A Rake at the Highland Court: A Fake Engagement Highlander Romance

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance; Historical Romance; Ancient World Romance; Medieval Romance; Scottish & Highlander; Tudor Romance

Synopsis

Can a lady-in-waiting resist the pressure to marry a stranger? 
Cairstine Grant has spent two years carefully cultivating a reputation at court that is sure to drive away any potential suitor. Traumatized from an attack as a young woman, Cairstine is bound and determined never to marry and never to be subjected to a man’s control. She’d rather become a nun than a wife. But one obstacle stands in her way: her younger sister can’t marry the man she loves until Cairstine marries first. When Cairstine’s father refuses to consider her choice to become a nun, can Cairstine convince an unsuspecting friend to pose as her betrothed? Can she overcome the scars from her past and form a genuine partnership with a man she was never supposed to fall in love with?

Can a renowned rake reform his ways in time to protect a lady-in-waiting he never thought he would befriend? 
Eoin Grant watched his twin brother, Ewan, fall in love and marry. A romantic at heart, Eoin hopes one day to marry and find true affection with his wife. But in the meantime, he’s happy to live the life of a bachelor. When Cairstine Grant blindsides him with a proposition to pretend to be her betrothed, Eoin realizes a real future with Cairstine might be better than pretend. But one obstacle stands in his way: Cairstine will only agree to a marriage in name only, and Eoin’s dreams of having a family one day. When Eoin’s feelings develop beyond friendship, can he convince Cairstine to trust him enough to see a future together? Can Eoin help Cairstine overcome her fears and prove that his feelings are pure?

Can a relationship based upon a falsehood grow into something real? 
Stripped of her choices, Cairstine turns to Eoin for help, but she fears making a lasting commitment. Eoin’s conscience demands he help Cairstine when she asks for his help, but he’s not certain he can live with a lie that might tear apart his heart. When danger and necessity force them to decide, Eoin and Cairstine discover playing pretend isn’t just for children.

If you like steamy romance with touches of danger and suspense, then you’ll love Celeste Barclay’s A Rake at the Highland Court, a passionate addition to The Highland Ladies series.

Welcome to Robert the Bruce’s Highland Court, where the ladies-in-waiting are a mixture of fire and ice. The Highland Ladies, the STEAMY spin-off series from Celeste Barclay’s The Clan Sinclair series, returns to the Medieval royal court for love and intrigue.

Release date: December 30, 2020

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 382

Sample

Chapter 1

 

Eoin Gordon raised his chalice once more to toast his twin brother, Ewan, and his new sister-by-marriage, Allyson. As he did, he had a sense that someone was watching him. As the hairs on the back of his neck rose, Eoin passed a quick glance over the diners seated below the dais, but no one seemed to be paying attention to him. He raised his chalice again but didn’t take a sip; instead, he continued to scan the crowd. He looked for anyone doing the same: studying him while attempting to ensure no one else noticed.

“What’s amiss?” Ewan, the elder twin by five minutes and the heir to Clan Gordon, leaned toward him. The brothers had been inseparable since the day of their birth. They possessed an uncanny intuition for one another and seemed to share the same thoughts more often than not. Until Ewan fell in love with Allyson, neither trusted anyone more than they did each other. As he heard Allyson laugh, Eoin’s memory flashed to her courtship with Ewan. Their relationship started poorly when Allyson ran away rather than consider a marriage to Ewan. More than once during that time, Eoin had wanted to shake Ewan, whose views on marriage and fidelity had changed all too slowly. Eoin was grateful for Allyson’s influence; he was certain his brother was a better man for it.

“Naught. I just have a sense that someone is watching me,” Eoin explained. “It’s making me want to squirm.”

“I haven’t a clue why women find you so attractive, but it’s probably some bored wife or lonely widow,” Ewan grinned. His reputation as a rogue was entrenched in many women’s minds, but his obvious devotion to Allyson no longer caused Eoin concern that his brother intended to stray from his marriage vows. “You do have a reputation as a rake. One of them is hoping they’ll warm your bed tonight.”

