Prologue
“I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,
I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief:
On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem;
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!”
—From “Glenara,” by Thomas Campbell, 1777–1844
The Firth of Lorn, a Rock Between Lismore and Mull
On a cold winter’s day nearly a hundred years gone past, a curse was born….
Lady Elizabeth Campbell Maclean wouldn’t beg. Not for his love, and not for her life. But she was scared. More scared than she’d ever been in her preciously short life. Six and twenty was far too young to die.
With each minute that passed, Elizabeth had to fight to hold to her vow. But her pleas she knew if uttered would go unheeded. And that more than anything prevented her from dropping to her knees and begging for mercy.
He had none.
He wouldn’t even look at her. Lachlan Cattanach Maclean, Chief of Maclean. Her husband. The man she’d been fool enough to love. Her eyes fastened on the familiar handsome features. The rough, battle-scarred face, the piercing blue eyes, the wide mouth and hard implacable jaw. Her chest squeezed. Even now, in the face of this ultimate betrayal, she could not deny his appeal.
Lachlan Cattanach was a fortress of masculine strength. A powerful Highland chief. And an unwavering one. The very qualities she’d once admired—his decisiveness, his steely determination, his single-minded purpose—had now conspired against her. He’d made his decision.
She was as good as dead.
One of her husband’sluchd-taigheguardsmen took her hand and helped her from thebirlinnwith a courtesy that belied his murderous task. She would have laughed at the absurdity if she didn’t fear that laughter would send her spiraling into a descent of hysteria from which she might never return.
An involuntary shudder coursed through her as her foot touched the hard, unyielding rock. The impulse to retreat back to the safety of the boat was strong, but she knew they would only drag her back. Resolve forced one foot after the other. Her heart might be in tatters, but she would not give him the satisfaction of doing the same to her pride.
Taking a deep breath, she allowed the guardsman to bind her wrists. With an uneasy glance that hinted of an apology, the clansman tied the other end of the rope to the buoy intended to alert passing boats to the danger posed by the rock. Mooring her to the rock was an unnecessary precaution. She couldn’t swim. There was nowhere for her to go…but under.
Fear slid down her spine. Her senses seemed unnaturally heightened, and she felt everything with a painful raw intensity, from the tiniest droplet of icy sea spray to each prickly fiber of rope that bit into the tender skin at her wrists. But most of all, she felt the agony of her breaking heart.
Dear God, how could he do this to her?How could he leave her to die like this? To be buried alive by the merciless rising tide? Her heart clamored in her chest as she struggled with the horrible truth.
Her husband didn’t want her anymore. He’d already found another to take her place. But he would not risk angering the powerful Campbell clan—including her brother, the Earl of Argyll—by putting her aside. So he’d devised his barbarous plan.
She wished he would take a blade across her neck. But he wanted it to look like an accident. A drowned wife was much easier to explain than one whose throat had been cut.
A sharp gust of wind blew across the sea, freezing everything in its powerful wake. She had to fight to keep her footing on the slippery rock. Her teeth chattered; with only a thin cloak for added warmth, she was cold—painfully so. But it would only get worse. Much worse.
They were almost done. The men climbed back into the boat and started to pull off. Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared at the retreating faces of the men who’d once called her their lady, and then at the man she’d loved.
The man who’d forsaken her. Though she’d raised his two sons as her own, her doom had been in providing none of her own.
They were almost out of view. The thought of being left all alone finally broke her. She couldn’t bear it any longer. “Please, don’t—”
At the sound of her cry, his eyes shifted toward hers. He met her plea with stony indifference.
—leave me,she finished silently.
In the flat of his eyes, all hope was extinguished. He had no mercy. It was over.
But she wouldn’t let him go so easily.By all that was holy, he would pay for the cursed deed done this day.
Anger and terror forged a powerful weapon. Her voice shook as she called down her promise of vengeance. “A curse upon you, Lachlan Cattanach, and all who shall come after you. As you have murdered me for barrenness, so your lands shall suffer in kind. As you have tied me to this rock, so too will the fortunes of your clan be tied to a Campbell. No Maclean chief will prosper without a Campbell by his side. This will be your legacy until the wrong you’ve done is atoned and a Maclean life is given in love for a Campbell.”
