Page 1 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

Prologue

Pain.

She had never known anything like it.

From the slow drag of her muscles to the almost luminous contractions of her back, poor Agatha Gowdie had never hurt so bad.

"Keep going, miss, ye’re nearly done," said the wise woman, clenching her hand. But her voice was coming faintly now.

"I cannae," moaned Agatha, her light eyes shining through the candlelight. A strand of moonlight illuminated her silvery-blonde hair, catching the tip of her forehead in its beam.

At twenty-seven, she was alluring as she had been at eighteen, a slight slip of a lass who was sweetly unaware of the effect she had on men.

Although, right then, men were something she was cursing. More specifically, one man—Laird Marcus Duncan. If it had never been for him and his shining blue eyes, she would not be in this predicament.

And predicament was the right word. A woman of low birth, in trouble by a noble. And not just any noble, oh no, it had to be one from a rival clan!

Agatha swirled her eyes. What had she been thinking? Everything her mother had said was true. Not that she had much time for reminiscing right then. She was too busy tossing and writhing in pain. Then, for a few precious moments , it went, and all around her, the world rushed about, almost like normal, except she was not sure what normal was anymore, or even where she was exactly.

"Nearly there," reassured the midwife, wiping her sweat. "The big one's still to come."

Exhausted, Aggie groaned. She'd never had a baby before, but she already knew that this was just a temporary respite, and at any time, it would all start again.

Then, from somewhere, a hand caressed her. Stroking her gently across the forehead, someone peered down. For one quick moment, Agatha thought it was Marcus. But then she looked up.

It was not him. Rolling her eyes back into her head, Agatha fell down to the pillow. How could it be? He was a noble, and besides, men were hardly welcomed into the bedchamber during a laying in. All the same, Agatha couldn't help wishing he were at least nearby.

"Nay," she moaned feebly to the midwife, her eyes half-shut with pain.

"Aye, ye can, lassie. Come on," the wise woman said, but her voice was distant now. Agatha struggled to focus her sight and wondered where the woman had gone.

She could feel her; her cool hands pressed against her clammy skin, but she could no longer see the wise woman.

"Issie?" Agatha cried, her eyes opening wide. But the harder she looked, the less she saw. Suddenly, the room around her had gone very dark.

"Issie? Marcus?" she called, yelling wildly.

Had the light gone out? Everything around her was black.

"Miss! Miss!" the midwife called, but she was far away. Then, a huge swell of pain took Agatha.

"Help!" she cried, through faltering breaths. Now panic had replaced the pain. She could still feel it, but it was like it was happening to someone else.

Then the pain came back, stabbing through her like a hot sgian-dubh.

"Issie?" she gasped, but by now, the room was swirling.

"Just one mair push," her voice came faintly, wafting in and out of the room. Then, it was no more.

"Aggie! Aggie, ye did it!... Nay!"

She was not even sure whose voice it was. And by then, it was too late to care. Aggie shut her eyes, and the room lapsed into darkness.

"Sir, nay!"

Laird Marcus Duncan thrust his way toward the bedchamber door. But before he could get there, Paton blocked him.

"Enough, Paton, let me pass!" Marcus hissed, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. Shadows arched across the gray corridor walls, consuming them both. In his heart, Marcus knew something was very wrong.