Chapter One

1720

Highlands of Scotland

Connal McKenna paced the tower overlooking the Scottish countryside. Something was wrong tonight, verra wrong. He felt it deep in his soul, the darkest part of his being. It seemed the wind whispered the evil that was close, too close to ignore the feelings in his gut. Running his hands through his thick black hair he decided not to speculate and also not to ignore the sensations that were quickly becoming something he could not disregard.

“What is it?” Brenna, his sister, stood by his side, her hand resting on his back as if attempting to reassure him. “I ken you’re not of a mind as we are verging on All Hallows’ Eve to enjoy yourself.

“You don’t feel it? There are whispers in the air, wicked sounds, and deepest, blackest evil. You are usually more in tune to the wind’s undertones than I am,” Connal said, turning toward her. “Something in the wind doesn’t bode well.”

“I ken there is something afoot, but most of it is in your imagination, big brother. Ever since our mother and father died, you have seen shadows where there are none, darkness where there is light. You brood, Connal, and it is not well done of you.” She pointed to the hill just a wee bit north. “Bonfires are lit, celebrations are at hand. What will it take to cheer you up?”

“It is not just the death of our parents.” He didn’t want to acknowledge how Maurina crushed his heart. He felt injured and broken. He’d thought she was his mate. When he discovered the truth, the pain had been unbearable.

“Maurina then, she has done this to you? She was a bampot if I do say so myself.”

Perhaps she was an idiot. Not wishing to speak of the woman, his once fiancée, he ignored his sister’s question. Sympathy was not needed, as he was better off without her. He had been taken in by her beauty not realizing how self-centered and pretentious she was.

“I’m not wrong about this. There is evil in the air tonight. Something desperate and depraved that will change our lives forever is traveling our way,” he paused then looking skyward, “At least it will change my life. I ken it but don’t know if the change is for good or evil. When the wind murmurs, I shiver and the sensations deepen.”

“I’ve never known you to be so superstitious or bothered by the undertones soaring with the ever-changing wind,” Brenna said, and Connal did not miss the worry in her voice. Yet with an indulgent smile, he said, “You would ken it too, if you weren’t constantly stealing glances at the lads in the hall.”

This time he was right. They were on the verge of All Hallows’ Eve and in the highlands everyone acted strange and the nights were eerie but this was singular. The villagers already set fires on the hilltops, already slaughtered cattle for sacrifice. Usually none of this was done until the night itself. He was not the only one who sensed the evil.

“I’m not mired in fantasy, and this has nothing to do with superstition or the occult. My feelings are based in fact. If you cannot see what is happening right in front of you, you should try opening your eyes, Brenna.”

“Just because I’ve a different opinion does not mean I’m not seeing clearly. My eyes are wide open, Connal McKenna.” She turned toward the steps seemingly intent on removing herself. Her back was stiff as she marched away, leaving him to brood even more deeply. She must have changed her mind because she was suddenly beside him again, her hand resting on his back.

A hawk swept by touching Connal on the shoulder then flew upward. The nearly full moon highlighted the bird’s silhouette. A shiver swept down his spine as he watched the sky and listened to the sounds of the earth. This evening every shadow of a noise beckoned to him. He meant to discover the truth, tonight.

The dark silence touched him in ways he couldn’t explain to Brenna let alone himself, the world so different now. He believed in the powers of nature, believed that in time people would come to accept who he really was.

“Would you like to go for a run with me?” he asked Brenna, knowing she did not leave the turrets although a few moments ago that had obviously been her intent. “We could swim in the loch when we are finished.”

“You want me, a woman, to go for a run with you so close to Samhaim?” She sounded incredulous. “Just as with your fiancée, the good villagers will take exception to who you are if caught. You cannot let yourself become so vulnerable it might cost you your life. I weel nay risk mine.”

He almost chuckled but thought better of it when he saw the expression on her beautiful face emphasized by shadows created by the light from the torches. If he didn’t understand her so well, he knew she was angry as well as frustrated at him.

“No, I suppose it might not be a good idea. If you were caught…” he let the thought hang unsaid but she finished for him.

“I would be burned as a witch before having a trial, vigilante justice.” Her voice shook with raw passion, the emotion emanating from her savage and primal. “Even now more and more people fill our tiny part of Scotland. The chance to roam free and be ourselves is disappearing. The clan is growing restless. Some talk of moving where there is more room.”

He was not afraid of these people, those living in the highlands. He didn’t feel the need to leave his country. The clan Chattan were different, and they would not be caught, had never been, but he did have to admit the spaces were growing smaller. There was less land to roam free. He understood the need for that freedom.

“We would not have to shift back if we saw anyone. You could stay in your cat form.” For some reason, he didn’t want to go alone. He tried one more time to convince her. “If someone saw us, I would protect you.”

“How? If either of us was captured, we’d be held as a prize to be shown off and would not be able to shift back to human form. Black panthers do not exist naturally in any part of Scotland as you well ken. Don’t take any chances.”

“I would find a way,” he told her but knew in his heart a rescue might not be possible and might result in his capture also. Long ago, the clan Chattan made a pact addressing this very thing. If caught, there would be no rescue from the others. One would need to fend for themselves and find their own way, whatever that might be.

