Prologue
Kali Bane despised her father, even regretted being related to such a beast. His selfishness had cost their family so much—their clan had been dissolved fifteen years ago by order of the Crown because her father had conspired with enemies of the kingdom, though direct evidence against him had never manifested.
Powers in England had fought long and hard to bring the Highland clans under control—and the shamed man who stood before her had been labeled a rebel and usurper.
They’d been forced into the lowlands, to take up residence in the only property the king let her father keep, a large manor house with some acreage and a handful of servants who loathed him as much as she did.
“Father?” she pressed. “Besides sneaking out to lay a wreath of flowers at my mam’s grave, what have I ever done to disobey ye?” There, she’d finally demonstrated a semblance of backbone. Yet questioning the former Laird Bane would come with a price. She knew it. Could see it in his blue eyes that narrowed with contempt.
“Ye dare question me?”
She swallowed hard. “Only in defense of myself, sir.”
The silent standoff that followed only deepened her belief that his anger was building. Bane never held anything in. ’Twas how he’d managed to live so long. In her young life, Kali had known the kind of men who held their rage inside. They’d died younger than they should.
He struck her with enough force to knock her back several feet. With club-like hands, calloused and scarred from years of swordplay and battle, he could easily kill a man with brute force. She cupped her cheek, the sting of the slap bringing tears to her eyes. But Kali would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She straightened her shoulders and returned to the spot in front of him, staring up at him defiantly.
He snorted, the rare light of approval showing in his eyes. “Maybe ye have some of my mettle after all.”
The only thing she’d ever admit to getting from her sire was the color of her hair—red as fire. “We are nothing alike.”
He nodded. “So I’ve said often enough. If I dinna know better, I’d swear yer mam bedded another man to get with child!”
Kali shook her head. “I bear yer mark, Father.” She indicated her curly hair. “As do my sisters, Ariana and Keara.” All redheaded with bright blue eyes. A rare characteristic to see in the city. Often, when she passed by people in the streets, she’d hear them say, “There goes another Bane.”
Some considered her coloring the devil’s mark and avoided her entirely. Others, mostly men, were intrigued and pursued the sisters with wanton aggressiveness; only to be denied any further attention by their father. Nay, he had plans for his daughters, though he’d never revealed them.
“Two grown women together in the same house is no’ acceptable,” he said. “I will marry Mirtha MacNeil in a sennight.”
The news did not shock her, as she’d expected him to move on quickly—the final show of disrespect to her beloved mother’s memory. But what did he mean by two grown women in the same house? Surely not… “What are ye saying, Father?”
“Lord Nelson has offered for ye.”
She nearly choked. “The Englishman?” If her sire had wanted to steal her breath, he had succeeded. This blow hurt worse than the one he had landed on her face moments ago. As she stared at him, she knew her expression must be one of utter shock, making her appear as helpless and stupid as he accused her of being.
“Aye.” His satisfaction glared at her through his smile.
She squeezed her eyes shut and imagined the man she had met only twice. Dark hair with graying temples, a stern brow, unhappy mouth, and blazing eyes, often red-rimmed because he drank too much wine with her sire. “He is too old for me. Please.”
His wicked smile deepened, curling the corners of her father’s lips upward. “He is a practical choice. And as long as ye remain obedient and please him in bed, ye will be well cared for.”
She didn’t know the first thing about pleasing a man in bed—only the outcome of doing such, for her mother had paid the ultimate price of doing her wifely duty when she had died in childbirth. Kali could not see herself wanting anything to do with that! Sold into marriage for wealth and power—to a Sassenach lord, no less.
“Nay!” she refused resolutely. “Anything else.”
“If ye deny me, Kali, I will make sure ye never have the ability to say nay to me again.” He raised his hand in a threatening manner to reassure her how serious he was.
She didn’t flinch. A few bruises or lost teeth were better than a life married to a man who had a vein of cruelty like her sire. No wonder the two of them got along so well, though they were born on opposite ends of the isle, sworn enemies by birthright. “Do what ye must, sir. For I willna accept him.”
He snatched her up by the length of her hair, forcing her head back. “Would ye rather I send ye to North Berwick where King James is on the hunt for witches, after his new wife’s ship was caught in a storm and turned back to Denmark? Remember those who have already been found guilty of sorcery and burned at the stake? I could easily accuse ye of being one of them.”
Superstitious fools. The king believed Queen Anne had been in danger of drowning at sea. Kali knew better. The offenders were his political opponents. He had needed an excuse to remove them from power and execute them. “Do what ye will.”
He slapped her again, then shoved her away. “Thankless harlot,” he hissed. “If ye will not submit, then I will punish ye the only way I know how.”
What could be worse than how she had been living for the last nineteen years? Endless days and nights bled into each other as she worked harder than most servants, forced to cook and clean and cater to her father’s every need.
“I will banish ye, send ye away from yer sisters.”
