Chapter 1

Scotland, 1286

“Well? I willna’ ask again, lass,” Edan MacDougall, from the clan MacDougall, pressed.

Ragan responded firmly, and without any hesitation. “My answer is no, and ever shall be.”

“No?” the man echoed back, as if the very word was foreign to him.

“I willna’ marry ye, Edan, for I do not love ye.” Ragan didn’t want to hurt the man. She just wanted to make him understand that she couldn’t possibly care for him in such a way.

“Och!” the highlander angrily spat. “But ye will learn to love me, for that kind of thing takes time.”

“For some, mayhap. But nye for this lassie.”

Furrowing his brow out of frustration, Edan dug his booted foot into the fertile ground beneath him. “Don’t think ye have heard the last of me, Ragan MacDougall. I will make ye my wife. I have already received the laird’s approval to do so.”

Furrowing her own brow, Ragan stepped closer to the man who towered a good half foot above her. “Do ye think I am cattle that can be bartered or reived, Edan?” she demanded hotly.

“I think ye are a woman who doesn’t know her own mind, and just needs a man to make it up for her,” the arrogant Scotsman replied.

“Well, ye know what I think, Edan?” she asked, her temper, as well as the volume of her voice, flaring. “I think if there ever were the slightest chance of me accepting your proposal, ye just completely stomped it out!”

Turning on her heels, Ragan ran back into the village, not bothering to slow her pace until she reached her aunt’s hut.

Without even knocking, she burst through the front door. “I can’t believe it!”

Her aunt Glenna, who was sitting at a small table darning, glanced up from her work. “Is there a problem, lass?” she asked, watching her niece pace like a caged animal.

“Would I be running about if there wasn’t’?” Ragan shouted back.

Folding together the pair of socks that she’d been mending, Glenna placed them neatly onto her lap. “Well, I can’t help ye if ye don’t tell me what has vexed ye so, niece.”

“I’m sorry, aunt. Tis nye ye who I’m sore at. Tis another,” she spoke, taking a steadying breath.

“Then take a seat, dearest, and explain to me what has riled ye so.”

Sitting, Ragan confessed, “Edan MacDougall has asked me to marry him.”

“And what did ye tell the laddie?” her aunt inquired.

“I told him no.” She paused when the statement didn’t have the impact she’d expected. “Glenna, why do ye nye look surprised to hear of the man’s proposal?”

“Come now, Ragan! Everyone knows that Edan fancies ye and has since he was a wee boy. Don’t tell me ye didn’t realize that one day he would stumble upon the courage to ask for your hand in marriage?”

Looking a bit sheepish, Ragan shrugged a petite shoulder. “I... I guess I didn’t think on the matter much,” she offered lamely.

Glenna’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, dearest, my only surprise is that it took him this long to ask ye.

Ragan frowned, not seeing the humor in any of this. “Do ye know what he told me, aunt?” she added in support of her plight. “He said he willna’ stop harassing me until we are wed. Can ye believe the man’s arrogance?!”

“He does have your father’s consent. That’s all the man really needs,” Glenna lightly reminded.

Shooting out of her seat, Ragan appeared as riled as a bull. “How did ye know that? Did he divulge it to ye?” she queried woundedly. “Father would never force me to marry a man I didn’t love!”

“Settle down, niece. I didn’t say he would. Tis just that Ronan thinks of Edan as his son. He raised the boy up himself after his father and mother died. Naturally, he thinks of the man as a good match for his daughter.”

Meeting the woman’s steady gaze, Ragan prepared herself for the worst. “Has he discussed as much with ye, then?”

“Ye know I couldn’t tell ye if he did. What the laird and I speak about in private, remains so.”

Ragan wrung her restless hands together and renewed her pacing. “But I don’t love Edan, aunt. Surely father is aware of that!”

“Och, Ragan,” Glenna chastised. “I adore me brother, but what does a man know about love?”

Ragan stilled, a catch in her throat. “He loved my mother.”

Nodding, her aunt agreed. “That he did, lass. That he did. But the laird is a very busy man, and he can’t possibly see and know everything that goes on around here. Mayhap ye should speak with him about it. Tell him how ye feel instead of just expecting him to always know,” she wisely suggested.

Ragan nodded. “As always, aunt, ye are right.” Mulling it over some, she suddenly grew worried. “What if he does want me to marry Edan? What do I do then?” she beseeched.