“You should take a couple of the cousins with you and maybe Alistair too. They are all shifters, and you can take care of yourselves, defend each other if the need arises. The four of you together are an impressive force, one to be reckoned with.” She hung back from him seemingly afraid his arguments could not be denied much longer.

“Perhaps you are right. I will see what they think. This restlessness is eating at my heart. Pacing the turrets does nothing to ease the feelings in the deepest part of my soul.” He leaned against the wall, his forearms on the cold stone, searching the countryside for anything that was tangible or would present danger. He saw nothing, only heard the rumors of the wind.

Moonlight glinted on the nearby lock, the water shimmering and bright. A cold swim might be good for the soul as well as the ache in his heart. He laughed, knowing the water would be frigid and would serve only to numb him for a few hours.

“The lot of you can be as foolish or as daring as you want and,” she paused, smiling at him for the first time tonight, “maybe you will work some of this brooding monster from your soul. Perhaps when you return, you will be easier to talk to and live with. You should find a willing woman.”

“I’m not brooding nor am I a monster,” he grumbled, giving credence to her words. His gut churned and his mind ached. Good sex would serve to ease him for a little while then all the black feelings would return with a vengeance.

She sighed long and deep, seeming to expect something from him he could not give to her. “You don’t have to live with you. You chastised the sweet maid when she spilled a tiny bit of wine on the table this evening. You’ve spilled more when you were in your cups.” She reprimanded him yet the grin on her face told him she was indulging him. “You knew it was an accident. The poor girl tripped on the edge of the rug.”

He raked his hands through his hair, the ends flying around his face, coming unleashed from the leather thong he held it with. The dark ends dipped rakishly below his white collar a startling contrast. “I wasn’t angry. I just wanted to make sure she understood her behavior wasn’t acceptable.”

“What does have you brooding more than usual? Really. You need to come to terms with the facts and deal with them logically. Only then will you become a suitable person to live with.”

“It’s this damn feeling that has settled in my heart. I cannot fight it nor do I understand why the deep weight on my shoulders doesn’t go away. It is as if I’m just waiting for something to happen, and I can’t do anything about what is coming my way until it presents itself.” Years ago, he learned how much he detested surprises. He leaned on the wall once again, his mind wandering, drifting to thoughts of the woman he once believed was his mate. Reflections of Maurina in his head and the words she spoke when she left.

You’re a freak of nature.

He recalled the words as well as the inflection in her voice when she spoke them. Freak of nature. Because of her knowledge, along with the possibility she would divulge the clans’ secrets, she was sent away, far away where she could do no damage to clan Chattan. Her whereabouts was never divulged to him. He supposed that was good. But he also kenned she was sent to the Kinnell stones.

Brenna sighed softly, placing a hand on his back, “You should go now, go run, see if Angus and Fergus will shift and run with you until all these black brooding feelings leave your heart and soul. Perhaps Alistair will be there also. Seems he has the same thoughts as you. He paces and frets, his face grim as he acts as if things plague him over what seems like nothing to me. He cannot find his mate and is questioning now if they exist. I think you will find all three of them in the kitchen flirting with the cook. They are all incorrigible,” Brenna laughed, rolling her eyes as if she was thinking of some of their exploits.

Perhaps all that Brenna said was true but a black brooding monster? He was not that bad. Was he? It seemed he did look at everything with a jaundiced and cynical eye. Mayhap he did frown more than he smiled.

Striding down the steps he thought on where they should go. Brenna was right about one thing. They should not run close to any of the villages. There were a few inhabitants who would question seeing three or perhaps four black panthers in this part of the world.

As predicted by his sisters, the three young men were indeed in the kitchen flirting with the cook. When Alistair saw him, he looked up frowning then it seemed Angus and Fergus noticed his arrival as well.

“What are you doing darkening the kitchen?” Angus asked with a chuckle. “Are you going to leave everyone here depressed and moody?”

If that was meant as a joke, the words did not sit well with him. “Wanted to shift, run with the wind. Anyone interested?”

“You would leave the cozy fire at the hearth and a willing woman in your bed to wear yourself out?” Angus asked, laughing, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would rather spend the night with a high spirited and eager woman, one who wants to be in my arms as well as my bed.”

“Don’t have a willing woman, eager or high spirited,” Connal muttered, feeling sorry for himself and alone in this world, at least where female companionship was important. “Need to do something tonight. Feel the need deep in my bones. If no one is interested, I’ll go by myself.”

“Not safe to go alone,” Fergus said with a grumble. “Suppose we’ll have to leave the warmth of the kitchen and the willing maid,” he said as he winked at the lass.

“I’ve the same need as you,” Alistair spoke up, heading to the door. “Where do want to go?”

“I plan on riding north a few miles and away from any hamlets. Looking for privacy and perhaps a way to vanquish the restlessness that is eating at my verra soul.”

“Dangerous for just the two of you. We’ll both go,” Angus said, sending his brother a look.

“Then grab a coat and I’ll meet you in the stables.”

