Scot of Sin (Preview)
Chapter One
MacBean Castle, August 1717
Castle MacBean. Home.
How long had it been since he’d last been home? It seemed like a lifetime.
Ian felt his heart pounding in his chest just as hard as it had the day he’d stepped on the boat that would bear him to the Continent. Everything looked just as he remembered from his childhood, and yet, everything felt different.
He’d been gone so long. Years, ever since that fateful day when he’d left his home and refused to look back. Ever since… Ian shook his head and dismissed the old memories.
He didn’t want to think about the circumstances surrounding his departure. He’d most likely never see the woman who had broken his heart again. Besides, he and his father were already discussing an alliance marriage to aid the clan after the poor harvest season.
He would wed a woman whose family could help his own, enjoy a comfortable, if not loving, marriage, and take over Clan MacBean as its laird. There was no need to remember old wounds. Far better to focus on the present and the future.
Ian rode closer, a small grin lifting his lips as he heard the bell from the upper guard tower begin to ring out. The cadence of the tolling was so familiar.
His parents must have ordered the watch to ring out when he arrived. Though they’d visited him a couple of times on the Continent, he’d seen little of them in the intervening years, and he’d missed them. Besides, a meeting in a tavern in France wasn’t the same as being together at home.
The gates opened, welcoming him home. Ian saw the grins on the faces of the guards, slightly exasperated, confirming his guess that his mother had been bedeviling the poor lads every candle-mark since she had risen. He returned the smiles with one of his own, waving to old friends and new faces alike.
Devin, the stablehand, was waiting for him as he rode his horse to the doors, a grin on his weathered face. The old man had been his first teacher in riding, and his smile was proud as Ian dismounted. “I see ye’ve nae forgotten the lessons I taught ye, lad.”
“Never, Master Devlin.” He exchanged a strong handclasp with the stablemaster. That was all he had time for before two sets of arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace.
“Ian!” His mother Catreena’s voice was breathless, her cheeks damp. She was smiling and crying at the same time, her eyes bright with joy at seeing him. “Och, Ian, ‘tis been too long!”
“’Tis good tae see ye home, son.” His father, Tad, clapped him on the shoulder.
“’Tis good tae have finally returned.” Ian returned his mother’s embrace, then his father’s, his heart so full it felt near bursting. “Och, I’ve missed these old stones, more than ever I thought possible.”
His mother Catreena slipped free of his arms with a smile, before tugging impatiently at his hand. “Yer timing’s as good as it ever was. The evening meal is about tae be served, and the cook has made all yer favorite things. Including spiced honey cakes fer the sweet.”
Ian laughed. “I’d never say nay tae a spiced honey cake, especially from our kitchens. There’s nay one on the continent that could make them half as good.”
The servants hurried down to collect his things while Ian followed his parents inside, to the worn, heavy oak table that sat at the top of the Great Hall. He caressed the sturdy wood as he settled into his old, familiar seat. The oak was worn smooth with countless meals and memories, and it fit his frame as if he’d only just risen from the table yesterday, rather than several years ago.
He watched the clansmen trickle in. Many where whiter than he recalled, with more wrinkles and scars. It was odd, somewhat disconcerting, to see the marks of time passed on faces of men, lads, and lasses that he’d known since his boyhood. Odd, and bittersweet.
The servants began to bring out the food, and Ian frowned, scanning the hall for a face he had been expecting to see. Once the servants had left, he leaned toward his father’s chair. “Where is Thor? I dinnae see him.”
His father made a wry expression. “Aye, ye dinnae, and he’ll nae be thankin’ us fer it, fer he wanted tae see ye when ye arrived home. But there was a small matter tae be dealt with on the border, and I couldnae send anyone else. He should be back on the morrow.”
Ian nodded his understanding and sat back. He regretted that Thor wasn’t there to greet him, but ever since his departure for the continent, his childhood friend had served as his father’s second-in-command and war leader. If there was trouble on the borders of the clan, it was Thor’s duty to go if the laird could not.
