Lara knew that during the negotiations to unite their clans, Dermot had been furious that his father made the decision to unite the clans. After years of feuds, Dermot’s hatred for the Fergussons was well known, and he protested the marriage. He was in love with another and insisted that he would deny his birthright as future Laird of Castle Foley if necessary to avoid marriage to Lara. But after he learned of the Fergusson clan’s supposed “secret treasure”, he became eager to marry Lara; too eager for her liking.  His sudden change of heart disturbed her, but he had been a very persuasive suitor.

She still felt fury deep in the pit of her stomach for allowing Dermot to seduce her with words of passion and promises. He had given her hope for the future of her clan, and promised a good marriage. It was not until after their vows were spoken and before they even shared the marital bed, that he unmasked his true nature and motives.

He told her he had learned of a treasure, supposedly acquired by her father, and hoped to claim this treasure once they were married. Lara had never believed such treasure truly existed for no one had ever laid eyes upon it and only few knew of it. She recalled a moment when she was young, eavesdropping on her father, she’d heard about how he came to acquire it, but the details now were fuzzy. All Lara remembered hearing was that the treasure was a gift from a Norse King.

Lara did all she could to convince Dermot that it was merely a rumor and that no treasure existed. But her husband called her a liar and accused her of deceit. He began avoiding her, for which she was grateful. She despised him and fought him every time he tried to touch her. She would rather die a thousand deaths or be beaten beyond recognition before succumbing to him. He may have been her husband, but she refused to give him her maidenhood willingly.

  Lara’s mind wandered to a time when things were pleasant. When her mother, Elsa, was alive and her father was not the bitter man he became after Elsa’s death. Since the day her mother passed, her father had seemed to care little for Lara’s happiness and focused solely on her brother John. He’d pushed John into training longer and studying harder, obsessed with preparing John to one day be Laird of their clan. But grief alone did not explain her father’s sudden change in behavior.

Lara shook her head, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. She needed to think towards the future and how to expose Dermot for the treacherous man he was.

Lara stared into the flames. Her thoughts returned to the past day, then to Bram. She was anxious to see how he fared this day. Mayhap it was his kindness for helping her find shelter for the night, or perhaps it was because they shared an unspeakable bond as prisoners of war, but her thoughts lingered on him. She would at least thank him for his generosity.

Chapter 6

Once they had secured the last plank, Bram followed Innes down the ladder and headed towards the barn door to feed the horses. Grabbing onto an armful of hay, Bram carried it to the stalls. While the horses ate, he brushed their manes. The smaller of the two reminded him of a spirited young filly who was sired by his own horse. She was a beauty; light grey with white stockings. The mare restlessly kicked the back of her stall refusing to eat the fresh hay.

“Awe, dinna mind that one. She willnae eat while yer watching her. Free spirit that one is. Makes her untrainable and useless. I thought about selling her but I’d make better use of her using her hide as a covering to keep my arse warm,” Innes joked.

Bram looked back to the fiery mare and smirked.

“I think ye have worked enough and are deserving of a fine meal,” Innes exclaimed.

“Thank ye. I will join ye and yer gracious wife in a moment. I have still not yet finished wit the horses.”

“Verra well,” Innes said and walked back toward the house.

As Bram approached the black steed he had stolen, he was taken aback by what he discovered. Alongside the saddle bags were a broadsword and a pouch full of coin. Bram guessed that the men they had stolen the horse from were either wealthy travelers or a band of raiders who’d just filled their coffers. Either way, luck had been with him this day and the stars could not have aligned more perfectly. The cloak of ensuing darkness concealed the bags and Bram did not think to look about him as they were in dire need to escape quickly.

Strapping the small pouch to his belt, he headed towards the croft. His goal was to gather Lara and travel north to Dumfries. There, he could gather supplies for their journey to Lara’s home and seek safe passage through the lowlands.

Lara quietly began slicing a loaf of bread while she listened to Rowena and Innes talking at the table. Mundane kitchen tasks were not something Lara was used to doing. At Stearns Castle, Lara was taught to weave and sew but nothing more. She never learned to read or write as it was against the church’s teachings and forbidden by her father. It was her brother, John, who had taught her basic things such as how to use a dirk and wield a sword, even though Lara’s thin arms could barely hold the weight of a sword over her head. But even her brother had been amazed by her way with a dagger.

John had been her only friend until he reached the age of ten and four and their father forced him to begin pursing his studies and training. She believed that his responsibilities to the clan became a heavy burden on him though he never shared his feelings towards it.

Lara’s ears perked up when Innes mentioned Bram. She knew not why her heart quickened at the sound of his name or why she felt anxious to see him. But her curiosity got the better of her, causing her to lean towards them to get a better listen.

“The lad be doing a fine job this morning but something tells me that he is no’ a farmhand,” Innes said to his wife.

“Why do ye say that?” Rowena asked.

“Well, have ye seen the size of him? Built like a warhorse that one is,” he replied.

“He said his name was MacKinnon. Have ye heard of them before?”

“Aye. I have heard of the MacKinnons from the north. But the lad is far from home if he be a MacKinnon. Reckless bunch, ‘em Highlanders. They fight the English at every turn. And they dinna pay taxes like we have to. They fight fer their freedom while we cower behind it.”

Innes’s voice trailed off as he turned his head and looked out the window.

“Oh, Innes! We abide by the English rule and for that they spare us our lives and our land. That does no’ mean that we have less pride than the Highlanders do, nor does it mean we are cowards. Ye are a good man and I will no’ be hearing ye say any different,” Rowena said in a frustrated tone. It seemed they’d had this conversation many times over.

Innes smiled back at Rowena in a loving gaze and placed his slightly wrinkled hand on her cheek. Lara could see the love the two of them shared. It was the kind of love she had hoped for in her own marriage, but instead she had married the Devil.

Lara heard the sound of gravel scuffling under heavy footsteps coming from outside the window and she headed towards the door. After a few taps on the door, Rowena stood and opened it. Filling the doorway stood a tall and roguish looking man. He wore a dull tan colored tunic slightly damp with sweat around the neckline. A faded red and green kilt hung over one shoulder and wrapped around his waist, held up by a brown leather belt. Lara could not draw her eyes from him. There was an overwhelming sense of familiarity about him. It took her several moments to realize that the man she was staring at was Bram. However, gone was the long mass of hair that had covered his face just yesterday. He was now clean shaven and his hair was much shorter, barely touching his shoulders.