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Dun Ugadale,

Kintyre Peninsula, Scotland

brODIE EMERGED FROM his forge to watch the warriors amassing in the barmkin.

It was a windy morning, clouds racing against a pale-blue sky, but it was good enough weather to set out on a long journey—and the Mackays were going far, all the way south to the lowlands, to join the king’s campaign against the ‘Black Douglases’.

James had finally called for them, and they would answer.

Brodie’s gaze shifted then to where a covered wagon had been prepared for Bonnie and their young son, Reid.

Bonnie had insisted she wouldn’t be left behind, and Iver had agreed she could travel with them. There was little danger to her and the bairn, after all. The conflict lay far to the south, and once Iver and his men reached the king’s men, Bonnie would stay with the rear guard.

Even so, Iver’s decision showed the depth of love he had for his wife and infant son; he wouldn’t be parted from them.

Bonnie had given birth at Yuletide, and from what Brodie had gleaned from Rose—for Brodie was now estranged from Iver—the birth had been long and difficult.

The midwife had feared for Bonnie’s life and even called for the healer from Ceann Locha for assistance.

Yet after many hours of labor, Reid Mackay had emerged safely into the world. And although Bonnie had been laid low for a few days afterward, both she and the bairn had thrived in the end.

And Brodie, like everyone else, had been relieved.

Iver was now helping Bonnie and her maid into the wagon. The couple spoke quietly before Iver flashed Bonnie a warm smile and bowed his head, kissing her. He then stroked the shock of russet hair upon his son’s head—the same fiery hue as his mother’s mane.

Bitterness soured Brodie’s mouth. He was pleased that mother and son were both healthy, yet Iver was so caught up in his own life, that he’d likely forgotten his bastard brother altogether. It was as if Brodie no longer existed.

Ensuring Bonnie and Reid were settled, Iver then turned to Kerr, no doubt giving final instructions to him. In Iver’s absence, Kerr would rule in his stead, awaiting the laird’s return.

Watching them, Brodie felt as if he were a raven sitting on a wall, observing the goings-on within this broch but remaining apart from them.

It had been so, ever since his return from the north.

During the tense journey home, Brodie withdrew into silence while Iver treated him coldly.

Kerr was left to try and mend things between them, although he’d been unsuccessful.

And all the while, Iver ensured that his men watched over Brodie at night—just in case he tried to steal a horse and go in search of Greer.

Brodie’s rage had simmered the whole way home, frustration and grief tearing him up inside.

Greer needed him, yet he couldn’t help her.

He hated himself for failing her—although in those long days, as late summer slipped into autumn, he’d hated Iver more.

And upon their arrival at the broch, Brodie returned to his forge and rarely left it. Whenever he occasionally took Brèagha for a ride, Iver ensured either Kerr or one of the Guard accompanied him.

Even now, his brother didn’t trust him.

The feeling was mutual.

Brodie stayed apart from his kin these days, and the irony of it wasn’t lost on him.

Before he’d gone north, the bond he had with his brothers had been everything to him.

He hadn’t wanted to abandon them, and had agonized over it, yet now he’d been dragged back here, he felt a stranger at Dun Ugadale.

And in response, he lived like a leper, shunning company.

One of Cory’s lads brought his meals to him, although food held little appeal. He ate because he needed to, and sometimes the platter was sent back to the kitchen, untouched.

Sometimes, he couldn’t face food at all.

He hadn’t set foot inside the broch itself since his return, not even at Yuletide–not even to see his newborn nephew. Iver hadn’t requested his presence either, although Kerr tried to coax him indoors numerous times.

Brodie refused, and kept refusing, until Kerr gave up. Over the past months, whenever Lennox visited Dun Ugadale, he tried to approach him, to talk to him about what had happened. But Brodie refused to talk about it.

To speak of what he’d lost would split him open.

Rose emerged from the broch then, one hand upon her gently swelling belly as she descended the steps and halted at the bottom next to Kerr and Iver.

Her bairn was due in early autumn, and Davina too was expecting.

The last time Lennox and Davina had visited, Brodie had noted that his sister-by- marriage was heavy with child.

Soon, Reid would have two new cousins to grow up with.

Rose’s gaze flicked across the barmkin then and rested upon Brodie. Her face tensed, and even from this distance, he could see her gaze was shadowed, worried.

Both Rose and Bonnie were saddened by the rift between Iver and Brodie. His sisters-by-marriage visited him sometimes in the forge, yet their attempts to draw Brodie into conversation were never successful.

He just wanted to be left alone.

Brodie stared back at Rose, an ache rising under his breastbone.

Aye, he welcomed loneliness—almost as a form of self-punishment for failing Greer so terribly—and yet at the same time, he missed his family.

Sometimes, it felt as if his chest were hollowed out, as if when the wind blew, it whistled through him.

After so many months of estrangement, he secretly longed to be part of things again, to sit in the hall with his brothers, listening to the rumble of conversation around him, to banter with Iver and Kerr, and Lennox too when he and Davina visited.

But pride wouldn’t let him show his feelings.

