Prologue
Edna McGregor dug her heels into the horse’s flank and laughed as the mare picked up its canter, letting the wind fly through her unbound hair. While she knew she was supposed to keep her hair braided, she couldn’t help but let it fly like a banner behind her as she raced toward the loch on the keep’s property. With the weather turning toward the summer months, Edna wasn’t one to stay cooped up inside the keep with her parents.
At twenty-six, most lasses would already be wed and with a passel full of bairns tugging on their skirts. Edna had once wished for the same thing, but her hopes and dreams had been crushed four years past, and she had never recovered.
Steeling herself against the ache in her chest, Edna slowed the mare to start the rocky path to the loch carefully. The last thing she needed was for her horse to injure itself, and she would be forced to walk back to the keep for help.
Edna let the horse lead the rest of the way, her thoughts drifting back to her beloved. James had been one of her father’s warriors, a young lad that had grown up in the keep just as she had. When he had been chosen as a warrior, Edna had been pleased, knowing that was what his passion was.
When he had asked her to wed him, she thought that nothing could top the way he made her feel.
So, it was surprising the day that his body had been carried into the keep, after being crushed by his horse during a raid gone awry. Edna had hurried to his side, clasping his hand in hers and begged him not to leave her. They were meant to have a long, fruitful future together.
Yet the gods hadn’t deemed it so, and before she could become a widow, they were sending his ashes back to the gods, another warrior lost too soon.
Edna had buried herself in her grief, all the plans that she and James had now nothing more than a fond memory. Even her mother, Finlay, had told her that it was alright to grieve as much as she needed to, though Edna doubted that even after six months, her mother would expect her to still be grieving. Every morning, Edna woke with tears on her cheeks, her dreams far too real when James called her his bonny love and reached out to touch her cheek.
The ache hadn’t ceased to exist, even with the time that had passed, and Edna was starting to wonder if it ever would.
The Loch came into view, and Edna dismounted, leading her horse to a shaded area where it could rest before slipping off her boots and wading down to the edge of the water. The loch was peaceful, a place where Edna could gather her thoughts about her. It was becoming harder to find herself a place in her future. She couldn’t very well stay in her family’s keep for the rest of her days to watch her siblings start families of their own.
At some point in the next year, she would have to find a way to move on. Edna drew in a breath, the ache increasing. Move on. It was easier said than done. Moving on would mean that someone else would take root in her heart, the constant concern that they too would be taken from her the moment that she opened her heart again.
Edna didn’t want to think about sustaining another blow like she had the day that James had died, nor did she believe she could love someone as fiercely again.
The sound of a twig snapping caught her attention, and before she could react, Edna’s arms were wrenched behind her back. “Dinnae put up any sort of fight,” the Scot replied, the smell of unwashed body assaulting her senses.
Edna cried out and struggled anyway, but it was futile. They were too strong. A hood was thrown over her face, and her vision went dark, the only sound her erratic breathing. She didn’t want to not see her captors or where they would take her. To lose one’s vision was certain death.
“Please,” she begged as her hands were tied behind her, her shoulders straining. “Please take it off.”
There was no answer, the ropes burning into the delicate skin at her wrists as she tried to fight against them. There was no need to scream. No one was close enough to hear her. She hadn’t passed a single traveler on her trek to the Loch and doubted that they would be trussing her up in such a fashion if they had encountered anyone either. It would be long before anyone would notice her missing, and by then, who knew where she would be.
It was the worst possible scenario.
She felt herself be picked up off the ground and thrown over a horse, her thoughts growing panicky. She didn’t know who had taken her or why, but whatever their reasoning, it couldn’t be good.
“Edna.”
Confused, Edna turned her head, hearing James’s voice say her name in a whisper rushing past her ear. “James?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest. No, he was dead. She had watched them burn his body as they had given his ashes back to the gods.
He wasn’t here.
“Dinnae fret, mah love,” his voice said once more, causing goosebumps to break out over Edna’s body. Yes, James was dead, but perhaps his ghost was going to watch over her.
Tears smarted her eyes as the horse started to move, and Edna’s body was jostled, her breakfast threatening to rise in her throat. “Protect me,” she whispered, hoping that James could hear her. She could feel his presence with her, comforting her, and despite what others thought, he wasn’t going to leave her.
“I will, mah love. I will.”
Closing her eyes, Edna allowed herself to succumb to her tears.
1
Aweek before.
Edna picked up her skirts and took the stairs two at a time, following their winding path to the second landing of the keep. Today was market day, and Edna was looking forward to going into the village to take part in the weekly buying of goods. It was something her mother had started when Edna was younger, stating that there was nary a reason that they couldn’t give back to their clan.
Her parents had been great warriors in their day, her mother just as fierce with a sword as her father was. Edna’s brothers now took up the warrior fight for their parents, both greater than ten years her senior, and her sister resided in the keep with Edna, having recently found out she was with child after some long years trying to bring a bairn into this life. Her husband was one of the laird’s messengers, and it was safer for her to be where she could be watched, given her struggles as of late, than to be on their small farm on the outskirts of the village.