“Only one?” Eoin cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “My charm must be slipping.”

“You assume you had any to begin with. Perhaps it was my charm that lured the women, and they figured two is better than one,” Ewan teased. The twins were mirror images in every way except for their battle scars. Ewan had a scar that split the left corner of his lip, and Eoin had a less noticeable scar above his left eyebrow. While their scars weren’t in the same place, they were still on the same side. There was little to distinguish them apart, and they’d relied upon that throughout their lives, often trading places.

“That very charm had me running for the hills,” Allyson elbowed her husband as she leaned around Ewan to speak to her brother-by-marriage. “It’s Cairstine Grant. I don’t have a clue why she keeps looking at you, but she can’t seem to distract herself.”

“Cairstine? Why would she be staring?” Eoin wondered aloud.

“Perhaps she’s accepted she’ll have to settle?” Ewan once again teased but threw his hands up in surrender when Allyson pinched his wrist. He responded by pulling her in for a searing kiss that had many banging their chalices on the tables. Ewan’s undivided attention returned to his bride as he whispered something in Allyson’s ear that made her blush and nod her head. With that, Eoin turned his attention back to the crowd, once again pretending to drink wine from his cup. At court, neither twin overly imbibed. While they allowed others to believe they were sotted half the time they were in attendance, it was a ruse to learn more that they could report to their father, Laird Andrew Gordon, who sat to his right. Shifting his gaze to his father, Eoin wondered if he might soon have a betrothal thrust upon him. Ewan’s betrothal to Allyson had come as an unpleasant shock to everyone. Andrew arrived at court and within an hour, his sons were facing down an irate young woman in the king’s Privy Council chamber.

Eoin grimaced as he recalled the scene in the passageway between Allyson, her friend Cairren Kennedy, Ewan, and himself only a brief time before Robert the Bruce summoned them to that dreadful meeting. The young ladies discovered the brothers leaving a young widow’s chamber, tucking their leines into their leggings. There was no mistaking what they’d been doing. He and Ewan had taunted the ladies, but only a few hours later, Allyson was retelling the tale in front of the king, her father and his own, and anyone within earshot. Ewan abandoned any charm he might have possessed as he defended himself. Eoin had wanted to drag him out by the ear and shake him for antagonizing Allyson.

“Your brother is a lucky mon,” Andrew clapped Eoin on the shoulder. “He’s found more than I ever did. The love of a good woman.”

Eoin nodded. “That he did. We should all be so fortunate.” He raised his chalice.

“There’s time yet for both of us,” Andrew chuckled. A widower for many years, the twins’ parents had been very unhappily married. “Would that I could change the past, but your mother was better suited for the life of the nun she longed to be. I can’t entirely blame her for refusing my attention once you lads were born. But neither should she have encouraged me to stray nor should I have done it so eagerly. I can see now how my disastrous marriage influenced both of your views on marriage. It still surprises me how it did so in opposite ways. Ewan entered his betrothal seeing no reason to pledge fidelity because, to him, marriage was a business transaction. But you’ve always believed marriage is a sacred institution, one that both parties should protect and honor.”

It stunned Eoin to hear his father not only to speak aloud what he’d been thinking, but to hear him admit to the errors of his ways. His father was never so introspective, and it was disconcerting. Eoin leaped to the assumption that he was next.

“You needn’t scowl as though you’re aboot to be tossed in the dungeon.” Andrew continued. “I won’t arrange a betrothal for you; not until you ask for one. I learned my lesson with your brother. I’m lucky to have a daughter-by-marriage who doesn’t want to kill any of us in our sleep.”

“Allyson isn’t that underhanded. She’d kill us while staring us straight in the eye,” Eoin mused. Ewan and Eoin learned not to underestimate Allyson when they rescued her from capture at Chillingham Castle. She killed a man in her chamber while Ewan fought two others. “I should be so lucky to find a woman like Allyson.”