“Ye will have to marry eventually, my love. Such is the way of things,” she kindly reasoned. “But perhaps when your time does come, ye will no longer think the man your father has chosen such a bad choice.”

Ragan considered her aunt’s words. Edan was a handsome man. Lean, tall, and finely muscled. But there was no fire, no passion when she looked into the depth of his brown eyes. Ragan didn’t know why such things were important to her, but they were. She wanted what her father had had with her mother. True love. True happiness. And that plainly could not be with Edan.

“Oh aunt, why does a woman have to marry at all?” she lamented with a frown. “I like my life the way it is!”

At this, Glenna laughed. “Tis what I asked my own mother when I was a lass. Do ye know what she told me?”

Ragan shook her head.

Glenna gave the girl a playful pinch. “She told me a husband is good for three things: children, warmth on a cold winter’s night, and boundless amounts of stubbornness!”

Taking in these words of wisdom, Ragan quickly refuted the legitimacy of each one of them. “Perhaps, aunt,” she cleverly agreed. “But a well-trained sheepdog warms the shepherds on those same winter nights, and they are not given to demanding a wedding. As for stubbornness, I have enough of my own, and it could rival that of any man’s! So, the way I see it, there is only one thing a husband is good for. And I think my four brothers can provide me with enough nieces and nephews to keep me quite contented,” she declared triumphantly.

“Ah, yes,” Glenna smiled. “Nieces and nephews are all well and good, but there is nothing that can replace the pleasure that comes from having a daughter.”

“But ye never had any children, aunt, and ye seem happy enough.”

Tilting her head back adoringly, Glenna took hold of her niece’s hand. “Though my husband never did give me one, bless his soul, Ronan was kind enough to lend me the joy of his.”

“Oh, Glenna,” Ragan gushed, moving closer to hug the older woman. “Ye are as dear to me as any mother could be.”

Swatting away the stream of tears that were beginning to flow, the proud Scotswoman wagged a gnarled finger at her niece. “Now, now, ye will make me cry,” she chastised. Pulling away from the heartfelt embrace, she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the edge of her colorful tartan. “Ye must run along now, dear. There is much still to be done today, and I can’t have ye skipping your chores yet again.”

Kissing the beloved woman’s cheek, Ragan hurried off to finish her morning chores. Before Edan had asked to speak with her, she’d been busy arranging the plans for the annual May Day festival, and there were still so many things on her list that had to be done.

The first of May was Ragan’s favorite time of the year. On the morning of this special day, the unmarried women of the clan would gather the most beautiful flowers they could find. With their collection of assorted plants, the lasses fashioned crowns and proceeded to dance around the maypole. Around its length they would wind colorful vines, greenery, flowers, and ribbons. At the end of the night, the fairest maiden would be chosen “Queen of the May”.

Humming while daydreaming of the approaching festival, Ragan cheerfully began to dole out generous amounts of hay and oats to the beasts in the stable. It wasn’t until a male voice sounded behind her that she even realized that someone had joined her.

“Ye seem in good spirits, lassie,” the man shrewdly noted.

Ragan didn’t even have to look to see who had spoken. It was her brother, Rourke. “I am,” she affirmed. “May Day is but a few weeks away, and ye know how fond of it I am.” Picking up a broom, she began to meticulously sweep the wooden floor clean of any loose debris.

“Tis a silly child’s holiday if ye ask me,” the gruff man stated sourly.

Ragan wasn’t bothered in the least by Rourke’s predictably brusque attitude. “I don’t think so. In my eyes, tis the most fun day of the year.”

“Suit yourself, lass,” Rourke responded with a shrug. “I only came to tell ye that our father has requested to see ye.”

Straightening up, Ragan dusted herself off. “Did he say what about?”

“No.” Turning about to exit the stable, Rourke accidentally collided with something solid behind him. It was their eldest brother, Ronald.

Steadying himself, Rourke stood as tall and defiantly proud as he could make his smaller form appear. “I see ye have returned home, brother.” He pronounced the last word in a harsh, dry tone.

“I see ye have gone behind my back and done my job once again, brother,” Ronald accused in kind. “And please don’t act as if ye didn’t know I’d returned, for I’m quite aware that ye overheard me speaking to the laird earlier.”

A snarl upon his lips, Rourke widened his already broad stance. “Mayhap next time ye will follow his orders with more expediency then. If, that is, ye don’t like me doing it for ye.”

“Oh please!” a third man spoke, strolling cheerfully into the stables. “Father couldn’t care a fig who told Ragan his message. He’s simply too lazy to fetch her himself!”

