“Fortune favors the bold, lass,” she told herself, reciting her clan motto. Craignure, and indeed Dounarwyse, were Maclean lands, but her father was a proud Mackinnon, hailing from Tobermory on Mull’s northeastern coast. “Yer future is waiting for ye … and ye shall grasp it with both hands.”
She quickened her step, pushing aside her lingering guilt, as well as her nervousness.
Stepping now onto the worn path that led down to the harbor, she didn’t look back.
Dounarwyse Castle rose before Fiona like a promise carved from stone.
Bouncing on the wide back of a feather-footed garron, her backside sore from the journey, she paid her discomfort no mind. Instead, she gazed up at her new home.
Grey walls climbed skyward from a grassy mound, the tower house’s bulk solid against the cloud-streaked afternoon sky. A high curtain wall encircled the fortress, and beyond, the Soundof Mull glittered silver-blue, waves foaming white against the rocks beneath it.
Fiona’s breath caught. Her world had been so narrow until now. The farthest she’d ever traveled from Craignure was Duart Castle, a short walk to the south of the fishing village. Dounarwyse was a surprise. Somehow, she hadn’t expected it to be so big. So intimidating. Her doubts resurfaced.
Not too late to turn back.
Her pulse quickened then. It was as if her mother had followed her all the way here, heckling her.Who do ye think ye are, lass? Ye don’t belong in a fine place like this.
“Impressive, aye?” Jack Maclean’s voice carried both warmth and amusement. The laird’s brother—who was also Captain of the Dounarwyse Guard—had ridden beside her since they left Craignure, his relaxed manner putting her at ease despite her nerves. Grey threaded through his shoulder-length wavy chestnut hair, and laughter lines crinkled at the corners of his fern-green eyes when he smiled—which was often. “Wait till ye see the solar where ye’ll be working. South-facing windows, good light all day long.”
“Ye have seen my workspace then?” Fiona asked, tearing her gaze from the castle, and pushing aside her mother’s heckling. She’d thought she had left the woman back in Craignure, yet she clearly hadn’t.
“Helped clear it out myself.” He winked at her. “My sister-by-marriage has grand plans for that tapestry.”
Another of her escort, a younger warrior with a scar bisecting his eyebrow, grunted. “The whole household has talked about little else for days. We all want to see what ye’ll create.”
Pressure tightened around Fiona’s ribs, but she lifted her chin.Christ’s tears.Maybe her mother was right. Maybe shehadoverreached. “Then I’d best not disappoint everyone.”
“I’m sure ye won’t,” Jack said with easy confidence. “Lady Kylie is canny … she only commissions work from the best. If she chose ye, lass, ye have earned it.”
His words made warmth suffuse her chest, settling her anxiety.
It felt odd to be so appreciated after many years of being her family’s dogsbody.
They passed through the outer gate, hooves clattering on cobbles as they entered the barmkin. The enclosed yard bustled with morning activity—a lad hauling water, two women carrying baskets of vegetables toward what must be the kitchen, and a groom leading a massive grey courser to the stables.
Fiona’s pony shied slightly as they dismounted, and she reached up to stroke its neck, murmuring soothing words until it settled. Her father had a garron, and he’d taught her to ride it. However, she’d never spent so long in the saddle in one stretch.
The skin on the back of her neck prickled then.
Someone was watching her.
Turning, her gaze alighted on a man.
He stood at the stable entrance, one hand braced against the doorframe. His resemblance to Captain Jack was startling. He was much younger though—her own age or maybe a year or two older—with auburn hair that fell past his collar in wild, uncombed waves. Even at this distance, she could see the breadth of his shoulders beneath his lèine, and the easy, predatory grace of his stance.
And he was watchingher.
His eyes locked onto Fiona’s with an intensity that slammed the air from her lungs. Not curious. Not merely interested. Something more dangerous. Something that made her skin prickle with awareness even as her instincts screamedtrouble.
Their stare drew out, and a slow smile curved his mouth.
“That’s Ailean,” Jack said quietly beside her, following her gaze. Something shifted in his tone—affection mingled with wariness. “The laird’s eldest. Just returned from the war on the mainland.”
Fiona dragged her gaze away, her cheeks suddenly warm.
Jack’s hand touched her elbow, gentle but firm, guiding her toward the tower house entrance. “Come. Lady Kylie will be eager to greet ye. I’ll have one of the lads bring yer belongings up to yer chamber.”
Fiona nodded, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin as they crossed the barmkin.
