Prologue
Saidh had just caught up her skirt and started to squat when she heard it: a man's short, sharp shout that sounded like a death cry. Cold creeping down the back of her neck, she let her skirt drop and straightened, ears straining. At first there was nothing. No running feet, no sounds of battle, nothing to tell her what had happened, and then she caught a high keening that dissolved into weeping.
Cursing, Saidh pulled her sword from the scabbard at her waist and started through the woods, following the sound of those heart-wrenching sobs. She recognized them, knew their source. She'd heard the same sobbing last night from the bedchamber next to the one she'd been given during her stay at Fraser Castle, the bedchamber the bride and groom had been carried to during the bedding ceremony that had followed the wedding feast.
Saidh shook the thought away and paid more attention to where she was going when a branch slapped back and hit her across the face. The spot they'd stopped to make camp was a lovely clearing, but Saidh had wandered far away from it in search of a place to take care of her needs. The distance was a habit with her. She'd learned that she needed to take herself far from camp did she want to avoid one of her brothers finding and somehow either embarrassing or scaring her while she was in the middle of relieving herself. They'd played that trick often enough in the past for her to have learned her lesson.
Mind you, she'd returned the favor a time or two. As the only girl among seven boys in the Buchanan brood, Saidh had quickly learned to defend herself. It had been that or turn into a sniveling, whiny little girl who ran constantly to her mama to tattle on the boys and that was not Saidh. Now sixteen, Saidh gave as good as she got, and had earned the love and respect of every one of her brothers because of it.
Saidh's thoughts died as she stepped into a small clearing. It was pretty, surrounded by a wall of tall, stately trees and with a low carpet of purple flowers making up the ground, but it wasn't the picture-pretty setting that had Saidh sucking in a gasp of air. Instead, it was the sight of her cousin, Fenella, sitting, sobbing next to her husband's prone body, her dark hair a tumbled mess about her round face, her gown torn and disheveled, and a bloody knife in her hand.
"Fenella?" she breathed, finally getting past her shock and moving toward her. "What happened?"
Her cousin lifted her head, peered at her briefly without recognition and then just cried harder and shook her head as she lowered it again.
Frowning, Saidh slid her sword back into its scabbard and squatted to examine Hammish. There was a large circle of blood on his chest with a hole in the middle, and he didn't appear to be breathing. Saidh felt her mouth tighten, and turned to her cousin to gently take the knife from her unresisting hands. After a hesitation, she tossed it to the side, then caught Fenella by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "What happened?"
She was hoping Fenella would tell her they were set upon by bandits, or some other such thing. Instead, Fenella sniffled miserably and cried, "I killed him."
"Dear God," Saidh breathed releasing her to straighten and peer helplessly around the clearing.
"I did no' mean to," Fenella sobbed. "I jest could no' take his rapin' me again."
Saidh glanced back to her with a frown. "Raping ye? Ye're married, Fenella. He was yer husband. He--"
"He was a cruel heartless bastard who hurt and humiliated me all through the night," she countered bitterly. "By the time he'd finished with me, I was raw, torn and bleeding worse than if I had me woman's time." Her gaze shifted to her dead husband and she said quietly, "That was bad enough, but I could ha'e withstood it. I would ha'e withstood it." Crossing her arms over her chest, she lowered her head and almost whispered, "But then he turned me o'er and took me in unnatural ways, ways even more painful." She raised her head again, eyes round with a combination of horror and pleading as she added, "And he was going to do it again, right here in the woods like an animal." Her head swiveled to the fallen man again and she said miserably. "I could no' let him. I jest could no' bear it, so when I felt his dagger in his belt I--I did no' think, I . . ." Moaning miserably, she lowered her head again. "I jest grabbed it and--"
When she broke off and shook her head miserably, Saidh peered at the man on the ground. She believed Fenella. It was impossible not to after what she'd heard on her way to her bedchamber last night. Saidh had been a little the worse for wear at the time. Her brother Rory had goaded her into a drinking contest after their cousin's wedding feast. Saidh had never much cared for ale or whiskey and her brother knew it. However, she'd also never been able to resist a challenge, especially when it included phrases like "Ye're no afraid, are ye?" or "Ah, ye'd ha'e lost anyway, ye being a lass and all." Both of which he'd used last night when he'd apparently decided it would be fun to drink her under the table.
He'd lost the contest. Saidh had been swaying in her seat, but still upright when Rory had slithered off the bench to land in a heap under the table. She vaguely recalled the cheers and congratulations from the others as she'd got to her feet, then she had staggered away from the table, intent on reaching her room before she too fell to the drink. Her memory became clearer though when she reached the upper landing. With the laughter, chatter and music reduced to a dull roar there, she'd paused on the landing as the sound of a woman's screaming had reached her ears.
Frowning, she'd stumbled down the hall toward the sound, intent on helping whoever it was. Her feet had slowed and then paused altogether however as she'd reached the door. Even in her drunken haze, she'd realized it was the bridal chamber.
