A Rogue at the Highland Court: An Arranged Marriage Highlander Romance

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

Synopsis

A runaway bride...

Allyson Elliot spent her childhood in the shadows of her five older siblings, but after surviving rumors about her parentage, she finds a new, carefree life at the Scottish Highland court. Free of suspicion, Allyson blooms into a vibrant lady-in-waiting, but an unexpected arranged marriage turns her world upside down. Desperate, Allyson becomes a runaway bride as she tries to escape her betrothal. Can Allyson fight for her freedom to choose? Is Allyson the woman to get the notorious rogue to change his ways?

A handsome rogue...

Ewan Gordon may be the heir to his clan’s lairdship, but he’s enjoying the life of a bachelor with his twin, Eoin. Ewan is attracted to Allyson and even considers stealing a kiss, but when the king orders he marry Allyson, Ewan is forced to reconsider his ideas on marriage and fidelity. As Ewan chases Allyson, he discovers there’s more than meets the eye to this naive but courageous young lady. Can Ewan convince Allyson that he’s the man she needs? Will Allyson find the confidence to trust Ewan?

A family that divides...

When members of Allyson’s family set out to destroy their blossoming relationship, Ewan must fight to keep Allyson from slipping back into the shadows. Jealous sisters, thoughtless brothers, and indifferent parents threaten to steal Allyson’s and Ewan’s chance for their happily ever after. Can they learn to rely on one another? Or will Allyson’s family create a rift that pushes them apart for good?

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: 335

Sample

Chapter One

 

The crunch of frost echoed in Stirling Castle’s royal gardens as Allyson Elliot trudged along with the other ladies-in-waiting, enduring another one of the queen’s morning strolls through the struggling blossoms. It was mid-March, and spring had arrived for their neighbors to the south, but Mother Nature seemed to have forgotten that Stirling wasn’t truly in the Highlands. Sitting on the border between the Highlands and Lowlands, the weather in Stirling was fickle, playing both sides of the fence. Allyson puffed out a cloud of condensation as the ice crackled beneath her booted feet. She didn’t mind the distance of the morning constitutional, but having been raised in the Lowlands, Allyson was still unaccustomed to the frigid temperatures of the north.

“I still can’t believe he married her.” Allyson caught the waspish voice of Cairstine Grant as her attention returned to the young women around her. Allyson realized Cairstine spoke of Maude Sutherland without hearing the former lady-in-waiting’s name. Maude had been a shy lass from the northern Highlands, and several of the other ladies-in-waiting—Cairstine Grant included—had teased her without mercy. It had come as a shock when Kieran MacLeod arrived at court and immediately took an interest in Maude, who the other ladies considered overweight and plain. He’d been one of the most eligible lairds, and more than one nose was out of joint when he chose a woman so many believed was beneath him.

Allyson struggled to smother her giggle as she considered just how Maude was beneath Kieran these days. Allyson arrived at court four years ago as an impressionable girl overwhelmed by the attention her fair hair and robin-egg blue eyes garnered. She soon realized she enjoyed the attention after being the youngest of her parents’ six children. A few batted eyelashes and a coy smile earned her the appreciation of the young courtiers who flocked to court hoping to gain attention and favor from King Robert the Bruce. While Allyson wasn’t as daring as some of her peers, she had stolen a few kisses from these men, hoping to find one who would make her his wife and take her away from both the royal court and her family. Her attempts hadn’t garnered a husband, but it had resulted in a reputation as a flirt.

“Allyson. Allyson, are you listening to me?” Cairren Kennedy nudged her, and Allyson turned a blank stare at her friend before remembering that they’d been speaking about the upcoming festivities for the spring equinox. The court would celebrate the return of the sun and the forthcoming warm weather.

“I don’t know that there will be much to celebrate if this cold weather persists. It’s more like winter’s beginning rather than spring. I’d be happy to never see snow again,” Allyson grumbled.

“Not bluidy likely living in Scotland,” Cairren muttered the oath. Another Lowlander, Cairren had been at court since the previous spring and was still adjusting to the harsher climate. “I’m more likely to freeze my toes than freckle. It’s just an excuse to feast in the hopes of forgetting the miserable weather. Why else would the queen allow pagan celebrations?”

