Page 5 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

I once dared tae dream that ye could be me forever, that our love might defy even fate. But I must face the truth I have tried so hard tae deny: our paths were never meant tae stay intertwined.

This is Thorsten, our son. He was born two months ago, on the 20th of March, while ye were away fighting fer us. I named him after yer braither. He has yer strength, yer eyes. Every time I look at him, I see ye, and me heart breaks anew because of what I must dae.

More than anything, I wanted ye tae come home safely tae meet him, tae hold him, and tae feel the joy of being his faither. I dreamed of us raising him together. Being the family I never had. But dreams are fragile things, easily shattered by the cruel hand of reality. Me past has finally caught up with me, and I have nay choice but to leave.

There are truths about me ye dae nae ken, secrets I’ve kept buried deep. I am nae the woman ye believe me tae be, and fer that, I am deeply sorry. I never meant tae deceive ye, but the person ye love is a lie. And now, the danger that follows me threatens ye and our son. If I stay, I put both of ye at risk, and I cannot bear the thought of any harm coming tae ye or Thorsten.

I ken ye will hate me fer leaving, fer abandoning ye and our child. Ye have every right tae be angry, tae curse me name, and tae never forgive me. But ken that I am doing this because I love ye both more than me own life. I am leaving tae protect ye, tae keep ye safe from the shadows that chase me. I have nay other choice, Arne. If there were another way, I would take it, but there is none.

Please, take care of Thorsten. Love him with all the strength I ken ye have. Raise him with the kindness in yer heart.

And please, dinnae search fer me. It is too dangerous, and ye will never be able tae find me.

Kiss Thorsten fer me, and try tae remember that I love ye both, always.

Forever in me heart,

Maeve

CHAPTER ONE

May 1307, Mhairi’s House o’ Pleasure

The village of Muircross, near Castle MacLeod, the Western Scottish Highlands

The golden spring evening cast a deceptively warm glow over the grey granite walls of the substantial house which stood on the outskirts of the village. It nestled alone on an incline above a lane lined with towering pines and bushes of thorny, bright yellow gorse.

From the outside it seemed perfectly respectable, with lace curtains at the windows, but looks could be deceptive, and people from miles around knew very well that it was a house of ill repute.

Each night, as the sun went down, men would start arriving, tapping at the door to be let in. They came alone or in groups, drunk or sober, on foot, on horseback, or in carriages that marked the occupants’ wealth and status. All paying customers were welcomed by the painted courtesans who dwelt withinMhairi’s House o’ Pleasure.

At first, there had been nothing remarkable about the group of riders, five men, dusty from the road, who had come earlier that evening, and were currently being entertained in the downstairs rooms. There, the customers and the courtesans consorted, flirted, made free with whisky and wine, gorged themselves on fine foods, danced, and laughed, all under the watchful eye of the madam. Later, they would couple up, to disappear to one of the upstairs rooms.

Raven had thought little of it when the riders entered. She had been working at Mhairi’s for just over a year as a maid, having adopted the name of Maeve, and she was used to the comings and goings of the clientele. She split her duties between cleaning and, at busy times, helping in the kitchen out the back.

She was rushing to and fro between the main room and the kitchen with the orders when the men entered. They were greeted by Morag, the madam, who showed them to a table. Almost immediately Raven heard their leader asking if anyone knew of the whereabouts of a woman they were searching for.

“Her name is Raven MacNeil, but she might be goin’ by another name,” he said gruffly.

The bottom suddenly fell out of Raven’s world. Her mind went blank, and her breath caught in her throat.

The man went on, “She’s in her early twenties, slender, with long black hair, a pale complexion, and light brown eyes.”

Starting to shake, Raven accidentally spilled some of the ale she was carrying on the floor, attracting the attention of those nearby, including Morag and the leader of the riders.

Morag turned away from the man and directed a warning look at Raven. “Ye’d best go and clean that up quickly, Maeve, afore somebody slips up,” she said calmly. The man glanced dismissively at the clumsy maid, who kept her head down as she scurried back to the kitchen. Raven just had time to hear the conversation continue when Morag turned back to the man and said thoughtfully, “Black hair and brown eyes, did ye say?”

“Aye.”

Morag shook her stiff curls. “Nay, we’ve nae girls like that workin’ here, Sir. Shame though, for they’d be worth their weight in gold,” she said with an air of regret. “Nae many girls with black hair up here, so I am sure she would make me a good penny”. Then, with total aplomb, she swept her professional smile over his colleagues and asked in a honeyed voice, “Now, what would ye gentlemen like tae drink?”

By that time, Raven was in the kitchen, her heart pounding, limbs trembling, struggling to draw air into her lungs. Morag appeared a few moments later. She spoke quietly to one of the kitchen maids, who immediately went to clean up the spilled beer in the main room. When she has gone, the madam pushed the kitchen door closed, pulled Raven aside, and whispered urgently, “Ye heard them, lass, they’re lookin’ fer ye.”

“I-k-ken,” Raven whispered back, her voice shaking. “I h-have to leave right away, Morag. ’Tis too dangerous fer us tae stay here now.” Her heart continued thudding loudly in her chest as she stared at the door, painfully aware of the peril that lurked only feet away on the other side.

Morag nodded. “Go fetch the bairn and go up tae yer room. I’ll meet ye there shortly.” With that, she returned to her duties in the main room. Without saying anything to anyone else, Raven slipped out to the hallway and ran quietly up the staircase to her room.

Minutes later, in the small chamber which had been her refuge for the last year and a few months, Raven clutched her sleeping son protectively to her breast with one arm. Her voice thick with tears, she kept up a constant stream of quiet reassurance as she hurried back and forth between the small wardrobe and the large bag which lay open on the bed, hastily placing her few, necessary possessions inside with one hand.

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