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  Praise for MONICA McCARTY and her New York Times and USA Today bestselling Highland Guard series!

  “Against a richly historical and violent backdrop, McCarty deftly weaves a surprisingly moving love story that demands a skillful writer’s touch. Her exquisite prose makes this a book readers will treasure.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “The characters leap off the pages and into your heart. With a stunning plot that has enough twists and turns in all the right places, McCarty has created yet another captivating story that is sure to please!”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Passion and politics abound in this exceptionally well-researched romance that skillfully interweaves fiction with history and sheds new light on a particularly fascinating and violent time.”

  —Library Journal

  “Readers who deplore ‘wallpaper historicals’ will appreciate not only the romance but McCarty’s efforts to go beyond the superficialities of historical Scotland.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Spectacularly entertaining. . . . McCarty is a master of blending fact and fiction.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “One of those amazing books that captures your attention right from the get-go. . . . McCarty has written a tale fit for a king.”

  —Coffee Time Romance

  “Thoroughly enjoyable. . . . Cleverly interwoven plot twists . . . kept me on my toes!”

  —The Romance Reviews

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  For Jami.

  Rain, sleet, or snow? The postal service has nothing on you! Thank you for being the first reader of every one of my books—even when life doesn’t make it easy. You are the best.

  THE HIGHLAND GUARD

  TOR “CHIEF” MACLEOD: Team Leader and Expert Swordsman

  ERIK “HAWK” MACSORLEY: Seafarer and Swimmer

  LACHLAN “VIPER” MACRUAIRI: Stealth, Infiltration, and Extraction

  ARTHUR “RANGER” CAMPBELL: Scouting and Reconnaissance

  GREGOR “ARROW” MACGREGOR: Marksman and Archer

  MAGNUS “SAINT” MACKAY: Survivalist and Weapon Forging

  KENNETH “ICE” SUTHERLAND: Explosives and Versatility

  EOIN “STRIKER” MACLEAN: Strategist in “Pirate” Warfare

  EWEN “HUNTER” LAMONT: Tracker and Hunter of Men

  ROBERT “RAIDER” BOYD: Physical Strength and Hand-to-Hand Combat

  ALSO: HELEN “ANGEL” MACKAY (NÉE SUTHERLAND): Healer

  FOREWORD

  SINCE 1306, WHEN he first made his bid for the throne against a seemingly undefeatable foe, Robert the Bruce has been preparing for the decisive battle with England that will either legitimize his kingship and cement his place on Scotland’s throne, or strip the crown from his head and bring back English overlordship to Scotland.

  By the late fall of 1313, King Robert is secure enough on the throne to force the enemy’s hand. He issues a proclamation that he will disinherit any Scottish nobles still loyal to the English who do not submit to him in a year’s time. Edward II of England cannot ignore the threat. He issues his own proclamation in December 1313 for a call to muster at Berwick-upon-Tweed in June 1314 to march on Scotland.

  The English are coming, and Bruce intends to be ready for them. In the crucial early months of 1314, the king wages a preemptive war by continuing the raids in England to fund the costly war, and taking back the remaining Scottish castles still in English hands. The taking back of two of these castles, Roxburgh and Edinburgh, leads to feats of military skill that will become legend, ensuring the hero status of Bruce’s two famous lieutenants, James Douglas and Thomas Randolph.

  But they will not do it alone. The elite warriors of the Highland Guard and a man of much more humble birth will prove instrumental in the final push toward the most important battle yet to come.

  PROLOGUE

  Douglas Castle, South Lanarkshire, Scotland, June 1, 1296

  THOMAS MACGOWAN—WEE THOM as everyone in the village called him (his father being Big Thom)—looked at the top of the tower and forgot to breathe. He nearly stumbled, too, which would have been a disaster, as his da had entrusted him with the very important task of carrying the laird’s sword. Considering the hours his father had spent sharpening the blade until it could “slice a hair in two,” and polishing it until “he could see every speck of soot on his wee laddie’s face,” had he dropped it in the mud, his bum would have stung for a week!

  He wouldn’t have minded too much though. Big Thom was the best blacksmith for miles around, and Thommy (it was what his mother called him—a lad of nearly nine sure as the Devil shouldn’t be called “wee”) took fierce pride in his father’s work. Big Thom MacGowan wasn’t just an ordinary village smith, he was Lord William “the Hardy” Douglas’s personal smith and armorer.

  But as Thommy stared up at the tower ramparts, he could almost excuse his near mishap. For what had caused his breath to stop and his limbs to forget their purpose was a glimpse of something extraordinary. A rare, exquisite beauty of the like the little boy who had spent most of his days surrounded by the fire and soot of his father’s forge had never imagined. It was as if he were seeing a brilliant jewel for the first time when all he’d known were lumps of ore. He didn’t need to know who it was to know that he was seeing something special. The way the light caught her white-blond hair blowing in the breeze, the snowy perfection of her tiny face, the shimmering gold gown. It dazzled the eyes. She dazzled the eyes.

  “Is she a princess?” Thommy asked in reverent tones when he could finally remember how to speak.

  His father gave a hearty guffaw and cuffed him on the back of the head fondly. “To you she might as well be, laddie. ’Tis the laird’s wee lassie, Lady Elizabeth. Don’t you remember . . . ?” He shook his head. “You must have been too young when the family left for Berwick Castle four years ago—she was little more than a babe then. But now that the laird has been released from Edward’s prison”—he spit on the ground as he did every time the English king’s name was mentioned—“she and her brothers have returned with the laird and Lady Eleanor to live here.”

  Thommy knew that Sir William had been keeper of Berwick Castle when King Edward had attacked the city and slaughtered thousands of Scots. For his defiance in holding the castle against him, King Edward had thrown the laird in prison. But he’d been freed on signing the king’s “ragman rolls” of allegiance that all the Scottish lords had been forced to put their names to.

  At the thought of such a beautiful creature in their midst, Thommy’s eyes must have widened.

  His father might be the biggest man in the village, with heavy muscles as hard as rock from clobbering steel into shape for a living, but he wasn’t thickheaded. He still had a smile on his face, but his dark blue eyes had narrowed just enough for Thommy to take the warning. “Stay away from her, lad. The wee lass is not for the likes of you. Your mother may have been the daughter of a knight, but you are the son of a smith—about as far from noble as the roof of that tower. You may like to climb the rocks around here, but you’ll never be able to climb that high.”

  His father laughed at his own jest and pushed Thommy on ahead.

  But Thommy wasn’t so sure his father was right. He was pretty good at climbing.

  Midsummer’s Day

  “Why are you crying?”

  The little girl’s voice startled him. Thommy looked up and blinked, shielding his eyes with his arm, as if a ray of sunshine ha