The merriment continued long after Graeme had whisked his new bride above stairs. Much dancing, drinking and singing took place over the next few hours. A group of lasses had surrounded the Frenchman, hanging on his every word. He relished in the attention.

Albert — never one to overdo anything — sat back and watched. More specifically, he was watching Laurin.

Politely, she turned down one young man after another who came to her asking to dance. The only person she hadn’t turned down was their father. Instead, she chose to tend to other people’s babes and weans while they danced the night away.

Had anyone been paying closer attention to him they would have noticed that with each young man who had approached, Albert would glower most menacingly at them. A silent warning they needed to tread softly and lightly, else they could find their heads cut from their shoulders.

He knew Laurin was not saving herself for any one particular person’s offer. Not even his. Nay, ’twas fear and fear alone that kept her back, kept her from truly participating as a beautiful lass of her age should.

Soon, he could sense that she was growing weary of the loud and boisterous festivities. Whenever she was nervous or tense, she had the habit of rubbing her long braid betwixt her fingers. He’d noticed that on their journey here from the MacAdams keep.

Standing to his full height, he went to her cautiously. “Laurin, ’tis growing warm and quite loud. Would ye like a bit of fresh air?”

He watched as her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “Aye,” she said with a quick nod.

She handed the babe she’d been holding to its mother and placed her hand in his. He doubted she felt the same warm sensations he did whenever their skin touched. He also knew why.

Grabbing his cloak from a peg by the door, he wrapped it around her shoulders and led her out of doors. The cool evening air felt good against his hot cheeks, but did nothing to douse the warmth in his heart towards this sweet and beautiful young woman.

Over the past several days, they had spent much time together. It had taken a good deal of patience on his part, and much prompting, before she felt comfortable enough to share anything about herself. Mostly, he had learned from quiet observation, as well as the numerous letters Josephine had shared with him over the years.

“Are ye warm enough, lass?” he asked as they walked slowly around the well-lit courtyard.

“I swear I have never experienced such cold as this,” she told him with a shiver. “I be fearful of askin’ what the winters here are like.”

“They be no’ much different than our summers,” he explained. “Though we get far more rain and far less sunshine.”

They walked in silence for a time, enjoying the peace and solitude the out of doors offered. “Mayhap on the morrow, ye’d like to ride with me. I could take ye to see the countryside. I swear to ye, there be little else on God’s earth that can compare to its beauty.”

Instantly, he felt her grow tense at the invitation and he knew why. She was quite fearful of being alone with any man. He quickly added, “Connor could go with us, as well as Bruce and his bride.”

That seemed to put her slightly more at ease. “I would no’ like to go far, in case Joie needs me.”

’Twas a paltry excuse, but he made no remark. Knowing his brother as he did, it would be days before he and his bride left their chamber. Still, he was thankful that she had agreed to ride with him.

“’Tis comfortin’ to ken the sun does no’ set in the summer,” she told him as they continued to walk aimlessly around the courtyard.

She had admitted previously to not liking the dark of night but had yet to admit to why. There was, of course, no need to. In his heart, he felt he knew this wee lass better than he knew another person, and all from Joie’s letters.

He knew why she hated the dark, knew why she was fearful of most men. Were he ever given the chance again to kill Helmert MacAdams and those two bastards he called friends, he would relish watching each of them die. He would do so without a moment’s hesitation or one pang of guilt.

After another long stretch of silence, Laurin stopped and turned to look at him. “Albert,” she asked in a low voice. “Why did ye do it?”

Though he was quite certain he knew to what she referred, he feigned ignorance. “Why did I do what?”

She turned her attention to her booted foot for a brief moment. “Why did ye buy me?”

Knowing she hadn’t intended for the words to sting, he tamped down his momentary sense of ire. “I did no’ buy ye. I paid fer yer freedom.”

Her dark blue eyes grew damp and he could see she was fighting an inner battle, wanting very much to ask another question, but perhaps not quite knowing how to word it.

Not wanting to cause her any further discomfort, he answered the unspoken question that had lingered between them for days. “I want nothin’ in return.”

