Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
“Somethin’s burnin’,” said Callie, one of the maids, sniffing the kitchen’s warm, fuggy air suspiciously as she entered and set down a pile of clean crockery at one end of the table.
“Omigod, that’ll be me tarts! I forgot all about them,” Raven Grant cried, jumping up from her chair in alarm. She rushed over to the cooking range and flung open the oven door, releasing a cloud of gray smoke and the pungent smell of burnt pastry into the room.
“Och, they’re ruined!” she cried, trying to salvage what she could of the tarts she had made earlier. Grabbing a cloth, she wrenched the baking tray from the oven and promptly dropped it with a crash, smoking tarts and all, onto the flagstones floor.
“Ach, what a fool I am!” she muttered. Cursing under her breath, she slammed shut the oven door and surveyed the wreckage on the floor with dismay. The steaming pile of broken pastry and jam spoke of her level of distraction and her shattered hopes and dreams.
Flora, the head cook, looked up from kneading her bannock dough and said with a sigh, “Ach, ye’ve made a fine mess of me nice clean floor, me lady.” But there was no real heat in her voice.
“Och, I’m so sorry, Flora, I didnae mean tae. I’ll clear it up, I promise,” Raven apologized.
“Ye certainly willnae clear it up, me lady, ye’re in nay fit state.
I’ll see tae it,” Callie told her firmly, scrutinizing Raven’s face.
Apparently unhappy with what she saw there, she gently maneuvered Raven into a chair.
“Ye sit there fer a moment and rest. I’ll make a pot of tea after I’ve swept this mess up.
Ye look like ye could use a good strong cup. ”
“Aye, maybe so, thank ye,” Raven murmured, gratitude momentarily clouding the tension lodged in her belly.
She had sought the familiar, comforting warmth of the kitchens in an attempt to escape the tense atmosphere that prevailed within the keep.
Somewhere beyond the walls, her brother Cody, Laird of Clan Grant, and his forces were engaged in a bitter, bloody struggle with their enemies, the MacDonalds and their Jacobite allies, over Clan Grant’s future. Her future.
She had taken on the simple act of baking in an attempt to distract herself from the tense, heavy atmosphere within the keep and the seemingly endless council meeting that had been going on for days, where every possible strategic move and outcome of the war was being discussed by the men, fueled by drink and food.
In truth, Raven had lost sleep as well as her appetite over the past weeks as the fierce conflict raged towards a decisive end.
She loved her clan, but she loved her brother even more.
With their parents gone, Cody was all she had left.
She prayed day and night for him to come home alive and victorious, to cement the power of the Grants to control their destiny.
Because so much of her own destiny—her very freedom— depended upon it. She tried to be strong and push away the fears and doubts, but it had not worked. Heavy as stone, cold as ice, they threatened to engulf her like an avalanche.
But in her head was a sinister, little, nagging voice that never let up, especially at night when she lay awake in bed for hours.
What if Cody’s defeated? What if he’s killed? If the MacDonalds win, they’ll have a claim on the lairdship. They’ll force me tae wed Daemon MacDonald, the only one of the three brothers still unwed. And that’ll be the end of me freedom.
She was sipping her cup of strong tea when the main kitchen door burst open.
She started, and was surprised to see Hugo MacFarlane rush in, his eyes alighting on her.
Hugo was Cody’s best friend and a respected member of the Grant Council.
A heavy-set man in his mid-forties with thinning dark hair and deep-set, suspicious eyes, Hugo had always been part of Raven’s life at Freuchie Castle, and she trusted him implicitly.
However, he should have been in the great hall with the others, so his sudden appearance and intensely worried expression made her heart lurch in her chest. Her thoughts flew instantly to Cody, to defeat. Propelled by some inner force, she started out of her seat, locking eyes with him.
“What is it? Is there news?” she asked, hearing the tremor in her voice, vaguely conscious that the other women had stopped what they were doing and turned to look as well. The very air seemed to press down on her, robbing her of breath
Hugo did not answer but instead waved a peremptory hand at Callie and Flora. “Leave, both of ye, now,” he ordered gruffly. “I wish tae speak tae Lady Raven in private.”
With the inner avalanche threatening to crash over her, her heart now beating noisily in her chest, Raven exchanged brief glances of alarm with the two women as they obediently hurried out, shutting the door behind them.
Raven waited on tenterhooks, feeling her doom inching closer, while he satisfied himself that no one was lingering to eavesdrop. Then he went close to her.
“Lady Raven,” he began, his voice low, conspiratorial, urgent. “News has just come. ’Tis bad, I’m afraid.”
“We’re defeated?” she whispered, her legs turning to jelly.
He nodded. “It would seem so, aye.”
The avalanche pressed on her chokingly.
“Cody, is he… is he alive?” Something glinted in his deep-set eyes.
Before he opened his mouth to reply, she knew the answer.
The avalanche within broke through, drenching her with sorrow and cold dread, sending her world crumbling beneath her feet.
She would have fallen if not for Hugo grabbing her arm to steady her.
Cody is dead, me brither’s dead… All is lost!
“I’m sorry, me lady, ’tis a terrible blow fer us all. I ken how ye must be feelin’, but there’s nay time tae grieve just now. Ye ken what this means fer ye,” Hugo said hurriedly, his eyes searching her face, still gripping her arm.
Turned to ice, Raven somehow managed to nod. “Marriage. Tae Daemon MacDonald,” she whispered.
“That’s right. Unless it is nae what ye want?”
Her mind had seized, and she stared at him, barely understanding his words. “What dae ye mean?”