Not that Ian felt his father unable to fight. Laird Tad MacBean was still whole and hale as any man with his seasons could be. But his hair was fully silver, and he moved slower than he once had. He’d told Ian during his last visit to the continent that the healer had told him that his heart was not as strong as it once had been and that too much strain was not good for him. It was not a great concern, but something to be aware of.
That was why he’d bid Ian to return and claim the heirship and the duties of leadership until Tad could formally step down and pass the lairdship to his son. It was easier this way, rather than Ian coming to it suddenly, if his father was either killed in battle or struck down by some illness.
Better that Tad MacBean spend his elder years in peace and joy with his beloved wife, rather than saddled with the stresses and dangers of being the Laird of Clan MacBean. Besides, it would allow him to still be available to advise Ian and to sit as Elder in the Clan Council. The clan would not be entirely bereft of his leadership and wisdom.
Ian could only hope the rest of the clan would see it that way. After so long an absence, he was glad to be home, but he felt the differences keenly and he feared he would not be the only one.
“Ye’re too somber, me son,” Tad thumped him on the shoulder. “I ken ye have yer concerns, as do we all, but this is a time fer joy an’ homecoming, nae moroseness.” The older man smiled. “Enjoy the feast an’ leave the thoughts for afterward.”
“Ye’re right, as ever.” Ian brought a smile to his lips and toasted his father with the tankard of mead at his elbow. “Tae yer health, Faither, and the fortunes o’ Clan MacBean. May we grow and prosper.”
“May we grow and prosper.”
All those within earshot raised their cups in response, then drank deep. Ian did as well, then turned his attention fully to his meal. After so long away, it would be poor showing and absolute folly not to do full justice to the work of the MacBean cooks and scullery staff.
After the feast, Ian joined his parents in one of the downstairs sitting rooms. A servant poured whisky for the men and strong hot tea for Ian’s mother Catreena. Once they were all seated, Tad spoke. “There’s been some happenin’s since we sent the letter tae ye, and ‘tis best ye were aware o’ them.”
“Have ye received any aid fer the crops an’ the farmers?” Ian’s glance drifted to the window. He’d ridden through MacBean lands for most of his journey since landing, and he’d seen the poor remnants of the fields, some of them still full of water from the rains that had washed away their crops.
“We’ve some. A neighborin’ clan has a feud on the border, an’ asked fer us tae care fer one o’ their own lasses while the men see tae the fightin’. We’ve taken her as a guest here, an’ she brought with her some much needed grain and gold from her kinfolk.”
“That’s a help, tae be sure. Is she…”
“She’s nae the lass we were considerin’ fer yer betrothal, nay. Unfortunately, the clan we hope tae forge an alliance marriage with couldnae be here taenight. ‘Tis hoped they’ll be able tae visit within a few days time.” Catreena smiled warmly at Ian. “I hope with all me heart ye’ll find the girl a pleasing match.”
Ian shrugged noncommittally. So long as the lass wasn’t a harridan, he suspected the marriage would be tolerable. But harridan or no, he would find a way to live with her, and do his duty by her clan and his. That was the way of alliance marriages, and he was no callow, naive youth to think otherwise.
He’d lost that innocence long ago. He no longer expected, or even hoped, to wed for love. At best, he supposed he might hope for a wife with whom he could hold a decent conversation, and who was pretty enough to make bedding her more of a pleasure than a duty.
“Daes the Council ken ye’re lookin’ fer a marriage alliance?” He hadn’t thought to ask before.
“They dinnae. Nay more than they ken that I’m thinkin’ o’ steppin’ down. I wanted ye here afore we spoke o’ it tae the clan.” Tad responded easily. “’Twill be easier.”
“I cannae argue that.” Ian nodded. He was actually relieved. He’d feared his father would want to step down immediately upon his return. The chance to relearn old haunts and reacquaint himself with the clan was a welcome one.