Andrew cocked an eyebrow at Eoin as he cast a skeptical glance over his younger son. “Covetousness is a sin, son.” Andrew warned.

“Oh, no,” Eoin shook his head. “I might be lucky to find a woman like Allyson, but I don’t want a woman just like her. I don’t want her. Ewan and I might be alike in everything else, but we’re not exactly the same.”

“Didn’t you threaten to marry her yourself?” Andrew asked pointedly.

“Only if Ewan didn’t pull his head out of his arse. She didn’t deserve an unfaithful husband, and someone had to knock some sense into him. He wasn’t too keen on the idea that someone else might want her. It made him take a long, hard look at his own beliefs.” Eoin stopped there, not wanting his father to feel he was being judgmental about Andrew’s past choices.

“You are right, and I wish I’d given you lads a better example. I would have saved Ewan and Allyson a great deal of heartache if I’d done a better job as a father. You’ve taken the more honorable path from the beginning.”

“There was nothing honorable aboot the way Ewan and I teased Allyson and her friend that day. And I’ve made plenty of excuses for bedding married women. A marriage in name only. Their husbands have mistresses. I never forced them. They approached me.” Eoin shook his head as he looked his father in the eye. “I may have pledged to myself that I will never stray from my marriage vows, but I’ve done little to prove I care aboot the sanctity of anyone else’s marriage. I’ve been a hypocrite.”

“Do you intend to mend your ways?”

“I believe I must.”

“You’re not one to visit whorehouses, and you’re refusing married women. That leaves you widows or celibacy.”

“I’ll take the widows, but I can accept celibacy.” When Andrew shot him a knowing glance, Eoin added. “At least for a little while.”

Their conversation faded as the music began. Ewan and Allyson left the dais to dance, and Eoin joined the line of dancers. He avoided Lady Bevan, the woman whose chamber he and his brother were leaving when Allyson and Cairren had discovered him. He wouldn’t revisit that part of his past; he would never slight Allyson. He spotted Cairren and attempted to partner with her. He owed her an apology and a debt of gratitude, since she was the one to inform them of Allyson’s disappearance. They’d danced numerous times, and he liked the young lady-in-waiting, but the women’s line shuffled down, and he found himself staring at Cairstine Grant, who looked uncomfortable staring back at him.

 

Chapter 2

 

Cairstine Grant couldn’t believe her luck--in this case, rotten luck. She’d been lost in thought for most of the meal and caught herself staring off into space, except that Eoin Gordon had filled that space. He’d sat in front of her on the dais, and she realized he must have thought she was staring at him rather than knowing her mind wandered. Her cheeks heated as she stepped forward, and she curtseyed while he bowed. As their palms touched with their arms raised, Cairstine glanced at Eoin, who gave a knowing smile. She wanted to kick him in the shins for his smugness. He knew nothing.

Wretched mon, taunting me. He will trip over his own ego one of these days. At least his brother isn’t as obnoxious now that Lady Allyson has reined him in. O-en and U-en. How original.

Cairstine narrowed her eyes at Eoin, but that only broadened his smile. She resolved to trample on his toes as many times as she could. They’d spoken together a week earlier and even slipped away to share a kiss, but she’d ended their tryst before it could go beyond that.

“If you frown, you’ll give yourself wrinkles,” Eoin whispered. Cairstine’s eyes widened before narrowing into slits.

“If you’re a horny toad, you’re likely to have warts,” Cairstine flung back.

“I’m definitely horny,” Eoin cast her a wolfish grin that turned his already-too-handsome face devastating.

“You’re despicable. We’ve all heard now why Lady Allyson ran away. What you and your brother were up to.”

“I prefer to think I’m incorrigible.”

“You don’t deny what people are saying aboot you and Ewan? And Lady Bevan?”