“She allows them because she knows no matter how Catholic we Scots are, we will always cling to tradition. It’s not like we run aboot caterwauling to the old gods. We light some bonfires and drink too much whisky and ale. I don’t mind encouraging spring to arrive, and I don’t mind how warm a belly of whisky will make me feel. Especially since I agree that my toes are aboot to chip off.” As if to convince herself that they wouldn’t, Allyson wiggled her toes as they paused for Queen Elizabeth to speak to a gardener. Allyson supposed the queen was requesting the flowers that would decorate the Great Hall and instructing the man on how to care for the blooms, lest this late frost damage them. “I’m looking forward to the feast since we’ll have the tedium of Lent within a week.”

“I wouldn’t let the queen hear you say Lent is tedious. I swear it’s her favorite time of year. More hours to spend in prayer.” Cairren pretended to rub her knee with a surreptitious look around. “I dread the time spent on my knees.”

“Aye, but some ladies are already well versed in that,” Allyson snickered.

“Shh! You’ll have us be among those, and not with any pleasure. I have no desire to be trapped on the prie-dieu in the queen’s solar in front of the others.” Cairren failed to hide her smirk despite her censoring words.

“Very well. But you’re just as aware as I am that I speak the truth,” Allyson murmured, allowing the subject of the other ladies-in-waiting’s less-than-ladylike behavior to drop. Neither Allyson nor Cairren should have been privy to such knowledge, but living among courtiers for more than a day gave the young women an education they never would have received at home. Allyson had mourned her loss of innocent ignorance when she first arrived, but she soon learned that women wielded power by choosing with whom they shared their favors. Allyson hadn’t gone beyond a brief kiss here and there, but she wasn’t averse to more sinful behavior if ever a situation where her wellbeing at court counted on it.

“Are you pleased that the Gordon twins returned in time for the feast. Which do you think is the better looking?” Cairren redirected their conversation to a safer topic. It was expected that they would gossip about eligible men.

“Can you even tell them apart? They’re mirror images of one another.”

“Nay. Not really. But both are handsome as the devil, and just as tempting.”

“Then it’s a good thing Lent is around the corner. I’ll be sure to withstand that test.” Allyson rolled her eyes.

“But in the meantime, we have the equinox and Shrove Tuesday to indulge.”

Allyson tsked. “The only things I intend to indulge in are honey cakes and lamb stew. I shall miss meat when all I have to look forward to are potatoes and turnips.”

“I can think of a few women who will miss both meat and taters,” Cairren chuckled.

“You’re worse than I am.” Allyson didn’t say any more as the group arrived at the castle doors. The queen swept in ahead of them and gave a glance that told the ladies to hurry to her salon after returning their outerwear to their chambers. Allyson and Cairren wound their way through the twisting passageways until they reached the one where the matrons and widows lived. They halted and stared as the Gordon twins emerged from Lady Bevan’s chamber, both tucking their leines into their breeks. There was no way for Allyson and Cairren to misunderstand the situation. The twins turned towards them and offered remorseless grins. They strolled toward the shocked pair.

“We seem to have found two little chickadees separated from their mother hen,” one of the Gordons purred. Allyson wasn’t certain, but she decided that the one speaking was Ewan, who had a small scar that sliced the left side of his upper lip. His twin had no such scar, to Allyson’s knowledge.

“Such a shame they should encounter two foxes in their henhouse.” The other brother, who she assumed was Eoin, offered a smile that could only be described as wolfish.

“Aye, and the farmer lops off the heads of the foxes he catches. A couple clucks in the right ear ends the foxes’ hunt.” Allyson bristled. She’d met the twins several times during her time at court, and even enjoyed dancing with the accomplished set of brothers. But their reputations preceded them, and their arrogance rankled. This time it wasn’t their reputations that spoke to their roguish behavior but the behavior itself. “I hadn’t realized roosters liked to share their spent hen.”

“She is most definitely spent.” A dark eyebrow twitched as the man she believed was Ewan smirked.