Swallowing the drink that tried to rush back up her throat, Saidh had hesitated, unsure what to do. She'd heard that the bedding could be painful the first time, but the screams coming from behind the door had spoken of agony. Surely it should not be this painful? It sounded as if Hammish was killing her poor cousin rather than merely consummating their marriage.
Saidh had raised her hand, intending to knock and check to see that all was well, but then the screaming abruptly ended.
"There," Hammish had grunted with breathless satisfaction, the sound coming muffled through the door, accompanied by a rustling. "Now we're well and truly married. Ye're mine, lass."
When Fenella had sniffled and mumbled something that could have been agreement, Saidh had sighed and turned away from the door to continue on to her own. She'd been grateful to do so. The landing had taken to spinning around her by then and Saidh doubted she would have been much help to Fenella if it had been necessary.
Still, she'd thought as she'd staggered into her room, if she were to judge by Fenella's screams, the bedding must be even more painful than she'd heard it to be and they really should warn a girl. Of course, if they did that, women would be much less eager to be wedded and bedded.
Saidh had just collapsed on the bed when the distant sound of screaming reached her ears again. She'd struggled briefly, trying to sit up, but unconsciousness was already rushing up to claim her, pulling her down into the soft bed with firm, dark hands.
r /> That second round of screaming had been the first thing she'd remembered on rising, so Saidh had been more than relieved to find her cousin alive and well in the morning when she'd gone below to break her fast. Fenella had been pale and quiet, but when Saidh had asked her with concern if she was well, the woman had nodded and ducked her head as color flushed her cheeks. Conran had distracted Saidh then, calling her down to where he and her other brothers sat at the table so Saidh had left Fenella to join them. There was little she could have done for her cousin anyway. She was his wife now and belonged to Hammish as much as his horse, his castle and his sword. Women had little in the way of rights in this world.
Mouth tightening at that thought, Saidh peered at her cousin with pity and breathed, "They will kill you for this."
"Aye." Fenella turned dead eyes to the prone man beside her and shrugged wearily. "Let them. I'd rather be dead than suffer again what he did to me last night."
Saidh bit her lip and peered to Hammish, the screams she'd heard the night before echoing through her mind. This was the first wedding she'd attended, but surely the breaching did not always cause the agony those screams had suggested. And she knew there was blood during the breaching, but what Fenella described sounded extreme. As for the part about turning her over and taking her in unnatural ways, Saidh knew exactly what her cousin meant. She had been raised with seven brothers after all, and they had taken great delight in telling her things they shouldn't in the hopes of embarrassing or distressing her. What Fenella described sounded like what Geordie called "copulation in the rear." Geordie had also said it was a sin, punishable by a gruesome death by mutilation, hanging or burning at the stake.
In truth, Saidh supposed Fenella had given the church's justice to her husband, and a kinder end than mutilation or burning at the stake. Perhaps even kinder than hanging, although she wasn't sure about that one.
Sighing, she turned back to her cousin and knelt before her again. "If ye tell the priest what he did--"
"Nay!" Fenella cried with alarm. "I could ne'er tell anyone he did that to me. Ever."
"Ye told me," she reminded her gently. "Mayhap--"
"Nay, Saidh. Please." She grasped her hands, squeezing them desperately. "Just kill me. I'll no' fight ye. Just slit me throat. Then ye can say ye found me o'er the body, we fought fer the weapon and ye killed me."
"Oh, Fenella," she said sadly, and pulled her into a hug. "I'll no' do that to ye."
"Ye ha'e to," she wept, clutching at the front of her gown. "Hammish's brother is as cruel as he, he'll no' let this go unpunished. He shall kill me anyway. At least if you do it I ken ye'll no' torture me first. Please, Saidh."
Saidh remained still for a moment, her mind racing. She understood why Fenella would ask it of her, but she simply couldn't do it. Her gaze swept the clearing, and then she released Fenella and straightened. "I ha'e a better idea."
"Nay. Just kill me, Saidh. Please," Fenella cried, scrambling to her feet to follow and then pausing abruptly when Saidh stopped and bent to scoop up a large branch from the ground at the edge of the clearing. It was a good six feet long, one end as big around as a man's arm, the other as small as her wrist. "What are ye doing? This is no time fer a fire."
Saidh turned to face her, took a deep breath and announced, "Ye were set upon by two men when ye got to this clearing. Bandits, poorly dressed, one tall and thin, one short and fat."
"I was?" Fenella asked with a frown, taking a step backward when Saidh stepped toward her.
"Aye. Ye and Hammish were. Other than that ye remember little," she added, raising the log.
"Oh," Fenella breathed, paling.
Saidh steeled herself against the sudden fear in her cousin's eyes and swung her makeshift weapon, catching Fenella in the side of the head. She watched her spin to the side and crumple to fall across her prone husband on the ground, then dropped the log, backed to the edge of the clearing and began to scream.
Chapter 1
"Oh, he's a beauty, Joan," Saidh murmured, peering down at the baby in her arms. Glancing up, she grinned at her friend and added, "Ye've done a fine job here. Cam must be most pleased."
"Aye. We both are," Joan said, beaming, and then her smile turned wry as she added, "Although he was less pleased when I commented that mayhap we should give little Bearnard here a sister."
