Prologue

Thirteen Years Ago

“Those flowers are very pretty.” Isobel smiled at her younger half-sister Effie as the girl started to gather flowers into a sloppy bouquet. She was only a half-year younger, and the two of them got along well, in spite of their father’s disdain for Effie. Isobel didn’t understand all the details, except that her father had done something with Effie’s mother that had made Isobel’s mother very angry. Just after Effie had come to live in Stewart Castle, Isobel’s mother had left.

Teigue understood more, but he always said it wasn’t something little lasses needed to know about, and they should just treat Effie like family because she was. Isobel was happy enough to listen to him – she liked having a sister, even if they had different mothers.

“Effie Stewart, there ye are.” Isobel looked up as one of the kitchen maids came toward them, her expression tight. “Ye have duties tae finish in the kitchen, and then ye’re tae help with some o’ the cleaning. Ye ken that very well, and that ye were only tae be away from yer work fer a meal.”

“Tis nae her fault. I asked her tae come with me.” Isobel spoke up, her chin raised in her best ‘lady of the castle’ expression. “If Faither asks, ye tell him that.”

The maid’s expression softened. “I’ll be doing that, little miss.” She gave her hand to Effie, and the smaller girl went with her obediently, though there was a bit of a pout on her face. Not that Isobel could blame her. It really wasn’t fair, how their father treated Effie like a servant, just because she had a different mother, who had been a serving maid. That wasn’t Effie’s fault.

Isobel scowled. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t say anything. Her father was Laird Alistair Stewart, leader of the clan, and he made all the rules. Even Teigue couldn’t argue too much with him, despite being the heir.

The thought of Teigue made her frown and kick at the dirt. She’d come out to the garden to get away from her father, and from her disappointment. Teigue and his friend Keegan had gone riding that morning, touring the lands around Stewart Castle, but they’d refused to take her.

Teigue said it was because she wasn’t as steady in the saddle as the two of them, and they didn’t want to risk her taking a bad fall. Keegan said it was because her little mare didn’t have the stride that their larger horses did, and she’d only get left behind. But she knew the truth, because she’d heard them talking together afterward. They didn’t want her to ride with them because she was a girl, and only a child, while they were on the verge of becoming adults. Men.

It was frustrating, but not as much as other things. Like how nice Keegan could be when he wasn’t running around with Teigue or training to be a warrior for the clan. Keegan worked as a stable boy, and he was always kind when he helped her saddle her mare. Sometimes he would even convince Teigue to include her.

Recently, she’d heard some of the maids talking and giggling about the men they fancied, and she’d begun to notice some things about Keegan. Like how his dark hair and eyes almost matched each other, and how the way he pulled his hair back into a warrior’s tail emphasized the lines of his face. She’d begun to notice the way his muscles moved when he sparred with Teigue, and the three inches he’d gained in height, as well as the way he was changing as he grew into adulthood. He was fourteen years old, and Teigue was fifteen, and the changes were becoming more and more noticeable now.

It was foolish, she knew. After all, it wasn’t like Keegan noticed anything about her. At only ten years old, she was just a little girl to him, Teigue’s baby sister. And since he and Teigue were close, already calling themselves shield brothers, Keegan probably saw her as a little sister too. And she didn’t know how to change his mind, not when she was still awaiting her first growth into womanhood.

She was suddenly jolted out of her thoughts by hands on her shoulder, and a low-voiced “Got ye, wench!” in her ear.

Isobel yelped and jerked away. She overestimated the strength she needed and overbalanced. She staggered, fell and cried out as her knee hit a jagged stone, leaving what felt like a bloody gash across the skin. “Ow!”

“Isobel? Are ye all right?” Isobel felt a blush stain her cheeks as she recognized the voice of the very person she’d been thinking about. She sat up and turned to face him, trying hard to stem the tears that crept down her cheeks.

“I’m all right.” She didn’t want Keegan to think she was a weakling or a weeping, helpless lass, after all. But Keegan frowned and crouched down in front of her.

“Ye dinnae look all right. And I heard ye yelp when ye fell. Did ye take an injury, then?” His eyes scanned her face and her hands.

“’Tis only me knee. I landed wrong. It isnae anything.”

“Best tae check tae make sure.” Keegan helped her to her feet, then to a low bench near a small pool for the flowers. “Which knee?”