“She would be after brooding so often.” Allyson grew tired of speaking in euphemisms and analogies. “Excuse us. We have somewhere we’d rather be.”

“Testy chickadee,” the same brother spoke again.

“Bored,” Allyson used her practiced smile, but there was no missing the derisiveness in her voice. 

“We’ve entertained you plenty of times.” Eoin matched his twin’s twitching eyebrow.

“Perhaps on the dance floor. But then again, you are interchangeable.” Allyson chirped. Cairren elbowed her as she gasped for at least the third time. “One is as good as the other to waste away the time.”

The brothers’ matching glares made Allyson laugh. She elbowed Cairren back, but this was in jest. She shook her head before composing herself enough to speak.

“Does that expression come naturally, or did you practice to ensure you match in everything you do? And you want me to believe you’re not interchangeable.” Allyson linked her arm through Cairren’s, and the women attempted to step around the brothers. However, the closer one snagged Allyson’s arm and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Lass, you wouldn’t last five minutes if we took turns with you.” Allyson froze as she turned an icy gaze upon Ewan, who still held her arm.

“Are you threatening me? Because that isn’t an offer I will ever want.”

“What? No.” The man jerked back and shook his head. Realization of what his words would mean to an innocent dawned upon him. He softened his hold on her arm but didn’t release her. Instead, he bent forward again. “Lass, my apologies. That wasn’t what I intended. I took our banter too far. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Allyson’s pinched expression relaxed at the sincerity in his voice, which caused a shiver to run along her spine. She nodded once, and this time he released her arm when she pulled it away.

“Which one are you?” She murmured.

“Ewan, my lady.” The sun streaked head bowed in a courtly presentation that would have earned the giant Highlander laughs if he were home. That meant the other man now standing in silence was Eoin, as she’d guessed.

“Good day.” Allyson didn’t wait to drag Cairren along as they rushed to their chamber and then to the queen’s solar, all the while Cairren lamented the consequences of their tardiness. Neither could admit they’d stopped to speak to the notorious twins.

 

Chapter Two

 

Allyson felt restless for the duration of the day as the scene in the passageway replayed in her mind. It wasn’t that different from the countless conversations she’d had with courtiers attempting to corrupt and seduce her. However, something unsettled her about this exchange. She suspected it stemmed from the surprise of such innuendos being tossed about after she and Cairren caught the brothers leaving a woman’s chambers, and how that very event led to the exchange. She’d studied the men while they stood nearer and tried to find anything that would identify the difference between the two. She hadn’t lied when she said they were interchangeable; at least, that was how she’d viewed them before that day.

U-en and O-en. She sounded out in her head. How original that their parents should give identical twins rhyming names. I wonder what tricks they got up to as weans with matching faces and similar names. Allyson flinched as her blank gaze remained on the book in her lap. Why do I care? Why am I even wondering that? They were both arses today. I shouldn’t waste a moment of thought on them, but I can’t help it. They’ve irked me and piqued my curiosity. This bluidy curiosity will be my downfall.

Allyson forced herself to pay attention to the book of poetry that lay open in front of her. She inhaled, filling her lungs, before beginning the page for the third time. This attempt was a success, and she lost herself in the flowing verses until it was time to dress for the evening. She dreaded and anticipated the evening meal in equal measure. Part of her wanted to avoid the twins and the reminder of their exchange, but another part wanted a chance to have the definitive last word. “Good day” seemed weak after the inappropriate nature of the earlier conversation. 

“Lady Allyson,” called a page as she stepped out of the queen’s solar. “Your presence has been requested in the king’s Privy Council chamber.” The boy of eight or nine didn’t remain for a response, instead turning on his heel and dashing back the way he’d come. Allyson’s gaze swept the ladies who accompanied her out of the salon, but no one seemed interested in the message delivered to her. She couldn’t guess why the king would single her out and request her presence. She hurried to the doors of the king’s meeting room, wiping her clammy palms on her skirts as the guard slipped inside to announce her arrival. When the door opened to admit Allyson, the first person she recognized was her father, Laird Kenneth Elliot. A sense of dread took root in the bottom of Allyson’s stomach. Rarely did anything good occur when her father arrived at court. Her throat tightened at the hard edge in his eyes. He was steeling himself to deliver news she wouldn’t want.

