ISLE OF SKYE, Scotland

Fourteenth Century

High in the ridges of the Black Cuillin, the hidden stronghold of the McDonnel Clan seemed filled with light and laughter, or so Cailean thought as he escorted Rachel Ingram down from her dressing room to the great hall. There the entire McDonnel Clan had crowded within its walls to witness the wedding ceremony of the lady to Evander Talorc, their former seneschal whom the laird had welcomed back and promoted to Captain of the Castle Guard.

“Wow, there really are a lot of them,” Rachel said, sounding a little nervous. “I’ve been alone with Evander in the mountains for all this time, so even the village fair seemed huge to me.”

“All are good and kind men, but I expect you ken that. My master, Bhaltair Flen, sends his best wishes. He is in the lowlands attending to that wretched drover who betrayed you.” Cailean stopped to accept a bouquet of white roses from a maid, which he placed in Rachel’s hands. “A gift from your people.”

She lifted the flowers to her nose and breathed in their sweet scent.

“But it’s winter,” she said. “Where in the world did you….oh.” She smiled at him. “You enchanted some weeds. That’s pretty incredible.”

So was her ability to see into his mind. “The spell should last another day before they return to their natural state. I can teach it to you, if you like.”

“You just did,” she said and her expression turned rueful. “Cailean, I see that you’re worried, but you should know that I’ve discovered something about my gift. I can only remember what Evander and I have shared.” She glanced down at the flowers. “With the thoughts and memories from other people, after a day or so, they fade away. I’m a clean slate again.”

The knot in his chest loosened. “So what you saw in my mind in the cove is gone now.”

Rachel nodded. “Whatever secrets you shared are safe. Even the resurrection spell we used has disappeared from my memory.”

Cailean knew the conclave had been considering more drastic measures to prevent Rachel from interfering in their plans, and felt glad that they would no longer be necessary.

“You have given me a great gift, my lady.”

“Just remember,” she warned, “I can always read you again.”

Feeling very relieved, and somewhat disconcerted, Cailean escorted Rachel down the last staircase to the great hall. There he guided her up to the great hearth where Evander and Lachlan stood waiting with the visiting mortal lairds.

Cailean retreated to the upper hall to watch, and noted how Evander’s harsh expression abruptly vanished the moment he saw his bride. The handsome smile lit up his face, and made the druid feel a rare surge of envy.

How would it be, to live forever with a love who would always be with you?

As for Rachel Ingram, now to be Mistress Talorc, Cailean would likely never feel especially comfortable around her. The ease with which she had plucked from his mind all he knew, including every detail of the Great Design, had staggered him. While it would serve no purpose for her to reveal it—and now he knew she had forgotten it—that knowledge was very dangerous indeed.

“She’s a beauty,” a low, sweet voice said from behind him, and Lady Gordon came to join him.

She wore a pale green silk gown that showed her delicate figure, now restored after her confinement, and a veil of golden lace over the smooth, heavy braids that crowned her head.

He remembered the nights they had shared when her hair hung down to her hips, and the touch of her hands on his slim body had driven him to take her again and again. What had been a sacred duty had become so much more that Cailean would always burn with guilt—and still he went stiff at the sight of her.

“I cannae help but agree,” he said and glanced down to see Laird Gordon standing beside Lachlan. He liked the handsome young laird, who had always been congenial to him. He also hated him with every fiber of his being. “Shall I escort you to your husband, my lady?”

“That would be stupit, as he sent me to find you.” She stepped back and gestured toward the guest quarters. “Come, and I will show you why.”

Cailean considered inventing an excuse to escape her, but none came to mind. Bethany Gordon’s presence always reduced him to a callow boy.

“If you wish it,” he said.

Lady Gordon led him directly to the bed chamber that she shared with her husband. Once inside she dismissed the maid watching over the infant in the bedside cradle. As soon as they were alone she lifted the plump boy into her arms and brought him to Cailean.

