Chapter One
"Dunthorpe Weep,
ScotlandEarly 1200s"
"She's leaving," the lad whispered.
"Nae, Drummond," scoffed the thin-faced lad next to him. "Me mum said she won't leave. She won't go back to...to -- "
"Blackstone Tower," supplied Drummond, the elder of the pair who perched behind the tooth-shaped crags of the high stone wall that overlooked the chapel. A dirt-stained hand pointed toward the forest." 'Tis there, far yonder in the Borders. My da told me so."
"The Borders," repeated Gordon, a wide-eyed, scruffy-haired lad of ten. "But there are thieves in the Borderlands. Thieves and"-his voice plunged to a whisper --" and Englishmen."
Drummond's mouth turned down. "Aye, you are right. Thieves," he repeated, his air clearly disdainful.
The sweet scent of wild flowers drifted through the air. Far afield, a hound bayed, and three horsemen followed the animal in fervent pursuit. But it was not the excitement of the hunt that claimed the two lads' attention. Instead they peered over the high stone wall toward the pair of women who sat on a blanket far below. Clinging tendrils of ivy climbed ever upward to where the lads strained to hear their voices.
"My aunt says the mistress will miss Glenda terribly if she leaves. Glenda cured the ache in my tooth, ribly if' What if it should return?" Gordon's tone had turned mournful. "'Twill be a sad day if Glenda leaves us."
Such was true, not just for the young lad Gordon, but for many...including the woman to whom the boys referred. For in truth, the thought of leaving the home Glenda had known for these past eight years roused a piercing sadness in her...yet it was forged by a resolution she could not forsake.
For this wasa task that was hers alone -- and the decision had been hers alone to make.
"So. You will go to Blackstone Tower."
Meredith, wife to Cameron, chieftain of the Clan MacKay, repeated the words Glenda had uttered but a moment earlier.
"I will," Glenda said simply.
The brightness of the warm spring sun reflected in Meredith's hair, turning it into a bright halo of fire around her head. She tipped her head to the side and regarded Glenda. "'You will not be swayed from this course, will you?"
Glenda shook her head. "I fear not, Meredith. My father and my uncle are dead. I doubt my sister's husband would consent to moving Eleanora and their children from Ireland. Of a certainty I cannot ask her to leave her family."
Meredith's reminder was gentle. "But we are your family now, Glenda."
Glenda smiled slightly at the flame-haired beauty. Aye, she was a MacKay, for she had married Niall, eldest son of Ronald, the clan chieftain, more than eight years ago. She had shared the clan's many joys in that time, as well as the crippling grief when Ronald and six of his sons had been slain by the Munro clan...
Among them was Niall.
It was a day that would haunt her forever. A day that had wrought not just one blow, but two...
Taking a deep breath, Glenda wrested her mind from the empty bleakness of those days ... and every day since. "Aye, I am a MacKay, just as you are now, Meredith. Yet Blackstone Tower is where I spent my childhood. 'Tis different in the Lowlands -- different than the clan way -- the Highland way. With my father and my uncle gone, with my sister Eleanora and her husband so far away, there is no one left but me. I fear that if I remain here, if I do not step forwardand Blackstone Tower were to fall into ruin, my poor father would surely turn over in his grave."
Before she could explain further, there was a highpitched shriek across the bailey. Both women turned their heads toward the sound, in time to see Brodie Alexander MacKay crawl out from beneath the skirts of Myrna, the washerwoman. In an instant the lad had scrambled to his feet. He darted to the left, sending the chickens scattering and squawking before him.
"Now, there's a rogue who likes the ladies -- och, and but two years old!" someone called out.
The laughing jest roused the attention of the lad's father, who stood near the stables, talking to a groom. His head came up and Cameron groaned.
"Brodie! Brodie Alexander! Come here, you scamp!"
He took off in pursuit of his son. As if the child knew precisely how to elude his father, Brodie ducked under the hay cart, which sat idle.
Cameron dropped down on his belly and peered beneath the cart.
"Brodie! Come here, lad."
Brodie giggled and stretched out a chubby hand. "Come hide with me, Papa!" he demanded.
Cameron sighed. "I cannot fit beneath the cart as you can, lad."
"Try, Papa!"
"Another time, laddie. For now, please come out."
It took no small amount of pleading and cajoling before the child crawled out. The instant he was snatched high in his father's strong arms, Brodie planted a wet, noisy kiss on the broad sweep of his father's bristly cheek.
Spying his wife, Cameron strode toward her, ruffling hair as dark as his own before carefully easing the boy into his mother's lap.
"Can you not teach your son some manners, lady?"
Glenda looked on as the chieftain of the Clan MacKay dropped a kiss on his wife'snose.
"My son?" A slender brow rose askance. "I but gave you the son you demanded of me, sirrah, and now you would complain!"
"And I but gave you the daughter you demanded' of me, wife -- and most insistently, as I recall, which...
It was Samantha James's love of reading as a child that steered her toward a writing career. Among her favorites in those days were the Trixie Belden and Cherry Ames series of books. She still loves a blend of mystery and romance, and, of course, a happily-ever-after ending. The award-winning, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of many romances and one novella, her books have ranged from medieval to Regency.