Page 1 of Highland Flame

Chapter One

Hermitage, Medieval Scotland

Her husband was dead and she felt nothing but relief – her only regret being that she was the one who killed him.

Yvaine gripped an iron candle holder in one hand, having used it to protect herself from Dun’s usual beatings. Her husband lay sprawled out and dead at her feet on the floor of their chandler’s shop. His open eyes still stared up at her in anger.

Dun had always been a mean man, and was the worst excuse for a husband. She’d never loved him, and wished she’d never married him at all. Her family had betrothed her to the town’s chandler thinking it would be a good match. He was supposed to take care of her. Their future should have been secure. It was a marriage made with good intent but, unfortunately for her, no one knew of Dun’s horrible little secret. Now, they never would.

“God’s eyes, what have I done?” Relieved that Dun would never hurt her again, Yvaine still felt terrified for what would happen to her. She stood frozen to the spot in the dimly lit room. Her heart raced and her body trembled. It was an act of self-defense, she told herself. She only did it to stop the madman. To protect herself and her unborn baby. Even so, the fact still remained that she was a murderer now. Yvaine had killed for the first time in her life, and now a shadow darkened her soul.

Her late husband had always taken out his anger on her. He’d even threatened to kill her if she ever revealed his abusive nature to anyone. So, for the last year since they’d wed, Yvaine had remained silent and prayed for an answer of how to escape this life of hell.

Tonight, her prayers were answered. However, it was by a means that she’d never expected. Perhaps she should have been more precise with her prayer for help.

Being in this predicament was going to ruin her life forever. Her heart ached with misery for what she’d become. Once word got out that she’d killed her husband, she’d be locked away and sentenced to death. This wasn’t what she wanted at all!

Yvaine had the scars and bruises all over her body to prove what a horrible man Dun really was. Since the day they’d said their vows, she wanted their bloody marriage to be over. Still, she never wanted it to end like this.

The candle holder slipped from her fingers and fell with a thump onto the wooden floor, rolling in a half-circle. Yvaine’s hands covered her belly in a form of protection for her unborn child. It should bring her comfort to know that the abuser was dead and could no longer harm them, but an action such as this could never bring her peace of mind.

Murdering one’s husband was an offense punishable by death, and Yvaine knew it. Men were allowed to treat their wives badly and even beat them should they decide to do so. Unfortunately, nothing was tolerated when it came to how a woman treated her husband. Part of her regretted her action now, but there was naught she could do to reverse the outcome.

“I – I killed him,” she whispered to herself, wondering if this was real or just a bad dream. Her eyes stayed transfixed on the man’s lifeless body sprawled out on the ground in a puddle of blood. After she’d hit him on the head, he’d struggled and fallen, grabbing for a nearby table. No table could stop his death, and no one could save her from imminent doom now.

Yvaine’s knees buckled, and she grabbed on to the back of a chair to keep from falling. Icy fingers of death as well as the hot flames of hell ran through her body under her thin night shift. She would die now for what she did, and her unborn child would never have the chance to live. Her attempt to protect the baby was done in vain.

There was never any love in this household, even though a loving family was all Yvaine ever longed for. She wanted more than anything to be a good mother, raising a family with a husband who treated her and her children well. All she wanted was a man that she could love.

This chandler’s shop was her home, but it was also naught but her prison. Now . . . now she would trade one prison for another, when word got out about what happened here tonight.

Collapsing atop the chair, she broke down and cried. Yvaine didn’t cry for her dead husband, because he deserved more than anything to rot in hell. Neither did she cry for herself anymore. No longer caring what happened to her, her only concern was for her innocent little unborn baby.

This was no one’s fault but her own. It broke her heart when she realized her child would suffer for it in the end.

“God have mercy,” she whispered, realizing just how serious of a situation she was in. Her mind raced wildly, and she knew naught what to do.

There came a small knock at the door and Yvaine froze. Her heart nearly stopped and she found it hard to breathe.

Panic ran through her. All she could think about was Dun coming after her in anger only because their latest batch of candles were ruined by one of his own careless mistakes. He was drunk out of his mind and she couldn’t reason with him at all. A bad situation had only turned worse.

“Sister?” came the voice of her brother, Keithen, as he opened the door and stuck his head inside the room. “I saw the candle burnin’ in the window and wondered if ye were still awake. Why werena ye and Dun at the weddin’ of Gavin MacKeefe and Davita tonight? We had a wonderful time celebratin’ at Hermitage Castle.”

The whole town had been invited to the Highlander’s wedding to the cordwainer’s daughter. It was tonight, and took place at Hermitage Castle just outside of town. The castle was owned by the MacKeefe Clan who also had a camp in the Highlands.

“Dun wouldna let me attend,” she said softly, her eyes traveling back to her dead husband. “Although . . . now I wish I had.”

Keithen’s eyes opened wide when he followed her gaze and saw her husband dead on the floor. “God’s bones! What happened, Yvaine?” He rushed in, dropping to his knees beside Dun, checking for signs of life but not finding any.

“I killed him,” said Yvaine, feeling nothing at all for the man. “I didna mean to do it, of course, but he came at me, tryin’ to beat me again.”

“Sister?” Keithen stood up, staring at her as she bravely lifted her chin, refusing to seem weak. “Are ye hurt?” When he took her hand in his, he noticed the bruises and welts on her arm. “What’s this?” he asked, turning her arm over to inspect it. “Bid the devil, what was goin’ on here?” He gently reached out and pushed down her collar, seeing the bruises on her neck and upper chest next. “Yvaine! Ye are covered with bruises. Did this bastard do this to ye?”

“Aye, he did,” she said, releasing a deep breath. “Dun always hurt me,” she said, staring off into space now, feeling as if this were a nightmare that just wouldn’t end.

“By the rood! I canna believe this. If he was hittin’ ye, why didna ye tell me?” asked Keithen, in a stern voice. “I would have killed the man myself had I kent what he’d been doin’ to ye.”

“Dun warned me no’ to say a word or he’d kill me, so I stayed silent. Besides, I recently found out I am with child, and I didna want him to hurt the bairn.”