“How can I deny the truth? Lady Cairstine, what is done is done. Lady Bevan is part of both my and Ewan’s past. My brother has eyes for no one but his wife, and I will never betray Allyson by having aught to do with a woman who attempted to hurt her. Even after we returned, Lady Bevan propositioned Ewan right in front of Allyson. That liaison was never meant to hurt anyone, but it did, so it can’t happen again.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“In this case, it is. But why are you so sour to me this evening? You weren’t while you sat watching me.” Eoin offered her another smile, but Cairstine didn’t find this one charming, and her blank stare said as much.

“I wasn’t staring at you. I was staring in your direction. I was thinking.”

“Aboot?”

“Aboot none of your business.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t aboot me? Or perhaps those kisses we shared?”

“Shh,” Cairstine hissed as she glanced around to ensure no one was listening. “You are despicable. Watch what you say; someone could hear you.”

Eoin opened his mouth to say it was no great secret that Cairstine offered her kisses to plenty of men, but he snapped it shut. Insulting her wouldn’t gain him any favors. “You’re right, my lady. I beg your apology.”

Cairstine nearly missed a step at the sincerity in his voice, and her honey-blond hair whipped across her face. Eoin brushed it away without thought, but both paused when they realized the intimacy of the act. Cairstine once again glanced at those around them, but no one appeared to be paying them attention.

“It seems I owe you yet another apology. I wasn’t thinking.” Eoin had the good grace to look sheepish as he glanced down at their feet.

“It’s fine. It was kind of you, even if inappropriate.” Cairstine offered a warm smile as she relaxed. Perhaps she wouldn’t tread on his toes after all. “I fear I’m rather short-tempered this evening, and it’s not entirely your fault.”

“Not entirely?” Eoin attempted to lighten the mood.

“You are rather incorrigible,” Cairstine’s grin told him her comment was tongue-in-cheek rather than scolding, as it had been before.

“Why, thank you, my lady.” They fell silent as the dance moved them along the line and forced them to twirl with other partners. When they returned to one another, Cairstine once more had a far-off gaze. “Lady Cairstine?”

Cairstine turned such a blank stare at Eoin that he wondered if she was aware of where she was. He maneuvered them toward the doors that led to a terrace. He debated whether to offer Cairstine privacy by stepping into the shadows or remain in the light, so no one could question them. He opted to stand in the light and pressed Cairstine into the shadows before stepping back. Eoin squeezed her hands, hoping to bring her back to the present.

“Hmm? I’m well, Eoin. Really. I’m dreadfully distracted this eve,” Cairstine mumbled.

“It’s more than just distracted. What’s wrong?”

“Naught that anyone can do aboot. My father has summoned me home for a visit.” Cairstine’s eyes drifted over Eoin’s shoulder, but he was certain no one stood behind them. Having visited Allyson’s family and witnessed their deplorable behavior toward her, Cairstine’s behavior concerned him. He feared she might return to a home as unwelcoming as Allyson’s. “I suspect my father will announce a betrothal.”

Eoin straightened as he glanced back into the Great Hall. “Have you any idea who it might be?”

“None. And that’s what terrifies me. It won’t be anyone from court. I’ve made certain of that,” Cairstine snapped her mouth shut.

“Lass? I may know you offer the sweetest kisses, but you don’t have a reputation for being loose.”

“I know. I’ve made sure of the opposite. I’ve made myself appear as vain and self-centered as I could.” Cairstine couldn’t understand why she divulged this to Eoin, but something about him seemed solid and trustworthy. This was ridiculous, as she was well-informed of his reputation.

“So the young lady we all know isn’t really you,” Eoin said flatly. He detested liars, and while he had found Cairstine spoiled and often hurtful to the other ladies, he never imagined she was one to tell falsehoods.

“I don’t want to marry. What mon wants a harpy with a barbed tongue and an empty head? None, and so I have no prospects here.”

“Why don’t you want to marry? Every woman short of those called to be a nun wants to marry.”

Cairstine’s mien was the sympathetic expression offered to a simpleton. “You can’t possibly believe every woman wants to marry. Your own sister-by-marriage ran away to avoid marriage.”