“I didnae think ye would. Likewise, we planned tae delay announcin’ the betrothal and alliance until ye’ve met the lass and decided whether ye get on well taegether.”
“Thank ye.” Ian heaved a sigh of relief. “I’d hate tae have tae disappoint the Council.”
A knock on the door interrupted his mother’s words. A moment later, the door opened, and Ian just missed spilling his drink. Or shattering the glass.
For one moment, he could only stand there, staring at the woman who’d shattered his world six years before. Then he found his voice with a snarl. “What in the devil’s name is she daein’ in me home?”
Chapter Two
Lavinia Shaw winced and brushed back a tendril of hair.
Och, I kent seeing him again was goin’ tae be bad… but I didnae think this bad. And by god, he is handsomer than ever!
She’d tried to avoid meeting Ian that night. She’d known he was returning. Lady MacBean had told her days ago that her son was coming home. She’d pleaded a headache to avoid the welcoming feast, after she’d heard the bells toll for Ian’s return, and she’d hoped he’d retire shortly after the meal.
Unfortunately, it seemed her hopes were in vain. And it was clear that six years had not dulled his anger even the slightest.
They hadn’t dulled the ache in her heart either. She pushed the thought away, and focused her attention on the laird and lady of the castle, both of whom looked very surprised at their son’s outburst.
As well they might. She had never told them about her relationship with Ian, or the events of that fateful day six years ago, and she very much doubted Ian had told them either. She took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm. “Forgive me, me laird, me lady. It appears that I’ve interrupted ye…”
“Dinnae be silly. We were just telling Ian that ye’re staying with us as a guest.” Catreena waved her forward and gestured her toward a seat. “Please. Come in. Sit down a moment.”
Faced with a direct request, there was little she could do. Lavinia crossed the room and sank into the chair Lady Catreena had indicated, acutely aware of the burning glare leveled at her back with every step.
Catreena poured her some tea, and Lavinia took it with both hands, glad for something to keep her occupied and ensure that no one could see how her hands were beginning to shake.
Oh, but it was hard to see Ian again. And to see him glaring at her with such intense dislike, at least for a moment, until his expression smoothed over into one of cold indifference.
“I didnae expect tae see ye, Lady Shaw.” Ian’s voice was icy, the sullenness of it stabbing like knives.
Lavinia shook her head, and tried to offer what conciliation she could. “Aye, I realize that. And I didnae intend tae intrude on yer homecoming…”
A cool, challenging smile curved one corner of Ian’s mouth, and an eyebrow rose in what might almost be considered a mocking expression. “What brings ye here, if it wasnae to welcome me home after so many years?” The words were quiet but forceful, with no sign of yielding. It was all Lavinia could do not to flinch.
“Ian.” Laird MacBean’s voice was quiet, but stern, and Ian subsided with another sullen glance. “Lavinia is here under the protection o’ the clan, an’ whatever is goin’ on now, yer maither and I would have ye treat her as a welcome guest.” The laird’s expression softened slightly. “I ken children grow apart, but ye were friends when ye were younger. I recall ye rather enjoyed yer time together.”
Inwardly, Lavinia winced, knowing the reminder of their childhood closeness would be unwelcome, even if Laird MacBean had no understanding of why.
Instead of arguing with his father’s words, however, Ian turned to him with a question. “An’ why can her own clan nae protect her? We’ve surely enemies enough o’ our own.”
“Clan Shaw is besieged by Clan Comyn. Laird Comyn once demanded me maither’s hand in marriage, an she refused him tae wed me faither. Now he attacks us. Me parents feared I’d be taken and used as a hostage against me faither, so they asked yer kin tae shelter me.”
She’d told the story more than once, but it got no easier with the telling. Speaking the words made her mouth sour, as if she’d swallowed bile.
