Chapter 1
Imust be insane.
So it was probably fortuitous that she was moments from entering the realm of the Mad Laird.
“Quiet now, sweet girl,” Agnes Norton whispered, stroking the nose of the restless grey mare that had carried her and her niece safely from England. “I’m not going to leave you here. With any luck, I’ll only be gone a short while.”
Through ancient oaks that wore coats of thick moss, a great castle rose up. Weather-worn stone caught the glow of flickering braziers, shadows moving along the crenelated edges of two round towers. Above, an inky sky hinted at a dawn that was still an hour or so away.
I might die before I even make it to the Laird.
She gulped.
Checking the knots of the cloth carrier that held her baby niece, Lizzy, snug against her back, she drew in a steadying breath of the fresh forest air. She had come all this way. She couldn’t retreat now, so close to her objective.
Stealthy as a fox, she slipped between the thick trunks of the oak trees and prayed no twigs would crack underfoot. She had been waiting all night for the right time to make her move. It would be a shame if she failed now.
Pulling the hood of her cloak lower over her face, she joined the road that led up to the gated entrance and approached with what she hoped was the air of an innocent, passing traveler.
A guard stepped out. “State yer business.”
“I come to rest and to seek food for me and me daughter,” she replied in the Scottish accent she had been rehearsing since she left her aunt’s country residence.
“Show yer face.”
Agnes teased back the edge of her hood and wondered if the leather eye patch she’d put on was too much. Her face was streaked with dirt she’d smeared from the forest floor, and she had bitten her lip to make it seem like it had been split.
The guard frowned. “Where do ye hail from?”
“Ardroy,” she replied, remembering the name of a village she had come through a few hours ago.
“I mean to continue north to me aunt. Please, sir. I just need rest and food, and to bathe me daughter, if I can. I will be gone in a day or two, but I must get off the road before me braither finds me. He’ll kill me and me daughter if he does. ”
She marveled at how easily the lies tripped off her tongue. Although if her plan worked, she would probably have some explaining to do to this guard in particular.
The man gestured. “Show me yer bairn.”
The last word was unfamiliar to Agnes, but she could guess what he meant. Without hesitation, she lifted her cloak until Lizzy’s sleeping face was revealed.
Please, take pity. I just need to get inside.
Otherwise, she was going to have to scale a wall, and she did not know how that would work out for her.
A fall to her death, perhaps? Being shot down before she ever entered the castle boundary?
Not to mention, she would have to leave Lizzy outside, for the child’s safety.
Who would look after the baby if something happened to her?
“There’ll be soup by the barracks,” the guard said, surprisingly sympathetic for someone belonging to such an infamously violent, callous clan. “Ye can rest in the barn. Just keep out of everyone’s way and be gone before ye overstay yer welcome.”
“Thank ye,” she replied, careful not to smile in case it showed the pristine white of her teeth.
A tremor shivered through her as she walked straight through the gate into a sawdust-strewn courtyard. It was eerily empty, most of the castle asleep.
And the Laird is about to get a rude awakening.
But first, she had to figure out where he was.
It didn’t take long, nor was it particularly difficult. All she had to do was remove her eyepatch, wipe some of the dirt off her face, and ask the next guard she saw where the Laird was. The baby didn’t make a peep.
“I’ve been sent for to please him,” she had said, hoping the gloom covered the embarrassed flush in her cheeks.
The guard had smirked. “Hurry along then. He’ll be in a better mood in the trainin’ yard if ye do yer work well.”
She had been directed to a stone outbuilding that adjoined the barracks, a solitary window standing slightly ajar. A strange place for a laird to be sleeping, but she wasn’t going to argue.
Unless, of course, she had been led astray and was about to climb into a room full of bloodthirsty, lusty soldiers instead.
“Just stay sleeping a while longer,” she whispered to her niece.
The baby didn’t stir.
Wincing at the slightest squeak of the hinges, Agnes eased the window wider. She took one last look around to make sure no one was watching and hoisted herself up onto the ledge.
She crouched there on the sill for what felt like an eternity, her eyes attempting to adjust to the darkness within.
It was only the sudden sound of men talking and the patter of nearing footsteps that prompted her to slide down into the room, lest she be caught breaking into what she hoped was the Laird’s chamber.
There in the gloom, she tucked herself behind long drapes and poked her head around, squinting. She could make out a narrow bed and not much else.
And a shape in the bed.
“Who dares to open me window?” a deep voice growled, chilling her to the bone as she ducked back behind the drapes.
There it was, the voice of a man so infamous for his ruthlessness that he had earned the name ‘the Cruel One’ and the almanac of Scottish lairds had warned an entire nation not to go anywhere near him.
At least, she thought it was him. Her body certainly seemed to think so.
Well, it’s too late to rethink this now.
Her aim had been to choose the most fearsome laird, notorious enough to make Edwin think twice about any pursuit. Perhaps she could have chosen one slightly less terrifying.
The shape in the bed began to move. “I ken ye’re there.”
Agnes gulped. Time to make a good first impression.
And not get herself killed.
“I can see yer feet under the curtains,” he snarled, sitting up. A faceless shadow, so large that she was certain it was some trick of the light. “Ye’re nae as clever as ye think ye are.”
She clenched her jaw and cursed inwardly. She had forgotten about her feet.
“Were ye sent here to kill me or seduce me?” he asked, the creak of the bed letting her know she probably had seconds before he found her. “Speak, lass. I daenae want to have to wait for the sun to rise for ye to show yerself.”
Lass? How does he know I’m a lass?
“I can smell yer perfume,” he added, as if reading her mind. “A sweet scent. But do ye taste as sweet? I’ll soon find out.”
“Excuse me?” Agnes blurted out, too insulted to remain silent.
Besides, he already knew she was there.
“That is no way to speak to a lady,” she added haughtily. “Well, two ladies, actually.”
Still strapped to her back, the baby began to mewl, no doubt awoken by the Laird’s sharp threat.
The man stepped forward, and the dim light shining in through the window finally revealed him. He stood at a towering height, his messy mane of dark hair almost brushing the low ceiling of the outbuilding.
A beast with bulky, broad shoulders and bulging arms, and a powerful chest that she could see every bit of, silvery scars flashing all across tawny, freckled skin.
Apparently, he wore nothing but a loincloth to bed.
Yet, his exposed state did nothing to diminish the intimidation, the sheer power he exuded.
If anything, seeing every muscle, every sinew, every inch—almost—of his body made him all the more frightening.
Everything about him seemed crafted to crush and pulverize, built to fight and destroy, down to the defined lines of his muscular thighs, thick as tree trunks.
Even if she had wanted to speak, she wouldn’t have been able to. The shock of seeing a near-naked man had rendered her speechless, her throat closing up.
Her panicked eyes met lupine grey eyes that glinted within a face half-concealed by a wild, dark beard. Handsome, perhaps. She couldn’t quite tell.
He crossed those immense arms over his muscular chest. “A lady, are ye?” He raised an eyebrow.
Agnes gulped and almost choked. “Yes.”
“Expensive, eh? Someone must be missin’ ye,” he said mockingly. “So, how can the Mad Laird help ye, me Lady?”
Lizzy’s quiet babbling reminded Agnes of her strength and why she had come so far and climbed through a window in the first place.
She loosened the knots of the carrier and maneuvered her niece around to her front, bouncing the child gently.
“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely,” she replied, matching his mocking tone, “I need you to marry me.”