Chapter Two
The next morning, Kuresh stared at his reflection in the palm-sized looking glass he kept in his bedchamber. Was he truly ready to give up his Ottoman name, to embrace the ways of a Highlander? Though he favored his father in looks, he’d been blessed with his mother’s generous spirit and kind heart. He set the glass aside. He felt no connection to his old home. Of course he missed his family. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could conjure images of his mother, sisters, and three younger brothers. They’d often eaten together under the fruit trees in the courtyard. One of his favorite places.
He clenched his jaw as his father invaded his happy thoughts. The man had betrayed him, proven himself a coward. Kuresh opened his eyes. It was time to cast off the past. He grabbed his boots, slipped his feet inside, then laced them up. He straightened the collar of his favorite black tunic, a gift from Laird Alex last year. He wore thick, silver bands on each wrist and a matching chain around his neck, embellished with red garnets, symbols of his royal birthright in Constantinople.
Nothing would change his mind about becoming a MacKay. He’d earned it. Someone knocked on the door.
“Enter,” Kuresh called.
The door opened, and Jamie greeted him.
“I was not expecting you,” Kuresh said.
“I thought it wise to visit with ye before the ceremony. Tis not every day a man forsakes his home—especially a prince—and chooses to put on the armor of a Highlander.”
“Armor?” Kuresh snorted. “Ye fight half naked. Some bare-footed.”
“Aye.” Jamie smiled. “Tis why the English fear us.”
“Please…” Kuresh motioned to the ornate chair in front of the hearth, a prized piece of furniture he had brought to the Highlands from his old home. “Sit.”
Jamie accepted the offer. “This fabric…”
“Silk.”
“Not the kind we buy at the markets in Constantinople.”
“Nay. We are forbidden to sell the highest quality silks to foreigners, to nonbelievers—an offense punishable by death.”
Jamie ran his hands over the padded arm rests. “It feels like skin.”
Kuresh nodded. “My people have a deep appreciation for fine fabrics. Silk is preferred over any other. It keeps your body cool in the desert sun.”
Jamie leaned forward in the high-backed chair, touching the matching footstool. “Ye even rest yer feet upon it?”
“This chair and stool were gifted to me by my mother when I turned fifteen. We wear silk slippers in my mother’s palace, not heavy leather boots or shoes.”
“To live in such luxury…”
Kuresh stared at the floor.
“I am sorry, my friend. I dinna mean to dredge up old memories.”
“I do miss my mother. She is the best woman I have ever known, the best part of Constantinople.”
“If ye wanted to go back, I would understand, Kuresh. In fact, I encourage ye to do so. The Highlands are unforgiving to foreigners. Our people are superstitious and uneducated. Ye represent everything they fear most, the unknown.”
Kuresh sank into the chair next to Jamie and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you wish me to go?”
“Not in the way ye are thinking. I owe ye so much. A debt I’m afraid I canna ever repay. Restoring yer birthright is as close as I could ever come. Do ye understand what I’m saying?”
Kuresh stretched his legs out, digesting everything his laird had said. Yes, he had experienced his share of rejection in the Highlands, yet, it did not compare to the welcome he had received from most of the MacKays. Whether in Laird Alex’s house or in Jamie’s. This clan stood out from the rest. Perhaps even reminded him of his own family—with the exception of his father. Brave to a fault, hungry for success, desperately loyal to whatever cause they took up, fierce warriors, and unrelenting in their faith.
Kuresh smiled.
“What?” Jamie asked.
Kuresh’s gaze met Jamie’s. “We are more alike than you will ever know.”
“Aye?”
Kuresh nodded. “When I was a boy of seven or eight my mother gifted me with a lamb. Unmarred and beautiful in every way, I loved her with all my heart. I named her Jasmine. She followed me everywhere, even to my bedchamber at night, as long as my father was not about. But once he found out I had a pet and allowed it to sleep inside, he forbade me from bringing a filthy beast indoors.”
Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “And what happened to Jasmine?”
Kuresh cleared his throat as a frown darkened his face. “Once she reached maturity, she spent more time in a shed in the gardens. Twas a feast night, and my father had indulged in too much drink.”
“Yer father drank spirits?”
“Yes—ale and wine.”
Jamie scowled.
“Drunk and staggering about, he burst into my mother’s reception hall and demanded she prepare a meal for him. Unable to refuse, she sent her maids to find whatever ingredients were available in the kitchens. But my father stopped them. He required fresh meat. Unfortunately, he remembered Jasmine and told me to bring her to him.”
“Jesu…”
“I ignored him. Until he physically attacked me and dragged me to the garden. There, under the light of the moon, he forced his dagger into my hand. I threw it down several times. I pleaded for my pet’s life, crying like a woman. Which only enraged him.”
