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Silence followed her statement, and Eara’s expression turned pensive. “Aye, we all have to ward ourselves against bitterness.” After a pause, she then favored Rose with a whimsical half-smile. “Few folk go through life without disappointments, Rose … the trick is not to dwell on them.”

Later, as Rose walked up the path to her family’s cottage, she reflected on her friend’s words. Sometimes, she envied Eara her sanguine attitude. They were both strong-willed and practical women, traits that had drawn them together in friendship—yet Rose had inherited her father’s dogmatism.

If she was to follow his lead, she’d end up raging against the world.

Eara was right. She couldn’t let life’s setbacks sour her character.

Entering the cottage, Rose set down the large bag full of skins of ale on the worktable.

Her father and brothers would have plenty of cool ale to quench their thirsts when they returned from the Carradale market.

She glanced over at where Hazel was roosting on the window ledge.

The eagle owl was fast asleep, and she wouldn’t disturb her.

Rose’s gaze alighted on the basket of sweet buns she’d left on the table earlier.

With a sigh, she helped herself to one and took a bite. She’d already had a bun and should really leave the rest for her menfolk. Nonetheless, her belly was still growling. Sweetened with honey and dried plums, it was delicious.

Rose took the bun outside and lowered herself onto a stool on the edge of her rambling cottage garden. She’d planted the first of the spring greens the day before, yet there was still much work to be done. She ate the bun slowly before standing up and brushing the crumbs off her skirts.

There was no hurry to put the noon meal on today, as her father and brothers weren’t likely to be back until the following morning at the earliest. Nonetheless, she couldn’t sit idle—there were always chores to be done and a garden to be tamed.

She’d also collected reeds from a nearby burn the day before and planned to weave some baskets, which she could then sell at the village market.

Her father and brothers were doing their best to get a good price for their sheep, and she’d do her bit too. She appreciated the ale she received from Eara, but she needed coin as well.

Rose was about to turn and go inside when the ground started to vibrate.

Glancing up, she spied a lone rider approaching down the glen, fast.

It was still a bright, cold day, and the sunlight had a silvery quality. As such, Rose squinted as she tried to make out the identity of the rider.

As they drew closer, she saw it was a man, clad in dark leather, shaggy white-blond hair streaming behind him.

Rose’s breathing stilled, and she tightened her grip on her trowel.

“The devil’s turds,” she growled. “What’s he doing here?”

She’d seen far too much of Kerr Mackay of late. Everywhere she turned, there he was. As he approached, she was tempted to go indoors and bolt the door, yet she resisted the urge. Instead, she held her ground, watching as he drew his courser up a few yards away and swung down from the saddle.

She noticed then that his horse was lathered and breathing hard, as was he. Mackay’s leathers were coated in dust, and streaks of grime marked his face. His handsome face was set in harsh lines.

Rose folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin as he approached. “What do ye want?” Her tone was rude, yet she didn’t care. He wasn’t welcome here.

Kerr stopped before her, his chest rising and falling sharply. His sea-blue eyes were darker than usual. His gaze burned into her.

She spied a cut above his right eye then, and foreboding prickled across her skin like an army of marching ants. It looked like he’d been in a fight—but with whom?

They stared at each other for a few moments before Rose eventually muttered, “Well … are ye going to speak?”

Kerr’s throat bobbed. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

Her breathing caught, nausea sweeping over her. The roughness in his voice warned her she wouldn’t welcome the news he was about to deliver.

“Is it my father?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“Tell me.”

“He, yer brothers, and five others tried to steal the MacDonald’s cattle on the way to Carradale.”

Rose’s heart kicked against her ribs. “What? That can’t be right. Da and the lads are taking our sheep to market this morning.”

He shook his head. “They caused a rockfall in a gorge north of here … it killed a few men, but most of us got through.” He broke off then, his gaze guttering. “There was a fight afterward … yer father and brothers were killed.”

Rose took a step back, staggering slightly. “No,” she whispered.

Sadness flickered across Kerr’s face. “I wish it weren’t so, lass,” he said softly, “but it is.”

Her legs gave way under her then. She’d have collapsed if Kerr hadn’t leaped forward and caught her under the arms.

“Why?” she croaked, hanging in his grip as shock rolled through her. “ Why ?”

He didn’t answer. Moments passed, and then a terrible suspicion dawned. Heat swept across Rose, and she struggled out of his grip. She then pushed herself away from him. “Did ye kill them?”

“No,” he said roughly, alarm sparking in his eyes.

“Liar! Ye have always hated my family … this was the chance ye were waiting for, wasn’t it?”

“No, Rose,” he rasped. “Do ye really think me such a beast?”

Rose swallowed down bile. Aye, she did.

“When the fight turned against him, yer father skewered himself on Duncan MacDonald’s dirk.” A nerve flickered in Kerr’s cheek as he spoke. “Yer brothers died by the hands of two of my guards.”

“No!” Rose’s wail echoed across the garden, splintering the bright, still day.

Grief barreled into her, like a mailed fist to the stomach. She doubled over, unable to withstand the pain. All three of them gone—just like that. She hadn’t been able to take it in initially, yet now the truth flattened her.

“Dear Lord, no!”

A red haze blinded her then, fury erupting. She flew at Kerr, fists clenched. She caught him by surprise, and one fist slammed into his stomach, while the other smacked him in the jaw. He grunted, reeling back under the force of her rage.

She swung at him again, but this time, he was ready. He caught her wrists, pinning them against his chest as she writhed against him. Her knee came up sharply, aiming for his cods, yet he shifted, and her kneecap dug into the hard muscle of his thigh instead.

Her cry, rage blending with grief, ripped through the air, and she struggled against him.

Damn him for being so strong. She was no weakling, yet it was impossible to wrest herself from his iron grip. But still, she fought him, snarling curses.

Kerr didn’t budge, even if his face had gone taut with strain.

Finally, exhaustion dragged at her, and she went limp against him—and as soon as she did, the sorrow that her anger had momentarily eclipsed slammed into her.

A painful sob rose up, ripping from Rose’s throat. And once the dam broke, there was no keeping the tears back.

Suddenly, Kerr disappeared, as did the rest of the world.

All that existed was pain.