Vida had been looking forward to the feast of All Saints for days. It would be the first holy day celebration they’d had since the Carr warriors had arrived. She wanted everything to be perfect and for their guests to enjoy themselves. But most of all, she wanted to dance with Tomas.

She loved to dance, but had only ever done so with her father, Father Michael, and a few of her father’s men who were careful not to overstep their bounds. But she’d always imagined what dancing with a man she desired would be like. Being so close, touching hands, gazing into each other’s eyes. She imagined feeling inextricably joined, if only for a few moments, by the music and the rhythmic flow of the dance. She closed her eyes and sighed. She reckoned dancing could be one of the most intimate things a couple could do in public.

“Lady Vida?” The steward interrupted her musings.

She opened her eyes. “Aye, Manus. Do you need something?”

“We are nearly ready to start the feast, but your father went out to the courtyard with Sir Tomas some time ago. Since the other men were given the holiday off from training, the laird thought to have some time alone to improve his skills.”

Vida smiled and shook her head. “Poor Sir Tomas wasn’t given the same courtesy as the other men. What do you wish me to do?”

“About a half hour ago, I went out to tell the laird the feast was almost ready and he nearly chewed the face off of me for interrupting. I thought perhaps you might have better luck.”

“Aye, of course. I’ll go get him.” She crossed to the front doors looking back once at the hall before leaving. It was perfect. Candles were being lit against the late afternoon gloom and everything seemed to glitter in the light. She smiled, walked through the entryway, and out of the keep. A gust of wind instantly chilled her and catching her sheer veil, caused it to fly out behind her. She wore a cream-colored linen kirtle under a burgundy brocade gown, which the biting cold penetrated instantly. She probably should have fetched a mantle, but there seemed little point now. She would only be out here for a few minutes.

She hurried down the steps and across the courtyard to where her father was sparring with Tomas. “Papa,” she called but they didn’t hear her. She continued closer and called again. Still they didn’t hear. She was almost upon them when Tomas heard her call, and stopped the match.

Her father looked up. “Good heavens, child, what are you doing out here?”

“Papa, the feast is nearly ready. I didn’t think you would want our guests left waiting.”

“Oh, right. Yes, we should get back to the keep.” He turned and headed across the courtyard.

She shivered. “Aye, we should.”

Tomas scowled. “Ye’re freezing. Ye should never have come out without a cloak. Here, I’ll wrap my plaid around ye ‘til we get back to the keep.” He held it out with one arm.

She only hesitated a moment before stepping close and allowing him to wrap an arm and his blanket-like cloak around her. She was instantly enveloped in warmth. Holy Mother of God. Could anything on earth feel as wonderful as this?

“Now, let’s get ye inside.”

He walked with her at his side until they reached the doors. It was much too short a walk. A mile would have been too short a walk. Once inside, he stepped away from her and gone was the glorious connection between them forged as he shared his warmth with her.

“There now, go on into the hall, near the fire. And don’t venture out so lightly dressed again.” He paused to look at her, and as if really seeing her for the first time, stared intently with an undeniable hunger in his gaze. He added, “Not that I minded having my arm around ye. I think I could get used to that.”

What the things he said did to her. She must be crimson. How did one respond to that? Me too? “I…I…”

He laughed. “Go on into the hall.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to wash up. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” But he made no move to step away from her.

“Don’t be long,” she said and then kissed him.

She did it without thinking. It just seemed like the thing to do. She put a hand on his chest, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. It was a quick, innocent kiss and it had even shocked her, so the stunned look on Tomas’s face should have come as no surprise.

But she was horrified when she realized what she’d just done. Her hands flew to her mouth and she turned to flee. Before she had taken more than a step, he caught her upper arm in one hand and pulled her with him into the relative seclusion of the stairwell.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” He slipped his hand behind her neck, leaned down, and kissed her. There was absolutely nothing innocent about his kiss. He held her to him and nudged her mouth open, sucking on her lower lip before dipping his tongue into her mouth.

When he was finished, she was breathless. And speechless. She just stared up at him.

He grinned and kissed her again. Then he winked as said, “Anything worth doing, is worth doing right. Wouldn’t ye agree?”

“Oh…aye,” she said without thinking.

He chuckled. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. I won’t be long. Trust me.” He turned and jogged up the stairs.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d stood there gaping, but eventually she came to her senses, straightened her veil, and went into the great hall.