Jamie ran his hands over his face, obviously captivated by the tale.
“He once again forced me to hold the knife, only this time, his big hand covered mine. Then, he commanded a servant to tie the lamb to the nearest tree. We slit her throat.”
Jamie shot up from his seat. “Of everything unholy!”
Kuresh gritted his teeth. Why this story had come to mind now, he did not know. Maybe it was what he needed to remember in order to solidify his final decision to be reborn a MacKay. “The wrong done to me does not stop there, Laird Jamie.”
“Nay? What else could a cruel father do to hurt his young son?”
“Force him to eat the meat.”
Jamie began pacing, the way he always did whenever he grew angry or anxious. “I would kill this man for making ye suffer.”
“Something I threatened to do the day he sold me to your cousin, Laird Alex. But then I realized the blessing in disguise, how God works in mysterious ways. And now I am here.”
“Away from yer family and people, away from where ye can worship God openly.”
“God is everywhere.”
“Is he?” Jamie looked doubtful.
“My story has made you question your own faith?”
“I’d be a liar if I said no. Sometimes I wonder why God allows such things to happen to innocent children.”
“I think your holy book provides a logical answer to that question.”
Jamie sighed. “Aye, it does.”
“Only God can judge a man’s heart.”
“And so, he will judge yer sire, I hope.”
The grim reality of his father’s mortal soul being cast into the depths of eternal suffering made Kuresh grimace. He’d wished that very fate on his father a thousand times already. Having someone else do the same would only help make it more possible. “The people who dwell in the far east call it karma.”
“Karma?” Jamie repeated the word as if he feared it. “What is karma?”
“Destiny,” he explained. “What any man puts into the world, he will get back.”
Jamie’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. “An eye for an eye.”
“Yes.”
“Then I am satisfied yer sire will know the depth of his misdeeds one day.”
“Which is why I wish to be a MacKay. I could never go home—not as my father’s son. Not as the spoiled prince I used to be.”
“But what of yer mother, sisters, and brothers?”
Once again Kuresh was forced to look away, out of shame and concern. A better son and brother would have fought to stay with his family. He should have fought to the death, challenged his father. “Regardless of my father’s sins, he loves my mother. More than any of his wives or concubines, even the youngest and most fertile cannot challenge his feelings for her.”
“Then ye believe her safe?”
“Yes.”
“Then I, too, am satisfied with yer decision. When ye are ready, come to the great hall.” Jamie gripped his captain’s forearm. “Ye are the brother I often prayed for as a lad.”
Kuresh watched Jamie disappear down the passageway. God strike him dead if he was making the wrong choice. He knew his future was his own. In the Highlands, any man could make a name for himself, gain wealth, a beautiful bride, have happiness. In his homeland, only power and noble blood brought happiness; most suffered under the greed of the princes who controlled everything.
Kuresh secured the brooch at his shoulder, holding his tartan in place. This is what he wanted. Undeniably, his deeply tanned skin and dark features set him apart from most Highlanders. But his nose was narrow and long, his eyes almond-shaped. He blended if he wished to. And spoke Gaelic as well as anyone, with only a hint of an accent. Commanding Jamie’s guards gave him the opportunity to earn respect and coin. Not to mention the lush hills and snow-capped mountains, the endless supply of fresh water, something his people fought and died for in the desert.
No matter what god the Highlanders worshipped, they had been blessed with a fertile homeland, able to support beasts of the field and vast crops. Trees dotted the landscape and bright flowers covered the land in rich colors as magnificent as the expensive carpets woven on the looms of his people. He gazed out the narrow window in his chamber, taking a deep breath, feasting on the air, admiring the place he called home.
“Aye,” he said aloud, choosing a word commonly used by the Highlanders. “Let every carved stone in the wall that surrounds my father’s palace turn to dust before I dare set foot through his gates again.”
All these years later, his father’s betrayal still festered inside him, still stung like a scorpion’s tail. Kuresh and two of his brothers had been traded for his father’s life to Laird Alex, Jamie’s cousin. He fisted his hands as he made his way to where his weapons were kept, on a long table by the chamber door. He fitted four dirks into their sheaths at his hips and thighs, then proudly encased his scimitar, the sword he chose to carry, one of the only remnants of his past life he kept with him every day.
He patted the handle of the superior weapon before he opened the door, letting in the sounds of celebration coming from the great hall below. Laird Jamie had told him nearly every servant and soldier, commoner and nobleman, had requested permission to attend his naming ceremony, a testament to the impact Kuresh’s loyal service had on this newly formed branch of Clan MacKay.
