow as such. He was a loyal clansman, serving her parents before Magnus, and was a kind soul among a castle full of dour beasts.

“Finley?” Willow tried to keep the tremble from her voice, but she failed, and her escort turned to her with his brows pinched together.

“Do as I ask, me lady. I shall return.”

All she could do was nod, and as soon as she had, Finley exited the carriage, his hand on his sword. Shouting started beyond the confines that protected her, and Willow could pinpoint the location as that in front of her. Finley’s voice was quick to join the others, yelling with the other about defending her.

Blood rushed to her cheeks, and nausea pulled at the edges of her insides as Willow shoved herself up off the bench seat and toward the window. Looking outside carefully, she could see the men who’d traveled with her, as well as her man Finley, rushing forward against a stand of fighters.

They wore the tartan of the Brahanne clan, and Willow froze in place. It was one of these who resided locked up in the dungeons of Castle McCallum. She could not contain the shiver, and her eyes would not budge from the violent sight before her. Men leapt at each other, swords brandished high in the air, only to swing down toward one another.

Brahanne. Dear God, I have heard of their vicious nature.

Willow struggled to breathe evenly, her attention locked on the fate of the men who traveled with her. Several were knocked back, and she could not bring herself to look upon what came next. She shook from head to foot, her mind scrambling for an option that might serve her.

A single prisoner is worth all this? That cannae be what angers them so. Did Magnus ? —

The door on the opposite side of the carriage flew open, and Willow yelped.

“Ah!”

When she spun around to see the intruder, unsure of what precisely she would do about it, Willow took in the visage of a man who could only be described as a god of vengeance. The massive figure was built as strong as any she’d seen and then some. He glared with cerulean eyes set against dark slashes of brows, pinched together and low.

Stubble covered the chiseled, angular face, and a downright predatory gleam shone from his stare as he sneered at her. Indeed, it appeared that an exquisite, spellbindingly magnificent god of old was here to claim victory over even these few of the McCallum clan.

“I’ve found her!” He called out, Willow unable to move as the man raked his stare down her form. “Ye will be comin' with us, me lady .”

He knew who she was. He knew her, and where she might have thought this was a simple raid, Willow now understood the terrible truth, which sent lightning through her nerves, shaking her.

The Brahanne clan had come looking for one thing this day.

Her.

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