Page 5 of The Lady's Guide to a Highlander’s Heart
A man who cared not who stood in his path.
The man to whom she was bound.
Chapter 3
Castle Dunrannoch
Approaching dawn, January 1, 1167
“Wake up, Maggie.”
The maid started at the abrupt shake Flora gave her.
“I need yer help, and quickly.”
“’Tis still night, ma lady.” Maggie blinked, squinting against the illumination of the candle flame.
“It is.” Flora threw back Maggie’s blankets and pulled her upright. “And the best time for an escape. At least six hours until dawn light and they’ll start searching.”
“But, what’s all this aboot? Ye cannae be gallivanting off in the dark.” She rubbed at her eyes. “Is it a game, mistress? I thought all were a’bed hours ago.”
“Not a game, nay.” Flora tugged Maggie to her feet and put a shawl around her. “Something horrible has happened.” Flora’s voice caught in her throat but she summoned all her strength to remain calm. There was no time to lose.
“Maggie, ye know the legend o' the Dalreagh curse?”
“O’course. Lyle McDoon placed a curse on the clan, after Camdyn, the Wolf o’ Dunrannoch, refused him the hand o' his youngest daughter. He vowed that every male heir o' the Dalreagh line would perish an untimely death. ’Tis a wondrous tale, though ye know I’m nae superstitious like most folk. Yer father is well in years and has ne’er even had the croup. I take such things with a pinch o’ salt.”
“So do I, Maggie, but—” Flora gulped back her tears. “I heard the piper, I swear.”
“Camdyn’s ghost?” Maggie looked suddenly fearful. “As plays whenever a member o’ the clan is due tae meet his end?”
“Perhaps.” Flora grasped Maggie by the shoulders. “I cannae say, but I went tae ma father’s chamber, Maggie, and—” Flora’s voice failed her again.
“Wae ist, mistress? Ye mun tell me.”
In answer, Flora drew out the dagger from her pocket.
“Saints preserve us! There be blood on it!”
“Hush!” Flora pressed her finger to Maggie’s lips. “Ma father is killed, but I dunnae believe ’tis the curse.” Setting her chin, she replaced the dirk to her skirts. “Someone wicked resides here tonight and they’ve brought aboot his death.”
Maggie’s eyes grew round. “A murderer! ’Tis a terrible sin, but I dunnae ken why ye wish tae flit. The castle be the safest place for ye.”
Flora took the woman’s hands in her own. “I believe I know the man responsible.”
“Ye do?”
Flora nodded. She’d heard the stories, that Ragnall had brought about his brother’s riding accident, to bring lands into his own hands—and his own father had died not long ago. Had the causes been natural? If he were capable of doing away with his own kin, his ambition surely knew no bounds.
With Flora’s father dead, Ragnall would be proclaimed chieftain before the body was cold.
“Aye, Maggie.” Flora set her chin. “The Laird of Balmore—as sleeps alongside his men in the hall this night. I agreed tae the marriage through duty tae ma father, but what duty commands a woman tae wed the beast she believes killed her own kin?”
The maid nodded sadly. “'Tis the devil’s work, right enough. Yer father entrusted the laird with not just yer hand and yer future safekeeping, but the wellbeing of every Dalreagh soul. I ne’er did hear o' such wickedness. There be no honour in it, for certain—only greed and high ambition. Who knows what such a man is capable of. I hardly like tae say it, but I would fear for yer safety, ma lady. There’s naught tae hold him tae treatin’ ye kindly.”
“Ye see why I need tae go?”
“O’ course—and if ye be leaving, I’m coming wi’ ye. We’ll go tae ma brother’s croft. ’Twill be hard in the snow, but nae more than four hours on foot… But, what shall I tell them, ma lady? I cannae say who ye truly are, or yer plan will be for naught. We mun hide ye good and proper.”