“Allyson,” her father’s brusque tone reached her as she approached, then dipped into a low curtsy to the king and her father. “I’ve made a decision that pertains to you.”

Allyson blinked, but realized she failed to hide the fear creeping over her like the cold hands of death. She nodded and opened her mouth to inquire if this had something to do with her mother and siblings, but her father’s raised hand stayed her. Allyson glanced around the chamber and spotted the Gordon twins standing across the chamber with their own father, and neither appeared pleased to be there. Suspicion coursed through her as she looked between her father and the twins, shaking her head and backing away.

“This isn’t a time for histrionics, lass. I can see you’re deducing the reason I have summoned you. We may as well have it out and be done. I need to sign the betrothal documents and be on my way.” Her father never would have survived as a courtier with his blunt manner. Allyson’s chest felt like a vice was locked around her heart, and her stomach felt as though someone plowed a fist into it.

“Betrothal?” It surprised her how strong her voice sounded in spite of her shock. She turned to look at the twins, and her upper lip curled in disgust. “Which womanizing lecher have you shackled me with?”

“Shackled?” The man she recognized as Ewan lunged forward. “You should count your blessings, lass.”

“So, you’re the one to marry me, but which one of you will come to my bed? Or will you share me like you did Lady Bevan this morning?” Allyson snapped her mouth shut, shocked at her own runaway tongue. She grinned when both twins shifted, but there was no mirth in her expression. “Assumed I’d forgotten? Assumed I’d never speak of it?”

Allyson tossed her head and canted it before employing her repertoire of flirtations. She smiled seductively and glided toward the twins, angling her body to offer the best view of her cleavage. Hours of practice made her actions seem unintentional and natural, almost unnoticeable in their singular occurrence, but coming together to foster the image of an experienced courtier. She came to stand before the twins and their father, who was a widower. She dropped into a deep curtsy that offered the older man a view down her gown and between her breasts. She exhaled, allowing the gown to slacken and offering a hint of her chemise. Ewan growled before reaching out to grasp her arm as he had earlier that day, but she shied away. She wanted to determine if her potential father-by-marriage was as much a skirt chaser as his sons. Did she need to fear him, too?

“My father’s words lead me to believe the documents haven’t been signed. I don’t belong to you yet, so don’t touch me,” she hissed before returning her attention to Laird Gordon. “My laird, it is a pleasure to see you again. Pray tell, how long have you and my father been in negotiations? From your sons’ appearances, it came as a surprise to them, too. After all, what man would tease his future bride aboot bedding her the same day as she caught him coming from another woman’s chamber? The day you’d announce their betrothal?”

Laird Gordon’s face suffused with heat, and his ruddy complexion turned scarlet. He swung his gaze toward his sons, the accusations clear without him saying a word.

“As the chit said, I didn’t know.” Ewan crossed his arms and glared at Allyson. “It matters little now.”

“There I disagree. It matters a great deal. You’ve proven to be a womanizing lecher, as I said before. You didn’t deny that.” Allyson looked over her shoulder to her father. “Men who go through women like him go through alcohol and money just as quickly. You intend to give my dowry, money and land from our clan, to him?” Allyson didn’t say more, knowing that what she left unsaid screamed far louder than if she voiced any further opposition.

“Tread carefully, lass,” Ewan hissed.

“Or what? You and your brother will take turns with me? I believe that’s what you said earlier.”

“What?” The two fathers roared.

“Shall I tell them, or will you?” Allyson demurred even though her posture spoke to her readiness to go into battle.

“It matters not.” Kenneth stepped beside his daughter. “You’re in no position to object to aught your husband does.”

“That may be, but he isn’t my husband yet. I intend to object.” Allyson set her jaw and stared into her father’s eyes. “Now and at the altar.”

Allyson understood no priest in Scotland would marry her to any man without her consent. She also understood she played a dangerous game, one where her father might use a proxy to ensure the marriage went forward.

“Father,” Ewan spoke up. “You want me to bring this shrew home to Huntly? You’d subject our clan to her viperous tongue?”

