Prologue
The Scottish Highlands, 1566
Outside KinlochHouse the Highland soldiers stood, shoulder to shoulder, ringingthe fortress, oblivious to the March cold.Theirs was a deathwatch.They would not leave as long as their leader had a breathleft in him.
Inside, Brice Campbell, known throughout theland as the Highland Barbarian, lay barely clinging to life.
Riders had gone out to the far corners of theland to call his loved ones home to keep watch with his belovedwife, Meredith.From England had come Brenna MacAlpin and herhusband, Morgan Grey, and their two young sons.From Ireland, thefiery Megan MacAlpin and her husband, Kieran O’Mara, bearing theirfirst-born, Sean.
Highland chieftains arrived with theirsoldiers to pace the rooms of the ancient keep.Some, like AngusGordon, were boyhood friends whose hearts were heavy.Others, whohad been privileged to fight alongside this noble rebel, waited andwatched in shocked silence.
Wind swept down the chimney, scattering ashand sparks.A flame sputtered and nearly died, then snaked alongthe bark of a log until it leaped into a blaze of light.The menand women clung together, as much to seek comfort as to give it.Their children, having quickly overcome their shyness at the manystrange dialects, were becoming acquainted.But even their voiceswere strangely subdued as they sensed the somberness of theoccasion.The servants moved around as if in a daze.A cluster ofhounds ringed the fireplace, glancing up nervously at eachfootfall.
The silence was shattered by the sound of themassive front doors being opened.A moment later a red-beardedgiant paused on the threshold.His gaze swept the room, then liftedto the woman who was descending the stairs.Her figure was slenderas a maiden’s.Her gown of scarlet satin was partially covered bythe Campbell plaid.Thick chestnut hair spilled over one shoulder.She carried an infant in her arms.Handing the infant to a servant,she hurried forward.
“Oh, Jamie.Praise heaven, you have come.”The lovely Lady Meredith hurried forward and clasped him in a warmembrace.“I feared you would not be in time.”
“I came as soon as your messenger arrived.”He studied her red-rimmed eyes and the fine lines around her mouth.Seeing the weariness etched on Meredith’s beautiful features, hedrew her into his arms and pressed his lips to her hair.She wasthe closest thing to a mother he had ever known.He had beenoverjoyed when, years before, she had fallen in love with hisfoster father and had agreed to make her home with them at KinlochHouse.
“Brice...”He could not bring himself to askthe words that would tell him if Brice Campbell lived or died.Theunspoken question hung between them.
“He is gravely wounded.But he lives.”Shesaw the relief on Jamie’s face.
“You have nursed him through grave woundsbefore, Meredith.He will mend; you will see.You are his reasonfor living.”
“Aye.I pray it is so.But his fate is inGod’s hands now.”She blinked back the tears that threatened.“Brice insists upon seeing you as soon as you arrive.”
“Aye.I would see him now.”
She lifted her skirts and led the way.As hefollowed her up the stairs he said sternly, “Tell me of thisstrange attack.Your messenger said it was in the queen’s ownhousehold.Can this be?”
“Aye.”Meredith paused at the head of thestairs.“We were invited to sup with Mary at Holyrood.She isconfined these days, since she is with child.”With a slight smileshe added, “Mary has always enjoyed Brice’s company.And now thather marriage to Lord Darnley is so unhappy, she surrounds herselfwith old friends to cheer her.”
At the mention of Darnley, Jamie’s frowndeepened.He had heard the rumors of the queen’s husband.Drinking,gambling, womanizing.If even half were true, the rake was breakingtheir poor young queen’s tender heart.
“During dinner, Lord Ruthven staggered in.Atfirst we feared he had drunk too much ale.But then, seeing thedagger in his hand, Brice pushed from the table to bar his way.Butat the same moment Lord Darnley appeared with several othernoblemen.Seeing them, Brice rushed to Mary’s defense, thinkingthey meant to harm her.”
Jamie felt his heart stop.“Has our queenbeen harmed?”
“Nay, praise God.Thanks only to Brice.Butpoor Riccio.”
“It is true then that Mary’s secretary isdead?”
“Aye,” Meredith whispered, suppressing ashiver.“George Douglas used Lord Darnley’s own dagger for thebloody deed.He and Lord Ruthven must have stabbed young Ricciomore than fifty times before flinging his body down the staircase.The queen was near hysteria.”
“And Brice?”Jamie’s eyes narrowed.“Whichone held the knife that caused his wounds?”
“In the confusion, I could not see.Therewere servants weeping, and the queen herself was kneeling overBrice’s body, crying out for her beloved Highland Barbarian.”Meredith trembled.“I did not see who inflicted his wounds.But thedamage is great.”
When they reached the door to the chamber,Meredith turned.“You must not tax his strength.He has lost muchblood.”
It was not Jamie’s nature to feel fear.Inthe past few years, fighting along the border between England andScotland, he had become known as a fearless warrior.He knew whatothers called him when they thought he could not hear.TheHeartless MacDonald.Aye, he was heartless in the thick of battle.But at the sight that greeted him, Jamie felt his heart stop.
It was as if his veins had suddenly turned toice.He studied the face of the man who was the only father he hadever known, now lying as helpless as a wee bairn.Brice’s head wasswathed in bandages.Blood seeped through the layers of freshdressings.One arm was held stiffly at his side, covered with thicklinen.His chest rose and fell with each labored breath.
Jamie stood for a moment, fighting thefeelings that rippled through him.Fear, rage, helplessness.Pushing aside his emotions he knelt until his face was close toBrice’s.“I am here,” he whispered.
He watched as the older man’s lids flickered,then opened.There was an unnatural pallor to his skin.