The furrowed brow, the pursed lips, said she was not quite certain she believed him.

“Lass, I tell ye true. I want nothin’ in return,” he told her again.

She wiped her tears on his cloak. Aye, there was much she wanted to ask or say but something held her back.

“Laurin, I need ye to understand, to ken, that no’ all men are like those ye’ve kent in the past. I will admit to ye that I find ye more than just bonny. I also find ye quite smart and very sweet. What happened to ye,” he swallowed hard before continuing. “What Helmert and his friends did to ye, no woman should ever have to suffer through. And I swear to ye now, on me honor as a MacAulay, that I will never harm ye, not by hand, nor deed, nor word.”

He knew!

Joie. ’Twas the only explanation.

Unable to look at him any longer, she turned away to return to the safe confines of the keep. Away from his warmth and kind regard she felt she didn’t deserve. “Thank ye fer the walk, Albert,” she said before grabbing a fistful of skirt and racing back into the keep.

The revelry was in full force, the sounds of laughter filtering in from the gathering room. Struck with an overwhelming sense of panic with hearing the sound of boisterous laughter, a flood of painful, ugly memories came crashing through. ’Twas if she was back at the MacAdams keep, surrounded by Helmert, Darvord and Clarence.

Taking the stairs, forcing herself not to allow the tears to escape, she fled to her room and barred the door. Frantically, her heart pounded against her chest as the blood rushed in her ears. The tears came then, in great waves.

Why be I such a coward? She cursed silently. ’Tis all I am. A coward.

For a long time, she had been able to hide the fear and shame from everyone, including Joie. But now? With Albert showing her such attention, with the rest of the MacAulay’s being so kind? ’Twas growing more and more difficult to keep it all tucked away.

’Twould be easier if there wasn’t a kind person at every turn. ’Twould be easier to hide were they all harsher, less understanding, less giving.

In the corner near the hearth, she sank to the floor. Alone in the dark, with her knees drawn to her chest, she fought against those all-too-fresh memories of the countless days and nights she’d spent in utter agony. Memories as relentless as the three men whom she hated to the deepest recesses of her soul.

How many times had they torn away her clothes, taken their turns with her whilst the other two watched and waited patiently? Bile rose and blended with fear and dread. Would she ever be able to rid her mind of these ugly memories? ’Twas highly unlikely, she surmised.

The only comfort she had at the moment was knowing she was miles and miles away from them. ’Twas the only thing she could draw strength or ease from. She was safe here, at least from the three eejits.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she decided there was naught to be done at this late hour. With a heavy and weary heart, she readied herself for another night of fitful sleep. Donning a warm nightdress, she slipped into the bed, alone.

’Twas the first time in an age that she did not have Joie sleeping next to her. The room felt colder. Emptier than she had imagined it would. Since the day she had first arrived at the MacAdams keep those many years ago, Joie had been her friend, her sister of the heart.

Though she hadn’t shared with Joie half the depravity thrust upon her, ’twas still a comfort having her there. Much of what she’d gone through, Laurin had kept to herself, out of fear and shame.

Sleep was difficult to find, as it had been for her many a night. Anger and resentment settled in with her disgrace — an ugly combination. Joie was married now, which left Laurin feeling just as deserted as the day her mother left her with the MacAdams.

And why had Joie told Albert everything? What had possessed her to reveal to anyone all the ugliness cast upon Laurin? How many others had she told? ’Twas not her story to tell, but Laurin’s to keep buried.

As much as she wanted to seek her friend out and demand an explanation, she could not. The risk of being cast out for being disrespectful was too great. But someday, someday she might garner the courage to tell Josephine MacAdams MacAulay just what she thought of her.

Even after she finally succumbed to exhaustion, Laurin’s dreams were nothing more than vivid recollections of her past. At the forefront of those dreams was Clarence. Of the three eejits, he was the worst. It had been he who raped her the first time. It had been he who left her bruised and battered on the gathering room table, naked, terrified and ashamed. Nothing more than a heap of tears flowing from blackened, swollen eyes and blood trickling from her swollen lips.