“She ran to avoid marrying my brother. She was never averse to the institution of marriage, only the mon she feared the king and her father intended to force her to enter it with.”

“Well, I have an aversion to marriage. And I don’t care which mon my father places before me. I don’t want to marry.”

“Are you called to be a nun?” Eoin couldn’t imagine a woman less suited to being a nun. Between Cairstine’s vanity and how judgmental she could be, she didn’t strike him as a woman queueing to take holy orders. Besides that, she’d not hesitated to kiss him, and she kissed with experience. While he was certain she was still a maiden, she didn’t seem very innocent.

“I will be if that’s what I must do to avoid being sold to a mon who only wants to rut and breed me like a broodmare.”

“And you believe every mon is like this? That’s what you believed of Kieran MacLeod? Of Ewan? Of me? That all we want is to force ourselves upon unwilling brides for the sake of siring heirs?”

“Kieran and Ewan fell in love with the women they married, though why Kieran chose a dowdy one like Maude Sutherland is beyond me. Who knows aboot you? You aren’t wed.” She snapped her mouth shut, realizing old habits die hard when it came to being snide.

As Eoin listened, he deduced that someone had damaged Cairstine’s faith in marriage and, even worse, in men. He wanted to tread lightly, but he was also curious to discover what caused her deep-seated opposition. “Is that how your father treats your mother? Or how your brother treats his wife?”

“Hardly. My father acts as though my brother was born to my mother’s first husband by immaculate conception, just as my sister and I were by him. He’s a very…” she shook her head. “Very pious mon. Rigidly pious. My brother is kind to his wife. I won’t go so far as to say that he loves her, but he’s fond of her and treats her well.”

“Then why do you rebel against being married? What makes you convinced all men are pigs when those you’ve seen seem to be honorable?”

“I have my reasons, Eoin. Please don’t press me. Suffice it to say, I don’t want to return home to discover my father is ready to betroth me.”

Eoin sensed Cairstine was withdrawing, and rather than pressing for more, he squeezed her hands once again. “Shall we return to the Great Hall before anyone wonders where we are?”

“Aye, but I appreciate that you’ve stood in the light to ensure no one suspects we’re trysting. Thank you.” Cairstine took the arm Eoin offered, and they returned to the dancing. They went their separate ways, each finding other partners until the night grew late.

 

Chapter 3

 

Cairstine drew a deep breath of the scents of an early summer morning. The air still held a chill, but it helped wake her as she mounted her horse. She hadn’t slept well, and she appreciated the bracing air to help revive her. Cairstine wasn’t looking forward to the next five days spent riding and sleeping outdoors. She loved to ride and was an accomplished horsewoman, but she hated trekking through the Cairngorm Mountains. She wasn’t a fan of heights or the narrow trails that often chipped away under the weight of a party of riders. She had a dozen guards accompanying her, which made her feel safe from attack but not from falling down a mountain face. She checked the girth of her saddle once more and ensured she’d securely fastened her satchel to her saddle before mounting. She glanced once at Stirling Castle before she and the Grant guardsmen rode out of the castle’s bailey and out of the city of Stirling.

The summer rain began during the afternoon of their second day on the road. Her maid, who served more as a chaperone than a servant while she traveled with a company of men, complained incessantly about the drizzle throughout the afternoon and into the evening and sobbed when it poured for the entire third day. Cairstine was grateful the woman’s father and brother were among the men accompanying them, and between comforting her and scolding her, they finally made her cease crying when they made camp the third night. Cairstine was wet and cold, and it had stretched her patience almost to the point of snapping. She wrapped herself in her Grant plaid as she leaned against her saddle.

She had slept no better on the road than she did the night before departing Stirling. Fatigue had threatened to overcome her by the time they stopped for the night, and it had been sheer willpower that forced her to remain awake in the saddle lest she fall and her horse trample her. As she lay gazing at the stars, once again sleep eluded her. She focused on what fate awaited her when she arrived at Freuchie Castle, home to Clan Grant. She missed the z-shaped tower castle. It had been her home until two years earlier when her parents sent her to serve Queen Elizabeth after the queen’s return to the royal court. She’d grown to like the queen, a religious woman who preferred more time spent in prayer than Cairstine’s knees enjoyed. She admired the queen’s fortitude and grace after being imprisoned for eight years by her husband’s enemy. The hatred between the Robert the Bruce and Edward Longshanks of England hadn’t dissipated despite the queen’s freedom.