Second thoughts assailed him as he thought about the myriad of things that could go wrong. Two evenings away from All Hallows’ Eve and the strange happenings on that night. He inhaled a long deep breath wondering if he should leave his cousins and friend behind, not feeling any danger in his gut, just the bleakness as well as the evil.

He wasn’t given the chance of leaving them behind when Alistair arrived seconds behind him with the cousins. Mounted and heading into the darkness accompanied by the murky fluttering shadows, they road at a gallop for a few miles then slowed.

Connal turned his horse down a narrow animal trail, branches hitting him in the face, spider webs clinging to him. He brushed them away with a curse knowing he could be in the warmth of the castle. The trail twisted and turned, going ever deeper into the forest until the only light from the moon was so dim one could barely see his hand in front of his face.

“Think we’ve gone far enough?” Fergus asked. “Don’t see anyone around, don’t expect to see anyone but, in this gloom, who would know? One would have to hear or smell them.”

“Looks like the best place to me,” Angus seemed to agree with his brother. “The only question is can we see to run? It’s black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat.”

Connal stopped, sliding off his horse, the other men following. They all disrobed and shifted then ran despite the darkness. Their cat eyes easily adjusting to the blackness surrounding them, they ran. He raced the night and the wind. The big cats were made for speed not endurance so it was not long before they all became winded. Connal sat on his haunches staring at the loch and wondering if the others would follow if he went for a midnight swim. They probably would because none wanted to be left alone this evening as they shared an unbreakable bond.

By the time the men cooled themselves in the frigid loch, a few clouds hung in the sky and a brisk wind picked up. With silent acknowledgement, the men headed for their mounts as well as their clothing. Connal knew the edginess had not vanished, but the night didn’t seem quite so bleak or desperate. For a timeless moment, the sounds of evil were slowly being replaced by light and goodness.

“Do you feel better now?” Alistair asked laughing. “I don’t. Now I’m cold and tired, ready for my bed. We’ll be back late enough there will be no willing women about to warm us.”

“Well, suppose I feel the same,” Connal admitted chuckling, “but at least now I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Think so?” Fergus asked, lifting one eyebrow. “For a while this evening I did believe the cook would be in my bed, now I’m sure she’s found someone else or she’s alone for the night too.”

“She likes me better,” Angus said, “as well you ken.”

“Perhaps she would have enjoyed both of us,” Fergus said, shooting his brother a look, his voice gruff with raw passion. “We’ve never shared but there is always a first time.”

“Then neither of us would have slept,” Angus said, laughing and throwing a shirt at his sibling.

“It’s after midnight now. We should get back and still I feel something is about to happen, something that will change my life,” Connal muttered, wishing that whatever was about would do it now and end the suspense.

“Then nothing was solved by this midnight romp?” Alistair asked quirking one eyebrow skyward.

Connal was shaking his head while he pulled on his boots. “Nothing so far.”

On the trails back, the night seemed to darken even more. Clouds passing across the moon dimmed the already meager light. Everything Connal felt earlier intensified. When they reached the main road, he pulled up, searching both directions. The sensations no longer felt evil but desperate, fraught with pain. He sensed fear, sheer terror, but it wasn’t his.

“Do any of you feel that?” he asked, turning the horse to look away from the McKenna land.

“The wind has shifted,” Alistair said, his voice stern. “Perhaps your intuition is better than we thought.”

Connal’s hand settled on his sword, his heart beating hard. “Be prepared. I sense a fight of some sort. Man or beast, whatever it is, it is coming closer.”

He heard the pounding of the hooves, a single horse, but racing down the darkened road, shadows hiding the horse and rider. Suddenly, the silhouetted form raced around the bend in the road, cape and brilliant hair flying behind. Moonlight caught the vibrant strands for a brief moment sending slivers of color to greet his gaze. Connal’s heartbeat stopped then slowly began to beat again, the brilliance or the color, shimmering a deep red catching all the meager light until the elements appeared on fire.

Connal’s breath caught in his throat, captivated by the site as the woman drew closer. She didn’t seem to see them, continuing on her wild ride toward him. Yet to Connal, she seemed remarkably skilled for a woman, vulnerable as well. He only knew of one other woman who could ride that well and that heedlessly without injury. His sister.

When the woman was too close to turn around and race in the opposite direction, “Hold!” Connal raised his sword, moonlight glinting off the steel. Behind him, his men did the same.

She pulled on the reins to stop the stallion’s mad dash down the road before she would run into him. The horse reared its front legs rising high, pawing in the air as she clung to him, desperately hanging on.

“No,” her whispered word did not escape Connal. The single word sounded and felt like a cry for help.

Yet perhaps he was mistaken. As soon as the young woman controlled the horse, she dashed through the woods away from them. A moment of breathless silence followed before Connal regained his wits, pushing the cobwebs from his brain.

“Stay here and wait for me,” he ordered then followed the woman into the trees, hell bent on catching up with her. He suddenly felt alive and whole, all instincts driving him forward to claim the prize that had suddenly appeared in front of him.

