Chapter 1
One
Kilgarigon, Scotland—Three weeks later
Lochlan MacAllister was a practical man. A reasonable man, according to most. As the leader of his clan, he had to be. But this, this beat all he had ever seen in his score-and-eight years of living.
No woman in Kilgarigon would bed or feed her man until Lochlan agreed to end the feud with Robby MacDouglas!
He was still reeling from the unreasonable request. The women were mad. All of them. But none more so than Maggie ingen Blar.
In fact, he, himself, was ready to go and throttle the women’s ringleader.
And he wasn’t the only one. The men of his clan were fast passing the point of charity, and already he had heard rumors of them going after Maggie themselves. Indeed, every morning he half expected to find her poor, rotting carcass nailed to the front door of his keep or hanging from the merlons.
Frustrated, he looked across his clean, elegant great hall to where his younger brother, Ewan, sat at the table sawing at a piece of steak Lochlan had attempted to cook a short time ago.
In truth, he would have been better off salting and frying up his leather boots.
For surely the leather couldn’t have tasted worse than the meat.
If not for the seriousness of his predicament, Lochlan would laugh at the sight of Ewan trying to keep his long shanks beneath the table.
There were few men in the clan who came close to Ewan’s six foot six height.
And though Ewan’s body was lean, it was muscled well enough to make even the stoutest gulp in fear.
But it was more than the man’s size which frightened most, ‘twas also his fierce demeanor. Ewan rarely smiled. In fact, his brother avoided most people entirely, and seldom ventured from the cave in the hills he called home.
Yet for all his moodiness, Ewan possessed an ability to see straight into the heart of a matter and call it by its name. It was for that reason Lochlan had summoned him from his hermitage.
“What am I going to do?” he asked Ewan.
Ewan attempted to chew the meat, but he looked more like a cow with cud than the warrior Lochlan knew him to be. “Learn to cook, lest you starve.”
“Ewan,” he growled, “I am in earnest.”
“So am I,” Ewan mumbled as he pushed his wooden trencher away, then took a gulp of ale to rinse the fetid taste of charred beef from his mouth. “You can’t go on eating like this or you’ll never last another week.”
“Ewan...”
His brother ignored his warning tone. “It seems to me there is an easy solution to this.”
“And that is?”
“Go into the kirk yard, toss Maggie ingen Blar over your shoulder, take her out of there, and force her to cook us a meal that’s edible.”
Lochlan sighed. “You think I haven’t thought of that? But she’s on holy ground. I’ll not violate that sanctity.”
Ewan rose slowly from the table. “Then I’ll do it. Satan’s throne would freeze before I let another woman make a mockery of me.”
“True enough,” a familiar voice broke into their conversation. “That’s why the good Lord put me on this earth.”
Lochlan turned to see his youngest brother, Braden, standing in the doorway of the hall.
Braden’s black hair was tousled as if he’d ridden hard. He wore his black and green plaid haphazardly over his left shoulder and his look was as mischievous as ever.
For the first time in a fortnight, Lochlan laughed. “Well, well, the prodigal son has returned.” He crossed the room to greet his ever errant and irreverent brother.
As soon as he drew even with Braden, Lochlan caught sight of the man in the shadows who stood quietly behind his baby brother. The smile froze on his face as he stopped dead in his tracks.
Nay, it couldn’t be...
But it was.
Lochlan blinked in disbelief.
It’d been years since he’d last seen his half-brother, Sin. Even as a child, Sin had been more serious than Ewan and filled with more hatred than Lochlan could fathom.
When Sin had been sent against his will to the English king their father so detested, the youth had sworn never again to set foot north of Hadrian’s Wall.
Lochlan couldn’t imagine what had happened to cause Sin to change his mind, but he was certainly glad he had, for he loved his older brother and had missed him greatly.
Sin still had those piercing, mirthless black eyes that seemed to see straight into the soul. He had the same black hair as Ewan and Braden, and surprisingly enough, he wore it long like a Highlander, not short like the English.
But his clothes were another matter entirely. His black surcoat, mail, hose, and boots were all English. And oddly enough, they bore no markings on them whatsoever.
“What’s this?” Lochlan asked, recovering from his surprise. “You’ve returned from England with a guest?” He extended his arm to Sin who stared at it a full minute before shaking it.
Lochlan clapped him on the back. “‘Tis good to see you, my bráthair. It’s been far too long.”
Sin’s taut features softened a degree, and it was only then Lochlan realized just how uncertain Sin had been of his reception.
