A Highlander Bound by Oath (Highlanders of Kirklinton #4)

Prologue

England, Musgrave Castle

Six years earlier…

The mask on his face was itchy and uncomfortable, so he shifted it to the side.

Owen Elliott passed through the window overlooking the hot and loud ball, watching the guests.

He knew he shouldn't have come, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

Far too many people at the ball could have recognized him with his distinct Elliott features.

But because the night was long and most people were drunk, he had the advantage of disguise.

He crouched down as he peered through a window facing the great hall. The guests were laughing and having the time of their lives. Ducking quickly, Owen hid behind a shrub when one man glanced in his direction. His heart pounded in his chest from the fear of being caught.

Why in the blazes did I come here? He scolded himself for the hundredth time that night.

He could have been in the village pub with one of the ladies warming his bed in the room he kept upstairs.

But, instead, he was hiding in the shadows, hiding from people who wanted him dead.

People that wanted his whole family buried.

When Owen came to glimpse the Musgraves, the rival family that almost murdered both his parents, he didn't expect to stumble upon a gathering, let alone the engagement between Isabella Musgrave and Hamish MacBryde, whose kin betrayed all highland clans when they allied with the English.

Owen stepped into the air of the empty yard, the cool night breeze delicately caressing his hot skin. He pulled his mask just an inch. The garden was deserted and dark, with just a few torches lighting the way.

Perhaps coming here was a mistake. He thought to himself after such a close call.

Nae, it was a mistake. The clans would surely be at war again if anyone recognized who he was.

Shaking his head, he reached for the mask to cool himself down.

His hand froze on the strap as a nearby scream pierced the air, drawing his attention to the left.

"No, don't touch me!" the feminine voice was filled with panic and fear. "My father will hear about this."

Fixing his mask, Owen quickly walked in the scream's direction, hunkering beside a cart of hay just as he caught sight of the group.

Four large men had cornered a girl at the back of the yard, so closely surrounding her that Owen almost couldn't see her.

She was petite, with long blonde hair that hung down her back.

The men's intentions were obvious to anyone who watched, and Owen felt his blood boil.

That's nae right.

"You won't dare tell your father, little mouse," the tallest of the men laughed as he reached for the hem of her dress. His voice was deep, vicious and thick, making Owen's stomach churn with disgust.

"Stop it!" the girl cried again. She tried her best to make herself as small as she could against the side of a tree while pushing them back, clutching at her dress. Fear painted her face as she sought an escape.

Looking around, Owen swore under his breath.

The castle guests, along with the guards, were all too drunk to notice their surroundings.

So, he weighed his options. I have tae dae something now, but what?

He clenched his jaw. The English bastards outnumbered him four to one.

He'd have to be cunning and think of a plan that wouldn't end in a fight he had no chance of winning.

"It's just a little fun; nobody will ever have to know, darling," one of the other men laughed as he quickly grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with a single hand.

She began to cry and then he used his other hand to stifle her screams. Her struggle was no match for the older men. She couldn't have been more than eighteen.

Quickly spotting a nearby torch, Owen crept over to the wall and lifted the wood from the sconce before creeping back to the edge of the cart. Just a minor diversion for the girl tae getaway, Owen thought as he used the torch to ignite a small piece of hay.

The corner of the stack smoked as red embers appeared.

Growing impatient, Owen blew on the section to help the fire along.

He took a step back and watched as flames jumped forth and crackled.

Yet still, the men did not turn. They will hurt her.

Swearing under his breath, he tossed the torch into the hay.

"Please! Don't!" the girl sobbed even louder, fear and panic creeping into her voice. One man tore her dress down the side, and the sound of ripped silk made Owen's skin prickle.

Sick bastards! I'll kill them with me bare hands!

Flames shot up as the entire stack of hay caught fire, sending a cloud of billowing smoke into the air.

"Fire!" The tallest of the men, who watched from the side how the other three touched the lass' milky skin, screamed. Two of them ran for the castle before Owen, while the other two stayed behind to see if they could find the cause of the fire.

Cowardice bastards. Ducking back as quickly as he could, Owen hid from the two men as they made their way past him. The flames scorched his sleeve as he hid, causing him to wince. He needed to get away as quickly as he could, but not until he made sure that the girl had escaped.

Everyone was moving in a hurry, giving him a chance to look at the other two were frantically searching for a way to put out the fire when his blood grew cold. Straightening his legs, he realized the extent of the mistake he'd just made.

The fire could not be tamed.

And now the girl was caught in the middle of a towering blaze—the wagon he'd set fire to had only been one of ten, all of them parked in a semi-circle around the yard, and igniting at an unstoppable pace.

He was about to charge into the flames when a voice halted his steps.

"Charlotte!" an older man screamed.

But it was too late. Owen’s eyes locked with the girl’s as she sought the voice.

Damn it, she saw me. Owen cursed under his breath. He needed to leave now because the risk of an even greater ordeal was too real. There is someone to save her now. Turning to run, his legs wouldn’t move. Not until she was safe from scorching chaos.

"Charlotte! Charlotte!" The man’s voice called again, more anxious this time. He was about to turn back when a sudden force stopped him in his tracks.

And then all was hazy.

His vision blurred as an imposing wall of flames met his body and a scuffle ensued as flesh collided with flesh.

Everything around him was so foggy, like hot breath blowing on a window.

Looking down, he saw blood on his hands and then he dropped to his knees on the ground.

He could hear the monstrous roar of the flames resounding in his ears and all around him, when the world grew more still, all in a moment.

Coughing, he squinted his eyes through the smoke and struggled to escape, stumbling to a nearby trough.

Taking a deep breath, he splashed his face with the bloodied water, desperate to soothe the searing pain.

Then, he heard it. Amidst the violent waves of the frenzied fire, suddenly, all he could hear was the sobbing of the girl.

Charlotte. The scent of ash and flesh aflame washed over him, plunging him into an even deeper daze, intoxicating him with the suffocating fumes and the adrenalin coursing through his body.

Fire.

Blood.

Pain.

Fists flying through the air.

A heavy thud of a body collapsing on the crimson ground.

A torturing nightmare with no end.

There was no turning back now. The deed was done. After what seemed like an eternity, Owen Elliot finally found his way out of the castle grounds, his mask torn and his once white shirt, now scarlet from the blood.

With one last look behind, he ran home toward the border with Scotland, sure of one thing.

He would never be the same ever again.