He couldn’t see or hear her. Pulling to a stop he listened and the silence was foreboding, unnerving. The wind’s murmurs no longer sounded evil to him, just fearful. She must have done the same. With nothing to lose, he would wait for her to make her move and when she did, he would have her and discover what caused her frantic and wild race this evening. He would ascertain what motivated her to put herself in such danger.

It did not take long. A few minutes later he heard the swish of movement through the bushes. He smiled; his keen hearing would pay off. She must not realize it, but she was slowly moving toward him. When she was close, he spurred his horse, capturing the reins of hers before she could flee again.

“You are mine now.” And he understood his words were true despite the fact she would gainsay him at every turn. His heart beat stronger suddenly and his mind cleared.

“No!” This time her cry was of alarm and horror. “Leave me alone.” She tried to push his hand away, swatting at him but to no avail. “I weel nay go back.”

“I won’t hurt you, lass,” he said as her fist hit his jaw. Then needing to laugh, “I suppose I didn’t see that coming.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she grit out, still pushing at his hands, struggling away from him. “You’ve no right.”

“Which part? I won’t hurt you or I didn’t see it coming.”

“Let me go.” She jerked on the reins to no avail.

“Stop it.” He tried to grab her around the waist to lift her onto his horse, hoping to control her struggles and subdue her in the process yet he realized that would not be an easy feat.

“Never,” she said, still hitting at him, her fingernails raking across his face, drawing rivulets of blood. This time she pushed so hard, she fell from her horse.

For a moment, she lay stunned on the ground, gasping for air. That tiny second gave him time to dismount and reach for her. He held her now, once again her arms and legs flying through the air, her efforts directed at him. He wanted to shake some sense into her and tell her she didn’t need to fight him. He meant her no harm, but he also understood she wouldn’t believe him.

He didn’t know what to tell her. She needed to stop this foolishness before one of them got hurt. At this moment, he suspected it would be him who took the brunt of her blows.

“Let me go. You’ve no right.” Her words were short and pained. She was very nearly breathless, exhausted by her desperate thrashing.

The pounding on his chest weakened her until she fell limp in his arms, her head resting against his chest. He heard the long raspy attempts for air, felt the rapid beat of her heart against him. In her gasp for air, a sob rumbled forth. A moment of sympathy or perhaps it was empathy that filled his soul for this lass.

“Now are you going to stop fighting me?” he asked, even as she pulled back, hitting him in the chest with her head then with one last and very weak punch she quit for the moment.

He didn’t trust the slender bliss filled moment of peace. “Blessed hell.” He’d had enough of this, would take no more this night. He swung her onto his shoulder before whistling for his horse. Interestingly, her steed came as well, but he wasn’t about to put her on the mare. There was no trust involved here. If he let her go, she would run and whatever demons were chasing her would catch her. He prayed not before he did. Another chase tonight was not going to happen if he could help it. Meaning to protect her, he intended to keep her close until he understood who she was and what she was about. Why she fought him so hard.

He returned to the road and to a roar of applause from his friends. It appeared at least for the time being she quit fighting him. “A tiny little slip of a woman almost bested you,” Angus laughed, chortling with glee. “I can hardly wait to see what comes of this strange union.”

“Tis no union, strange or otherwise.” But he suspected there might be more truth to Angus’ words than he was willing to admit at this moment. He didn’t understand why, but this tiny female intrigued and fascinated him. Perhaps it was just because she fought him so desperately. No other lass had ever dared to fight or disagree with him, the laird. All knew that he was the head of the clan.

“Are those scratch marks on your face?” Alistair asked with a chuckle. “Was she trying to mark you or is it just a coincidence?”

Men marked their mate, not the other way around. “Get off your horse and help me. Be careful.” Connal handed the girl over to Alistair then pulled the thong from his hair.

“Be glad to,” he said, still laughing and finding this situation Connal was in too amusing to ignore.

When he sat his horse, Alistair placed her in front of him, “Tie her hands for me.” He was angry now and in almost any other time, he would have explained his actions, but not tonight. His friends could wonder what had gotten into him.

~ * ~

Wynnie understood she’d just hopped from the boiling pot into the fire. Now she leaned against this man’s broad chest, pressed so hard against him she felt each breath, her hands useless. She could not fight. Truth be told, she didn’t have the energy to struggle let alone voice another protest. Waiting for an additional moment might be prudent, but she was pretty sure she would not get the chance.

“What’s your name?”

His voice rumbled against her back reverberating, pulsing. The sound was low and deep, somehow soothing in this turbulent time. This was a man who was used to getting his way in everything. She closed her eyes, praying the leather tying her hands would come undone, wishing she would have seen these men and gone the other way before it was too late.

Resting against him, she tried to draw some energy into her body but she’d been running for days now, sleeping with one eye open. She had barely eaten, finding a few mushrooms on the ground, digging for wild potatoes. Exhaustion tried to steal inside.

“Mine is Connal, Connal McKenna. You can call me Connal. What’s yours?” he repeated the question. He held his breath, as if hoping she would answer and he would hear.

She gasped, startled by his voice. She must have dozed for a second, her lashes heavy. Then in a whisper thin voice, “None of your business.”

