Chapter One

One

No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May.
WI L L I A M SHAKESPEARE

Glen of Loch Trool
Spring 1808

Davina McKie dropped to her knees on the grassy hillock, letting
her shawl slip past her shoulders despite the sharp chill in the air.
The silent glen stood draped in a pearl gray mist, the rugged peaks of
Mulldonach mere shadows edged in copper, hinting at dawn.
A smile stole across her face. Her brothers were nowhere to be seen.
Davina swept her fingers over the cool, wet grass, then lightly patted
her cheeks and brow, touching her nose for good measure. If the
May dew banished her freckles, as the auld wives promised, she would
gladly wash her face out of doors every morning of the year. Never mind
that the ruddy spots matched her bright mane of hair; ferntickles were
better suited to a child’s complexion. After seventeen years, Davina was
quite ready to be done with them.
She sat up and rearranged her drooping crown of daisies, meant to
safeguard her from brownies, bogles, and other uncanny creatures that
roamed the land on Beltane, then started to her feet when a familiar
voice rose from the fog.
“On May Day, in a fairy ring!” Her brother William. There was no
mistaking his baritone. His twin, Sandy–only their mother called him
Alexander–would not be far behind.
Ah, well. Davina spun round to greet them.
Two shaggy heads, black as midnight, emerged from the mist. A
year younger than she, the twins were in every way identical, from their
dark brown eyes to their broad chests and muscular backs. “Like stags,”
their mother had once