Isobel pulled up her skirts, and bit back a whimper at the sight of the left one, where a deep cut dripped blood across her skin. Keegan grimaced. “Och, that’s nae a little thing. Ye’ve a fair good cut tae that leg. Nae wonder ye cried out.”

“Ye wouldnae.”

Keegan stood and fished in his pockets until he found a piece of fabric, then dunked it in the pool before he came back and began to clean the injury. “I’m in training tae be a warrior. Wouldnae be any sense tae it, if I couldnae take a cut or a bruise or two. But I’m fair sorry I caused ye tae be injured.”

“Why did ye startle me like that, if ye didnae mean tae dae anything?”

“’Twas a bit o’ fun. I came tae tell ye we’d returned from our ride, and were thinking tae go tae the kitchens fer honey cakes. Cook’s making them taeday, and I thought ye might like tae join us liberating a few from the kitchens. When I saw ye walking alone and fretting, I thought tae startle ye out o’ yer thoughts and mayhap make ye laugh.”

“I was thinking o’ something else, and I didnae hear ye coming.” Isobel swallowed and scrubbed the tears away. “I only shouted because I was startled. The knee doesnae hurt me so much.”

“Doesnae mean it doesnae need tae be tended tae.” Keegan finished cleaning the cut, and tied the cloth in a makeshift bandage.

His actions were so gentle, it seemed like something he’d done a lot, or had had done for him. But it also reminded her how very little she knew about him. He’d only arrived at Stewart Castle a year ago, a half-starved waif tagging along with one of the patrol riders. He’d given his first name, but refused any surname but that of Stewart Clan. She’d once thought he must have had a very terrible life at home, but he didn’t act like that was the case. It only made her more curious about his life before he’d come to work for her father.

“Did yer family take care o’ ye when ye were me age and injured?” The words escaped before she could stop to think about them.

The change in Keegan’s mood was immediate. His expression chilled, and his hands stilled. His shoulders and his back stiffened. “Isnae anything ye need tae be asking about. I’m a Stewart now, ye ken.”

“I ken. But ye’ve only been here a year, and ye’ve never told us anything, nae even yer surname.”

“Surname is Stewart, just like ye and Teigue and several others in this castle. I work hard, and someday, I’ll serve ye, yer faither and yer brother as a warrior o’ the clan. ‘Tis naething else about me that needs tae be kent.”

He was angry, and she didn’t want to upset him further. “I’m sorry, Keegan. I didnae mean tae make ye angered or upset. Ye’re right. What’s important is that ye’re here now, and a member o’ the Stewart clan.”

Keegan smirked. “’Tis nae all that’s important. ‘Tis also important that I’ll be the best warrior o’ the clan and a shield brother tae ye and Teigue fer the rest o’ our lives.” He reached out and brushed her cheek, wiping away a tear she’d missed. “A braw knight – or a pair o’ us, fer Teigue willnae be left out, I’m thinking – fer a bonny lady, aye?”

Isobel giggled, though her cheek was tingling where he’d touched it. His smile made her stomach feel strange, as if she’d swallowed butterflies.

Keegan studied her leg. “It appears the bleeding has mostly stopped. Does it still hurt ye?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that it didn’t, though it throbbed and stung fiercely. A thought made her pause. Trying to be strong and quick like Keegan and Teigue would never get him to consider her as anything other than another one of them. But perhaps, if she could play the part of a damsel in distress… hadn’t some of the kitchen maids said men liked to feel strong by helping women?

She looked at him with the smallest pout in her lip, eyes partially closed in her best attempt at a coy, shy manner. “It still hurts a fair bit. I think… I think a kiss to make it better might help.” That had been an old remedy her mother spoke of, and Teigue had done the same sometimes, years ago.

“Is that so? As me lady commands then.” Keegan dipped his head and pressed his lips to the wound briefly, before sitting up and grinning at her. “There. Ye should be well healed now.”

“Aye.” She studied him. That hadn’t felt, or looked, at all like the kisses she’d heard older girls and women describe. “Ye’re fair kind tae worry so about me, Keegan.”

Keegan rose and lifted her from her seat with effortless grace, then took her hand and began to lead her to the kitchens. “Well, I cannae be careless with ye, can I? Teigue’s me brother in arms and in all but blood, ye ken, which makes ye and Effie me sisters. Even were I never tae be a warrior o’ the clan, ‘tis the duty o’ older brothers tae care fer younger brothers and all their sister-folk. And Teigue and I take the duty seriously, fer all we might tease, ye ken.”