"What?" Saidh asked on a disbelieving laugh. She knew Joan and Cam had been terrified of her getting with child to begin with, fearing she could die in childbirth. In truth, they'd done everything they could think of to avoid having the precious child she was holding. But now, Joan gave her a crooked smile and shrugged.
"It was not so bad. I survived it without even a hint of trouble so why not?"
Saidh shook her head with amusement and then glanced to the open shutters as a trumpet sounded from the wall.
"It sounds like we have company," Joan murmured.
"Mayhap 'tis Edith," Murine suggested, following when Saidh moved to the window.
"Aye," Saidh murmured as she peered out. She'd been rather surprised that the other girl hadn't been here with her and Murine for the birth. Saidh knew she'd planned to be when last they'd all visited. The four of them had become very close friends since meeting more than a year ago, which was just strange considering the circumstances under which they'd met. Saidh, Edith and Murine had been among more than a dozen women that Campbell Sinclair's mother had invited to the family castle to tempt her son into marrying again. She'd been hoping for a grandchild, but after the death of his first wife in childbirth, Campbell hadn't been the least interested in remarrying. His mother had decided that wouldn't do, and had invited every unbetrothed female she could find to Castle Sinclair in the hopes that one would tempt him to re-enter the matrimonial state. She hadn't warned him of her intentions though, planning for it to be a surprise. She, however, was the one who was surprised when Campbell arrived home with Joan in tow and announced they were married.
Some of the other girls had immediately hated Joan for stealing the man they'd hoped to win. But Saidh, Edith and Murine had ended up being the best of friends with her.
"Nay. It can no' be Edith," Joan announced, drawing Saidh's attention back to the conversation at hand.
"Why not? Did Cam no' invite her?" Saidh asked as she squinted her eyes to better see the traveling party some distance yet away from the castle. They were just specks in the distance at the moment.
"Does he no' like Edith?" Murine asked, offering a finger for the baby Saidh still held to grab on to.
"Oh, aye, he likes all three of you," Joan assured them both. "And he did invite her. But she was delayed and arrived late last night after we all retired."
"Edith is here?" Saidh and Murine said as one, turning to glance at her with surprise.
Joan smiled widely. "Aye. Cam told me when the little one there woke me up with his fussing for a feeding in the middle of the night."
"Well, where is she then?" Saidh asked with a frown.
"And what delayed her?" Murine asked.
"She is presently still abed. As I said, she arrived late," Joan said. "I am sure she will wake up soon, but as for what delayed her--" She paused to glance at the door as a knock sounded. "Come in."
The door opened at once, and Edith rushed in. Excitement coloring her cheeks and a happy smile on her pale face, she hurried to the bed to hug Joan. "Good morn! Sorry, I fear I slept late. But when I went down to break me fast, Cam said ye were awake so I came to see ye and the babe." She straightened and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "So, where is this grand babe Cam was bragging about last night?"
Her gaze swung to the two women by the window when Joan pointed their way. Edith's eyes widened, her smile growing with happiness as she rushed toward them now. "Oh! Saidh! Murine. I am so pleased to see ye both."
She hugged Murine first, but paused when she turned to Saidh and saw the bundle she held in her arms. In the end, she gave her a half hug from the side as she peered down at the baby.
"Oh," Edith breathed, reaching out to take one tiny hand in hers. "He is perfect."
"Do you want to hold him?" Saidh offered.
"Oh. Aye," Edith said eagerly and quickly scooped him from Saidh's arms. She settled him in the crook of her arm and smiled down at the babe, then glanced to Joan and said, "I'm so sorry I missed the birth. I wanted to be here for ye, and I would ha'e been were it no' for Laird MacDonnell."
Saidh raised an eyebrow in question. "What did he do to delay yer journey here?"
Edith grimaced. "He died."
"Oh." Murine looked uncertain as she tried to sort out how the man's death had delayed the other woman's arrival.
"Allen, Laird MacDonnell, is a cousin through our mothers," Edith said on a sigh. "But I think it was only the second or third time I'd seen him in me life and in the normal course o' events I would no' even have heard that he'd died were we not there at MacDonnell when it happened."
Noting the surprised expressions on the women around her, Edith moved to sit on the edge of the bed with Bearnard still in her arms as she explained, "We stopped there to rest on the way here. We only planned to stay the night and leave in the morning to continue our journey, but we woke to the news that he was dead and . . ." She shrugged helplessly. "We could no' simply say 'sorry to hear that' and then mount up and continue on."
"Nay, of course not," Joan patted her arm reassuringly, letting her know she understood. "How did he die, Edith? Was he an old man?"
"Oh, nay," Edith assured her solemnly. "Allen was only four years older than I."
Saidh's eyebrows rose at this news. She knew Edith was twenty, the same age as herself, which made Allen twenty-four. Definitely not an old man. "Well, then what happened?"
"He drowned," Edith announced with a shake of the head. "Apparently, he liked to go fer a swim in the loch in the morn ere breaking his fast, and that morn . . ." She shrugged helplessly. "He drowned. They do no' ken why. He was by all accounts a fine swimmer, but that morning he just . . .