Though Helmert was their leader in almost everything else the three of them did, ’twas always Clarence leading the way for another violent assault, another night of rape and beatings.

It was Clarence who terrified her the most, for he was the most sadistic, the most relentless. Just hearing his name spoken in her dreams was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat, feeling as though she were suffocating under his harsh hands, his brutality. In that dark dream, she tried to scream for Joie, for anyone who would save her from him. Try as she might, she could not scream. Even at a macabre vision of her lying on her back, eyes open in terror, her mouth wide yet silent, panic stricken and trembling with fear.

And Clarence hovering over her, laughing at her fear, happy and proud knowing he could do what he wished and not another living soul would do a thing about it. Taking what he wished, slamming a harsh fist into her face then her stomach, laughing all the while.

With a jolt, she shot up in bed, breathing as though she’d just run across all of Scotia. Panting, soaked in sweat, her fists clinging to her bedclothes, she quickly scanned the room through sleepy and terrified eyes. In that state, beyond the dream yet not quite fully awake, half frozen with fear, uncertainty abounded.

In the corner near the hearth, the shadows seemed to come alive. Like unearthly, grotesque hands that reached out for her as if to draw her away from this place. Floating, flickering dark shapes, she knew were cast by low burning flames in the hearth. Still, they seemed very much alive.

“Nay!” she told the shadows in a harsh whisper. “Ye’ll nae take me!”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she spoke to the shadows. “I ken ye be nae real,” she murmured, feeling instantly foolish for speaking to what was not there.

“They be nae real,” she told herself as she burrowed under the blankets.

Knowing there was nothing truly there did nothing to settle the ache and loneliness in her heart.

Two days had passed since the wedding and the bride and groom were still ensconced in their bedchamber. Laurin’s emotions were running amok. One moment she was angry with her friend for her act of desertion and for disclosing secrets, only then to feel like an idiot for having such feelings toward her.

Avoiding Albert hadn’t been easy. Like an apparition, everywhere she turned, he was there. And he always had that blasted look of tender regard on his face.

By the end of the second day, she decided the only way to avoid him was to stay in her room. Even if that room felt as empty and as hollow as her heart.

In a grand attempt to keep her mind busy, she took up an old sewing project that she and Joie had started months ago. When finished, it would be a set of sheets with delicate flowers and vines that would line all four sides, along with cases for pillows.

And if the events of the past three days were evidence enough, she’d soon be making blankets and bonnets for a future babe for Joie.

She begrudged Joie nothing. If anyone deserved something wonderful, ’twas her friend. Deep down, however, she did envy her. Envied her strength and courage, her ability to face down evil, her generous heart. She also envied the life she was now making with Graeme.

As Laurin poked her bone needle through the fine linen, a knock came at the door, startling her out of her quiet reverie. For a brief moment, she was inclined not to answer for fear ’twas Albert come to check on her. And his was the last face she wanted to see.

“Laurin,” came Kathryn’s voice from the other side.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she put down her sewing and opened the door.

Such a beautiful woman, Kathryn MacAulay was. With her blonde hair coiled around her heart shaped face, the dark burgundy gown, and those bright eyes, she was a stunning sight.

“Are ye well, lass?” she asked as she stepped inside. “We’ve no’ seen ye all the day long.”

Wanting not to admit to why she was staying away, she decided to use sewing as her excuse. “I wanted to finish something Joie and I started a few months ago,” she said with a nod toward the linen sheets.

“Ye sew?” Kathryn asked as she picked up the sheet and examined it.

“Aye, a bit. Though Joie is far better at it than I.”

Without an invitation—for why would she need one considering this was her keep— Kathryn sat in the opposite chair. “Come, sit with me. Ye can sew whilst we get to know one another better.”

A knot of trepidation formed in her stomach. Why does she want to ken me better?

Taking her seat, she picked up her sewing but remained silent.

“How are ye likin’ it here?” Kathryn asked.

How to answer that without sounding like an ungrateful idiot? “I like it verra well, m’lady.”

“Och, call me Kathryn. Ye are after all another daughter fer me.”

Laurin raised one brow questioningly.