“Ye see me as a sister? Me and Effie?” Her heart felt sore, aching like her stomach did when she snitched plates full of sweet biscuits from the kitchen and ate them all, then trying to hide the fact by eating supper as well, despite her overstuffed belly.

“O’ course. How else would I think o’ ye?” Keegan’s smile was warm and might have been comforting, had it not been for the ache inside her – an ache far sharper than her still painful knee.

A sister. He would never look at her the way maids said their men looked at them. He would never want to do the things she’d heard servant ladies talk about doing – not with her, at least. She’d hoped that he perhaps he might just be afraid of courting a daughter of the clan laird, but this obstacle was insurmountable.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to smile as she took a few hurried steps to catch up with him. It was sad to think that Keegan would never think of her as anything more than Teigue’s sister, and his own, but she was young yet. She’d heard that ‘light o’ loves’ often came and went with the changing of the seasons. Perhaps, when she blossomed into womanhood, her wistful feelings about Keegan would vanish, the way maids said sometimes happened.

She hoped it would happen soon, if that was the case. She didn’t like the aching feeling in her chest, as though she’d been thumped hard, like a practice dummy in the yard. Or the bleak feeling of loneliness she felt, despite Keegan’s hand in hers.

But those feelings didn’t matter, and they might not last for long. Lots of women in the castle, including her own mother before she had left, fell into and out of love all the time. Surely, she would do the same.

In the meantime, she would enjoy Keegan’s presence and his kindness, and she would be the best sister she could be.

Chapter One

Present day, 13 years later, Stewart Castle

The gates of Stewart Castle closed around him like a warm blanket on a winter morning, and Keegan breathed a sigh of relief. Nearly a full season he’d been away, securing the borders and negotiating on Teigue’s behalf with the new laird of the Moffat Clan. At long last, the truce had been established, the borders were quiet, and he’d been permitted to return home.

Home. Stewart Castle wasn’t the castle he’d been born in, a fact he knew well, but it had been home since he’d run away from his clan at the age of thirteen, and he blessed the fact that a Stewart Clan soldier had found him and taken pity on him that day on the moors. He’d have not lasted much longer, young as he was, and returning to the clan he’d been birthed into was not an option – not for him.

Keegan felt his mouth twist in the familiar, bitter expression at the remembrance of his former clan. He’d never looked back since the day he’d passed through the gates, and the past and the reasons he’d fled were unwelcome thoughts.

Keegan brushed them aside with practiced ease. No doubt he was besieged by memories because of the length of time he’d been away. He hadn’t left Stewart Castle for more than a fortnight since that first day, and of course he felt the return more keenly. The memories of riding in behind the patrol soldier with a sigh of gratitude had no doubt been prompted by his joy at finally being able to return to Teigue’s side.

Keegan left his horse with the stable hands, then walked up to the steps to the main doors of the castle, intent on getting a hot bath and a good meal. He was surprised when the guard stopped him at the door. “Keegan. Laird Teigue was asking after ye. He wanted tae ken where ye were.”

“I was delayed on the road. There were bandits trying tae set up a camp near one o’ the outlying villages, and I went with some o’ the scouts tae convince them tae move on.” Keegan scowled. Herding the bandits away and convincing them to disband had taken two days longer than he’d planned.

The guard made a sympathetic expression. “’Tis poor luck fer them and fer ye, but Laird Teigue wanted ye tae be sent tae his study as soon as ye arrived.”

Keegan stifled a groan, then sighed and called over a boy to take his travel bag to his quarters. The bath and the bed would have to wait, though he hoped that the meeting would be short and there was a good chance Teigue would have food and drink available.

He traversed the halls at a fast walk, only to stumble to a stop as he rounded a corner and nearly ran into Isobel, and Teigue’s wife Caitlín, with Caitlín carrying her five-year-old son, Dillon. The boy smiled happily at him. “Keegan!”

“Och, there’s me favorite lad.” Keegan felt his irritation and weariness drain away at the sight of Dillon’s innocent, carefree expression, and the pleased, welcoming smiles he got from Caitlín and Isobel. “And what have ye been up tae, this past season?”