The rest of the night could be a total disaster and she wouldn’t care. His kiss had been the single most exhilarating moment of her life and nothing would spoil that.

But the rest of the night wasn’t a disaster. It was magical. He sat with her during the feast and then danced with her most of the evening. And dancing with him was everything she imagined it would be and more. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t focused on all of her responsibilities. She was vaguely aware that a messenger had arrived, and she should have made certain he was fed and had a place to sleep for the night. But then again, if she didn’t, someone else would. The only thing that mattered for her was the enchantment of the celebration. Oh, and the feel of his lips on hers as he stole another kiss before retiring for the night.

~ * ~

Ambrose paced his solar. The feast of All Saints continued in his great hall, but he was no longer in the mood to celebrate. He had slipped away from the fete shortly after the messenger from Naughton Lindsay arrived.

He should probably force a smile and go back down. Vida was bound to notice his absence and come looking for him. But he could not tell her about this. Nor could he return to the feast as if nothing had happened.

He picked up the message and read it again.

 

Ambrose, by the grace of God, Laird of Clan Ruthven,

I hope this missive finds you well and hearty and that Clan Ruthven enjoyed a bountiful harvest this year.

I fear it is unseemly for me to raise this issue, but alas, I must address your outstanding debt. You have remained silent on the matter thus far, but it has been brought to my attention that the Mermaid Queen has not yet returned. As the loan I graciously extended to you was guaranteed with that cargo, I am forced to consider the alternate form of payment we discussed, namely a betrothal to your daughter, Davida.

I have taken the liberty of having a betrothal agreement drafted and it is enclosed. If you wish to negotiate the terms of the agreement, I would most happily meet with you in your Dundee shipping office before the end of the month on the date of your choosing.

Sincerely,

Naughton Lindsay

Ambrose could scarcely believe what he was reading. Alternate form of payment? A betrothal agreement? He had not guaranteed the loan with his daughter’s hand. That had just been a jest Naughton made. He hadn’t agreed to it. He would never, ever, willingly marry his precious Vida to a man like Naughton Lindsay and he’d send him a scathing letter telling him so.

He went to his desk, pulled out parchment, quill, and ink, and started writing.

To Naughton, Godforsaken, Lindsay,

You have taken leave of your senses if you think I would marry my daughter to filth like you. I never agreed to a betrothal and I never will.

I agreed to repay your loan, with interest, when the Mermaid Queen returned or by the end of December and nothing compels me to do so earlier.

I have enclosed the ashes of your farcical betrothal. Don’t insult me by ever suggesting such a preposterous notion again!

Ambrose, Laird of Clan Ruthven

He sat, reading and rereading it. He burned the betrothal, folded his message around the ashes, and affixed his seal. This would certainly send the ignorant upstart a message. He was almost to the door of his solar, prepared to give it to the messenger and send him on his way, when he stopped. He remembered what Sir Tomas had said after Ambrose suggested it would have been better to kill the Gow raiders. “Believe me, I would have liked nothing more. But as I considered things, I realized that isn’t the message ye would have wanted to send.” Tomas had been certain killing the men would have infuriated Gow and forced him to seek vengeance.

“I don’t care if the steaming pile of shite seeks vengeance. Let him try.”

But he also had to concede Tomas had been right about another thing. Although improving, the Ruthvens were not prepared to withstand an attack from the likes of Clan Lindsay.

He looked at the letter in his hands. As good as it had felt to write it and as much as he’d like to send it, he knew it would be utter folly. Sighing heavily, he tossed the sealed letter into the hearth and watched as the hungry flames consumed it. Then he sat and stared at his desk, not sure what to write, but knowing a response was necessary. Finally, he picked up his quill again.

To Naughton Lindsay,

I am well and I hope you are the same.  The Ruthven harvest was adequate, thank you for asking.

As to my debt to you, I have only “remained silent” because my ships have not yet returned from the Mediterranean. As we agreed, I intend to repay the loan when the Mermaid Queen returns or by the end of December. I give you my pledge as a gentleman that I will honor this agreement.

I will contact you as soon as one of these eventualities occur.

Ambrose, Laird of Clan Ruthven

He didn’t mention the betrothal. It didn’t bear consideration.

This letter hadn’t given him nearly the satisfaction of the first, but it was the prudent course. He folded and sealed the letter. He’d give it to the messenger before the man left in the morning.