He closed the door and trekked down the narrow passageway to the stairs. Musicians were playing the lutes and harp, the women singing a lively song, one Kuresh recognized easily. Whenever the soldiers returned from battle in victory, the women often graced them with the spirit-lifting song. He smiled as he descended the stairs, met by applause and raised cups as he appeared at the archway opening into the hall.
Kuresh had a mind for detail, recalling faces easily. Some of the men present were unknown to him, but he trusted Laird Jamie’s judgement. Though he did not understand why strangers would wish to attend the ceremony. Born a prince, he never used his title in the Highlands, though some of the women he’d bedded liked to whisper it, for it gave them a thrill to think they had been loved by a man of royal blood. The thought made Kuresh laugh aloud. The women of the Highlands were beautiful, free in a way he had never imagined—hard on the outside, but as sweet and biddable as lambs on the inside.
Except for her…
His gaze stopped on Lady Miran. Taller than most women, she stood out in a crowd, the way he often did. Her golden hair and green eyes haunted him too often in the middle of the night. Twas when he imagined her sharp tongue, any feelings he held for her quickly dissipated. Or did they? She was dressed in a forest-green gown, her fine hair braided and coiled into a becoming style atop her head, and he could not help but stare admiringly. A gold chain adorned her slim neck and a matching chain belt hugged her waist and hips. He wet his dry lips, forcing his desire for her out of his mind. But it seemed too late, for his body always responded to her presence.
He’d purge that pain from his body later, either through bedding a willing maid or by taking a swim in the frigid loch.
“Prince Kuresh,” Laird Jamie called, rising from his seat at the high table. “Step forward, we have been waiting for ye.”
Why had his laird and friend chosen to call him a prince today? As he walked down the aisle that split the rectangular-shaped hall in half, with trestle tables lining both sides, the men standing bowed to him.
Kuresh reached the dais that contained the high table, where he sat most every night to eat. He bowed to Laird Jamie and Lady Helen. “You do me a great honor, my laird.”
Jamie grinned. “Ye do us the real honor. Tis why I reminded everyone of who ye used to be. Yer sacrifice will no’ be forgotten.” Then he motioned to the people. “See what admiration ye inspire?”
Kuresh once again looked about the room.
“Thank ye for saving my life,” Helen said with a smile. “Ye are a welcome addition to our household. A true leader and friend.”
Kuresh bowed; her words touched his heart.
“Tis the first time I know of a foreigner being welcomed into our clan. I can only assume, since there is a bylaw allowing for such a practice, that somewhere in our clan history, we welcomed strangers into our family.”
“I will not disappoint you.”
“Tis not my worry,” Jamie said. “I fear failing ye, for I have seen where ye come from, the palace ye lived in, the future ye gave up to come here.”
Kuresh stood straight, shoulders back, head held high. Pride weaved its way through his strong body. “I believe God brought me here.”
“Then who am I to deny a man his fate?” Jamie said. “Priest.”
Father Brandon shuffled forward, a holy book in his hands. “Kuresh.”
Kuresh didn’t dislike him, for Father Brandon had dedicated his life to serving the people of Clan MacKay. Though he didn’t understand why a man would willingly choose to be celibate. Only eunuchs, tasked with guarding the royal harem, were damned to such a life. “Father Brandon.” Kuresh lowered his head out of respect.
“I welcome ye here,” the priest continued, “before God and these good people to take an oath to Clan MacKay.”
“Wait!” Jamie said. “Let us not forget another honored guest.”
Kuresh followed his laird’s gaze to a far corner of the hall. There, dressed in MacKay plaid, his once long, dark hair cropped short, was Kuresh’s younger brother, Nasim. Kuresh felt his smile grow. Warmth radiated up his body, for he had not seen his brother in months.
Nasim rushed across the room and threw his arms around him, kissing Kuresh’s cheeks. “Brother!”
“Nasim. When did you arrive?”
“Only this morning,” he said. “At the invitation of Laird Jamie.”
“I am happy to see you.”
“You are sorely missed by Laird Alex. I bring missives from him and many of the people, gifts, too.” Nasim stepped back and looked up at his brother.
“Though I miss Alex and his family and the men I served with, this is my home now.”
“I would expect no less,” Nasim said. “After the ceremony and celebration, perhaps you can give me a tour of the lands. I want to see everything, know what you do here. I will leave in the morning.”
How he wished he had more time with Nasim. Soon, he hoped, once Laird Jamie’s household was established, he’d take more time for himself and family. “Then you are not against what I have chosen? To give up my name?”
Nasim shook his head. “Kolay gelsin,” he said in their native tongue. May it be easy for you.
“Are ye ready, Prince Kuresh?” The priest asked.
“Yes. I am ready.”