“I’m questioning whether I should subject the lass to you,” Laird Gordan grumbled. “You denied none of what the lass said, so I take it, it’s the truth. She found you leaving Lady Bevan’s chamber with Eoin.”

“Aye. We were. But as she also said, it was before any of us, Lady Allyson or Eoin or I, were aware of this arrangement. The lady is a widow, and Eoin and I are unwed. We did naught wrong.”

“Naught wrong? You’re depraved!” Allyson blurted. She spun around toward her father. “They share their women! How am I to be certain which one arrives at my chamber? How do I know they don’t expect to do with me what they did with Lady Bevan? You’d force me commit adultery at their whim?”

“Allyson, you’re overreacting. You’re speaking as though they’re lads who still play tricks,” Kenneth scoffed. Allyson swung back around and shifted her eyes among the three Gordon men.

“When’s the last time they swapped their positions?” she demanded. She suspected that it would vindicate her. There was something about their nonchalance and ennui that told her she wasn’t far off the mark. The sheepish glance Laird Gordon exchanged with his sons was enough to answer her question, but she would have her due and hear it admitted. She crossed her arms and cocked her eyebrow.

“A fortnight ago when I sent Eoin on patrol, but he had plans with a woman in the village,” Laird Gordon admitted.

Allyson’s lips thinned as she glared at Ewan. She remained silent, letting the laird’s last words hang in the air. When no one else spoke, she turned to her father.

“And you’d make me believe my concerns are for naught,” she whispered. Frustration and fear caused tears to prick the back of her eyelids, but years of repressing public displays of emotions and pride enabled her to overcome the threat of crying.

“Lass, men must sow their wild oats before settling into marriage,” Laird Gordon offered the placating words, but Ewan’s grumble proved them to be an empty reassurance.

“I owe her naught, not even once she’s my wife. You’d have me marry her for her dowry, just as she said. You’ll get your grandson and my heir, maybe even additional sons, but other than clothes on her back, a roof over her head, and food in her belly, I owe her or any other wife naught more.” Ewan spat each word at her as his temper got the better of him. He didn’t mean what he said, but he was tired of being lambasted for his earlier choice, one he couldn’t undo nor could he have known not to make. He realized that he’d erred when Allyson’s already ramrod straight back seemed to lengthen, and a look of such loathing entered her eyes that he feared she would thrust a dirk into his chest on their wedding night.

“You intend to continue your whoring?” Allyson demanded.

“So what if I did? There is naught a wife can do to control a husband. You are to be my property, not the other way around.” The remorse that tried to take hold of Ewan evaporated as he dug himself into a deeper hole.

“Will your leman live in the keep that I will run? Will she share your chamber? Will you bed her before or after you come to swive me?”

“Allyson,” her father hissed, shocked that her vocabulary contained such language.

“What do you think I’ve learned in the years I’ve been here?” she threw back in his face.

Throughout the exchange, King Robert remained quiet. The Bruce was impressed with the young woman’s gumption to take on four towering men with a mettle he wished more of his warriors possessed, but the time had come to draw an end to the squabbling. After all, the men were right that she had no say in the outcome of the negotiations.

“Lady Allyson,” King Robert strode toward the group. “What your father and Laird Gordon failed to inform you of is that it’s my wish for the two of you to marry. I’ve decreed the alliance.”

The high color drained from her face and neck, and her ghostlike pallor caused Ewan to shift toward her, fearing she might collapse, but the scathing glare she shot him warned him away.

“Yes, Your Grace. As you wish.” Allyson curtsied and lowered her gaze. She’d fought a good fight, but she realized the time to challenge the arrangement had ended. For now. 

“That’s a good lass.” The king offered her a conciliatory smile. “We shall announce the betrothal at the feast tomorrow night, and the betrothal ceremony will take place the following morning so that it is done before Lent begins. The banns have already been posted, so you may wed here or at Huntly.”

Allyson’s gaze shot up, her eyes widening as she discovered they could force her to marry Ewan any day, now that the church had given its blessing. Her heart’s rapid staccato slowed when she remembered that no priest would conduct the ceremony during Lent. She had at least forty days before she’d be bound to Ewan. She nodded, but refused to look anywhere but over the king’s shoulder.