“Helping momma and keeping aunt Isobel and Connie from getting enough rest.” The words had the air of something he was repeating, and Keegan chuckled. His amusement was further heightened by the long-suffering expression on Isobel and Caitlín’s faces.

“Causing a ruckus worthy o’ Lugh, aye?” Keegan ruffled the wild blond hair, a legacy of his father, Teigue. “Well, I cannae say I’m surprised. ‘Tis said yer faither was a bit o’ a troublemaker, though I wouldnae ken.”

Isobel made a disbelieving sound. “Are ye joking then, Keegan? I can well recall ye and me brother getting intae yer fair share o’ scrapes as young men. And more than a little mischief, too.”

Her tone was mock-disapproving, but her smile and the hug with which she greeted him – fierce enough to make his ribs ache with the pressure – belied her voice. Keegan returned the embrace for a moment, enjoying their closeness, before he let her go to respond to her words, engaging in the banter that was so familiar between them.

Keegan smirked at her. “And ye can recall so well, seeing as how ye were there fer plenty o’ those scrapes.”

“When ye werenae leaving me behind tae go riding.” Isobel returned the grin with one of her own, then raised an eyebrow. “And speaking o’ riding, Keegan, ye smell like a horse that tripped intae a midden heap.”

“I’ve been riding errands fer Teigue fer the past season, and out on the bounds keeping the bandits away fer the past seven-night.” Keegan grimaced. “Cannae say that I’ve had access tae bathing water and soap, these past days.”

“And ye couldnae take a bath when ye came back in?” Isobel wrinkled her nose. “Ye could use the bathing chamber, if ye didnae want tae have one drawn.”

Keegan snorted. “I’m well aware o’ the bathing chamber, and I’d thought o’ that, thank ye.”

“But ye decided ye’d rather smell like something the dogs might try tae bury instead?”

“More like yer brother decided fer me. Didnae get through the door afore he had the guards summon me tae his study. It seemed important, so here I am.” Keegan gestured.

Isobel frowned. “’Tis nae like Teigue tae be so abrupt. Besides, he summoned me too.”

That was odd. Teigue rarely directly summoned his sister, and almost never sent for more than one person at a time, unless he was convening the Council. “Now I’m wondering what’s on his mind. Ye’re right, that’s nae the way Teigue usually behaves.”

Caitlín hefted Dillon in her arms. “We’ll let ye go then, tae see what he wants, afore he sends someone tae track ye down.” She smiled briefly at Keegan. “’Tis good tae have ye back.” Then she and Dillon continued on toward the kitchens, likely for a snack for the lad.

Isobel and Keegan made their way to the laird’s study in silence. Keegan was trying to think what Teigue might want with the two of them. Perhaps it was only weariness that made him unable to think of anything.

Keegan knocked twice on the door, and Teigue’s voice called for them to enter. He held the door, then followed Isobel into the room. He was relieved to see a jug of mead and three glasses, as well as a tray of cold meats and bread on the table by the fireplace. He resisted the urge to focus on the offered food and drink, and turned to Teigue. “Good tae see ye, melaird. Ye summoned us?”

“Glad tae have ye back, brother. And aye, we should speak.” Teigue’s expression was grim, and Keegan felt a tingle of unease, like sweat sliding down his spine. “I received word nearly a fortnight ago, regarding some business our faither conducted with a nearby clan.”

That sounded ominous. Alistair had not been known for wholesome business deals. A bitter, cold-hearted man, he’d made more enemies than allies, and any business he conducted was likely to involve a feud. “What sort o’ business?”

In answer, Teigue laid a sheaf of parchment in front of them. Keegan stared at it, but didn’t move forward, though Isobel did. The spiky script was vaguely familiar and set off vague warnings in his mind. Then his mind picked out a sentence written on the top piece of paper.

‘…I write tae ye tae request the formal honoring o’ the contract between our clans, regarding…’

He couldn’t read the rest of it, but he didn’t need to. There were only a few reasons for anyone to write regarding a contract between two clans, one that wasn’t formally honored when it was written. To request crops to survive a famine, troops to survive a war, or…

“Is this a marriage contract, Teigue?” Isobel’s voice was soft with disbelief and the beginnings of anger. “Ye ken I swore tae never marry a man I didnae love, never tae be forced intae a betrothal.”

