Chapter 1
1331 - Shire of Sutherland, Scotland
The stone kirk stoodamongst a copse of oak trees, framed by a midnight sky and hidden from view of the road.Bella Sutherland pressed her trembling hands against the rough fabric of her wedding gown as she tried to steady her racing heart.The gown was a simple dress of cream linen she'd hidden beneath her cloak.
He would come.Boyd would come.
The elderly priest beside her shifted his weight, his weathered face creased with concern."Mistress, perhaps—"
"He'll be here," Bella said, her voice more certain than her heart."He promised."
In the two years since they had been secretly courting, Boyd MacKinnon never broke a promise.
Bella closed her eyes and let herself remember.The blacksmith's forge where they'd first met, young lovers stealing moments between her lessons and his apprenticeship.The first time he'd kissed her behind the stables, his hands still smudged with soot, her heart thundering so loudly she was certain all of Alba could hear it.His blue eyes fierce with determination as he'd cupped her face in his calloused hands the previous week.
"I love ye, My Bella.I dinnae care that yer brother will have my head, or that yer father would see me hanged.I love ye, and I'll no' let anyone keep us apart.Wait for me.I'll come for ye, lass.I swear it on my very soul."
A chill wind swept through the open door, making the candles flicker and dance.Bella pulled her cloak tighter, her breath misting in the cold air.How long had she been waiting?
"Mistress," the priest said gently, "'tis very late.If the lad were coming—"
"He'll come."But even as she said it, doubt crept into her voice like poison.
Another hour passed.
The priest finally touched her shoulder, his expression pitying."Lass, I must return to the monastery before dawn.I'm sorry."
"Aye."The word came out broken, barely more than a whisper."Of course.Thank ye, Father."
She stood alone in the tiny chapel long after he'd gone, watching the candles burn down to nothing, feeling her dreams crumble like ash.The wedding gown that had seemed so beautiful now felt like a shroud.The ring she'd secreted away, her mother's ring, the only memento she owned, now burned against her palm like a brand of shame.
He wasn't coming.
Boyd MacKinnon, the boy who'd taught her to laugh, to trust, who'd shown her what it meant to truly love someone, had abandoned her at the altar.
***
THE FOLLOWING DAY,Bella searched for Boyd in their usual haunts but could not find him.Several days passed and she was beside herself with worry when her dearest friend Una Murray broke the news.Boyd MacKinnon was at the Boars Head tavern, drinking and carousing with his fellow apprentices.
"Bella, ye cannot go in there," Una pleaded, hurrying after her as Bella raced down to the tavern and barged through the entryway."'Tis no place for a laird's daughter!"
"I dinnae care."Bella's voice was cold, empty.She'd cried all her tears.Now there was only this hollow ache where her heart used to be, and a burning need to know why.
The tavern was exactly as vile as she'd imagined, reeking of ale and sweat and smoke.Rough men filled the benches, their voices loud and crude.But Bella saw none of them.
She saw only Boyd.Not lying dead in a ditch as she'd half-feared.She could scarce believe it.Because there he was, laughing with his friends as if their love had meant nothing at all.
He sat at a corner table, but it was his eyes that stopped her heart.Those blue eyes that had once gazed at her with such tenderness now glinted with something hard and cold.On his lap sat a buxom tavern wench, her arms draped around his neck, her lips curved in a knowing smile.
Their eyes met across the crowded room.
Time seemed to stop.Bella's breath caught in her throat, hope and horror warring in her chest.Surely he would push the woman away.Surely he would come to her, explain, beg her forgiveness.
But Boyd's expression did not soften.Instead, his jaw tightened, and something dark and ugly flashed across his face.Anger.No, it was fury.
He was angry with her?Why?
Bella's feet moved of their own accord, carrying her through the crowd until she stood before his table.The tavern had grown quieter, patrons sensing drama unfolding.
