Aberdeenshire, Scotland, 1565.

Hot as a hare, blind as a bat, dry as a bone, red as a beet, mad as a hatter.

Standing beside the boy's pallet, Avril Gordon recalled her late mother's instructions and placed her palm against his burning forehead. His lips looked parched, his face crimson. She snapped her fingers in front of his unseeing eyes, and he mumbled nonsense as if caught in a nightmare.

"Gavin has eaten nightshade berries." Avril turned to the earl's farrier, the man's ashen-faced wife, and his oldest son.

"I dared him to eat the berries," ten-year-old Duncan admitted, his misery apparent. "I promised to do his chores for a week."

Avril slid her gaze to Duncan. "You may be doing his chores forever."

The farrier slapped the ten-year-old. "You've killed your brother."

"Fergus, beating this son will not cure the other." Avril looked at Duncan, "Fetch me a cup of water."

Avril set her mortar and pestle on the table and removed two packets of herbs from her satchel. Placing both herbs into the mortar, she ground them into a powder and stirred the powder into the water.

"Carry Gavin outside," she ordered the farrier. "Hold him in a kneeling position."

Outside, Avril crouched beside the eight-year-old and pressed the cup to his lips. "Drink, Gavin. Small sips will cure what ails you."

I hope. Murmuring soothing words of encouragement, Avril managed to get the boy to down the water.

"What now?" Fergus asked.

"We wait."

Several minutes later, the eight-year-old vomited and vomited and vomited. Avril placed her palm against his forehead and gazed into eyes that seemed more focused. His babbling had ceased, his high colour was beginning to recede.

"Gavin will sleep," Avril said, standing, "and all will be well."

"Lady Avril, you are a credit to your mother's memory." The farrier carried his youngest inside.

"I owe you my son's life," the wife said. "Whatever will we do when you marry and leave us?"

"That day lives in the future." Avril patted the woman's shoulder and then rounded on the ten-year-old. "You will do your brother's chores for a month, and you will never dare anyone again."

"I promise, my lady."

Avril walked away, her relief making her legs weak. Once out of sight, she used her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her temples and brushed a damp wisp of red hair from her face. She owed the Goddess thanks for saving the boy. Many thanks. Profuse thanks.

Slipping out through Huntly Castle's postern gate, Avril followed the path through the woodland to her favourite clearing. She felt protected there, surrounded by trees especially the oaks the kings and queens of the forest.

Reaching the clearing, Avril gathered nine stones at random and began making a circle. She placed the first stone in the northwest and, moving clockwise, set the rest of the stones down to represent each earthly direction. Avril entered the circle from the west and moved to close it behind her with a stone.

"Sister," The Earl of Huntly stood at the clearing's edge, his arms folded across his chest. "Step out of the circle."

With an inward groan, Avril wished her parents weren't dead. Her brother was tougher than her father.

Avril sent the Goddess a silent prayer of thanks and then collected the stones in reverse direction. She walked towards her brother.

The Earl of Huntly tugged her fiery braid and, throwing his arm around her shoulders, ushered her down the path. "The Old Ways endanger you."

Avril gave him a sidelong glance. "What do you want, George?"

"We leave for Edinburgh in the morning," he answered. "Your Campbell husband requires your presence."

That surprised Avril. "I thought he'd forgotten about me."

"Campbell was waiting until you ripened."

"Does he consider me fruit to ripen?" Avril countered, insulted. "Vows spoken between a five-year-old girl and a fifteen-year-old boy scarcely signify a marriage."

"Your husband needs his wife with him at court," her brother told her. "Darnley has bewitched Queen Mary. You can gain the queen's confidence and hear the women's gossip."

"What if the queen dislikes me?" Avril said. "Besides, I wouldn't know my own husband if I passed him on the road."

"Trust me, sister. Once you see Campbell, you will never forget him.

Edinburgh.

Nervous anticipation and simmering anger coiled inside her. How she began would signal how she continued. Avril stood in her bedchamber at Campbell Mansion. For the first time in her life, she suffered the urge to throttle someone.

Her husband hadn't been home to welcome her when she and her brother arrived. George had instructed the majordomo to send for him at court.

Magnus Campbell did not seem like quality husband material. Avril would know for certain whether to stay or to go once she'd met him. Like her mother before her, Avril had been blessed with special, unworldly gifts. Her sixth sense allowed her to see beneath the masks people wore.

Humiliated by her husband's disrespect, Avril had retreated to her bedchamber to freshen herself. Now Magnus Campbell and her brother waited in the great hall.

Her husband needed a lesson in the proper treatment of a wife. She was no biddable child and would not be ruled in this marriage, nor would she rule him. Waiting was a humbling experience, and humility would be good for his soul.

Avril inspected herself in the pier glass. She wanted to look perfect without seeming to exert any effort.

Her gown was the current fashion. Thankfully, the paleness of the yellow did not declare war on her hair as most colours did.

Her hair was too red, her height too short Avril turned sideways her breasts too small. She yearned for dark hair, several inches in height, and bigger breasts. Much bigger breasts.

Avril could not postpone the inevitable. Lifting her skirt, she strapped the leather garter to her leg. She never ventured outside without her last resort dagger and felt the need for protection more in Edinburgh than in the Highlands.