Cairstine was eager to see her mother and younger sister Fenella. They were only two years apart, while she was ten years her brother’s junior. She didn’t have many childhood memories of her brother, Erskine, since he left to foster while she was a toddler and hadn’t come home often. He was the product of her mother’s first marriage, before she was widowed. They didn’t see one another often because he remained with his foster family, the MacGregors, after marrying a woman from that clan. She commended Erskine for being a doting father; her own father, Laird Edward Grant, had wished to become a monk. He’d been a fourth son with plans to enter a monastery, but when his three older brothers died fighting on behalf of King Robert, the lairdship fell to him.

“Canna sleep, ma lady?” asked Bram, a guardsman she’d known since she was a babe. Bram was one of the few Grant men assigned to remain with her when she was in residence at Stirling Castle. His Highland burr was a reassuring reminder of life before court. “Did ye have enough to eat?”

“Aye, thank you, Bram. Do you ken why my father sent for me?” Cairstine kept her voice low. She didn’t trust the other men not to rush to her father to report the conversation.

“Nay, ma lady. I learned of yer travels when ye informed me. I’ve been at court with ye and nae heard from anyone else.”

“Did none of the men who arrived with the missive tell you why?”

Bram shifted his gaze, observing the men on watch, virtually invisible among the trees. He shook his head before answering. “They suspect it’s for a betrothal, but they arenae sure. They said several men have visited yer father in the past four moons, and the rumors are they are potential suitors.”

“Do you ken who any of these men are?”

“They mentioned the MacGregor’s nephew, but I dinna recall his given name. Bryson Mackintosh was another name mentioned, but he—”

“Bluidy hell. I will not live among those heathens. They and the Camerons are intent upon exterminating one another, and I’m not eager to die young,” Cairstine announced.

“I was going to say, ma lady, that the Mackintosh heir has his eye on a MacPherson. She’s bonny as the day is long, they say, and her da wants the lairdship of Clan Chattan. Too much politics for ma liking. They’re welcome to one another.”

“Anyone else?” Cairstine leaned forward, her hands clasped so tightly that the skin tugged.

Bram shifted uncomfortably before nodding. “Duff MacDuff apparently has come up more than once.”

“Dear God, no. The mon is old enough to be my grandfather. He’s a Lowlander. And the MacDuffs are traitors. They have betrayed us all as Scots and betrayed King Robert. The mon’s niece crowned our king, but her brother married the English bastard’s niece. He sides with Longshanks!”

“From what I know, Duff did what he could to keep Laird Duncan from switching their allegiance to King Edward, but I canna deny his age nor where they reside.”

Cairstine and Bram exchanged a look of disgust as they considered living in the Lowlands. The Grants were a powerful Highland clan, and while Cairstine had learned to disguise her brogue at court like all the other Highland ladies, her heart beat for the wide meadows and mountain peaks that were the backdrop to her childhood. Marriage was awful enough, but the prospect of a life in the Lowlands felt like impending exile.

“Is there anyone else?”

“Brodie Campbell’s name came up,” Bram answered softly.

“Brodie?” Cairstine’s breath caught. There’d been talk of them becoming betrothed even while they were still children, before she grew to despise marriage, but the Campbells insisted their alliance with the Grants was already strong. They wanted their son’s marriage to secure another alliance. Brodie had always been kind to Cairstine and was one of few people she’d given hint of the secret she intended to take to the grave. He was possibly the only man she had considered marrying, but the relationship was more like brother and sister than lovers.