Still not wishing to return to the celebration, he went to bed. As he lay staring at the ceiling, he realized his anger at Lindsay had obscured the real issue at hand. He had a massive debt coming due, and his ship really should have returned by now. If it didn’t return before the end of December, he would have to repay Lindsay from the funds he had available. Perhaps he could renegotiate the terms. Maybe Lindsay would take half at the end of December and agree to accept the remainder, with additional interest, when the ship bound for Venice returned.

Ambrose eventually fell into a fitful sleep haunted by terrible dreams. He dreamed the light of his life, his Vida, was being dragged away from the keep by Naughton Lindsay. She cried and begged her papa for help, but he couldn’t seem to move. He called orders to his men to stop Lindsay, but they too seemed frozen, unable to act. He called for Tomas. Tomas would save her as he had before…only Tomas didn’t come. He woke from that nightmare in a panic, calling for Tomas.

After what seemed like hours, he was finally able get back to sleep, only to find himself locked in another nightmare. This time raiders were attacking relentlessly, he was losing everything and nothing he or his men tried to do would stop them. He needed Tomas. Tomas would know what to do. He called for him over and over. The dream Gregor said, “He’s gone, Laird. Gone. Gone home.”

Then the dream shifted and it wasn’t raiders he fought, but a clan laying siege. They battered the gates and the walls and his castle crumbled around him. This time, his men could fight. They fought for all they were worth, but one by one they were cut down. Everyone he knew lay dead around him. He was the last person left to shield Vida and he couldn’t do it. He was shoved aside as men grabbed his precious daughter. He could only lay there, surrounded by his dead clansmen, and listen to his daughter’s screams as the attackers carried her away.

He awoke drenched in sweat and sobbing.

Once he managed to get a hold of himself, he considered everything that had occurred in his nightmares and landed on one truth. He needed Sir Tomas. Not just to train his men and not just until February. He needed him to stay forever as the captain of his guard, the commander of his men. In the dark, cold hours before dawn, he vowed to do whatever it took to convince Tomas to stay.

~ * ~

For Tomas, the evening of All Saints had been wonderful from the instant he’d first seen Vida walking across the courtyard—her veil flying behind her, her hair tousled by the wind, and her cheeks pink with cold—to the moments their lips parted as they said goodnight. That she had made the first move earlier in the evening, with her chaste kiss, stunned and delighted him.

Of course, the attention he’d paid to her all evening hadn’t gone unnoticed. Drew and Ethan had both felt the need to remind him of the folly in this, but he didn’t care. He would deal with the consequences when they occurred and no sooner.

The next morning, he went downstairs early, hoping to see Vida, but to his chagrin it was Ambrose who awaited him.

God’s bones, he hadn’t expected to have to deal with the consequences this quickly.

“Good morning, Laird. Ye’re up earlier than usual.” He kept his tone light.

Ambrose nodded, almost distractedly. “Aye. I didn’t sleep well. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Ah. I see.” Tomas sat down. He would not stand before the man to receive an upbraiding, like an errant child. “What concerns ye?”

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about it here. Break your fast, lad, then we’ll go to my solar.”

“I’m not overly hungry. We can talk about this first, if ye wish.”

“Aye, that’s probably best. Follow me.”

Once they had reached the solar, Ambrose invited him to sit in one of the upholstered chairs near the hearth.

“I…well…this is rather difficult.”

“If I’ve done something—”

“Oh, good heavens, no. I guess I’ll just dive in. Tomas, I can’t tell you what the time ye’ve spent with me means. I don’t suppose ye can understand this, or maybe ye can. I’ve never asked about yer parents. But I was a younger son my entire life. Leadership was meant for Ainsley. My father focused all of his energies on his oldest son. I guess I understand how that can happen. Perhaps if I’d had a son after Vida was born, he would have been my sole focus.”

Here it comes. The stay-away-from-my-daughter speech.

Ambrose paused, appearing lost in thought. “Still, I’d like to think not. Vida is precious to me—no less precious than a son would have been. I could have loved them both.”

Part of Tomas doubted that. The Ambrose Ruthven he knew nineteen years ago didn’t seem like the kind of man to value a daughter. And yet, he clearly did now.

“The fact remains that I was not my father’s priority. I realize now I could have pushed to learn the same things, but I didn’t. I felt slighted and decided to learn other skills. I invested small sums in shipping. And as that turned to profit, I’d invest more. I was good at it and, eventually, I convinced myself that becoming a wealthy man in my own right was better than becoming the laird of the clan.”

