PROLOGUE
Highlands of Scotland
Summer, 1427
There were only a handful of things in Stefan Kennedy’s life that he was thankful for. His three friends – Ronan, Daman, and Morcant – made up the majority of them.
If it weren’t for his friends, Stefan knew he would already be dead. The anger inside him was a living beast. He couldn’t control it, and he stopped trying long ago. No one had given him a reason to try and keep it in check until he met Morcant, Ronan, and Daman that fateful day.
It was by happenchance that he even went to the Highland Games. He almost hadn’t, and he still didn’t know what had made him go. But he had. Everything changed upon meeting his friends. Only with them did he have reason to restrain his rage.
His horse snorted, shaking his great head. Stefan patted his steed’s neck as he waited with Morcant and Daman for Ronan to arrive. The valley between the two mountains was wide. The summer sun was warm, and a breeze ruffled his horse’s white mane.
Above them, the shrill cry of a golden eagle broke the silence. Stefan glanced up at the bird to see it soaring upon the wind currents before flapping its great wings.
Stefan’s attention was snapped to the right at the sound of a horse’s whinny. He spotted the rider atop the mountain. Finally. Stefan’s patience had been wearing thin. Morcant’s smile when he saw Ronan had Stefan glancing at Daman, who was also grinning.
Ronan’s horse pawed the ground, and a moment later, he leaned forward on his mount. His horse raced down the mountain. Morcant and Daman laughed while Stefan shook his head at Ronan’s wildness. Then again, that same thread ran through all four of them. It was just one of many reasons they’d become friends.
Morcant had to hold his young stallion with a firm hand as the three waited for Ronan to reach them. Daman’s mount danced sideways, just as Morcant finally got control of his horse and Ronan arrived.
“About time,” Stefan grumbled to Ronan.
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.”
Stefan was used to such words, so Daman and Morcant’s laughter didn’t bother him. 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’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 generally the voice of reason among the four. That was normally reserved for Daman, but Morcant’s comment gave Stefan pause. Most clans didn’t allow gypsies on their land for long. Even though their bold colors and beauty were intriguing, there was no doubt they could be dangerous.
Ronan laughed at Morcant and reined in his jittery mount. “Ah, but with such a willing body, how am I to refuse Ana? Come, my friends. Let us enjoy the bounty that awaits.” He gave a short whistle and his horse surged forward in a run again.
Stefan’s well-trained mount stood still, his ears pricked forward as Stefan watched Ronan. The three remained behind for a moment as Ronan took the lead as he always did. Each had found their place within their small group. What began by chance a decade earlier had grown into their own clan. After they’d met at the Highland Games, they’d made sure to meet up regularly until they were as inseparable as brothers. The four formed a friendship that grew tighter with each year that passed.
“I’m no’ missing this,” Morcant said and gave his
Highlands of Scotland
Summer, 1427
There were only a handful of things in Stefan Kennedy’s life that he was thankful for. His three friends – Ronan, Daman, and Morcant – made up the majority of them.
If it weren’t for his friends, Stefan knew he would already be dead. The anger inside him was a living beast. He couldn’t control it, and he stopped trying long ago. No one had given him a reason to try and keep it in check until he met Morcant, Ronan, and Daman that fateful day.
It was by happenchance that he even went to the Highland Games. He almost hadn’t, and he still didn’t know what had made him go. But he had. Everything changed upon meeting his friends. Only with them did he have reason to restrain his rage.
His horse snorted, shaking his great head. Stefan patted his steed’s neck as he waited with Morcant and Daman for Ronan to arrive. The valley between the two mountains was wide. The summer sun was warm, and a breeze ruffled his horse’s white mane.
Above them, the shrill cry of a golden eagle broke the silence. Stefan glanced up at the bird to see it soaring upon the wind currents before flapping its great wings.
Stefan’s attention was snapped to the right at the sound of a horse’s whinny. He spotted the rider atop the mountain. Finally. Stefan’s patience had been wearing thin. Morcant’s smile when he saw Ronan had Stefan glancing at Daman, who was also grinning.
Ronan’s horse pawed the ground, and a moment later, he leaned forward on his mount. His horse raced down the mountain. Morcant and Daman laughed while Stefan shook his head at Ronan’s wildness. Then again, that same thread ran through all four of them. It was just one of many reasons they’d become friends.
Morcant had to hold his young stallion with a firm hand as the three waited for Ronan to reach them. Daman’s mount danced sideways, just as Morcant finally got control of his horse and Ronan arrived.
“About time,” Stefan grumbled to Ronan.
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.”
Stefan was used to such words, so Daman and Morcant’s laughter didn’t bother him. 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’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 generally the voice of reason among the four. That was normally reserved for Daman, but Morcant’s comment gave Stefan pause. Most clans didn’t allow gypsies on their land for long. Even though their bold colors and beauty were intriguing, there was no doubt they could be dangerous.
Ronan laughed at Morcant and reined in his jittery mount. “Ah, but with such a willing body, how am I to refuse Ana? Come, my friends. Let us enjoy the bounty that awaits.” He gave a short whistle and his horse surged forward in a run again.
Stefan’s well-trained mount stood still, his ears pricked forward as Stefan watched Ronan. The three remained behind for a moment as Ronan took the lead as he always did. Each had found their place within their small group. What began by chance a decade earlier had grown into their own clan. After they’d met at the Highland Games, they’d made sure to meet up regularly until they were as inseparable as brothers. The four formed a friendship that grew tighter with each year that passed.
“I’m no’ missing this,” Morcant said and gave his
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