“Aye, but I dinna think it was serious. More a reminder of the past.” Bram explained with a gentleness to his voice that made Cairstine wish the bear of a man could still swoop her up in his embrace as he had countless times when she was a child.

“It’s just as well. You know I don’t want to marry anyone,” Cairstine sighed. Bram was one of the three privy to the secret Cairstine hid. Not even her sister was aware, and she refused to consider sharing that part of her past.

“Ye might be surprised one of these days, lass.” Bram patted her shoulder before walking to his saddle and bedroll. Cairstine’s eyes drifted closed just before the first rays of light rose over the horizon. Her eyes felt like she’d rubbed them with nettles when she awoke. They itched, making her miserable as they began their fourth day in the saddle.

*   *   *

Cairstine breathed a sigh of relief as she rode under the portcullis of Freuchie Castle. She was home. She dashed to embrace Fenella as her mother, Davina, moved down the keep’s steps with more restraint and grace than her younger daughter. Once she pushed Fenella’s mane of red hair from her face, she caught sight of her father and Fingal Grant. Fingal was a distant cousin, the grandson of Laird Edward’s uncle and his closest living male relative. He was Edward’s heir and tánaiste.

“He wants to marry me,” Fenella whispered.

“Who?” Cairstine had been home only a few months earlier and knew nothing of her sister having a suitor.

“Kennon Campbell!” Fenella named Brodie’s cousin, a man Cairstine sensed had the makings of a suitable husband for her sister. She leaned back and grinned.

“He’s a braw mon, for certain. How do you ken?” Cairstine smiled.

“He came to ask Father for my hand. You know we met at last year’s Highland Gathering, but he’s been visiting as often as he can. He came a fortnight ago to request a betrothal.”

“That’s wonderful, Fenny,” Cairstine fell back on her childhood nickname for her sister.

“It is, but Cair, Father has refused. Or rather refused for now.” Fenella bit her bottom lip as Davina brought their conversation to a halt when she joined them.

“Mama,” Cairstine relaxed in her mother’s embrace, the softness of her frame a comfort just as it had been when she was a child.

“My sweet lass, I’m so happy to have you home once more. It’s not the same without you, and the time seems to grow longer between our visits.”

“It’ll grow longer once the lass weds. She won’t be able to come and go as she does now,” Edward announced by way of greeting his daughter. Cairstine shot Fenella a glance and understood why her sister had grown hesitant. In an instant, she understood what no one had voiced. Yet. Fenella wouldn’t gain their father’s permission to marry Kennon until Cairstine married. As the younger sister, they would force Fenella to wait. Cairstine gazed at her sister and her heart seized, unable to imagine denying Fenella the happiness she sought through marriage. Cairstine wouldn’t begrudge her sister what she wanted, even if they didn’t share a similar view on the sacrament.

Cairstine opted to remain quiet until they entered the Great Hall, where people sat for the evening meal. Her stomach rumbled, hungry after only bannocks and thin rabbits for dinner each night and more bannocks while in the saddle. As they took their seats–Cairstine in her usual chair beside her mother and two chairs to the left of her father–she wondered if she could choke any food down if her father decided it was the right time for a discussion about a betrothal. Cairstine sighed as she accepted that it wouldn’t be a discussion, but more of a one-sided diatribe on why she couldn’t remain unwed much longer.

“Cairstine, I am making inquiries into a match for you. The sooner your marriage is secured and consummated, the sooner your sister can wed a mon who wants her.” Edward made no attempt to soften the blow, and the insinuation that Cairstine would be an unwanted bride didn’t go unnoticed by anyone at the table. She’d made her wish to remain unmarried clear on more than one occasion.

“Father,” Cairstine spoke softly. “I’ve had time to contemplate this over the past months and especially during the journey here. We are a family of strong faith. You have blessed us by teaching us to love Christ before all else. I feel called to take the holy veil.”

Cairstine waited for God to smite her in her seat. She felt no calling to such a vocation, but she would accept a solitary life in silence if it meant she never had to submit to a husband.

“Rubbish,” Edward barked.