“Because if ye dinnae want tae be wed tae the man, ye must come with me now. He’s likely already on his way here, and ye’re the only reason he’s comin’ peacefully instead of ready tae put us all tae the sword.
The Council means tae offer him the lairdship, with ye as his bride tae seal the deal.
If he accepts, which, bein’ a MacDonald, he nay doubt will, ye could be wed tae him this very night. ”
“I’ll die before I wed him!” she suddenly spat, steel entering her soul.
Hugo nodded with approval. “Good lass. ’Tis what Cody would want. But there’s nay time tae delay. Ye must leave the castle right now, this evening, under cover of the dark, before the Council comes fer ye and the MacDonalds get here. If ye leave it any longer, it’ll be too late.”
“But where will I go?” Not anticipating such a possibility, she had never thought that far.
“I ken a place where ye can safely shelter until ye find yer feet and establish yersel’ as a free woman. After that, I’ll help ye reclaim leadership of the clan that’s rightfully yers.”
Raven wondered if she had heard him correctly. “Ye’re offerin’ tae help me escape this marriage and maybe one day reclaim me birthright?” she asked, needing to be sure.
“Aye, I’m loyal tae the name of Grant and tae the king. I dinnae want the clan tae be handed over tae those scurvy Jacobites. But ye must decide quickly, there’s nae much time,” Hugo replied, his deep-set eyes fixed on her, urging her silently to go with him.”
Raven had not foreseen this unexpected path to freedom.
For a moment or two, she continued to stare at Hugo, her mind reeling with new, undreamed-of possibilities.
She did not want to be a pawn in the political power-grabs of men.
She did not want to wed Daemon MacDonald, her enemy and a stranger to her.
The thought of laying with him and bearing his children curdled her stomach.
If she ever did marry it would be to a man of her own choice.
Yet doubt tore at her.
What of me duty tae me clan? I’m the last survivin’ Grant heir. If I’m nae here, then who will defend me people from the harsh rule of a MacDonald? The clansfolk will think I’ve deserted them tae their fate as slaves tae the cursed Jacobite clan. Och, Lord help me, what should I dae?
As if he had read her mind, Hugo broke into her thoughts.
“I can see ye’re torn between yer duty and yer wish tae leave, me lady.
But if ye leave and remain free of the MacDonald taint, then ye can raise a force of yer own and return tae take back what’s yers.
If ye linger, ye’ll lose any chance of freedom, and yer bairns will have MacDonald blood runnin’ in their veins.
” His mouth twisted, and he looked about to spit.
But the urgency of the situation evidently overrode his hatred of the enemy clan. “Ye need tae decide now,” he hissed.
He glanced at the door, as though the Council and MacDonald brothers might be about to burst in, then back at her, his hand tightening on her arm. It helped her come to a decisions.
“All right,” she said with a decisive nod, summoning all her strength and pride. “I want tae get away. But I’ll be back, and a Grant will rule here once more, I swear it.”
Hugo gave a relieved sigh and some of the tension visibly went out of him. Rising to his feet, he backed away a short distance and said, “Cody would be proud of ye, me lady.”
The mention of her slain brother’s name stabbed her like a dagger to the heart.
I’m daein’ this in memory of ye as well as fer mesel’ and the clan, she told Cody silently. Fergive me if I cannae grieve fer ye now, Brither, there’s nae time fer it. But rest assured yer loss is bitter gall tae me heart.
“What must I dae?” she asked Hugo, standing straight now she was set on her course.
“Naethin’ except follow me.” Hugo moved towards the main door. “I admit I hoped ye’d agree tae me plan, and since we need tae act quickly, I’ve already made all the arrangements fer ye tae leave the castle undetected.”
“Is there time fer me tae pack some clothes?” she asked, already mentally preparing herself for flight.
Hugo shook his head. “Nay, but I had a maid pack ye a small bundle with yer cloak and a few other essentials, and one of me trusted men is waitin’ fer us now outside the rear gate with horses.
” He opened the main door a crack and looked out into the corridor.
She heard voices, men’s voices, passing by.
Raven stiffened.
Is it him, MacDonald? Nay, he couldnae have got here so fast.
The voices faded and quiet fell beyond the door. Hugo opened it slightly more and checked. “The coast is clear, me lady,” he whispered over his shoulder. “Stay close tae me.”
Raven nodded and followed him out into the deserted corridor, her entire being vibrating with a mixture of sadness, hope, and fear as they hurried through the familiar maze of hallways and passages to the rear of the castle.
Thankfully, with the servants focusing on the August gathering in the hall, they encountered no one on the way.
By the time they reached the door leading out to the small rear courtyard, Raven was mildly out of breath.
She only narrowly avoided running into Hugo’s back when he suddenly halted before it.
“Wait a moment, me lady. We must avoid bein’ seen by the guard,” Hugo whispered as he stealthily creaked the door open and peeked outside into the rear courtyard.
Raven, struggling to hold her ragged breath for silence’s sake, got a glimpse of quivering, torch-lit darkness through the crack as she waited for the all clear.
“Come now… hurry, and dinnae stop for anythin’,” Hugo instructed her tightly a few minutes later, pulling open the door and ushering her down the steps and onto the cobblestones.
The chilly night air instantly enveloped her, making her shiver.
Longing for her warm cloak, she picked up her skirts and swiftly followed Hugo across the unmanned courtyard.
Raven briefly glanced backwards at the only home she had ever known.
Part of her hated to leave, and she wondered when she would return. But another part rather relished the thought of Daemon MacDonald’s fury when he realized the bird had flown the coop. She half wished she could be there to see it.