“I ken. And I was hoping it wasnae true. The word came a seven-day ago, and I was looking through Faither’s records. It took some time, but I finally found the contract in some papers from years past and read it.”

“And what does the contract say?”

“It agrees tae betroth and wed one child o’ the Stewart Clan to one child o’ the MacLean clan. There’s more tae the contract, but that’s the gist o’ it, and ‘tis ironclad.”

“Ironclad? It cannae be.” Isobel glared at the parchment as if she could set it afire with a look alone. “There has tae be something ye can dae, Teigue. Some way tae break the contract.”

“There’s nae one that I’ve been able tae find, fer all that I’ve been trying since I first found the paper. And I’ll continue trying tae find a way out fer ye. But in the meantime, we need tae comply, unless we want tae risk another feud, nae tae mention the breach o’ honor.”

“So ye’ll marry Isobel off with nae more thought than that, all tae keep from breaching honor?” Keegan had to fight to keep his voice level and reasonable. His veins seemed to be filled with a sharp, hot anger, as though he’d swallowed burning coals. “Ye’ll just send her off, with nae more than that?”

“O’ course nae.” Teigue looked offended, and Keegan and felt his stomach settle a little. He’d known that Teigue had some plan to help Isobel avoid the fate their father had planned for her. “But since I cannae break the contract, I’ve made contact with the Laird o’ the MacLean Clan.”

Keegan felt his stomach clench again, anger and something cold and vicious hardening inside him. The Laird of the MacLean Clan… the last person he wanted to have any contact with.

Please dinnae mean what I think he means.

Teigue continued, unaware of Keegan’s internal turmoil. “He’s agreed that ‘tis nae fair, nor proper, tae enforce a marriage contract on two people who dinnae ken one another, so we’ve decided on a plan that we hope will soothe yer concerns, and make the contract more comfortable fer ye, sister.”

“And what sort o’ plan is that?” Isobel’s voice was icy, and Keegan couldn’t blame her for her anger. He was feeling outraged himself, angered that Isobel should have to deal with Alistair’s machinations, even after her vindictive father had died. And to make a deal with the MacLean clan… though Keegan supposed it should come as no surprise. If there was a clan who might match Alistair Stewart in coldblooded viciousness, it was the MacLeans.

Teigue took a deep breath. “Ye’ll travel tae MacLean Castle, and spend at least a fortnight there, with yer prospective betrothed. He’ll court ye, and explain the details o’ the contract tae ye, and how he wants the marriage tae help fulfill it. At the end o’ that time, I’ll join ye, and we’ll see if the two o’ ye suit. If nae, then we’ll look tae other ways o’ keeping our honor. In the worst case…” Teigue scowled. “It may be ye need tae wed fer alliance, rather than love, but I’ll be sure yer groom isnae a beast like Faither, and doesnae dae poorly by ye.”

“And so ye’ll be sending me tae MacLean alone?” Isobel’s fists were clenched. “And what if the man is exactly the kind o’ brute ye’re fearing, since he was willing tae deal with our faither?”

“In point o’ fact, the contract was arranged between the current laird’s faither and ours. That’s one o’ the reasons he’s willing tae be patient, and agree tae a courtship period afore enacting the betrothal. And I willnae be sending ye alone, of course. I’m nae mad, Isobel.”

“Dae ye expect sending a few guards tae be any sort o’ comfort?” Isobel folded her arms.

Teigue snorted. “Have a little more faith in me, sister o’ mine. I’d never send ye tae the lion’s den with naeone tae keep an eye on ye.”

Teigue’s gaze went from Isobel to Keegan, and the icy anger turned to cold dread as his laird continued to speak. “Keegan, I want ye tae go tae MacLean with Isobel. Keep her safe and keep watch fer me. ‘Tis likely enough that the laird will show a fair face tae me sister while he’s courting her, but ye’ll be able tae see more. If he’s a scoundrel or an honorable warrior, ye’ll be better placed tae tell.”

Keegan felt his stomach churning in a way that made him glad he hadn’t eaten. He felt sick and trapped, as if he’d fallen into a nightmare with no escape. “Ye want me tae go tae MacLean?”

“Aye. Yer me most trusted man, me brother, and Isobel’s closest friend. There’s nae one else I’d send tae protect me sister in a situation like this.” Teigue heaved out a deep sigh. “I dinnae like this any more than ye dae, but I cannae risk letting another feud erupt, not after the troubles we’ve had.”

