Page 1 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
CHAPTER ONE
Chapel near Gunn’s castle, June 1691.
Laird William Gunn & Elspeth Munro’s wedding.
Abducting a bride on her wedding day was something Laird Keane Mackay would never even have considered a year before. But as he had learned in painful detail, a lot could change in a year.
Standing at the back of the crowded chapel with his closest friend and trusted advisor, Alisdair Mackenzie, Keane’s stare remained fixed on the altar. His seething anger was barely contained as he clenched his fists to try and control himself. The two were adorned in peasants’ garb to try and blend in, but anyone who gave them more than a passing glance could tell they were warriors.
No matter his attire, Keane could not hide his height and muscular build. His long blonde hair and blue eyes also madehim appear more Viking than Scots. While Alisdair was leaner with darker hair, the scar that ran across his jawline betrayed his frequency in combat. In fact, he was one of the best warriors in the Mackay Clan.
But they were not alone. Keane’s men had taken discreet positions. Some inside the chapel, some outside, awaiting his signal. It wouldn’t be long now until he could enact his plan, but as determined as Keane was to see this through, he felt a nervous tension in his stomach, matched only by his utter hatred of the man standing at the altar awaiting his bride.
That man had prematurely made Keane laird by striking his father down dead. He had ruined his life.
Laird William Gunn. The man who had to die.
The raw urge to launch through the chapel and strike him dead coursed through Keane, and with his jaw tightened, his fists clenched, and his body nearly trembling with rage, he made a desperate attempt to control himself.
But then, he felt Alisdair’s firm and steady hand press against his arm.
His close companion did not need to speak, for Alisdair’s thoughts were loud and clear.
“Nae yet. Gunn is too heavily protected.” He nodded to one of the many attentive guards stationed against the stone wall. “Adirect confrontation now would be reckless and ruin our plan. As difficult as it is, ye must contain yer rage, me friend.”
Keane took a deep breath in to steady himself. Alisdair was right, but then, he usually was. Keane had not chosen him as his advisor simply because they were lifelong friends. His decision had been based upon the fact that Alisdair had always been the rational counterbalance to Keane’s intensity.
Ordinarily, they would speak freely, but under these circumstances, Keane’s gift worked in their favor. He and his younger sister, Iseabail had both been born with powers, passed down from the mystical lineage of their mother. While his sister had the ability to compel people to do whatever she wanted, Keane was able to read a person’s thoughts by mere touch.
Alisdair now looked at Keane, his thoughts backed by a furrowed frown of concern. There had been many conversations between them since his father had died. Alisdair, always upfront and straight to the point, had warned Keane that his obsession with revenge had become all-consuming, causing a darkness to swallow him and push him beyond restraint.
“Yer relentless grief has altered ye, me friend,” he had said only a few days before, once Keane and his men had set up camp for the night. But Keane had brushed off his friends’ words.
“What dae ye expect from me?” he had growled. “Surely, if ye were in me position, ye’d be as keen tae avenge yer own faither’s death.
Alisdair had slowly shaken his head. “Nay, Keane. This thing that has consumed ye isnae vengeance. It’s obsession. Yer pain is blinding ye. Every thought and every plan revolves around making Laird Gunn suffer.”
“As he should,” Keane had spat.
Alisdair had sighed. Gazing across the wooded area, he had said, “Are ye sure ye want tae go through with this? This lass is innocent.”
“It’s the only way,” Keane growled.
“That ye can see,” Alisdair had countered.
“We’ve gone over this a hundred times, Alisdair. We’re nae backing out now. The wedding is the best chance we’re going tae get. If we steal his bride, it’ll ruin his alliance with the Munro Clan.”
“Maybe, but Elspeth Munro is still innocent,” Alisdair had countered calmly.
“I dinnae care,” Keane had retorted, losing his temper. “Gunn needs this alliance. Without it, he’ll be weakened. Besides, nae being able tae protect his bride will humiliate him, which is the least he deserves.”
“And what happens tae the lass afterwards?” Alisdair had pressed, his own frustration evident in his tone. “Ye’re hardlygoing tae keep her locked in a dungeon for the rest o’ her life, are ye? Nay,” he snarled, answering his own question, “she’ll be slaughtered like ye’ve slaughtered every other who’s got in yer way.”
Granted, that was the only part of the plan that Keane was not wholly sold on, but then, there were casualties in any war, wasn’t there? Alisdair might be right. He was consumed. But he was willing to sacrifice any part of himself to see this through. His father’s memory deserved that much.
Now though, as he stood waiting for Gunn’s bride to arrive, thinking of what the end of this day would bring, a flicker of uncertainty crept in.
Can ye really kill an innocent lass? Warriors are different. But a lass?