Kathryn smiled. “If ye be Joie’s sister of her heart, then ye be another daughter to me.”

If ye only knew the truth, ye’d no’ be so willin’.

She began to grow uncomfortable under Kathryn’s close scrutinization.

“Laurin, we want ye to see this as yer home, us as yer people.”

“I thank ye fer that, m’lady,” she replied softly.

“Kathryn,” she politely reminded her.

“Kathryn,” she said with a smile. The woman was quickly endearing herself to Laurin.

“I want ye to ken, that should ye ever need anything, all ye need do is ask,” Kathryn said. “Ye can think of me as ye would yer mum.”

Her laughter was out before she could do a thing to stop it. “I fear ye’d no’ want that, m’l-Kathryn.”

She quirked a brow. “Why is that?”

Laurin’s smile faded. “Me mum abandoned me. Somehow, I fear ye’d rather take a dirk to yer own heart than abandon one of yer children.”

A warm smile came to Kathryn’s face. “Ye would be right,” she replied.

“I do thank ye fer allowin’ me to stay here,” Laurin told her.

“We do more than allow ye to stay. I be sincere when I tell ye we wish ye to think of this as yer home.”

Laurin believed her, but knew that once she learned of her past, her opinion would soon change.

They sat in amiable silence for a long moment before Kathryn spoke again. “Lass, never fear to speak to me. Think of this time in yer life as a new beginning. Ye can never undo what has happened to ye, but ye can overcome it.”

Her stomach lurched and she did her best to tamp down the rising dread. “What do ye mean?” she dared to ask.

Kathryn leaned forward and placed a warm hand on hers. “I ken what the MacAdams men did to ye.”

She withdrew her hand, tossed her sewing on the floor and jumped to her feet. “Bloody hell, how many people has she told?” she cried out.

Kathryn was beside her at once, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Laurin, do no’ be angry with Joie. She only told me, in her letters.”

“Blasted letters!” she said disgustedly as she fought back bitter tears.

Kathryn urged her to turn around so that she might look her in the eye. “ ’Twas no’ gossip or anythin’ vulgar that propelled her to write to me. She was askin’ what she could do to take away yer pain and sufferin’.”

Blinking away a tear, Laurin finally looked her fully in the eyes. Nothing there said she spoke anything but the truth.

“Laurin, Joie loves ye as a sister. She was so distraught. She saw how ye suffered, the pain ye were in and knew no’ what she could do to take it away.”

Still fuming, she asked, “And what advice, pray tell, did ye give her?”

Kathryn smiled thoughtfully. “I told her there was naught she could do but be there to listen, to let ye ken she was yer friend, and to let ye ken naught anythin’ they did was yer fault.”

She could no longer hold it all in. Two years of anguish boiled in a flash and came rushing out in a torrent of tears. While she sobbed, Kathryn pulled the girl to her breast and whispered soothing words of comfort.

“There ye go, lass, let it all out.”

Between sobs, she said, “Ye do no’ understand.”

Rubbing a gentle hand along her back, Kathryn begged to differ. “Think ye be the only woman ever on the planet to suffer at the hands of a man?”

Laurin shook her head as she clung to her. “Nay, but — ”

“There be no but, lass,” Kathryn whispered softly.

“I be such a coward. I was too big a coward to fight any longer and too big a coward to take me own life!” she sobbed.

Laurin clung to Kathryn and sobbed until she could no longer stand. They sat on the floor by the hearth, while Kathryn did her best to comfort her.

After a time, her tears began to subside, leaving her feeling quite tired and empty. When she finally pulled away, she looked at Kathryn. Her bright eyes were filled with tears of her own.

“I be so sorry,” Laurin murmured.

“Fer what?” she asked. “Fer cryin’? Nay, never be sorry fer lettin’ yer feelin’s out. Keepin’ it all bottled up does ye no good, nor the people around ye.”

“I do no’ deserve yer kindness,” Laurin told her.

Kathryn looked at her skeptically. “And why would ye be thinkin’ that?”

Wiping her face on the sleeve of her dress, she explained. “Because I be a coward. Because of all I let them do to me.”

