All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

      This book is dedicated to my parents,

       Sam and Jean White,

       who have always believed in me.

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      I am truly thankful for the immense support from my family and friends. My deepest wish is that everyone is as blessed when they pursue their dreams.

      My sincere thanks and humble gratitude to my editors, Kate Duffy and Megan Records; my agent, Holly Root; my critique partners, Shirley Rogerson and Michelle Hancock; and to Mary Forbes for the extra brainstorming, all of which made Seathan and Linet’s story breathe life and allowed the magic of story to infuse their journey.

      Special thanks to my children, Eric, Stephanie, and Christopher, as well as the Wild Writers for their continued amazing support!

      Kate Duffy was an amazing editor and friend who made such an immense difference in so many lives. God bless you, Kate. I miss you.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 1

      Scotland, 1297

      Dangerous.

      The cold, moor-swept air hummed with the ominous warning. Stark. Foreboding. Like the captive rebel who prowled in his cell only paces away from where Lady Linet Dancort hid. His each step predatory. His each breath cast out in a ragged hiss.

      Though hidden in the shadows, with distance and iron separating them, like the storm howling outside Breac Castle this night, the threat exuded by this man was very real.

      Draped within her thick wool cape, she regarded Seathan MacGruder, Earl of Grey. Only a fool would dare cross her brother’s prisoner.

      And she was far from a fool.

      An ache built in her chest that her life had crumbled to this moment. She wished the years back, wished her father and mother still lived and that her brother, Fulke Dancort, Viscount of Tearlach, had not betrayed her. But as the cool, storm-fed wind rattled across her skin in a macabre caress, her wishes crumbled one by one.

      Linet swallowed hard. Hopes, like fairy tales, were for the innocent. For those who had something left to believe in.

      How dare her brother betray his promise of allowing her to choose her husband? This night, Fulke would regret the arrangements he’d made for her to marry a neighboring earl to strengthen his ties, an earl known for his abuse, an earl whose brutality had left his last wife dead.

      At the rattle of bars, she focused on the Scot who stalked his cell like an animal caged. Here was a man who represented truth, not lies wielded for a self-serving purpose.

      Thunder smothered the bells of matins.

      Through the carved window, she scanned the midnight sky battered by hard, spring-fed rain. She must hurry. With a steadying breath, Linet pushed back her hood and stepped into the torchlight. A slight scrape sounded as her slipper touched the stone floor.

      The Scottish rebel whirled to face her.

      Lightning split the sky. Thunder snarled in its wake. Through a tangle of black hair, Lord Grey’s eyes, feral like a wolf’s, locked on hers.

      A tremor rocked her as potent as the next blast of thunder. Her mind commanded she retreat.

      She held.

      Like the air pulsing with energy, her every sense grew charged with awareness. The urge to shield her face from his unapologetic glare stunned her. Throughout her life, her father had given her the freedom to study alongside her peers, and he’d encouraged her to speak her mind.

      Never had a man’s presence, much less his gaze, incited her interest to a mind-spinning degree. It was illogical this prisoner could make her feel anything with a mere look.

      But standing paces away, with his warrior’s dark gaze burning into hers, her body trembled. She owed her reaction to nerves. And rightly so. By the rebel’s formidable height, scathing look, and arrogant stance, there was little safe about the Scot. And with orders for him to be hanged at first light, he must be desperate.

      As was she.

      Fulke’s demand that she cede to his dictates and marry the neighboring earl echoed through her mind. She welcomed the anger, embraced the emotion that for the last month since her brother’s return had kept her sanity intact.

      Enough pondering the past. She would ensure that her brother paid for his greed. He would lose not only the powerful alliance her arranged marriage would have brought, but also this prized Scottish rebel, a noble high in William Wallace’s ranks. A loss that would earn her brother naught but King Edward’s wrath.

      Head