“Allyson,” Kenneth rested his hand on her back, but when he caught the look of betrayal in his daughter’s eyes, he pulled away and swallowed. He loved his children, but he barely knew his youngest. He realized he’d overlooked her far too many times, and now her inability to trust that he did this not only for their clan but for her came home to roost. “I believe you need to prepare for the evening meal. By the king’s leave, return to your chamber.”

“Aye, Father,” Allyson murmured. The king nodded his dismissal, and Allyson slipped from the chamber like a wraith.

Once the two lairds and Ewan signed the contracts, Laird Gordon spun on his sons, his temper ready to rain down on them. “You shamed us in front of the king,” he hissed. “Go directly to my chamber, both of you.”

The twins bowed to the king when he offered them the same dismissing nod. When they entered the passageway, Ewan searched for Allyson, but she had disappeared faster than he expected. 

“You’re an arse,” Eoin muttered. “You didn’t mean half of what you said, but you were spiteful because she poked at your pride.”

“She started it.”

“And now you’re a petulant child. You and I made our beds, and it’s not one we want to lie in. In fact, we’ve done far too much in bed. You’d do well to smooth this over with her, or you’ll have a long and miserable life with a woman who detests you.”

“With that mouth, she’ll survive just fine. So what if she detests me? I need only get a son on her and be done with her.”

Eoin halted and pushed at his brother’s shoulder, so they stood facing one another. “You don’t mean that, and we both know it. Have you stopped to consider that she’s terrified?”

“Of what?” Ewan demanded. “I never gave her the impression I would beat her.”

“No. But you scared her into thinking you’d rape her and pass her off to me to finish the job. You gave her the impression that she’s worthless. You gave her the impression that you will humiliate her in front of a clan that she must join and who will judge her regardless of her relationship with you. You gave everyone the impression that you, and by default me, have no honor to speak of. What mon admits that he’ll commit adultery in front of his own father, the bride’s father, and the bluidy King of Scotland? I hope you won’t, but our reputation doesn’t exactly speak otherwise.”

Ewan ran his hand through his blond hair and looked into the emerald eyes that matched his own. He saw the shame and disgust on his brother’s face that he shared. He’d gone much too far in his self-defense and caused greater damage than if he’d accepted her initial accusations and kept quiet.

“What do I do now? How do I make it right without coming across as a cad who’s trying to manipulate her?”

“Pray,” Eoin huffed before breaking into a grin.

“You’re enjoying this far too much. Wait until it’s your turn.”

“That shall be a long wait. I’m only your second, not our father’s heir.”

“You’re not ‘only’ aught. Don’t say that.” Ewan was always quick to come to his brother’s defense, especially when he was trying to convince Eoin that no one thought less of him for being the younger twin. More often than not, Ewan wished he could hand over the burden of becoming laird to someone else–anyone else. But he would never put it on his brother’s shoulders. He struggled with the persistent fear that he would never fill his father’s boots, and his behavior in the Privy Council proved he might be right to possess those concerns. Ewan recognized he hadn’t behaved in a way befitting a laird. He’d been a petulant arse. “I still don’t know what to do to make this right.”

“I’d begin with convincing Father not to rush the marriage. You have an uphill battle ahead of you. You’d do well to come to a truce before the wedding rather than once she’s convinced she’s trapped. You need to court your bride.”

“Court her? I’ll be lucky to get within a league of her without her pulling a blade on me.”

“True,” Eoin admitted.

Ewan looked at Eoin and shook his head. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as he tried to calm his frazzled nerves. He ran his hands through his hair before scrubbing his face. He needed to devise a plan to woo Allyson without coming across as phony and conniving. He wasn’t prepared to change, but he understood he’d have to be more discreet so his betrothed didn’t stumble upon his liaisons again.