“Riley!” Ragan joyously cried.

Reaching for his baby sister, Riley hauled her into his arms. “Did ye miss me, little sparrow?” the youngest son of Ronan asked, raining several kisses down upon her head and cheeks.

“Stop, stop!” she giggled helplessly.

Giving her one last grand kiss upon her forehead, the Scotsman reluctantly released his sister from his brawny grip.

Cheeks flushed with excitement, Ragan assaulted the man with an avalanche of questions. “How was your journey? Did ye go reiving without me again? How many sheep did ye get?”

“Slow down, lass,” Riley playfully demanded. “I will tell ye everything about my trip, but ye had better nye let Glenna hear ye carrying on about it. She will have your hide and mine if she thinks I’m abetting ye in such improper feminine behavior.”

Ronald joined in with a laugh. “Our aunt has toiled relentlessly to make ye into a proper Scotswoman, Ragan. I think Riley is right by saying she wouldn’t appreciate us interfering with such hard-earned efforts.”

Impatient as always, Rourke interrupted his siblings' easygoing banter. “Ye had better go and see the laird, Ragan. Ye don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“The laird, is it?!” Riley spoke, mimicking Rourke’s somberness. “Ye would think we were at court, Lady Ragan, with the way these men carry on so formally,” he jested, teasing his overly serious brothers and disarming some of the tension in the barn.

“Rourke is right,” Ragan admitted with a sigh. “I had better go and see what “His Majesty”, I mean, father, wants.” Winking, she gave each one of her brothers a kiss and a hug before leaving the stable.

As she walked toward the keep, Ragan considered what her father had summoned her to discuss. Though there could be a plethora of issues the man wished to speak to her about, something told her it was one very unpleasant issue in particular. And she was guessing that issue went by the name of Edan MacDougall!

Drawing in a steadying breath, Ragan entered the main hall of her father’s keep. Finding the man by a recently stoked fire, she cleared her throat. “Ye sent for me, father?”

Staring deep into the flames, Ronan let some time elapse before he replied, “I did, daughter.”

“Is there something wrong? Have I upset ye?” she asked nervously.

“In a way,” the laird spoke elusively.

Losing patience with this cryptic game of his, Ragan blurted out her suspicions. “Does your anger have anything to do with my refusal of marriage to Edan MacDougall this morning?”

“Aye, it does.”

“Then ye are upset that my answer was no?”

“Have I nye treated ye well, Ragan?” Her father asked then, his voice deceptively calm.

At this, Ragan gave pause. “Why...yes, ye have. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t ask much of ye, daughter. Lord knows I have the softest of resolves when it comes to ye, girl. But I am asking for ye to do as I say in this matter. I want ye to marry Edan, and soon,” he ordered finitely.

Ragan’s heart seemed to still for several beats. “But I don’t love him, father.”

“Love will grow in time, lassie. The man has enough affection for the both of ye until then,” he assured.

“Ye mean lust,” she bitterly choked out. “Edan MacDougall wouldn’t know what love was if it hopped up and bit him in the arse!”

“Watch your tongue, girl!” the laird shouted mightily. “Do nye forget who it is you’re talking to? I’m nye one of your brothers who finds such rude speech amusing.”

Lowering her head, Ragan bit down hard upon her bottom lip. “I’m sorry father, but I willna’ marry a man I don’t love! Nye for ye, nye for anyone. Ye have raised me better than that!”

“I don’t know about that, daughter,” Ronan charged coldly, his green eyes boring into her china-blue ones. “For it seems when ye grew into womanhood, ye misplaced all your manners!”

Staring unflinchingly at one another for several heartbeats, Ronan was the first to break the heated silence. “Ye will marry with the man, Ragan, and the ceremony will take place the second day of May. It has already been decided.”

“I willna’!” she defiantly renounced.

“Yes, ye will girl,” the laird bellowed. “And I will nye hear another blasted word about it!”

Ragan stubbornly tilted her chin upward. “I would sooner go to a nunnery than marry the likes of such a man!”

“That, my girl,” Ronan countered, “can be arranged!”

Realizing her father would not budge now, not after what they had both said, Ragan stalked furiously from the hall. Bound for her chamber, she pledged to the heavens above that she would make Edan MacDougall pay dearly for all the trouble he’d caused her. And when she was through with the man, he wasn’t going to ever want to see her face again, let alone marry her!