“Father, we know our family was meant to serve God, but others’ choices kept that from happening.” Cairstine toed a dangerous line, alluding to how her father had always intended to become a priest, never wanting the lairdship nor a wife and family. While he was a respected and strong laird, he barely recognized he had a family. She, her sister, and her mother were more like distant acquaintances to Edward than his wife and children. “I would fulfill that legacy.”

Edward scrutinized his older daughter, attempting to discern a lie, but Cairstine forced her face into the visage of serenity and innocence she’d perfected while at court. If her father insisted on pursuing a match, she prayed the potential suitor was familiar with the reputation she’d carefully developed at court. She’d regretted each hateful thing she’d said about Maude Sutherland and how she’d followed Madeline MacLeod’s lead. But the snarkiness fueled other people’s belief that she was selfish and unsuitable for any man to take back to his clan if he wished for a wife his people would find acceptable.

“We already give our tithes to the Church; I’m not interested in giving away your dowry, too.” Edward’s response stunned Cairstine. Never did she imagine her father would refuse the Church anything. He’d been prepared to promise his life to serving God, and yet, he refused to consider his daughter’s request to follow in his footsteps. Cairstine suspected he was unconvinced by her plea, but the speed with which he rejected her request still surprised her. Her father’s glare wouldn’t cow her.

“Father, I listened as a child when you spoke. There is no greater purpose than to pledge one’s self to their faith and to live it daily in servitude to His honor.” Cairstine repeated the words her father had used in his attempt to indoctrinate Fenella and her.

“And to pledge such without it truly being in your heart is a heresy, so cease now while you’re ahead.” Edward hissed before turning to his right, shifting his attention to Fingal, who offered her an apologetic smile. She’d been summarily dismissed, but her father’s voice drifted to her. “Perhaps I should have you marry the chit.”

Cairstine’s eyes widened as she shook her head with such vehemence that her neck hurt. Her knuckles were white as she grasped the armrests of her chair. Fenella slipped her hand over Cairstine’s. Fingal wisely remained quiet, and Edward moved on to another topic. She remained silent for the rest of the meal but cheered up when the music began. It was the eve of the Sabbath, and her father did not allow dancing on that day, but she enjoyed the harp and flute as her feet tapped beneath the table.

“Your father is right,” her mother whispered. “You would hate a life without music and gaiety. You love to dance and sing, and I don’t imagine chanting prayers all day is what you would enjoy. Why are you so insistent?”

“Because I don’t believe every woman is cut out to be a wife and mother. You and Fenny might be, but I’m not. It holds no interest for me. I don’t want the risk of a husband who ignores me, strays from our bed, or even worse, beats me.”

“Do you really believe your father would choose a mon capable of beating his daughter? He would never allow it.”

“Mama, you know I become that mon’s property the moment they sign the betrothal documents. Father will have no say in how any husband treats me. And I don’t have faith that my wellbeing is Father’s utmost concern.”

“And what is?” Davina asked.

“Whatever alliance he can create.”

“Do you believe the alliance would last if a mon mistreated you? Don’t you trust your father a wee more than that?”

“He may have never mistreated you, but you know that’s not the case with many men,” Cairstine offered a pointed look, but she would never say aloud the truth that Davina’s first husband often beat her to within an inch of her life.

“O ye of little faith. And you claim to want a life of dedication to God, but you have no faith that the Holy Father or your own mortal father will see you protected.”

“I don’t doubt that is what he would want, but it may not be in his control. He can’t control everyone, and certainly not all men. Some seek to harm women, no matter whose daughter a woman might be.” Cairstine forced away the bitterness she heard creeping into her voice. “Mama, please. I’m begging you. Please reason with Father and ask him not to make any rash decisions. I know Fenny is eager to secure her betrothal to Kennon, and I don’t want to stand in the way of that, but I won’t consent to marry anyone. At least try to sway him toward my taking the veil.”

Davina inhaled deeply before nodding her head. The women let the topic die as they both turned to listen to a couple singing.