Prologue

The bell rang clear and loud, slicing through the silence of the morning. Giogair MacInnis jumped up from the table, planning a light kiss on the head of the curvy young blond who he intended to spend the day in bed with. He strode quickly out into the yard, expecting the guard to update him on who or what they had spotted. “My Lord!” Ian called to him from the stairs as he stepped out. “A large group rides this way from the south west! They bare the king's standard. Your brother is already on his horse and riding out with some men.”

“Which brother?”

“Padraig.” Griogair cursed and looked towards the stables. He caught the eye of a lad by the door and held up three fingers so the boy would know which horse to saddle. Padraig was the absolute last of them who should have ridden out. He was far too quick to lose his temper. The three of them ruling together was not working. No matter how they attempted to divide the labour there was always something going awry. Somebody taking it upon themselves to do a task that was not theirs.

Usually, that was Paddy.

“Go tell Alasdair,” Griogair said to Ian. “I will ride out as well.”

The MacInnis holdings were vast, but rather than giving it to the eldest, or even dividing it into small portions to split among his sons, their father had decided to build one large castle and have them all rule together! They were triplets, he insisted, with no one of them truly older than the others so no one of them was born to rule over the others. He had refused to show any favouritism or even allow them to fight or compete against each other as they grew. He insisted the best and most peaceful solution was that they share the keep and the clan as they had shared the womb.

It was neither efficient nor peaceful.

Their bickering coupled with three years of meager harvest since their father’s death had left the clan near to ruin. If this year’s harvest wasn’t bountiful people would be even hungry next winter. Some families had already decided to leave.

As he mounted his horse Griogair wondered, and not for the first time, if they should stop trying to make their father’s plan work. Gair had no real aspirations to rule himself, it was much more fun to simply train with the men and pass time with the willing lasses, but watching his brothers flounder around with indecision and the clan falling apart was killing him.

Griogair rounded the corner and heard Alasdair calling down from his window, “ready my horse!”

“Nay!” Griogair stopped and looked up at the face of his brother, a near mirror image of his own. “I am already on my way, I will ride out to temper Padraig’s gruff words.” Alasdair didn’t look happy but nodded his agreement. “Have drinks ready in the solar. They bare the king’s standard.”

“The king?” Alasdair called back.

“That’s what the watch said.”

Griogair kicked his horse to a gallop, headed for the gates, and charged out towards the group, hoping to intercept Padraig before he said something that could have his read removed.

He slowed his horse as he approached the group and saw an emissary scowling at Padraig already as he said, “I will relay my message to all three brothers at once. That was the king’s command.”

“Then that is the way it shall be,” Griogair said, forcing a cheerful tone as his horse stopped alongside his brother’s and cast him a warning glance. “Come, Padraig, let's see this group through the gates. Travelling this early in the day they likely still need to break their fast.”

“That we do,” the emissary agreed, “I have had enough eggs and that is all Donald was offering.” Griogair saw his brother stiffen slightly and watched as his eyes scanned the group of travellers. When his gaze stilled Griogair followed his line of sight to the form of a woman in a jet-black robe. Her hood was pulled up tightly, but both men knew that form well.

It was Eliana MacDonald. Padraig’s wife.

The group made their way slowly through the gates and up to the steps of the keep. Small gasps could be heard among the men who had assembled when Eliana lowered her hood. She was the most strikingly beautiful woman in the land. Her hair changed colour as the sun moved over it, from a deep brown to a burnt red. Her eyes too could be blue or green, depending on both the lighting and her clothing. She had been an adorable little girl and was now a beautiful young woman. His brother was indeed a lucky man.

“I have a missive from the King!” The emissary announced. Nobody seemed to be paying him any attention. All eyes rested on the small, slender woman as she reached out a hand to take the one Padraig offered and slid gracefully to the ground smiling shyly up at him. The emissary cleared his throat. “Lords McInnis, your attention please!” The brothers turned their identical scowls at the emissary. “We should take this matter to the privacy of your solar, and Lady Eliana needs to break her fast.”

“Yes, of course,” Alasdair said from the doorway, motioning to the nearest woman from the kitchen. “Maddie, see lady Eliana to the main hall and bring her whatever she wishes for her morning meal.”

“Aye m’lord.” her red head bobbed and she stepped forward to do his bidding. Padraig was the first of the brothers to turn into the keep, his boots hitting the steps with enough force that Griogair knew his anger was barely restrained. If the emissary were to say anything other than that Eliana was here to remain with her husband he might just find himself impaled on Padraig’s sword.

“The deteriorating state of your clan has the king concerned,” were the first words the emissary said when the door closed behind them.

“We paid our taxes on time. The king -”

“wishes to ensure your ability to continue doing so,” the emissary interrupted. “Your revenue is not even a third of what it was under your father so the king has decided it is best to end this experiment.”

