PROLOGUE
Highlands of Scotland
Summer, 1427
Daman Thacker sat atop his mount as silent as the rugged mountains around him. He looked over at the men he considered brothers – Morcant and Stefan.
As usual, the three waited on the fourth man of their group, Ronan. Ronan was the carefree one of them, the one who did what he wanted, dismissing the consequences. It was a hell of a way to live.
Oh, how Daman wished he could follow in Ronan’s footsteps.
Stefan’s horse snorted, shaking his great head, which caused Stefan to pat the steed’s neck. The valley between the two mountains was wide. The summer sun was warm, with a breeze gently rushing past.
Above them, the shrill cry of a golden eagle broke the silence. Stefan glanced up, but Daman was scanning the ridge of the mountains. He smiled as he caught sight of Ronan.
Ronan’s horse whinnied loudly, causing Stefan and Morcant to look toward the top of the mountain. Daman shared a smile with Morcant before Stefan glanced his way.
Ronan’s horse pawed the ground, and a moment later, Ronan leaned forward. His horse raced down the mountain. Daman laughed along with Morcant. Ronan’s wildness was just one of many reasons they had become friends, brothers.
It had begun a decade earlier when they happened to meet during a Highland Games. Their bond of friendship formed quickly and tightly during those few days, and not even the fact that they belonged to different clans kept them from meeting regularly.
As the years went by, their bond solidified into a brotherhood that nothing - and no one - could break.
Daman’s mount danced sideways, eager to run, as Morcant finally got control of his horse and Ronan arrived.
“About time,” Stefan grumbled.
Ronan raised his brow. “You might want to rein in that temper, my friend. We’re going to be around beautiful women this night. Women require smiles and sweet words. No’ furrowed brows.”
Daman and Morcant’s laughter didn’t bother Stefan since he was used to such words from them. Still, Stefan shot Ronan a humorless look.
“Aye, we’ve heard enough about this Ana,” Daman said as he turned his mount alongside Ronan’s. “Take me to this gypsy beauty so I can see her for myself.”
Ronan’s lips compressed. “You think to take her from me?”
Daman and Ronan had played this game before. It wasn’t in any of them to even think about trying to take away one of their women. But it was always a fun jest.
Daman’s confident smile grew as his eyes twinkled in merriment. “Is she that beautiful?”
“Just you try,” Ronan dared, only half jesting.
“Be cautious, Ronan. You wrong a gypsy and they’ll curse you. No’ sure we should be meddling with such people,” Morcant said as he shoved his hair out of his eyes.
Morcant wasn’t usually the voice of reason of the four, but his comment had Daman’s smile fading. The gypsies weren’t allowed to remain in one place for long. Many clans would prevent them from crossing onto their lands if they knew they were coming.
The gypsies might be beautiful, but they were dangerous, as well.
Ronan laughed at Morcant and reined in his mount. “Ah, but with such a willing body, how am I to refuse Ana? Come, my friends, and let us enjoy the bounty that awaits.” He gave a short whistle and his horse surged forward in a run again.
Daman’s steed blew out a breath, anxious to run, as well. The three remained behind for a moment while Ronan took the lead as he always did. Each had found their place within their small group that had formed so long ago during the Highland Games.
“I’m no’ missing this,” Morcant said and gave his stallion his head. The horse immediately took off.
Daman and Stefan shared a look, and as one, they nudged their mounts into a run. It wasn’t long before they caught up with Morcant.
Ronan looked over his shoulder, a wide smile on his face. He spurred his mount faster. Morcant then leaned low over
Highlands of Scotland
Summer, 1427
Daman Thacker sat atop his mount as silent as the rugged mountains around him. He looked over at the men he considered brothers – Morcant and Stefan.
As usual, the three waited on the fourth man of their group, Ronan. Ronan was the carefree one of them, the one who did what he wanted, dismissing the consequences. It was a hell of a way to live.
Oh, how Daman wished he could follow in Ronan’s footsteps.
Stefan’s horse snorted, shaking his great head, which caused Stefan to pat the steed’s neck. The valley between the two mountains was wide. The summer sun was warm, with a breeze gently rushing past.
Above them, the shrill cry of a golden eagle broke the silence. Stefan glanced up, but Daman was scanning the ridge of the mountains. He smiled as he caught sight of Ronan.
Ronan’s horse whinnied loudly, causing Stefan and Morcant to look toward the top of the mountain. Daman shared a smile with Morcant before Stefan glanced his way.
Ronan’s horse pawed the ground, and a moment later, Ronan leaned forward. His horse raced down the mountain. Daman laughed along with Morcant. Ronan’s wildness was just one of many reasons they had become friends, brothers.
It had begun a decade earlier when they happened to meet during a Highland Games. Their bond of friendship formed quickly and tightly during those few days, and not even the fact that they belonged to different clans kept them from meeting regularly.
As the years went by, their bond solidified into a brotherhood that nothing - and no one - could break.
Daman’s mount danced sideways, eager to run, as Morcant finally got control of his horse and Ronan arrived.
“About time,” Stefan grumbled.
Ronan raised his brow. “You might want to rein in that temper, my friend. We’re going to be around beautiful women this night. Women require smiles and sweet words. No’ furrowed brows.”
Daman and Morcant’s laughter didn’t bother Stefan since he was used to such words from them. Still, Stefan shot Ronan a humorless look.
“Aye, we’ve heard enough about this Ana,” Daman said as he turned his mount alongside Ronan’s. “Take me to this gypsy beauty so I can see her for myself.”
Ronan’s lips compressed. “You think to take her from me?”
Daman and Ronan had played this game before. It wasn’t in any of them to even think about trying to take away one of their women. But it was always a fun jest.
Daman’s confident smile grew as his eyes twinkled in merriment. “Is she that beautiful?”
“Just you try,” Ronan dared, only half jesting.
“Be cautious, Ronan. You wrong a gypsy and they’ll curse you. No’ sure we should be meddling with such people,” Morcant said as he shoved his hair out of his eyes.
Morcant wasn’t usually the voice of reason of the four, but his comment had Daman’s smile fading. The gypsies weren’t allowed to remain in one place for long. Many clans would prevent them from crossing onto their lands if they knew they were coming.
The gypsies might be beautiful, but they were dangerous, as well.
Ronan laughed at Morcant and reined in his mount. “Ah, but with such a willing body, how am I to refuse Ana? Come, my friends, and let us enjoy the bounty that awaits.” He gave a short whistle and his horse surged forward in a run again.
Daman’s steed blew out a breath, anxious to run, as well. The three remained behind for a moment while Ronan took the lead as he always did. Each had found their place within their small group that had formed so long ago during the Highland Games.
“I’m no’ missing this,” Morcant said and gave his stallion his head. The horse immediately took off.
Daman and Stefan shared a look, and as one, they nudged their mounts into a run. It wasn’t long before they caught up with Morcant.
Ronan looked over his shoulder, a wide smile on his face. He spurred his mount faster. Morcant then leaned low over
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