Chapter One
Assynt, Scotland, May 1619
Something in the early morn air didn’t feel right.
Keegan MacKay rode at the front of the MacKay party of just over two dozen, his gaze scanning the surrounding misty green hills and gray granite mountains. As head guard of the MacKay clan, Keegan took his duty seriously. He was to spy danger before it presented itself.
Had his outlaw cousin, Haldane, returned to kill Chief Dirk and claim the chiefdom for himself? This wouldn’t be his first attempt. Although Dirk’s youngest brother was but twenty summers, he was a formidable foe and slippery as an eel when it came to capture. Haldane and his band of outlaws had escaped Dunnakeil’s dungeon last November. Then, they’d vanished.
No doubt they would come out of hiding again soon.
Wanting to travel as far south as possible before sunset, they’d left Munrick Castle and the MacLeods at daybreak. Though more than two hours had passed, the sun had not yet burned off the thick gray mist rising from the nearby loch.
Their journey had two purposes—Dirk’s wife, Lady Isobel, wished to travel to Dornie for a visit with her brothers, and Keegan was in charge of taking Lady Seona Murray back to her home near Inverness. A task he dreaded for he’d grown attached to her.
A prickle of warning passed over Keegan. Was there danger behind them? He glanced back, then guided his horse, Curry, offthe narrow muddy trail, turned about and waited until several in their party rode past.
Keegan’s gaze settled on Lady Seona. Though she wore a plaid cowl over her head now, he had memorized how glossy her chestnut-colored hair was. More than once, he’d fantasized about running his fingers through the loose strands. They would surely be silky and cool against his skin.
Her dark blue eyes met his, bewitching as always… and so were her Cupid’s bow lips. Damn, how he craved kissing her. Like a fool, he had longed for her for months, but he had never dared to touch her. Her chaperone aunt pinned her vicious eagle-eyed glare on him, as she always did.
Keegan had tried to tell himself he was daft for wanting Lady Seona so badly. He was not a chief or titled laird, and her father would never allow them to marry. Cousin of the chief wasn’t good enough.
Dirk paused beside Keegan, startling him from his wayward thoughts. “Is something amiss?”
“’Tis only a gut feeling that someone is following us,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“Aye. I had the same feeling.” Dirk narrowed his piercing pale blue eyes and glared back at the hills they’d just passed through.
People had often remarked that Keegan had eyes like Dirk’s and that they were more like brothers than cousins. Keegan agreed with that assessment and highly valued his role within the clan of protecting them and the chief. He was happy Dirk returned last fall to take the position he’d been meant for since birth. He was an excellent chief and a strong warrior.
From the mist behind them, a distant horse’s whinny carried on the breeze.
“Did you hear that?” Keegan asked, his gaze searching the murky landscape.
“Aye.”
Keegan caught a glimpse of a black horse and dark-clothed rider as they veered off the trail and behind a yellow-blooming gorse bush. “There.” Keegan pointed.
“Aye. We’re being followed.” Dirk moved toward their party, giving quiet orders to the guards to surround the three ladies and their four maids, then he and several guards joined Keegan.
“I wager ’tis Haldane,” Keegan said.
Dirk nodded. “He will never give up trying to kill me until one of us is dead.”
“’Haps you should wear a cowl so he cannot identify you so easily,” Keegan suggested. Dirk’s bright copper hair made him easy to spot from a great distance. And an easy target.
“Hmph. I’ll not hide from that wily weasel,” he muttered.
“I wasn’t suggesting you hide, cousin. Merely use caution and disguise yourself so we can protect you better.”
“I don’t wish for anyone else to be struck with an arrow either. I want Haldane and his whole band of outlaws taken out before he kills someone else.” They had murdered two MacKay guards last winter and stolen almost a dozen horses.
Dirk’s friend, Rebbie, the Earl of Rebbinglen, halted his horse on Keegan’s right. “How many did you see?” he asked, his expression as dark as his eyes and hair.
“One, but I’m certain there are more,” Keegan said.
“Without doubt. That damned McMurdo highwayman is likely with him.”
