Prologue
Clan Cruadhlaoch, Ireland
“Can. Ye. Shut. Yer. Mouth?”
The small fire cast enough light that Darragh of Clan MacNaughton, hidden atop his mount in the trees behind the clearing, could make out the lads’ expressions. Three silent, grim-faced figures sat around the small fire while their horses grazed nearby. The two who were speaking stood beside a familiar black destrier. The angry voice belonged to Lachlann, the younger brother of Darragh’s betrothed.
“I do not see any stone, so why is the beast favoring her leg?” The speaker, a wiry red-headed lad was met with a glare from Lachlann.
Darragh shook his head, unseen in the darkness. After catching wind of Lachlann’s plan to sneak away from the festivities with friends, Darragh had decided to follow them. The lads had been practicing a harmless version of raiding on their neighbors, riding like the wind along rutted trails in the dark, spooking the cattle. He suspected they’d been motivated by Lachlann’s Uncle Niall, who was visiting from Alba. The big Scot told stories of his own exploits at every meal, and he’d no doubt ignited the lads’ imaginations.
Enough for them to borrow the man’s prized courser in order to ride faster.
Now that Darragh had proof, it was time to confront them. While his future father-in-law, Sean, should appreciate the intervention, the man always acted as if Darragh would never be worthy of his daughter.
One of the small lads beside the fire held a thumb to his mouth, nibbling at the nail between darting glances at the injured horse and Lachlann.
“We’re in it now,” he said, his gentle voice carrying the sting of condemnation.
Lachlann didn’t hold back his own angst when he responded, pinning the small figure with his gaze. “And what would ye have me do? I find nothing wrong with her.”
Darragh winced at the lad’s angry tone and dismounted without a sound, a mere stone’s throw away from the fire. Lachlann was not usually one to lose his patience, unlike his sister. Brighit’s temper was easily ignited, simmering like an iron pot too close to the fire. No doubt Lachlann was feeling the weight of how badly their ‘adventure’ had gone awry.
“Uncle Niall will have yer head!”
Uncle?All of Brighit’s brothers were nearly a head taller than this smaller figure…
Inching a bit closer, Darragh paused again to search their faces, each one smudged with ashes, giving their features a ghostly appearance. The nail biter dropped his hand and turned toward him, searching the darkness with narrowed eyes. Darragh held his breath, his suspicions growing.
When the nail biter stood, the long, dark hair clubbed at the back confirmed Darragh’s fear. It was indeed his betrothed, Brighit, dressed in trews and a tunic and looking like one of the younger lads. How had she hidden all her burgeoning curves?
Stepping soundlessly over to Lachlann, she spoke in a tone too hushed for Darragh to hear, but the others turned as one toward his location. He was surprised to feel a slight rush of pride that she’d been the one to hear him since she seemed to be of the same mind as her father, finding Darragh lacking in all ways.
“It took ye long enough.” Darragh spoke in a strong voice, crossing the distance to the fire in a few long strides.
The mad dash for weapons ended as quickly as it had begun when they recognized his voice.
“What are ye about? Have ye gone and damaged yer Uncle Niall’s horse?” he asked, his sardonic tone raising a few eyebrows.
Lachlann blew out a breath, stepped away from the horse, and turned his pained expression on Darragh. “She’s got nothing wrong with her foot but continues to favor it.”
Darragh frowned at the dark-haired man, watching from the corner of his eye as Brighit sidled her way to the back of the group and the lads drew together to shield her from him. Lachlann ran his hand down the horse’s leg, squeezing above the ankle for it to lift its hoof.
“Clean.” The lad made the pronouncement with about as much irritation as Darragh had ever heard him display. That Lachlann recognized the extent of the trouble he could be in made Darragh feel some sympathy for him but not much.
Stepping closer, Darragh slid his hand along the beast’s side, patting its rump to calm any fears. His way with animals was no secret. “Easy now.”
The answering whinny made him smile. He brushed a hand over the beast’s hoof. “Are ye familiar with these iron shoes?”
Lachlann’s shrug was his only answer.
“She’s only recently been shod. It looks as though they may have trimmed this one a bit too much.” Darragh adjusted his hold so Lachlann could also see and then released the sore leg.
Brushing the dirt from his hands before speaking again, Darragh allowed his gaze to take in each of the lads around him, noting the way they kept Brighit hidden. Her head popped up from between their shoulders. Even with ash smudged across her fair features, she was still a beauty. A very feminine lad indeed.
“I’m thinking Niall did not expect his prized animal to be taken on such a ride as ye’ve given her this night. Her lameness will disappear once she’s rested, but I suggest ye walk her back.”
“Walk her back?” Lachlann all but whined and the rest of the lads quickly joined in, voicing their own objections to dragging out the return journey.