She felt the masculine lift of his shoulders. “Have it your way but I can guarantee I’ll be a lot nicer to you if you answer my questions.” He chuckled as if he didn’t just claim her as a prisoner, as if this was just another day in his life.

Well it wasn’t just another day in her life. He was trying to be nice. How dare he, when she knew he had other motives? All men had motives other than what they presented to a woman.

“Where were you in such a hurry to get to?” His probing question was not going to be answered.

“Not here,” she told him begrudgingly.

He laughed and that just didn’t sit well with her. She tugged on her bindings until her skin was raw.

“You should stop that. You’re hurting yourself.” His voice was low and smooth reminding her of warm whiskey.

He sounded concerned but she knew she was imagining the tone of his voice. He was just like all the other men she’d known; self-centered, egotistical and filled with himself as well as the masculine arrogance that seemed to ooze from every pore. He would take what he wanted from her as long as he wanted. Understood she would have no say. He would hurt her just as the others had done.

“You could untie me.” She tried to add a sugary tone to her voice but that just wasn’t her and the words came out more like a command than a flirtatious request.

“Then you’d be hurting me,” he laughed again as if something was funny. “I’ve scratch marks on my face as well as a bruise on my jaw to prove my claim to that fact.”

“You afraid of a mere girl?” she asked before realizing she was challenging him instead of giving him what he wanted, sympathy and her compliance.

“There is nothing mere about you.” He tossed back at her.

“You should untie her and see what happens. She might warm your bed if you’re nicer. Lately, you seem to be lacking in that quality where women are concerned,” Angus said appearing to have a good time at his expense.

“No female wants to be in your bed, not one. You’re too gloomy and brooding,” Fergus jabbed at him. Then to finish the insult, “And menacing.”

“What do you think, little lady? Do you want to be in my bed?” He was playing her, his voice assuming a kind gentle tone. She detested the tenor as well as the meaning.

While she did not find him repulsive as she did other men of his ilk, she didn’t want to be forced into any man’s bed. Somehow, she didn’t think he would force her. “No.”

“Then you’d rather I put you in the tower prison? You like mice better than men?” he queried. “I can guarantee you the tower is full of mice.”

“No.” She cringed against his back and was sure he felt the tension in her arms when he mentioned the rodents. Mice weren’t as bad as rats. Then it seemed he read her mind.

“She does speak. I’ve heard there are also rats in the tower though I haven’t seen one myself.”

She wasn’t going to say anything more. He was baiting her and she fell right into the trap. Without saying much at all, he read her body language, the way she reacted to his words. Tears formed in her eyes. She fought them, fought them with everything she could. Yet the last weeks…

“What’s your name, lass? I’d like to start over if you don’t mind.” He wrapped one of his hands around hers.

She discovered her fingers were numb with the cold and the tightly bound leather stopping the flow of blood. Stifling the groan of pain was impossible. He stroked them, perhaps trying to warm her hands but the blood wasn’t cooperating.

Wynnie didn’t want to give in to the exhaustion and the horror of the last weeks, but her body had different intentions. She slumped against him, her mind hazy. Yet she still heard the words floating around her and about her, teasing words about mice and beds, men as well.

“I’m worried about the lass,” Connal said. “Her hands are freezing. She might even now be falling asleep. We all ken, she needs to stay awake. Don’t want her succumbing to the cold night air.”

“We should be home soon and you can warm her up,” Angus said, his words filled with humor.

“If I didn’t fear for my life when she is not bound, I might be more amenable to a little coaxing or verbal persuasion in order to see her softer side,” Connal said, feeling as if this woman was beginning to touch his heart in some strange way.

“Perhaps she’s as feisty in bed as she is on the battlefield,” Alistair mused. “Think she could be your mate?”

“Not a chance. I would have felt something, wouldn’t I?”

A mate?

“Suppose so. Bed her then and send her on her way. She obviously is running from someone or something,” Angus seemed to be encouraging. “If perhaps you protected her, she might be eternally grateful and you will be much more biddable.”

“The only way she’d bed me would be to force her,” Connal said. “I won’t do that or seduce her so she thinks she wants me when she really doesn’t. Had enough of that ridiculousness with Maurina. The next woman I take to my bed will understand who I am and will want me for those same reasons.”

“Then you might be an old man before you get any sex. There are a lot of willing women in the village. You should try one or two for the duration. It will ease your needs and no one will be calling you morose and brooding,” Alistair said seeming to watch him as he gave his opinion.

“We’re home,” Connal said the obvious as he turned his horse into the stables. “Help me with her.” He slit the bindings holding her hands and she started to slip from the horse.

“Catch her,” Angus said, rushing to reach her before she hit the stable floor.

She landed with a thud, groaning and opening her eyes. “What happened?”

Connal was beside her, stroking her hair away from her face. “Your hair looks as if it’s on fire.” He murmured so very intrigued with her. Everything about her fascinated him. “You must have fallen asleep. When I cut the bindings, you fell. Guess they were all that was keeping you on the horse.”

