Chapter 1
Kirsten Gallach gazed out of the window as the world rolled by outside.
The carriage trundled at a steady pace, being drawn by two horses.
The verdant shades of the Highlands were peppered with bursts of color from various flowers; she hoped the brightness of the day was a sign for the rest of her life.
Since the day was nice, the carriage was open.
Her brothers, Neil and Ramsay, were sitting by the horses.
Ramsay had the reins. Kirsten had the freedom of the entire carriage, but she nestled in the crook of the seat, taking up as little space as possible.
As they rode, the air whipped around her and played with her long, curly brown hair.
It cascaded down past her heart-shaped face and along her shoulders, resting against the rise of her breasts.
She had a short, buxom figure, and her brown eyes twinkled with anticipation.
She had known this day was coming for a long time.
Ever since she was young, she had been aware that her destiny was to marry for the sake of her family.
Not too long ago, she thought she might have to take the place of her cousin Islay and marry another laird, but fate had won out and Islay had found her true love.
Kirsten’s heart warmed when she thought of Islay and how happy she was, and she hoped that she could be just as happy.
She was in the twilight of her youth and the dawn of a new chapter of life was approaching, where she would have to say goodbye to everything she knew and was used to, but she was hopeful that she could greet it with open arms and embrace the future.
While it was a man’s duty to protect the clan through battle, it was a woman’s duty to ensure the clan’s strength through alliances, and she was ready to do her duty.
“Are ye sure ye should be smiling, Kirsten? Ye hae heard the same stories about Laird Monroe as I hae, aye? I mean…he sounds like a beast! I heard that he ripped a man’s head clean off his shoulders with just his bare hands!
He’s a proper Highlander, aye, but I’m not sure I like my sister being his wife,” Neil said, his voice simmering with amusement. Ramsay glared at him.
Kirsten sighed. She was used to Neil and Ramsay teasing her. They had done so for as long as she could remember.
“I’m sure the stories about him are exaggerated. Stories always are,” she replied.
“Aye, ye hae the right of it Kirsten,” Ramsay said, nudging Neil in the ribs. “Those stories are just spread by townsfolk. They need something tae keep themselves occupied. Da would never hae agreed tae this if worried about Kirsten’s safety.”
While Kirsten knew that was true, doubt did flare inside her heart.
She wasn’t na?ve enough to think that everything would work out as easily as it had for Islay and Callum, and in truth, there were plenty of stories that had been told about Laird Monroe, perhaps enough for there to be some truth in them.
It was difficult to dismiss them all as lies, and although she tried to battle against it, fear did reside in her heart.
Neil winced as a result of the jab in his ribs, and he scowled. “All I’m saying is that we should be a wee bit more cautious. What if he is as bad as the stories say, and he hurts Kirsten?”
Kirsten’s eyes widened at this, and her throat ran dry.
She had never thought about being hurt by a husband before.
She rubbed her head. She had been struck there during Islay’s wedding when bandits had attacked.
The pain had been instant and knocked her unconscious.
For days after, she had a throbbing sensation, which thankfully had eventually faded, but the memory remained.
She shivered in fear. Never had she been more afraid than when the bandits had attacked, and she realized that she wasn’t immune to fighting even though she was not a soldier.
She never wanted to be in that position again.
Marrying a powerful man, a laird no less, should have ensured her protection against such a fate, but what if the threat came from the laird?
No, it was too terrible to think about. Ramsay was right.
Their father would never have allowed her to marry such a man.
Even so, Kirsten found herself gnawing on her lower lip and gazing out at the landscape around her, trying to find peace in nature.
She hoped with every ounce of strength in her heart that she would find the same kind of happiness as Islay.
She had always been a good, obedient girl; surely she didn’t deserve any hardship.
Neil glanced back at Kirsten as he asked his question. Ramsay sighed and kept his gaze focused on the road ahead. He jerked the reins a little, urging the horses to increase their speed. They whinnied in response.
“Dinnae pay any attention tae him, Kirsten. Ramsay, dinnae try and scare her before she marries. There’s naething tae worry about.
Laird Monroe is just a man, no different tae any other.
Besides, even if he does hae a temper, Kirsten haes always been a good lass.
She would nae dae anything tae incur his wrath and give him reason tae be angry. ”
A man, aye, Kirsten thought. And how many contradictions were in a man’s heart?
She had seen kind men—her uncle for one, and her father.
They had always treated her fairly and with great affection.
There had been plenty of men within her estates as well who had always treated her with respect and compassion.
But she had also seen these men grow enraged and summon the fury of a thunderstorm when they were upset.
She had endured the teasing taunts of her brothers, although they only ever claimed to do such things in jest. However, there were other men as well.
There were men who had black hearts, men who turned to evil without any hesitation.
Some men were willing to murder and steal and do all kinds of horrible things.
Up until recently, Kirsten had led a rather sheltered life, but after the attack at Islay’s wedding and hearing about everything that Islay had been through, she knew the world could be a dangerous place.
It sent a tremor through her heart. She hoped dearly that she would never have to experience anything like that again.
Ramsay’s words did little to alleviate her fear.
There was much she did not know about Laird Marcas Monroe, although she would soon find out.
Ramsay directed the horses across the open fields and through the thick forests, before riding up a sloping hill towards the Monroe estate.
The huge building was as old as the mountains that stood in the distance.
The Monroe clan were said to have been some of the first settlers in the area, and their duty was to protect their land.
The house was hewn from firm rock. Over the years, the estate had expanded and so the building looked like a patchwork assortment of different building techniques and materials as knowledge had progressed over time.
As she gazed out over one of the fields, she saw a monolith standing in the middle, and a sword driven into the ground.
Something about it seemed ominous; she wondered exactly what she was getting herself into.
Ramsay whipped the reins and whistled, bringing the horses to a halt; dust settled around their hooves.
Ramsay and Neil alighted from the carriage, and while Ramsay helped Kirsten down from the carriage, Neil gathered her belongings.
Kirsten hoped that she was as pretty as when she had left home.
She had tried to make herself as appealing as possible to her new husband.
She ran her fingers through her hair, seeking to adjust it, given that the wind had whipped around her.
Her cheeks were rosy, and her pale yellow dress accompanied her alabaster complexion.
She tried to hide her nerves with a smile as Ramsay marched up to the door and spoke to a servant.
While she waited, Kirsten gazed around at her new surroundings, her new home.
It all seemed so strange to her. She wondered how long it would take for her to get used to the place.
She was facing out towards the field again, her attention drawn to the monolith, when Neil nudged her and nodded towards the door.
She twisted around, and her mouth dropped open when she saw Laird Marcas Monroe filling the doorframe.
He stepped out, looking like a giant. He was about a foot taller than her, although he seemed larger because he was simply that imposing.
His muscular body was taut and impressive, his skin tanned, most likely from working the fields.
A layer of dark stubble formed a shadow over his chin, and his hair was the shade of a chestnut.
Kirsten’s heart fluttered as her gaze began at his feet and ran all the way up to his face, where their eyes locked.
His gaze was inscrutable; his lips pressed firmly together.
She searched within his eyes to try and glean what was in his thoughts, but there was no way to tell.
The air of resolute mystery that surrounded him filled her with fear, but she was unable to deny that he was handsome.
Her heart swelled with unfamiliar feelings; every breath was inhaled deeply.
This is the man who is going to be my husband.
Her new life was beginning, but was she ready for it?