LITMIR.BIZ

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a guard, but as soon as she crossed the Hall, Angus MacPherson, a thick-chested man with arms the size of broad tree limbs, shadowed her path.

      Outside, she blinked at the afternoon sunlight and saw the English soldiers standing within the inner bailey. Across one of the horses lay the covered body of a man.

      Her heart seized at the sight and she hurried closer. Was it a MacPherson they’d found?

      Their leader was addressing Hamish, saying, ‘We caught this man wandering not far from Ballaloch. One of yours, I suppose.’ The soldier’s mouth curled in a thin smile.

      Nairna’s hand gripped the dagger at her waist. Her father’s face was expressionless as he stared at the soldiers. ‘Is he alive?’

      The man gave a nod, motioning for the other soldier to bring the body closer. They had covered their captive’s face with a hood.

      ‘How much is a man’s life worth to you?’ the Englishman asked. ‘Fifteen pennies, perhaps?’

      ‘Show me his face,’ Hamish said quietly, sending a silent signal to his steward. Whatever price they named, Nairna knew her father would pay it. But she couldn’t even tell if the prisoner was alive.

      ‘Twenty pennies,’ their leader continued. He ordered his men to lift the captive from the horse and hold him. The hooded prisoner couldn’t stand upright, and from his torn clothing, Nairna didn’t recognise the man. The long dark hair falling about his shoulders was their only clue to his identity.

      Nairna drew closer to her father, lowering her voice. ‘He’s not one of ours.’

      The soldiers gripped their captive by his shoulders, and another jerked the man’s head backwards, baring his throat.

      ‘Twenty-five pennies,’ the Englishman demanded, unsheathing a dagger. ‘His life belongs to you, MacPherson, if you want it.’ He rested the blade at the prisoner’s throat. At the touch of the metal against skin, the prisoner’s hands suddenly closed into fists. He struggled to escape the soldiers’ grip, twisting and fighting.

      He was alive.

      Nairna’s pulse raced as she stared at the unknown man. Her hands began shaking, for she understood that they would show no mercy to the stranger. They were truly going to execute him, right in the middle of the bailey. And there was no way to know if their captive was a MacPherson or one of their enemies.

      ‘Thirty pennies,’ came her father’s voice, reaching for a small purse that his steward had brought.

      Their leader smiled, catching the purse as it was tossed at him. The soldiers shoved the prisoner to the ground, but after he struck the earth he didn’t rise.

      ‘Go back to Lord Harkirk,’ Hamish commanded.

      The English soldier mounted his horse, rejoining the others as he fingered the purse. ‘I wondered if you were going to let him die. I would have killed him, you know. One less Scot.’ He tossed the bag of coins, his thin smile stretching.

      Angus moved forwards from behind Nairna, his hand grasping a spear in a silent threat. Other MacPherson fighters circled the English soldiers, but they had already begun their departure.

      Nairna couldn’t quite catch her breath at her father’s blatant bribery. Thirty pennies. She felt as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs. He’d handed it over, without a second thought.

      Though she didn’t speak, her father eyed her. ‘A man’s life is more important than coins.’

      ‘I know it.’ Nairna gripped her hands together, trying to contain her agitation. ‘But what will you do when they come back, demanding more? Will you continue to pay Lord Harkirk until they’ve seized Ballaloch and made prisoners of our people?’

      Her father strode over to the fallen body of the prisoner. ‘We’re alive, Nairna. Our clan is one of the few left untouched. And by God, if I have to spend every last coin to ensure their safety, I will do so. Is that clear?’

      She swallowed hard as Hamish rolled the man over, easing him up. ‘You shouldn’t have to bribe them. It’s not right.’

      There was no difference between the English soldiers and cheating merchants, as far as Nairna was concerned. Men took advantage, whenever it was allowed. She knelt down beside her father, trying to calm her roiling emotions.

      ‘Well, lad, let’s see who you are,’ Hamish said, pulling off the hood.

      Nairna’s heart stopped when she saw the prisoner’s face.

      For it was Bram MacKinloch. The husband she hadn’t seen since the day she’d married him, seven years ago.

      Pale moonlight illuminated the room and Bram opened his eyes. Every muscle in his body ached, and he swallowed hard. Thirsty. So thirsty.

      ‘Bram,’ came a soft voice. ‘Are you awake?’

      He turned towards the sound and wondered if he was dead. He had to be, for he knew that voice. It was Nairna, the woman he’d dreamed of for so long.

      A cup was raised to his lips and he drank the cool ale, grateful that she’d anticipated the need. She moved closer and lit an oil lamp to illuminate the darkness. The amber glow revealed her features, and he stared at her, afraid the vision would fade away if he blinked.

      Her mouth was soft, her cheekbones well formed and her long brown hair fell freely across her shoulders. She’d become a beautiful woman.

      He wanted to touch her. Just to know that she was real.

      Longing swelled through him, mingled with bittersweet regret. His hand was shaking when he reached out to her. As if asking forgiveness, he stroked her palm, wishing things could have been different.

      She didn’t pull away. Instead, her hand curled around his, her face filled with confusion. ‘I can’t believe you’re alive.’

      He sat up and she moved beside him. With one hand clasped in hers, he touched her nape. The light scent of flowers and grass seemed to emanate from her, and he leaned closer, drinking in the sight.

      God help him, he needed her right now. He threaded his hands in her hair, lifting her face to his. He took her mouth in a kiss, for she was the hope and life he’d craved for so long.

      Nairna’s heart was beating so fast, she hardly knew what to do. She tasted the heady danger within his kiss, of a man who didn’t care about all the lost years. Bram had never been much for talking, and without words, he told her how much he’d missed her.

      He kissed her as though he couldn’t get enough, as though she were an answered prayer. And in spite of everything, she found herself kissing him back.

      God above, she’d never expected this. Not in a thousand years. It was as if she were seeing a spirit, and when he bent to take her lips again, he convinced her that he was indeed made of flesh and blood.

      A tangled knot of emotions warred inside her. She gripped his lean shoulders, unable to stop the tears. She’d grieved for him, raged against the injustice of losing him. And when she’d finally accepted the dull ache of loss, Fate made a mockery of her grief by returning him.

      She was torn between happiness that he was here and her guilt of betrayal. She’d married someone else. And though Iver was dead and there was no shame in kissing Bram, it felt strange.

      His mouth moved against her cheek, along the line of her jaw. A spiral of desire tightened within her breasts, spearing down between her thighs. And when he pulled her down on top of him, she felt his heated arousal pressing against her.

      ‘Nairna,’ he whispered. His voice was husky, a deep bass note that rumbled against her throat. Her skin flushed, while warmth pooled within her body.

      She didn’t know where these feelings were coming from, but they terrified her. Bram’s hands moved down her back, bringing her hips against him. The sensation of his arousal cradled against her womanhood made her moist with wanting, her nipples

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