Downstairs, Avril stepped into the great hall. Her legs weakened at the first sight of her husband. She felt as if she'd been struck with the blunt end of a claymore.

Magnus Campbell stepped out of every maiden's dream. He cut an imposing figure, his well-honed physique shown to best advantage in perfectly tailored, conservative midnight blue. His features were pleasing, his smile irresistible, his silvery-grey eyes the colour of mist.

She loved mist, which shrouded the tangible, allowing one to see beyond the horizon to the spirit realm or so her mother had taught her.

"Magnus, I present your wife Avril," George Gordon introduced them. Her brother looked at her fascinated expression, adding, "Sister, I told you so." He left them without another word.

Magnus Campbell, the Marquis of Argyll, stared at her.

Avril Gordon, his wife of fifteen years, returned his stare.

"You have grown into a beautiful woman," Magnus said, breaking the awkward silence. "I have never forgotten your unusual eyes."

"Many people have blue eyes and green eyes," Avril said. "There's nothing unusual about it."

"Most people are born with one colour or the other, not one of each," Magnus said, bowing over her hand. "Are you ready to begin your life as my mate?"

Avril felt disoriented. She could not sense anything from his touch. She'd never met anyone she couldn't judge by touch.

"I must speak with you first." Ignoring his guarded look, Avril gave him an ambiguous smile.

Magnus motioned her to sit and, when she did, dropped into the chair beside hers. He managed to keep his expression bland, but his piercing gaze made her blush.

Damn. She'd inadvertently drawn his attention to her major flaw. Redheads were notorious blushers. On the other hand, only a blind man would miss her brazen red hair.

"What do you want to discuss?"

"We must clarify a couple of issues before we begin married life," Avril told her hands, folded in her lap.

Her husband chuckled. "Issues?"

She snapped her gaze to his. "Don't you have concerns?"

"Do you usually answer questions with questions?"

"Do you?" When he laughed at her impertinence, Avril answered his smile with her own. She liked his sense of humour and even temper.

"Tell me what troubles you," Magnus said, "and we will settle these concerns."

"II ..." Avril felt her face heating with another blush.

"My lord?" Donald, the majordomo, served the marquis a glass of whisky and offered her a glass of lemon barley water.

"I prefer whisky," Avril told him. She peeked at her husband who was watching her, the hint of a smile flirting with his lips.

When the majordomo returned, Avril tasted the whisky and handed him the glass saying, "I prefer Highland whisky, not this Lowland drink."

"My wife is a Highlander," Magnus told his man. "She can taste the difference between full-bodied Highland and floral Lowland."

After the majordomo had served them two glasses of Highland whisky, Magnus turned to her. "Please continue."

"I don't want sex," Avril blurted, watching his placid expression register surprise. "I mean, I feel uncomfortable sharing intimacy before we reacquaint ourselves."

"Are you afraid?"

Avril looked into his silvery-grey eyes. "I fear nothing."

Her husband studied her for a long moment, his face expressionless. "I will give you a week," he said, "but we will share a bed for appearances.

Avril inclined her head and gulped the whisky in one swig, relieved that was settled. "Tell me about court and the queen."

"Storm clouds are gathering over the court," Magnus said. "Keep your lips shut, your ears open, and do not discuss religion. Anything you say will be used against you at a later date."

"By whom?" His sharing important information impressed Avril. She doubted her own brother would confide in her.

"Friends come and go at court," Magnus answered, "but enemies accumulate. Trouble is brewing between the old and new kirks. Mary is Catholic, but the new kirk has won the support of many nobles and commoners."

"Do you mean John Knox's new kirk?"

"Some on the privy council are Catholic," Magnus said, nodding, "and the others including the queen's half-brothers follow the new kirk."

"New kirk or old, God hears everyone's prayers," Avril said, shaking her head. "Which kirk do you support?'

"I support whatever is politically expedient for Clan Campbell," Magnus answered. "Travelling through life is easier with the wind on our backs."

Our backs. Avril liked the sound of that, implying they were equal partners. Perhaps a marriage between them would work.

"I understand." And Avril did understand. She understood politics jeopardized her husband's soul, and she intended to save him.

"Queen Mary is beautiful, vivacious and intelligent," Magnus was saying, "but her political inexperience makes her dangerous to herself and others. Darnley, her petulant suitor, lacks subtlety and possesses more ambition than intelligence."

"What a charming place to visit," Avril drawled.

Magnus smiled at that. "Mary loves golfing, hawking and hunting as well as gentler pursuits."

"I do not kill God's creatures," Avril told him. "I do golf, though."

"You eat creatures others kill in order to survive," her husband reminded her.

"I do not eat God's creatures," she corrected him. "The thought nauseates me."

"God's balls," he muttered. "Unusual eating habits will draw attention."

"Then I will pretend to eat whatever is served."

"Pretending is good," Magnus said, "but what will you do if served haggis?"

Avril winked at him. "I'll swoon."

"Swooning is good," Magnus said. "You know, lass, the first time I saw you, I knew you'd grow into a great beauty."

A great beauty? Avril couldn't credit what he'd said. Red hair, small stature and less than generous breasts did not make for a great beauty.

"What did you think of me?"

"I thought you were elderly."