“We named him Danyel,” she said and rocked her body from side to side as the boy’s eyelids lifted. He made a low, cooing sound. “Will you hold him now?”

Cailean hardly heard her as he looked into the bairn’s dreamy eyes. He had been chosen by the conclave to impregnate Lady Gordon because of his resemblance to her future husband, but the bairn was a tiny miniature of him.

“I dare not, my lady. I wouldnae wish to–” He gaped as she placed the little bundle in his hands. “My lady, what are you about?”

“I am introducing you to your son, Ovate Lusk. Danyel, this is your sire.” Lady Gordon folded her arms. “Dinnae make that face at me. Look at him. He is all over you. Do you no’ see his eyes?”

“I cannae see the resemblance, my lady,” Cailean said and took the boy over to the cradle and carefully placed him in it. “I am told that the difficult work of childbirth sometimes gives mothers strange notions.” Dear gods, was this drivel actually spouting from his lips? “To my eyes young Master Gordon greatly resembles his sire, the laird.”

“Surely he would, if Gordon had ever taken me,” she said, tapping her foot now. “Which he hasnae, and willnae. To the world we may be husband and wife, but alone we are like brother and sister.”

Cailean’s jaw sagged. “Surely no’.”

“Aye. When Gordon wishes pleasure he shares it with Eamus, his bodyguard. They grew up together as boys, and they’ve been lovers since they became men.” Lady Gordon marched up to him. “Now tell me Danyel is no’ yours, or that ’twas some miracle worked by the gods to bless me with a bairn. Isnae that what you were told to say?”

“Bairns often…’tis entirely likely that…oh, blind me.” He dropped onto the edge of the bed and buried his flushed face in his hands. “Forgive me, Bethany. I never meant to do this to you.”

She sat down beside him. “Cailean, ’tis no’ as terrible as you think. When my courses stopped I knew to be honest with Gordon. Since we had not been together, I didnae dare do otherwise. I told him that we had lain together before our marriage, and the bairn I carried was yours. I asked him if I might keep Danyel, and he agreed to raise him as his own.”

He dared a glance at her, and saw tears sparkling in her soft eyes.

“But why should he,” Cailean asked, “now that he has the truth of it?”

“The news thrilled him. He never expected to have a son, and he couldnae give one to me. We did try, you ken, for two clans depend on us, but with all women he is unable.” She took out a kerchief and dried her eyes. “’Twas in return in part for my keeping secret his love for Eamus. You ken what would happen to them if they are ever discovered.”

“I do,” Cailean said and took hold of her hand. “If I had been aware of his penchants, Beth, I would never have pressed for the marriage.”

“Yet you still would have lain with me,” she chided. “And found another husband to blame for siring Danyel, so the plan might continue.”

Now she was scaring him. “I dinnae ken your meaning.”

“Aye, you do. I’ve spoken with Lady McDonald, and Laird Darrow’s betrothed. They both carry the bairns of druids who came to comfort them, as you did to me. I expect there are many more.” Before he could deny it she shook her head. “I dinnae wish to be told of whatever scheme you’ve planned. ’Tis no’ why I asked you here.”

Now she wanted something from him. He could see it in the stubborn set of her chin.

“Then why did you, my lady?”

“I’ve done what the druids wanted. Now ’tis my turn for scheming.” Lady Gordon rose from the bed, and went to bolt the door. “Danyel will sleep for another hour, and the laird must attend the wedding feast. He will tell them that I am resting.” She came to stand before him. “Take off your robe. I desire you naked for this.”

He nearly fell off the bed. “We cannae. Bethany.”

“Och, Cailean, dinnae be such a dolt. You care for me, and I you. Gordon understands, and approves. I’m determined that Danyel willnae be my only child.” She dragged her bodice down until she revealed her milk-swollen breasts. “The druids need no’ ken. ’Twill be our secret.”

Cailean looked up at her, and saw the tenderness in her eyes as he began unfastening his robe.

“Aye,” he whispered.