Padraig opened his mouth as if to argue, but then snapped it closed. The brothers looked at each other. Gair shrugged, Padriag’s mouth drew down into a scowl and Alasdair leaned back against the wall, his face giving nothing away. They all knew the king was right. The way their father had wanted them to run the clan wasn’t working. On top of that, not even one of them was happy.

The emissary looked at each of the men in turn. “The king has decided it is best to honour your father’s wish not to have one of the three of you rule over the others. The only way to do this is to ensure that all three of you are lairds of your own lands. He considered dividing this vast holding, but then there would be the issue of building two additional keeps so instead he decided that you should each be wed to a girl from a nearby clan.”

“WED!” All three bellowed at once.

“Yes,” the emissary’s brow scrunched as if that were obvious. “There are three women in the area in need of husbands. Two are the only direct heirs to their holdings and the other, Eliana, is a secondborn. She will live here. This way all the neighbouring clans will be in one family which is usually more peaceful than neighbours with no direct relations.”

The MacInnis men looked at each other and shrugged. There were already constant skirmishes along the borders as food stores dwindled because of last summer’s drought. Livestock was going missing and despite extra patrols, the crofters were nervous.

“Griogair,” the emissary continued, “as you were named after your father, the king assumed you were born first.” His eyes scanned over the brothers, but out of a habit their father had encouraged, none indicated which of them he was speaking to. He shuffled the papers a bit nervously. He glanced down at them and cleared his throat before he continued. “As the firstborn, it is your place to remain in this keep so he wed you by proxy to the fair Eliana.” Griogair’s eyes snapped up to Padraig’s and the two men stared at each other for a moment.

“Are we all, already wed?” Griogair asked, still not quite sure he was following this catastrophe. Somehow he was now married to his brother’s wife!

“Yes,” the emissary said, “the king wed you all by proxy.”

“All of us?” Padraig asked, his voice tight.

“Indeed. Griogiar and Eliana will remain here. Padraig will rule Fraiser lands with the widow and her two sons. Alasdair will go further east to be with Isobel Sinclair. As that Laird is still alive he must wait to take control until the laird dies or Isobel births the next heir.”

“What if we do not agree?” Patrick asked.

“He is the king,” the emissary said as if that were the only answer. Which of course it was. He was the king, they would have to obey. “I have papers for you to sign and a cleric with me so you can exchange vows properly for the church as well. I am also to remain in each castle until I have proof the vows of each union have been consummated. The king wants there to be no doubt that you are wed. We’ll be starting with Griogair and Eliana immediately. We can then leave for Fraser lands as soon as Padraig is packed.” Griogair kept his eyes on Padraig, expecting to have to stop him from killing the emissary at any moment, or possibly himself, but his brother’s hands rested on his belt.

“You expect us to couple with these wives without a single conversation?” Alasdair asked.

“Yes,” the emissary said as he placed the papers on the desk. “Eliana is quite beautiful, I don’t think it will be too difficult for you to complete the task. And she is your wife,” he shrugged, his eyes flicking between the brothers, showing that he still wasn’t sure which of them he was addressing. “If she doesn’t submit you will simply force her to do her duty.” Padraig and Griogair’s eyes met. Then they both looked at Alasdair. Griogair knew there was no way any of them could do that to her. Nor to Mairead. They had all known each other since they were small.

Alasdair picked up the missive and read it over, his eyebrows rose as he reached the end and the corner of his mouth twitched, then passed it to Padraig with the last page first. Griogair watched his brother’s scowl deepen, noting that he only looked at the last page. When he got to the bottom he read it over twice and his eyes widened. Padraig looked up to Alasdair who gave a minuscule bob of his head. Padraig’s scowl relaxed and he pulled a coin from the pouch on his belt, seemingly toying with it as a nervous habit while he passed the missive to Giogair to read.

Griogair read from the beginning. He saw that he himself was to wed Eliana, the woman the three of them considered Padraig's wife. Padraig was to wed Mairead, a widow now, but a woman Alasdair had coveted before her father wed her to a cousin. Alasdair was to wed some lass named Isobel from the Sinclair clan. He hadn’t even known the laird there had any children. The king had sure made a fine mess of things. Then he noticed they were required to sign to make it official. It said “I, Griogair Padraig Alasdair MacInnis, willing wed” followed by the lady’s name. Groigair looked up and met Padraig’s questioning stare, then glanced at Alasdair who nodded. He clenched his jaw and looked down at the missive again. It was an easy fix, and a legal one. And he could very well end up the only brother regretting it.

Which was as it should be. He was the third born.

Even with their father having taken pains to hide the order of their births, Griogair was third born and he knew it. They had read as much in their mother’s diary. Paddy had been born first, then Diar and Gair had been last. The heir, the spare, and the excess. Leftovers were the place of the third-born male. Only their father hadn’t seen that.

When he looked up he nodded to Padraig and passed the missive back to the emissary. As the emissary positioned himself behind the large wooden desk to ready the paperwork for signing he didn’t notice that every eye in the room, even that of the maid, was on Padraig’s coin. Padraig grinned as he flipped it and tucked it away.

The game had begun.