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brother, Tristan, the most handsome man she knew, but he’d never made her pulse race like this—even when Tristan was stealing a kiss, which had happened on more than one occasion. He’d also never made her skin prickle with a strange heat. Actually, her entire body seemed to have gone up a few degrees in temperature since he’d entered the room.
    The young warrior seemed to be measuring his words carefully. Clearly, he didn’t agree with the young earl’s boast, but also wasn’t going to contradict him in front of her and his men. “I agree the game was almost over,” he finally said.
    Dear lord, that voice! Deep and gravelly, it seemed to rub over her skin and sink into her bones.
    Bruce laughed and clapped him on the back. “A very politic answer, cousin. But I suspect you know very well you had me trapped. I’d wager you are reconstructing the board in your head right now.”
    The young warrior—Eoin MacLean, Bruce had told her—simply shrugged.
    Bruce laughed again and shook his head. “Do you know the truly appalling part, my lady? I’ve been playing chess since I was a lad, and MacLean here just learned. Still he’s one of the best players I’ve ever competed against.”
    â€œI should like to know how to play this ‘Game of Kings,’ isn’t that what you called it?” she asked Bruce innocently, although the hint of mischief in her gaze told him she knew exactly why he’d made that point to her earlier. Game of Kings— he being the king.
    The Earl of Carrick was every bit as bold as she’d heard. She liked it, although she would never admit as much to her father. He would die before he saw a Bruce on the throne.
    Bruce’s equally mischievous smile told Margaret she was right about his intent.
    She turned to MacLean. “Perhaps you would teach me one day?”
    The surprise in those skin-prickling blue eyes, and the sudden silence in the room, told her that once again she’d done something wrong.
    Devil take it, what is it this time? She’d barely been at Stirling Castle for a few hours, but already it was clear it was a long way from Garthland Tower.
    No matter, soon enough she would find her footing. Margaret never doubted that for a moment.

3

    E VERYONE IS STARING at us,” Brigid whispered as they entered the Hall a short while later.
    Margaret had noticed the sudden silence in the bustling room and felt the eyes turned on them as well, but her reaction was the opposite of her friend’s. Used to presiding over many tables at Garthland as hostess, she did not shy from attention. Actually, she rather liked it. Entertaining— being entertaining—was part of her duties as chatelaine, and she made sure no one left the castle without enjoying themselves. It helped that it came naturally to her.
    Unfortunately, the same could not be said of her friend. Brigid was shy and reserved. Two words that weren’t likely ever to be applied to her, Margaret thought with amusement.
    After the initial pause, conversation had returned, so Margaret was able to reply to her friend in a normal tone as they wound their way through the crowd in search of her father and two eldest brothers, Dougal and Duncan. Given her clan’s importance, she knew their seats would be near the dais.
    Taking her friend’s arm, she drew her tightly against her side. “Of course they are! Isn’t it wonderful? We have made an impression already. We are going to have such fun, Brige.”
    Brigid, however, did not share Margaret’s ease at being the center of attention, and her friend’s expression suggested that fun was definitely not something she was having.
    Margaret gave Brigid’s arm an encouraging squeeze. “Oh come now, Brige, smile. It’s nothing to worry about. We are newcomers. It’s only natural that they are curious.”
    Brigid didn’t look like she believed her.