1
Dundonnell Keep, Western Highlands
Scotland 1325
“’tis said he’s merciless, the devil’s own spawn.” Elspeth Beaton, unspoken seneschal of the MacDonnell keep, folded her arms over her substantial girth and glowered at her laird, Magnus MacDonnell. “You canna send the lass to a man known to have murdered his first wife in cold blood!”
Magnus took another swig of ale, seemingly unaware that most of the frothy brew dribbled into his unkempt beard. He slammed his pewter mug onto the high table and glared back at his self-appointed chamberlain.
“I dinna care if Duncan MacKenzie is the devil hisself or if the bastard’s killed ten wives. He’s offered for Linnet, and ’tis an offer I canna refuse.”
“You canna give your daughter to a man said to possess neither heart nor soul.” Elspeth’s voice rose with each word. “I willna allow it.”
Magnus guffawed. “You willna allow it? You overstep yerself, woman! Watch yer mouth, or I’ll send you along with her.”
High above the great hall, safely ensconced in the laird’s lug, a tiny spy chamber hidden within Dundonnell’s thick walls, Linnet MacDonnell peered down at her father and her beloved servant as they argued over her fate.
A fate already decided and sealed.
Not until this moment had she believed her sire would truly send her away, especially not to a MacKenzie. Though none of her six older sisters had married particularly well, at least her da hadn’t plighted a single one of them to the enemy! Straining her ears, she waited to hear more.
“’Tis rumored the MacKenzie is a man of strong passions,” Elspeth pronounced. “Linnet knows little of a man’s baser needs. Her sisters learned much from their mother, but Linnet is different. She’s e’er run with her brothers, learning their—”
“Aye, she’s different!” Magnus raged. “Naught has plagued me more since the day my poor Innes died birthing her.”
“The lass has many skills,” Elspeth countered. “Mayhap she lacks the grace and high looks of her sisters and her late mother, may the saints bless her soul, but she would still make a man a good wife. Surely you can purvey her a more agreeable marriage? One that won’t so sorely imperil her happiness?”
“Her happiness matters naught to me. The alliance with MacKenzie is sealed!” Magnus thundered. “Even if I wished her better, what man needs a wife who can best him at throwing blades? And dinna wax on about her other fool talents.”
Magnus took a long swill of ale, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “A man wants a consort interested in tending his aching tarse, not a patch of scraggly herbs!”
A shocked sputter escaped Elspeth’s lips and she drew herself to her full but unimpressive height. “If you do this, you needn’t tax yourself by banishing me from the dubious comforts of this hall. ’Tis gladly I shall go. Linnet will not be sent to the lair of the Black Stag alone. She’ll need someone to look out for her.”
Linnet’s heart skipped a beat, and gooseflesh rose on her arms upon hearing her soon-to-be husband referred to as the Black Stag. No such creature existed. While animals of certain prowess often adorned coats of arms and banners, and some clan chieftains called themselves after a lion or other such noble beast, this title sounded ominous.
An omen of ill portent.
But one she had little time to consider. Rubbing the chillbumps from her arms, Linnet pushed aside her rising unease and concentrated on the discourse below.
“’Tis glad I’ll be to see your back,” her father was ranting. “Your nagging willna be missed.”
“Will you not reconsider, milord?” Elspeth changed her tactic. “If you send Linnet away, who will tend the garden or do the healing? And dinna forget how oft her gift has aided the clan.”
“A pox on the garden and plague take her gift!” Magnus bellowed. “My sons are strong and healthy. We dinna need the lass and her herbs. Let her aid the MacKenzie. ’Tis a fair exchange since he only wants her for her sight. Think you he offered for her because she’s so bonnie? Or because the bards have sung to him of her womanly allures?”
The MacDonnell laird’s laughter filled the hall. Loud and mean-spirited, it bounced off the walls of the laird’s lug, taunting Linnet with the cruelty behind his words. She cringed. Everyone within the keep would hear his slurs.
“Nay, he doesna seek a comely wife,” Magnus roared, sounding as if he were about to burst into another gale of laughter. “The mighty MacKenzie of Kintail isn’t interested in her looks or if she can please him or nay when he beds her. He wants to know if his son is his own or his half brother’s bastard, and he’s willing to pay dearly to find out.”