“I was afraid to let Braden come alone” Sin removed his arm from Lochlan’s. “After the number of close calls he had in England, I feared he’d never make it home before some poor husband or father speared him.”
Ewan gave a shout as he recognized Sin. Crossing the room, he grabbed him up into a bear hug.
Sin bristled in the hold. “Put me down, you big, ugly úbaidh!”
“So,” Ewan said as he set Sin back on his feet, “you do remember your heritage. With those clothes on your back, I wasn’t sure if you were my big brother come home, or another of Braden’s conquests.”
As always, Braden took the ribbing in stride, but Sin’s look turned murderous.
“Speaking of conquests,” Braden inserted, “where are the women? I’ve yet to see a single one since I crossed into MacAllister lands.”
“Nay!” Ewan gasped as he turned to face Braden. “Can it be Braden’s made it a whole hour without a woman? Quick, Lochlan, send for a healer afore he collapses from the stress of celibacy.”
Braden clucked his tongue. “Now that’s no joking matter.
It’s not good for a man to go too long without a woman.
His juices back up and before you know it, he turns into a soured, ill-tempered beastie.
” His eyes widened as he regarded Ewan. “So, that’s what happened to you!
Come,” he said, draping an arm over Ewan’s shoulders.
“We’d best find you a woman quickly before you get any worse. ”
His lips curling into a grimace, Ewan knocked Braden’s arm off his shoulder. “Would you stop with your foolishness?” He turned to Sin. “You’d best take him back to England before I run him through.”
Lochlan ignored their almost routine bantering. Ewan and Braden couldn’t communicate with each other unless they were exchanging insults.
And many times … blows.
Lochlan looked to Sin. “I’m glad you came home. ‘Tis been far too long since you last ventured to the Highlands.”
Sin nodded. “You, Kieran, Braden and Ewan are all I ever missed from this godforsaken place. No offense, but I much prefer English luxury to this rough existence.”
“Spoken like a true Sassenach.” Ewan curled his lip in repugnance.
Sin’s eyes narrowed at the insult.
“Enough,” Lochlan intervened before Sin could respond. Sin had never been the type one taunted with impunity, and the last thing he wanted was any more blood spilled between his brothers.
Regardless of the past, and all the words spoken in anger, Sin was always welcome in his home.
“There will be no insults here,” Lochlan said to Ewan, his voice stern. “At least not against Sin. Braden, on the other hand, you may feel free to attack.”
“Och now,” Braden bristled, “where’s your brotherly love?”
Lochlan smiled devilishly. “That is my brotherly love. Notice I have yet to taunt you.”
“Aye, but I’m sure it’s nothing more than an oversight.” Braden turned and looked expectantly about the hall.
Even before Braden spoke the words, Lochlan knew what was on his mind.
This was the only time in his memory that Braden had returned home without an entire army of women running out to greet him, elbowing each other in an effort to gift his younger brother with food, and other things they were only too happy to offer.
“Where are the serving maids with something for us to eat?” Braden asked.
Lochlan opened his mouth to explain, but Ewan stopped him.
“Nay, please let me be the one who tells him.” Ewan’s blue eyes twinkled in rare humor.
“Very well.” Lochlan gestured at Braden. “If it gives you pleasure.”
“Aye, that it surely does.” Beaming in satisfaction, Ewan turned to Braden. “You remember Anghus and Aidan’s little sister, Maggie ingen Blar?”
Braden frowned. “The little hellion with red hair, freckles and buck teeth? How could I ever forget her?”
The harsh words set Lochlan aback. He’d never in his life heard his brother describe a woman as anything save beautiful, and Maggie was anything other than buck-toothed.
Hellion on the other hand, he would gladly concede.
“I don’t recall her having buck teeth,” Lochlan said.
“That’s because she never bit you with them.” Braden visibly shivered. “Me, on the other hand, she seemed to love to attack. Never knew why.”
“Must have been your charming personality,” Sin said drily.
Ewan threw his hands up and stepped in front of Braden. “Do you mind? I’d like to stay on the point.” He glared meaningfully first at Lochlan, then to Sin.
“Seize the moment,” Lochlan said.
“Thank you.” Ewan placed a hand on each of Braden’s shoulders so as to savor his reaction. “Anyway, Maggie, whether she has buck teeth or not—” He glared at Lochlan in warning, before turning back to face Braden. “—Has led all the lasses into hiding.”
Braden’s frown deepened. “Hiding from what?”
“From us wicked, lustful men.”
Braden stared blankly at Ewan as the full, horrific impact of the words dawned on him. “Surely, you jest.” He looked to Lochlan for verification. “He jests?”