She didn’t move, just stared at the silver-blue eyes looking back at her as well as the row of even white teeth he was showing her. Her breath caught. She swallowed as he slowly set a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was gentle, not like the ones she endured at the hands of other men. Even when she was running from him, struggling against his brute strength, he’d been gentle with her. She reached up and touched one of the scratches on his cheek.

“Are you going to walk by yourself or do I need to toss you over my shoulder again?” he asked, his voice deep yet also held a hint of humor. “You do know I won’t let you get away from me.”

She nodded thinking over his words and while she looked around, his men surrounded her.

“I’ll walk.” She tried to stand but the coldness seemed to have penetrated every muscle she possessed. He extended his hand. She reached out to accept the offer but groaned instead.

“Are you hurt?”

She was shaking her head, “No, no I don’t think so. Just cold and stiff, my feet dinna want to work.”

“But you can’t stand or take my hand.” His voice was calm, seemed to calm.

“You’re right, of course.”

He swept her into his arms, striding through the stable to the castle doors then headed up the steps and more steps and more then it seemed an eternity before he kicked a door open with his foot and set her on the paltry bed in the single room.

The mattress was lumpy. Straw poked out of the seams. She looked up at him and knew horror was painted on her face. Eyeing the open door, she was tempted to flee but understood she would not make it to the door before he caught her again.

“You can’t mean to have me sleep here.” This was horrible, more than horrible. “Am I a prisoner then? What did I do besides run from you?” Please dear God don’t let him touch me. I could not bear the thought of another man taking me against my will.

“Yes, yes and yes,” he smiled at her. “What is wrong with the bed?”

“It’s nasty.” Despite her circumstance these last few weeks, she was not used to such places.

“Aw, you must be a princess. Prisoners are not usually that picky. But these are your accommodations.”

“No.” She stood too quickly, falling back to the bed almost at the same time. “Do I get a blanket or water? Food perhaps.” Heat rose to her cheeks as her stomach rumbled in protest.

He stood over her, a small grin on his too handsome face. The smile was almost a smirk yet if she wasn’t mistaken, it turned hesitant, almost apologetic. “Perhaps if you tell me your name and answer a few questions I would consider your requests. I wouldn’t want to stay here either, but you need to tell me who you are and if I should expect someone to be coming for you.”

She looked away then back, her eyes appearing to cross with fear, “Wynnie.”

“Well, that wasn’t too hard now was it? What is your surname?” He held a strand of her brilliant, red hair in his fingers seemingly mesmerized.

She didn’t want him to know her last name or where she was from. He would turn her in if he learned anything. Her father and her intended would be searching for her. A few hours before she met Connal on the road she was sure they picked up the trail. She would die before she would let either of those men lay another hand on her.

The wind changed and she heard things whispered through the branches on the trees then through the tiny window in the room. Animals chattered about the events. Evil seemed to find her and settle deep in her soul. They were coming for her. She knew it as the darkness entered her heart. This place was her only chance of escaping them; this man her only protection.

She moistened her lips, looking at him and trying to plead with her eyes. “I can’t.” she let out a long whoosh of air.

“And why is that?” He sat down beside her. “You in trouble somewhere?” He bounced on the mattress a few times then adjusted his weight. “This bed is lumpy. There is another choice you know.” He flashed a brilliant smile, placing her hand in his large one.

“What’s the other choice?” She knew what he was thinking, understood the way a man’s mind worked. Understood what his smile meant.

“Why can’t you tell me your last name?” He persisted, moving his leg so it touched hers.

Heat welled up inside her, a burning warmth, something she’d never felt before. She shook it off as her imagination and jerked away. “What’s the other choice?”

“We’ve reached a stalemate,” he laughed, his grin broadening. “You’re a formidable opponent, Wynnie with no last name. Shall we continue this tomorrow?”

“No, I need a blanket and water, a place to…”

“A prisoner who wants comforts of home. How ironic.”

“You never told me why I’m your prisoner.”

He shrugged standing then walked around the room, stopping at the window. “You have a pleasant view of the lake. I think you will enjoy watching the moonlight glimmer on the water. Except for the mattress there is really nothing wrong with this room.”

“It’s drafty. I would also request something to cover the opening.”

“When you’re honest with me, I’ll give you whatever you ask for.”

She was fuming now, her eyes blazing, irritated with him and his strange behavior. Men were all the same. She could not tell him her last name. “If there is a second choice, I’ll take it. It can’t be worse than here.”

Wynnie couldn’t help herself, she squealed then screamed when a mouse ran from beneath the bed.

“What’s wrong,” He turned, pistol in hand, searching the entrance to the room for the object of her fear.

“No-nothing,” Her hand at her throat, she gulped in air, her pulse speeding.

“You always scream at nothing?” His voice held contempt and perhaps a huge amount of annoyance. “If you are going to deal well with me, you need to speak the truth.”

“So should you.” Unwisely she stood up to him. Her voice shook with the realization while expecting the blow. When it didn’t come, “You haven’t told me why I’m here. You haven’t been straight with me about your intentions.” She moved closer to him, pressing herself against him as the mouse poked its head from behind an old ragged chair.

“You’re haughty for someone who has no rights or friends. Tells me you are used to getting everything your way.”