Bard Comyn, her mother’s old suitor. Why he refused to accept her mother’s rejection, she didn’t know. No more did she know why he’d chosen to attack her clan now… though her mother feared that it was Laird Comyn’s intent to take either mother or daughter, or mayhap both, by force. It was as if a demon’s madness and obsession had overtaken him.
That was why her parents had sent her away. A bitter rival might be reasoned with, but if bitterness had become madness, and desire had turned to obsession, then there was no speech on earth that would protect her.
“I see.” It was just as well she’d not hoped Ian might soften toward her, because his scowl remained deep as it had before. “So we’re tae be yer shield against yer maither’s jilted lover. I suppose I shouldnae be surprised, seein’…”
“Ian.” This time, it was Lady Catreena’s voice that cut through his words. “Why are ye in such a mood?”
Ian’s lip curled. Then he drained the rest of his drink and rose from his seat. “Ye’ll forgive me, Maither, Faither, but I’m more wearied than I thought from the long ride. I think ‘tis best I seek me rest fer now, as I am nae the best company at the moment.”
Catreena and Tad’s features both softened. “O’ course.” Catreena rose and embraced her son. “I should have realized. We’ve prepared yer rooms already, an’ set one o’ the men-at-arms tae serve ye. Camlin is his name.”
Ian grunted. “Camlin… I dinnae ken him.”
“He’s a young lad, just finished his training as a page, and nae yet ready tae be considered a warrior, or trained as a messenger. But he’s quick and quiet and does his work well. I think he’ll suit ye fine,” Tad smiled.
“I’ll trust yer word on it,” Ian bowed.
Catreena, however, was frowning at Lavinia. “Ye look pale, Lavinia. Dae ye still have the headache from afore?”
Och, nay, she cannae be thinking…
Lavina forced herself to smile slightly. “’Tis mostly gone, thanks tae Arabella’s tonics, but I willnae deny feelin’ a little wearied and worn still.”
“Then mayhap ye should get some more rest. Yer room is nae far from the one we’ve prepared fer Ian, so perhaps he can walk with ye, in case ye start tae feel faint again?” Catreena smiled. “’Twill give me some peace o’ mind, kenning someone’s with ye.”
Lavinia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning aloud. She understood that Lady MacBean was only trying to restore peace between them, but the older lady couldn’t know what had happened between herself and Ian.
She hadn’t wanted to shatter his heart any more than she’d wanted to break her own. But she’d known then that Ian was in danger so long as he stayed, and that he’d never leave unless she went with him. And that, she was certain, wouldn’t have been permitted. Not then, with his clan’s future so uncertain. So she’d done what had to be done, to keep Ian safe, never mind the cost to both of them. She’d broken his heart and sent him away.
She knew Ian was unlikely to forgive her, let alone forget what she’d done, any time soon. She understood his anger. Even so, the thought of trying to make peace with someone who clearly had no desire to do the same…
She didn’t want to. Ian was already giving her an angry glare, as if he thought she’d planned the whole thing. Still, what else could she do? She couldn’t pretend she was fine, not after suggesting the opposite. There was nothing she really needed to speak to Laird and Lady MacBean about. There was no real reason for her to stay, and no way she could avoid Ian’s company without causing offense.
With a sigh that she hoped none of the others in the room could see, Lavinia forced her mouth into a demure smile and nodded. “As ye will.” She opened the door and inclined her head to Ian with as much grace as she could muster. “If ye’ll come with me…”
“I ken the way tae me own quarters.” Ian brushed past her, mouth set in a scowl black as a thundercloud.
Lavinia took a deep breath and followed him, hoping against hope as she fell into step beside him.
I ken ‘tis me fault we parted badly… but even so, if we must share the same building fer who kens how long, surely there must be some way tae make things civil between us at least.
The words echoed in her mind like a prayer, but listen though she might, no answer was forthcoming. Ian’s scowl altered not a whit as he strode along the corridor beside her.
It seemed that if peace was to come, it would have to be Lavinia’s doing – but she had not the slightest idea of how to go about it, nor how to mend the breach caused so long before.
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