Seeing the direction of Rose’s gaze, Iver stopped talking to Kerr and turned.

And then, for the first time in a long while, the two brothers locked gazes.

A moment later, to Brodie’s surprise, Iver walked toward him, his long legs covering the ground quickly.

Brodie tensed at his approach.

For the first weeks after what had happened in the north, just the sight of the laird was enough to curdle Brodie’s stomach. He couldn’t forget what Iver had done.

However, since then, he’d had a lot of time to think, to reflect on the decisions he’d made and their consequences.

Aye, for a while, he’d despised his brother, yet he didn’t now.

Now, he felt nothing.

Nonetheless, he was wary of Iver’s approach.

“So, ye are off then?” Brodie greeted him gruffly.

Iver nodded, halting around three feet distant. “Aye … the king awaits.” An awkward silence settled between them, and Iver eventually cleared his throat. “Will ye ride with me, Brodie?”

The blunt request took Brodie aback. His lips parted, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wasn’t sure how to respond. It was an honor for the laird to ask this of him, yet after everything that had passed between them, he wasn’t sure he should accept.

“Surely, ye have enough men?” Brodie replied, breaking the awkward silence.

Iver’s gaze never wavered. “There is room for one more.”

Silence fell once more as Brodie considered his request.

Part of him wanted to throw it back in Iver’s face, to see his brother flinch, to see the anger light in his eyes. Of course, Kerr too would be disappointed that they weren’t mending things. Their brother stood a few yards away, watching their exchange intently.

Kerr couldn’t go on this campaign, for he was looking after the broch, and with Davina so close to giving birth—just days away now according to Rose—Lennox didn’t want to leave her side. Bonnie’s difficult time during Reid’s birthing had put all of them on edge.

Iver would ride south without any of his brothers at his side unless Brodie agreed to join him.

They were all watching him now, the guards who’d been readying their horses, his sisters-by-marriage, and even the cook and his assistants who’d ventured out into the barmkin to see the laird off.

Aye, it was his moment to rage at them all, yet he didn’t.

What point was there in lashing out? What was done was done, and he’d had enough time over the past months to reflect on his actions. Brodie had known he was being reckless, that he and Greer were risking everything, yet that hadn’t stopped him.

He had to shoulder the responsibility for how it ended.

“Very well,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Iver’s mouth tugged into a half-smile. “I’m glad to hear it,” he murmured. “Ready Brèagha … we ride out shortly.”

“Ready for an adventure, lass?” Brodie slipped his horse’s bridle on and did it up.

The mare stomped a hoof in response, making it clear she longed to stretch her legs again.

“I’ve neglected ye of late, haven’t I?” Brodie ruffled her forelock. “And I’m sorry.”

Aye, he still exercised her, yet in the past, Brodie would often visit Brèagha’s stall to groom his horse and sing to her. Ever since his return to Dun Ugadale, he hadn’t had the heart for song. The words wouldn’t come.

Leading the courser from the stables, he found Iver and the rest of the party waiting for him. Brodie had readied himself quickly, packing a saddle bag with essential clothing before strapping a dirk around his waist.

Even so, despite his swiftness, he could feel Iver’s impatience. His brother was on edge this morning, for this was his first campaign in a few years.

Brodie nodded to him before swinging up into the saddle. He then gathered the reins, glancing over at where Kerr and Rose stood on the steps of the barmkin. Kerr had his arm slung around Rose’s shoulders. However, both their gazes were solemn this morning.

They were his only family members to see him off. Not only were Lennox and Davina absent, but Brodie’s stepmother was as well.

Sheena no longer lived at Dun Ugadale. In a surprising turn of events—which Brodie had learned of second-hand from Bonnie and Rose—Colin Campbell had proposed to Sheena at Yuletide.

That wasn’t the shocking part, for the Lord of Glenorchy’s interest in the widow had become clear over the past months.

What had surprised them all though, was that Sheena accepted.

Brodie’s stepmother resided at Kilchurn now—and he couldn’t say he was sorry to see her go.

There had been no farewells between them, but that was hardly surprising. Although Sheena had surprised Brodie by glancing in his direction on the morning of her departure, as she sat upon her courser, readying herself to leave.

Their gazes had met across the barmkin. Brodie had readied himself for his stepmother to screw her face up, for her eyes to narrow as they usually did when she looked upon him.

But that morning, they hadn’t. Instead, a strange expression had rippled across her features, one he couldn’t discern, and then she turned away.

“Go well, brothers,” Kerr called out then, his voice carrying across the barmkin. “Deal to those Black Douglases, and then get yer arses back here … where ye belong.”

Warmth filtered through Brodie at these words.

For the first time in many months, his mouth curved into the barest hint of a smile.

How he’d missed the camaraderie he’d once shared with his brothers, and the sense of belonging.

He realized now though that he’d idealized their relationship.

Aye, family bonds were important, but they weren’t unbreakable.

Meanwhile, Iver nodded to their brother, his dark-blue eyes warm. “Aye, Kerr,” he replied. “And in the meantime, ye keep my broch and lands safe.”

Kerr’s sea-blue gaze glinted. “Always.”