She pointed in the direction of the creature then, “I’ll jump out that window.”

“The scream was because of the mouse?” He sounded incredulous even while he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

She shivered, pushing against him although she knew she shouldn’t. “The mouse…”

“It won’t hurt you. Indeed, I do believe it’s more scared of you,” He laughed outright, continuing to chuckle as the tiny creature scurried from the room. “So you want to try the second choice. You might not like it any better than this one.”

“Does it have mice?” She closed her eyes praying for the strength to endure this nightmare of a man. Who did he think he was?

“Not that I’ve seen.” He was still laughing, running his large hand up and down her arm as if he was trying to warm her and soothe her rattled nerves.

“I’ll try it.”

“No, make the commitment now. I won’t be climbing up these steps again tonight. If you choose the second option, that is where you will sleep.”

“Will you tell me something about it then?” He was being straight with her. She didn’t want to take him up on that option but she couldn’t stay here.

“If you tell me your surname.”

“Are we back to that?” she asked, realizing he was like a dog with a bone, and he wasn’t going to let go but worry it to death. Well, she could be just as stubborn. “Very well, I’m ready to go and I’d like to try to navigate the steps on my own if it’s all right with his highness.”

“I’m glad you are understanding my status in the castle.” He helped her to stand, and this time she could manage, then he offered his arm. “There are a lot of steps. Just say the word if you’d like me to help you more, I am getting used to holding you in my arms.”

“I’m sure I’ll do well enough. My feet and hands are no longer numb.” She spoke primly, she knew. If he could be king of the castle, she could match him and act the queen.

“Shall we then?” he asked, still grinning, his all-knowing expression infuriating.

Immediate misgiving swept through her. He knew more than he let on, obviously, and she was sure now she might regret this hasty decision and the room he was leading her to more than the first one.

They stepped down two levels then turned right. The door they stopped in front of was huge and foreboding. The meaning of its size implicit to anyone who ever lived in a castle. This was the master’s chamber, and this was where he was leading her.

His men spoke of his bedding her, but he told them he wouldn’t force her nor would he seduce her to the point where she didn’t understand or know her mind. Obviously, he lied. Why else would they enter his bedroom, his domain?

“I see by the look on your face, you understand the choice you made.” He ushered her inside. Standing back, his arms crossed in front of him it seemed he waited for something.

The room was warm and a fire crackled in the fireplace. Candles lit the chamber, casting shadows along the floor and the walls. The tapestries hanging from ceiling to floor were thick and told a story of panthers and people with the title clan Chattan woven into the fabric.

Clan of the cats.

She looked at him then, really looked at him, her eyes wide with shock or fear she wasn’t sure. Then the bed caught her attention. It was huge, obviously made for him as well as room for a partner.

She understood now how so very far out of her element she was. He was the laird here, and his clan were shifters. Knowing the truth left her with ominous and dark sensations. The rumors abounded about these people; some good, some bad but nothing she’d heard was fact, only speculations.

She supposed she would know soon enough what he expected of her. Defiantly, her arms crossed in front of her as if the small gesture would keep him from touching her. She rubbed them, trying to ward off the sudden chill sweeping through her.

One of the other men talked about his mate. She was shaking her head, backing up. She could not be this man’s mate. Still behind her he blocked her way as she collided with his chest.

“Not so sure this is where you want to be. Perhaps I can change your mind though.” One hand rested gently yet intimidating on her neck, his thumb rubbing tiny circles at the base seeming to warm her from the inside out. His other hand was on her waist.

She was sure he could feel the rapid beating of her pulse, smell her terror, still there was something about this man that fascinated and intrigued her. Raw power emanated from his muscular frame, yet he wore gentleness in his soul. His broad shoulders and long slim torso intrigued her, left her wanting to discover more of him.

Then she reminded herself. He was a man and he would take what he wanted with no regard to her or her wishes or even her pain.

Her voice shaking, “You said you would not force or seduce anyone into your bed.” She challenged, hoping he would stand by his words.

“Thought you were asleep when I said that. Guess you weren’t. What else did you hear?” Still he didn’t remove his hands from her or stop the gentle stroking that seemed to be heating her from the inside out.

“I don’t remember.” She saw her saddlebag on his bed. “You knew I would agree to this, knew I would not want to be left in the tower room.” Anger threatened to explode within even while the unknown had her trembling so hard she thought her knees would buckle.

The door was closed and locked behind her. He was now sitting on his bed pulling items from the satchel. “I need to know more about you as I’ve a clan to protect and you willingly tell me nothing, Wynnie. Perhaps you are a spy, an enemy of my people. It’s my job to safeguard all of them.”

Hand shaking, rushing to him, to the bedside, “Stop. You’ve no right to go through my things.” He would find out the truth, learn her last name. She couldn’t risk that but knew her meager strength was no match for his.

He would have his way in this. There was naught she could do to prevent it from happening.

“I would do anything,” she blurted before she could possibly understand what the word anything might mean to a man such as Connal McKenna, laird of clan Chattan. But the grin on his face told her she might be in deep and very dark trouble.