Kathryn looked back at her, with nothing but understanding in her eyes.

“Laurin, did ye ask Helmert, Clarence or Darvord to rape ye?”

Her eyes grew wide with disgust. “Nay!”

“Then why do ye think ye let them do anythin’?” she asked with much concern.

Laurin stammered, trying to find the right words to explain. “After a time, I quit fightin’.”

“And ye just lay there and allowed them to do what they wished?” ’Twas more a statement than a question.

“Aye,” she answered, her voice filled with shame.

“Because ’twas easier than fightin’. Because that way, at least they’d no’ beat ye?”

Laurin’s brow furrowed into a knot of confusion. “How did ye ken that?”

Kathryn smiled wanly as she patted her hand. Taking a deep breath, she began to tell her a story. “Long ago, when I was a lass of ten and six, there was a raid upon our keep. Most of the men were away, some were fishin’, some were huntin’. ’Twas autumn time and we were preparin’ our larders for the comin’ winter.”

Her face no longer held a warm, tender smile. Laurin thought she looked far away and distant as she recounted her story.

“A band of Morrisons attacked us. The men on the walls fought bravely, but they were no match and too outnumbered. We were hidin’ inside the keep, below stairs in the storage rooms. When the Morrisons came crashing through the door, I was certain me life was over.”

Laurin’s heart began to tighten. Gently, she took Kathryn’s hand in hers. Kathryn offered another wan smile. “Ye see, lass, ye be no’ the only woman who has ever suffered.”

“Och, Kathryn! I be so sorry!” Laurin felt guilty and embarrassed.

“The Morrisons took me and three of me friends. Kidnapped us and stole us away. That first night ’twas the worst, ye ken.”

Aye, she knew all too well what that first night was like.

“They raped us in front of one another. Took turns they did. When they were done, they threw us into their dungeon, separatin’ the four of us so that we could no’ help one another. Me best friend, Anna, she was so overwrought that she hung herself in her cell.”

Tears streamed down both their cheeks. Laurin’s gut tightened, twisted, leaving her ill. “I be so sorry,” she repeated.

“We were there fer weeks. In the beginnin’ I fought like a madwoman, scratchin’, clawin’ and kickin’, knowin’ each time I fought, they’d beat me. After a time, I quit fightin’.”

Laurin did not think she could feel any lower, any more sorrowful for another being as she did at that moment. A hundred questions raced through her mind but she could not find the strength to ask them.

“Me clan came fer us, the battle cost many men their lives. But in the end, they were able to rescue us and take us home.”

Laurin sat in stunned silence, shaking her head in disbelief and regret.

“So ye think me a coward?” Kathryn asked as she looked directly into her eyes.

Laurin’s face burned with shame and she could not answer.

“I thought of takin’ me own life more than once, even after we’d been brought home. I blamed meself fer no’ fightin’ more, fer no’ doin’ more, and fer givin’ up.”

Laurin finally found her voice. “How did ye get over it?”

“’Twas a verra long and difficult journey. Me mother had been killed in the raid. Me father and two older brothers, killed in the rescue. I was left an orphan. That first year, och! ’Twas the most difficult time of me life, me darkest hour.”

Laurin’s tears returned, but this time, they were not shed for herself, but for Kathryn. “I do no’ understand how ye could allow another man to touch ye after that.”

“Well,” Kathryn said as she took another steadying breath. “’Twas Marcum’s mum, the chief’s wife, who helped bring me out of the darkness and into the light with much kindness and wisdom.”

Laurin doubted kindness and wisdom alone would help her crawl out of the dark hole of despair. But for the first time in an age, she was beginning to feel less ashamed.

“Let me ask ye a question,” Kathryn said as she dried her tears against the hem of her dress. “If Helmert and the others had taken only yer coin, or a favored necklace, would ye go the rest of yer life thinkin’ ye did no’ deserve any more coin or another necklace?”

She thought it an awfully odd question. “I do no’ see how ye can compare what they did to takin’ coin or jewelry.”

“There be no comparison, but would ye feel the same?”

“Of course no’,” Laurin admitted, still uncertain where Kathryn was headed.

