Page 1 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

CHAPTER ONE

October, 1587. Duror village.

One down, one tae go.

Fia MacKenzie’s small cottage stood in the fringes of Duror, near Castle Stuart and was—insofar as anything that received Fia’s care and attention could be characterized as such—a mess. She hadn’t had the time to take care of everything in the house that day, as word had spread fast that Mrs. Findley, the old healer of the village, had finally retired in her old age, too tired to keep the constant stream of patients who needed her help. The old woman had already directed everyone to Fia’s door, and so within a single day, Fia had gone from a midwife and someone who occasionally assisted the old woman to a fully-fledged healer herself.

It was a dream come true, but even a dream could prove challenging and after no fewer than seven people asking for her help on her very first day on the job, she was as exhausted physically as she was mentally.

There was still one more thing that needed to be done, though. One dream that needed to be realized.

Her hands trembling with excitement, Fia flitted around the room, sweeping the floor that was already free of dust, rearranging the vials and jars of pastes on the rickety shelf, and hiding away every unsightly little thing—a half-broken cup they could not yet afford to replace, her shawl, which she had patched countless times, a bannock, now hard and dry, that she was saving for later.

“Ye’ll drive yerself mad,” Bane said with a chuckle as he put on his cloak, fastening it around his neck with the same brooch as always; the one Fia had made for him in one of her limited attempts to learn the art of smithing. It ran in the family, but she had no real knack for it, perhaps because despite their familiar bond, they shared no blood. “Calm down. The house is fine.”

“It cannae be fine,” Fia pointed out. “It has tae be perfect. Everythin’ has tae be perfect.”

“Everythin’ is perfect,” Bane said as he slapped his hand on the top of Fia’s head and gently ruffled her hair. Screeching, Fia shoved him away and rushed to the looking glass, desperately trying to fix the few blonde strands that he had ruined while Bane laughed and headed to the door. “Dinnae fash. Ye’re too good fer Callum anyway.”

Fia didn’t roll her eyes at Bane, but only because she managed to control herself. It was something she had heard plenty of times before. In the year Callum had been courting her, Bane had never once warmed up to him and Fia worried the feelings were mutual. He and Callum had been cordial to each other, but whenever either of them was alone with her, they didn’t hesitate to tell her precisely what they thought about each other.

Callum attributed Bane’s hostility to jealousy, but Fia knew better than that. Bane may not have been a brother by blood, but he was a brother by fate. Life had brought them together so they could become a family, and there was nothing that could convince Fia otherwise.

Bane, on the other hand, attributed Callum’s hostility to the latter being strange and unlikable. Despite Fia’s insistence that Callum was a good, honest man, Bane simply would not believe it.

But he would soon. Now that Callum was coming over to ask for her hand in marriage, Bane would surely change his mind.

“I’m really nae, Bane,” Fia said, not for the first time. “He’s a good man. I promise.”

“Why is he comin’ here?” Bane asked, voicing the very same question Fia had been afraid to ask out loud for days, ever since Callum had promised her he would go to her cottage. “Why is he nae takin’ ye fer some mulled wine or some ale? That’s what I would dae if I were him an’ wished tae make a lass me wife.”

Fia forcefully swallowed down that familiar by then knot in her throat. She had asked Callum the same thing many times over the span of the last year—why did they always meet in secret? Why did he always refuse to see her anywhere other than at her cottage? Fia had never even visited his cottage in the castle grounds, though not for lack of asking.

“He doesnae like crowds,” Fia said. It was what Callum had told her time and time again, though she also knew he visited the tavern in Duror with his friends and fellow soldiers. Many had seen him there. Fia herself had seen him there one night as she was heading to the old healer’s cottage to help with an injured man. “It’s alright. I dinnae mind meetin’ him here.”

With a sigh, Bane let go of the doorknob and walked over to Fia once more, pulling her into a loose embrace. “Are ye certain ye wish tae dae this? There is still time.”

“I want it,” Fia said, nodding firmly. She had wanted nothing more in her life. “Ye ken I want it.”

“Ye ken what I think.”

Fia didn’t know if she wanted to hear it, but still, she asked, “What?”

Pulling back, Bane placed his hands on Fia’s shoulders, squeezing just slightly. “I think that ye simply dinnae wish tae be alone an’ ye have settled fer the first laddie ye found when ye could have someone much, much better.”

Bane was right; Fia did know what he thought, as he had expressed the same thought before, and just like the last time, Fia shoved his hands off her shoulders and took several steps back, scowling. It wasn’t true; no matter how much Bane insisted, none of it was true.

“Dinnae speak tae me as though I were a fool,” Fia said through gritted teeth. “I am a grown lass. Dae ye truly think I dinnae ken what I want?”

Bane let her go, one of his hands reaching up to thread through his light brown hair, making it even messier than before. She had the urge to fix it for him, to make sure he looked presentable, but she kept her hands to herself, maintaining the distance between them.

“I think ye ken what ye want,” he said. “I think ye ken that ye want companionship, but ye’re lookin’ fer it in all the wrong places.”

“I can take care o’ meself,” Fia snapped. “I dinnae need ye tae look out fer me.”

It was harsher than she intended. The two of them had been looking out for each other for years, even more so since the disappearance of his brother, Tav. Claiming that she didn’t need Bane’s help was not only hurtful to him, but also entirely false.

It was too late now, though. The words had already been spoken and there was no taking them back.