“GET THE BAIRN. KILL HER!” a warrior cried out.
Warriors suddenly surrounded her. She was trapped, there was no way out.
“It won’t be long now, Brochan,” she whispered.
I’m here with you, Aila. You’re not alone.
The whisper of his voice in her head gave her strength and she raised her chin proudly, standing perfectly still.
The pounding of horses’ hooves was heard and the circle of men parted. Three warriors, lords in their own right, brought their horses to a stop not far from her.
“Give her over and we’ll let you live,” the one in the middle commanded.
She looked to each of them, all three having once claimed to be her husband’s friend. But her husband’s opposition to what the authority of Scottish kings would mean for the Highlands were at odds and so friends became foes.
“Don’t give your life needlessly, Aila,” the one warrior said.
Her heart broke at Lochlann’s words. He had been a good friend to her husband and to her.
“Hand over your daughter,” Lochlann ordered.
When Aila didn’t obey, a nod from Lochlann had a warrior step forward to rip the bundle from Aila’s arms.
The warrior shook his head as he tore the bundle apart, nothing but small blankets dropping to the ground.
“Tell us where she is,” Lochlann commanded.
“Never,” Aila said.
“Save yourself from torture, Aila, and tell us where she is,” Lochlann urged.
“No torture could be worse than the pain I suffer over the loss of my husband and that I will never see my daughter grow into a fine, brave woman. You will never find her. The MacWilliam bloodline will live on.” Aila smiled and before a warrior could reach her, she grabbed the knife she had tucked in the belt at her waist and plunged it into her stomach.
Lochlann rushed off his horse and went to her, going down beside her where she lay slumped on the ground. He slipped his arm under her shoulders and lifted her some.
Blood began to dribble from Aila’s mouth. “She’s safe. You’ll never find her. And a curse on the three of you for betraying your friend. May you suffer and never know peace until you right this terrible wrong.” She struggled to continue talking. “But you, Lochlann, will suffer the worst for you were his best friend.”
Aila smiled as a bolt of lightning suddenly illuminated the sky and a crack of thunder followed, sounding like an angry roar from the heavens.
Her last words were carried on the thunder as it rumbled away along with her life. “The heavens accept the curse and will see it done.”
Chapter 2
About twenty years later
Bliss kept her arms around her two sisters as the two men entered the Clan Loudon village. There had been talk for weeks of these men and what their arrival meant. They were there to find a wife for the cursed lord. News had spread rapidly through the clan, alerting all to Lord MacClaren’s intentions. With no noble lord allowing his daughter anywhere near the cursed lord, Lord MacClaren had resorted to looking among the peasants. He had but one son left, his other two sons having met early deaths; one in battle and the other to an illness.
There was a good reason that no noble or sane woman wanted to wed Rannick MacClaren. His family had been cursed and he had been touched by it, losing three wives in the last six years. One had died in childbirth along with the bairn, one had perished in an accident, and one had collapsed in his arms and died as if the curse had simply struck her down.
Desperate for his son to wed, Lochlann MacClaren had sent two warriors to scour the surrounding land and find his son a wife.
“They won’t choose us, will they, Bliss?” Elysia asked, her voice as gentle as her soft nature.
“I’ll not let them take you, Elysia,” Annis said, her hand on the hilt of her knife tucked in the sheath on her belt at her waist and a glint in her eyes that would warn away any sensible person. “I’ll see them gutted before I let them take me.” She turned brilliant green eyes on Bliss. “It’s a good thing you’re two ten and two years, well past marriage age and you don’t possess round, child-bearing hips, being so rail thin.”
“Annis, you’re being cruel,” Elysia scolded.
“Annis is only speaking the truth,” Bliss said, worried over Annis, not only that she failed to measure her words, but also because she was the most beautiful lass in the village. Her long, flaming red hair highlighted her pale complexion and danced in ringlets around her lovely face. Her green eyes were as bold in color as her tongue was with her words. And her shapely body caught the eye of every man in the village, wed or not. Fortunately, her sharp tongue kept them at bay. Annis was not one for womanly chores, but would rather be engaged with the planting of the fields or the building of the shelters or sheds.