With a nod of understanding, Kathryn said, “The men, they took far more than yer maidenhead or mine. They also took our sense of safety—fer that is what the men did to me. I no longer felt safe. No’ in a room filled with people I’d known me whole life, and especially no’ in the dark hours of the night. Is this how ye felt as well?”

“Aye, ’tis,” she admitted.

“And after that, out of fear and humiliation, we gave them our hopes, our dreams. We gave those things to them, unwittingly of course. I thought any chance of a normal life was over. I never thought I’d marry or have children because I did no’ want any man to get that close to me. I lived for more than a year in nothin’ but fear, even though the men who had hurt me were no longer breathin’.”

“The men who hurt me still breathe,” she murmured.

“Aye,” Kathryn said as she gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “But they be far away and will never harm ye again.”

While that may very well have been the truth, and she seriously doubted they would ever step foot on MacAulay lands, they still breathed.

Sensing her doubt, Kathryn said, “Our men will never allow them to step foot here. And if they try, there be a good chance they’ll meet their ends. Violently.”

There was very little doubt in her mind that Kathryn spoke the truth. If Helmert or his friends should ever try to gain entry to MacAulay lands, the outcome would not go in their favor. Taking comfort in that, she smiled warmly at Kathryn.

“I fear I may no’ be brave enough to overcome it all like ye have,” she admitted. While she no longer felt quite as guilty as she had before, she still possessed many lingering doubts about her future.

“Ye mean about letting another man near ye?” Kathryn asked.

There was no denying it. While she would love to have a babe of her own someday, she doubted she’d ever be able to get over the trauma in order to lay with a man.

“That was one of the more difficult burdens to bear,” Kathryn said. “But with Marcum’s help, I did.”

“But how?” Laurin asked.

“’Twas no’ easy, especially when his da arranged our marriage.”

Laurin looked at her in wide-eyed bewilderment. “How could he have done that to ye? Did he no’ ken what ye’d been through?”

Kathryn smiled again. “Aye, he knew. ’Twas why he chose Marcum for me. He knew his son would never harm me, that he’d be patient and understanding. And he was right. It took a full year of marriage before we ever consummated it.”

She found that rather difficult to believe and remarked thus.

Kathryn laughed sweetly. “Marcum be a verra patient man, especially when it comes to me. He’s also quite tender hearted, though he’d rather have his liver ripped from his body by a cat-o’-mountain than ever admit to it.”

With her outlook towards life growing bright, Laurin allowed herself a hearty laugh.

“And Albert be verra much like his da, Laurin. He would treat ye with the tenderest regard.”

Laurin could feel her embarrassment rise from her neck to the tips of her ears. Taking notice of her red-flamed cheeks, Kathryn smiled and patted her hand. “He does like ye, lass. Let ye find no shame in that, but only comfort.”

She was beginning to feel rather overwhelmed. In less than an hour’s time, she had learned what she’d already known—that she wasn’t the only woman to have suffered as she had. Hearing Kathryn’s own painful story did help, though she was loathe to admit such. She was also learning that it was possible to overcome a tragedy such as theirs. But how?

Ignoring Kathryn’s comment regarding Albert, she pressed on to her question. “How? How did ye overcome it all? How were ye able to move forward and allow a man to…” her words trailed off as her courage waned.

“I did no’ allow him,” Kathryn answered.

Confusion settled in. “I fear I do no’ understand.”

“When a man and a woman truly love one another, there be no allowin’,” she began, “there only be the love betwixt them. If I looked at it as allowin’ him to do somethin’, then I was lookin’ at it as more a duty or a chore. And it was no’ at all like that.”

She was growing more and more confused for she could not see herself being intimate with any man, no matter how kind he might be. The thought was repulsive. While she thought she understood what Kathryn was trying to explain to her, she didn’t quite see her future being as bright and joyful.

“I ken ye can no’ see it now, lass, but I promise ye, that someday, if ye open yer heart to it, ye’ll see life is no’ nearly as bleak and dark as it feels right now. Just give it time.”

Time? Time was all she had to her name.