~ * ~

Unable to sleep Brenna was sitting by the hearth when the cousins and Alistair entered the room, laughing and talking about Connal and the feisty woman he found quite by accident along the road. Deciding she needed to find out more, at least from these very biased friends, she stood and smoothed her skirts before she walked to where they were sitting.

They already had tankards of ale in hand as well as a plate of bread in front of them. She sat down, pouring herself a glass of mulled wine, smiling warmly at Alistair.

“I see something happened. Was it as dark and as dangerous as Connal thought it would be?” She tilted her head, flirtatiously understanding that with a smile and a toss of her hair, she could get all of these men, especially Alistair, to spill whatever they were keeping to themselves as well as sworn secrets.

“Ah, he found a pantheress to meet his needs, we’ve been thinking.” Angus said before he tossed back his head and drank long and deep then set the metal cup on the table with a resounding thud.

Alistair stared at her then. She felt a sudden rush of heat sweep through her, his gaze resting on her mouth then dropping to her bosom. For a moment she forgot to breathe. Sensations she’d never known before rippled through her body. What little air she could inhale caught deep in the back of her throat as her heart double-timed. What was this?

“We’re hoping he’ll come down to breakfast in the morning with a smile on his face instead of the frown we usually see,” Fergus added to what his brother was saying. “Probably not going to be able to tame her in one night though. She’s a spirited lass.”

“Don’t like the sound of that. Tame her?” Brenna queried, still curious. Yet, Alistair’s gaze was still fixed on her almost as if he’d never seen her before. She smiled at him then tossed her hair over her shoulder flirtatiously. His eyes darkened until they were very nearly black. Butterflies flitted in her stomach.

“Ah, we don’t mean anything by that. She is high spirited and she won’t fall into his arms easily,” Fergus said.

“Connal found his mate?” Brenna’s spirits lifted. She decided she would intrude on her brother and this woman just to find out a tiny bit more than the men were willing to share.

“Don’t know about that but she’s beautiful and secretive,” Alistair mused stroking his red beard a few times, his concentration still focused on her. “She marked him in a way. Left a set of four tiny scratch marks on his cheek. He could have let her go but for some reason he chased her down and acted as if she was his prisoner. Strange as that sounds, she did nothing to warrant that kind of treatment.”

That didn’t sound like her brother. “How so?” She leaned forward intent on discovering more about the incident.

“Tied her up, made her ride in front him.”

“Really?” This story was growing more intriguing by the second. “Where are they now?”

“Took her to the tower room, but I’ll bet they’re now in his bedchamber. Tower’s not a place for a lady and a laird who has had his share of bad luck with the women in his life.”

“A lady? Do you think they will want food and drink? A bath perhaps?” Brenna stood, heading for the kitchen before hearing the answer. It was, after all, her sisterly duty to find out what was happening with her brother.

In the kitchen and directing two servants, she discovered her brother had ordered a bath, for two. She thought over everything her cousins and Alistair told her. The woman wasn’t willing, yet she was now in the master chamber alone with Connal. This was just not like him. She felt a sudden and urgent need to interfere or at least make sure the woman was indeed accepting of her lodging.

Alistair was suddenly behind her, his hands on her waist, stroking her. “You shouldn’t interfere, lass. This is bigger than you can imagine.” His breath whispered along her neck, sending a wave of flames searing through her body. The touch of his tongue where her blood pulsed sent a wealth of never before felt sensations coursing inside. Good god, but she’d known this man her entire life and never experienced anything like this.

She turned, and with a gasp, confused and curious as well, “What are you doing?”

For a moment, he looked just as baffled as she felt. His voice raw and different, “Believe I’m going to kiss you, lass, that is if you won’t scratch my cheek. Make you forget your mission upstairs and perhaps find a mission together, possibly in my chamber.”

“Alistair, you’re a friend.” She chastised him but when his warm lips settled over hers and her fingers touched the softness of his beard. She couldn’t help but give in to him as well as what he offered. Tiny sounds rippled from her throat as he deepened the kiss. He kissed her again and again, his tongue stroking inside her mouth. She melted into him, clung to the heat of his body. She wanted more and more. This made no sense to her, no sense at all.

“Perhaps we should take this someplace more private,” he repeated and this time he seemed more sincere.

“No.” Clearly baffled she backed away, running her tongue along her lips. “You would have me in your bed and beneath you, and just because you dinna find your mate when you thought you had.” Her breath whooshed in and out in short little pants, her hands clasped tightly beneath her chin. “I can’t allow that to happen. I’ll only give my virginity to my mate.”

He smiled then his teeth gleaming white behind the red of his beard. “Are you afraid of me, lass? What harm could a little fun be? Besides, I suddenly believe there is more between us than friendship. I’d like to pursue the possibilities.” His coaxing tempted her beguiled her.

“If you bed me, you should be afraid of Connal.” She left then, wondering why the sudden attention Alistair was giving her. He’d never hinted at a kiss before this night, had searched for his mate diligently. She touched her lips with a fingertip, remembering the kiss and the warmth as well as the heat.

She gulped air, her heart in her throat. When she closed her eyes for that one moment, she saw them together naked in his bed. She was his mate.