“I can understand that.” This was not at all what Tomas was expecting.

“But the thing that none of us had considered was what would happen if Ainsley died. My father simply assumed he’d be the heir and his children after him. But Ainsley did die, leaving only a child of ten and three, a daughter. I was faced with years of leading a clan in her name. Not only was it something I hadn’t been trained to do, but I would never reap the benefits. The title of Laird Ruthven would pass to her husband.”

It required supreme effort for Tomas not to react to this.

“Still, there was more to it than most people knew. I had fallen in love with a woman, and she with me, but her laird wouldn’t agree to the union.”

Tomas thought that probably wasn’t a bad decision.

“Ainsley believed he would never marry again and would thus never have a son. In an attempt to make the betrothal, he offered to stipulate that if Moibeal and I had a son, the title of Laird of Clan Ruthven would pass to me and then him.” Ruthven shook his head as if in disbelief. “I was astounded. No other man I know would have done that. But it didn’t make a difference. Have you ever been in love, Tomas?”

“I…uh…I don’t think so.” Images of Vida flashed through his mind. He liked her and was attracted to her. She was smart and funny and very beautiful, but did he love her? Surely not. He couldn’t love her, could he? Then images from the night before swirled around his mind and the reality of it crashed in on him. Damnation. He did love her, but he certainly wouldn’t admit that to her father. “No, sir. I…I’ve never been in love.”

“Well, I cannot describe the pain of loving someone, of knowing they love you, and then see them married to someone else. It damn near killed me.”

Tomas felt an unwelcome twinge of pity.

“Then, within a month of her wedding, Ainsley died. Had her uncle allowed us to marry, we would have become laird and lady of the clan. If we’d had a son, he would have inherited the title on my death. If we didn’t, my niece and her husband would have. But none of that was to be. I inherited the guardianship of a willful girl and all the weighty responsibilities of a clan without the title.”

And there it was, the reason Tomas didn’t feel sorry for Ambrose.

“A few years later, Moibeal’s husband died and she was free to marry again, but I still needed the title to get her laird to agree. I sought King David’s help. He found a man with lands and a title of his own who would marry my niece and forfeit her lands and title in exchange for a larger dowry in gold. It was the perfect solution for everyone and I was finally able to marry the woman I loved.”

“What happened to yer niece?” Tomas asked, barely controlling his anger. “Do ye even know?”

“Oh, yes. Moibeal was concerned about her, so I looked into things. I understand she is very happy.”

“Ye weren’t concerned?”

“Of course not. King David wouldn’t have married her to a monster and her husband seemed like a decent man. He’s a Highland laird. Perhaps you’ve heard of him, Niall MacIan, Laird of Clan MacIan.”

“Aye, the MacIans and the Carrs are allies.”

Ambrose smiled broadly. “Then you must know my niece. She’s Lady Katherine MacIan.”

“Aye, we’ve met. She’s a fine lady. Well loved and respected by her clan.”

“It’s good to hear she’s no longer the spoiled, willful child she once was.”

White hot anger boiled up in Tomas. He didn’t trust himself to speak so he remained silent.

“I’ve digressed. This was all just to say that I never really learned the things Ainsley did. It was Moibeal and then Vida who took on the management of the clan while I was building my business. I’d never had the opportunity to learn the skills of a warrior, either. And I guess, by extension, I didn’t know what my men needed to learn. But you are a gifted young man. A natural born leader and my admiration for you grows daily.”

“Thank ye.” Where in hell was this going?

“Tomas, I don’t want you to return to Laird Carr in February.”

“I’m sorry, Laird. I must.”

“Please hear me out. I’m not just asking you to stay a little longer and help train my men. I’m asking you to stay forever. I want you to be my commander. My right hand. The leader of my men and protector of my clan.”

Tomas was stunned. “Well…I…uh…didn’t see this coming.” Part of him wanted to laugh loud and long in the old man’s face before revealing who he really was and refusing the offer. But another part of him thought about Vida. As repugnant has Tomas found Ambrose, Vida loved her father and hurting him would hurt her.

“Will you do it? Will you accept my offer? I’ll pay you handsomely. You’ll be a rich man in your own right.”

Hell no, was on the tip of Tomas’s tongue, but instead he said, “I don’t know…my home is in the Highlands.”

“Please Tomas, I’m begging you, please at least consider my offer.”

Tomas inclined his head for a moment before saying, “I’ll consider it,” even though he had absolutely no intention of accepting the offer.