That was true enough. They’d only recently ended the tensions with the Moffat clan and MacLeod clan, and they didn’t need more conflict. The clan needed time to recover, and Teigue was still getting used to having a wife and son.

Mayhap the laird isnae who I think it is. Mayhap the lairdship passed tae someone else. Anyone else.

Isobel sighed softly, staring at the fire for a long moment before she turned back to her brother. “I’ll agree tae yer plan, and go tae meet the man I’m contracted tae, but I dinnae promise anything more than that. Who is the groom Faither planned fer me?”

“’Twasnae specified in the contract, but ‘tis the laird that’s asking fer yer hand now. Laird Darren MacLean is the man who will be courting ye.”

Darren MacLean. Laird Darren MacLean. The words hit Keegan like a series of body blows, or perhaps a mace to the chest. He stepped forward. “Teigue, I need a private word with ye, afore we finish making arrangements with the MacLean Clan.”

There was a tense silence, and Keegan saw the slightly hurt look in Isobel’s eyes. Then she turned and swept out of the room, her back stiff with anger and unhappiness. A part of him wanted to follow after her, to soothe her with kind words as he had done since they were children, but this was too important.

Teigue watched the door shut behind his sister before he turned back to Keegan, his expression weary. “What’s so important ye cannae speak in front o’ Isobel?” Teigue studied his face for a moment. “And what is it that has ye so worked up? Ye’re angered over something, and it cannae be just the contract itself.”

Keegan felt his fists clenching, an unconscious habit when his temper was raised, that he’d never been able to break. “Ye need tae find a way tae get her out o’ that contract, and dae so quickly. Ye dinnae want yer sister married tae a man like Darren MacLean. Ye’ll only regret it, and she’ll be unhappier than yer maither ever was, and that’s if she’s lucky.”

Teigue’s brow pinched in a frown. “How dae ye ken? I’ve nae ever spoken tae the MacLean clan, and we’ve had nae dealing with them since this contract was formed, so far as I ken. And that was with the previous laird, Darren’s faither. And ye cannae judge a son by his faither, or I’d be nae kind o’ decent man, and well ye ken it.”

“Aye, I dae.” Keegan swallowed, a lump in his throat, and a feeling of tension in his shoulders. “I kent Darren MacLean afore I came intae yer faither’s service, and I’ve seen what that man is capable of doing, when ‘tis tae his benefit.”

“When would ye have seen him? Ye always told me that ye were on the run from yer clan afore ye came here, and I didnae ever hear that any o’ the MacLean’s were bandits or that they were running with that sort. And certain sure ye didnae encounter them on any battlefield at thirteen summers old.”

Keegan had to say it. He knew. He’d hidden the truth for so long, that even thinking about breaking his silence made him feel as though he’d been caught between a wall and a battering ram. He swallowed hard, desperate to make some excuse, but Teigue deserved to hear the truth from him. After all these years, the words still made it hard to breathe, but Teigue needed to know what he was dealing with, and how Keegan knew what he knew.

He moved closer to Teigue. “I told ye that I was on the run from me clan, but I never told ye or anyone else what the name o’ me clan was. I came from the MacLean clan.”

“The MacLean clan.” Teigue repeated the words. “Ye served the laird afore Darren MacLean?”

“Nae as such.” Keegan swallowed again, and forced the words out. “Darren MacLean is – I wish I could say was – me elder brother by seven years.”

“And ye feel so strongly about him? Even though he’s yer blood?” Teigue spoke softly.

“There’s nae question in me mind that Darren MacLean is a dangerous and violent man, ruthless and cold. I’d prefer tae keep silent on the circumstances, but I promise ye that’s the truth.” He took a deep breath. “I ken how ye felt about yer faither, but the truth is that I despise Darren MacLean with a passion that makes yer relationship tae the previous laird look peaceful.”

Teigue’s expression turned grave. “Then I’ll be counting on ye tae make sure me sister is safe in MacLean lands while I try tae find a way tae get out o’ this contract.”

Keegan nodded. “I’ll dae me best.” He only hoped he would be able to keep his best friend safe, while they dealt with the most dangerous man he’d ever known.

Isobel will never marry me brother.

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