 

Chapter Three

 

Allyson arrived at the evening meal as the servants presented the third course. She’d hurried to change, but had spent the better part of a half an hour with her head hanging over the chamber pot as she retched over and over. She failed to ease the tension between her shoulder blades. Her stomach remained in knots as fear of the unknown threatened to drown her until she soothed her frazzled nerves with several drams of whisky smuggled to her by her maid. She felt calm with a cheery warmth in her chest and belly as she approached the table where the other ladies sat. She slipped into her seat but poked at the food placed in front of her. She joined in the conversation when it became unavoidable, but she wasn’t her normally talkative self. The other ladies sensed something was amiss, but no one commented on it.

The longer Allyson sat without eating, the stronger the effects of the whisky took hold. By the time the dancing began, she recognized she was tipsy and should retire for the evening, but when she caught several courtiers smiling in her direction, she stayed. Allyson became aware of the Gordon twins as soon as she entered the Great Hall, and she was aware Ewan kept looking in her direction. She didn’t understand his expression—it appeared to be a combination of guilt, uncertainty, and speculation—and she wasn’t interested in deciphering it. She disliked being on the receiving end.

As one man after another asked Allyson to dance, she allowed them to twirl her about the dance floor. She tipped her head back and laughed when they attempted humor, she flirted when they attempted to tease her, and she redirected their attention when they attempted to seduce her. Allyson moved from one partner to another throughout the night, but steered clear of either of the Gordon brothers. When a member of the Maxwell emissary suggested they step outside for a breath of air, she agreed. The temperature was still frigid, and she didn’t have a cloak with her. She suspected the man would attempt to kiss her, and as long as they remained near the doors, she was confident that she could control the situation.

The bracing air bit into her cheeks and neck as the perspiration turned into ice water against her temples and between her breasts. She looked back at the Great Hall and decided she needed to return, lest she turn into an ice figure rather than a lady.

“It’s quite a bit colder than I realized, and I didn’t bring my cloak. I don’t think I will last long out here. I’m sufficiently cooled, so I believe I will return.”

“I’ll keep you warm, lass.” The young man wrapped a band of steel around her waist, and she realized she’d underestimated the man’s strength. She didn’t even recall his name, as the effects of the whisky had made her forgetful, but the brisk air had sobered her.

“I must return before my father wonders where I’ve gone. He arrived at court today and is keeping a close eye on me.”

“What I intend won’t take long.” He pressed a kiss against her throat. Its gentleness eased her fear, and she relented as his hand caressed her back. He pulled her closer as his lips traveled to her jaw, then cheek, before resting at the corner of her mouth. He paused for a heartbeat before pouncing. He caught Allyson off guard as he pressed his lips against hers, persistently swiping his tongue across her lips. Allyson tried to jerk away, but his steely arm had her locked in place. She grasped fistfuls of his leine as she attempted to push him away. She had no intention of allowing his tongue into her mouth, and didn’t understand why he kept pressing it against her lips. When her attempts to break free failed, she reverted to what she’d done as a child when her older siblings tormented her. She grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked as hard as she could. The thwarted swain bellowed and lashed out. Allyson ducked under his hand as it swung toward where her cheek had been a moment ago. She didn’t hesitate to stomp on his foot and dashed into the dark toward a door she recalled would be unlocked. She heard heavy footsteps following her, but once she reached the hidden door, she sprinted through the passageways, taking the shortest route to her chamber. She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it as she struggled to catch her breath. Allyson lambasted herself for being so foolish as to go out into the dark with the man. The other times she’d allowed a man to kiss her had been quick pecks in the gardens, with daylight and discovery as incentives to keep the interludes brief. She’d been a fool to take such a chance, and she admitted she’d given the man a mixed message. But she also was certain he hadn’t misunderstood her when she struggled to break free. He’d disregarded her attempt to say no, and that was unforgivable to her.

Is that what it will be like once I’m married? Will Ewan force me? Will he give me a chance to say no, or will he take what he wants? 

The fear from earlier in the day, both in the passageway and in the Privy Council, returned. Allyson moved to sit on the foot of her bed as she looked around her chamber. Her roommates would return that night, but she intended to be asleep, or would at least appear to be asleep, by the time they arrived. She assessed her armoire and chests, considering what lay inside. She eased off the mattress and opened one of her chests to pull out a satchel and flipped it open, looking inside for a long moment before glancing at the other contents of the chest. She retrieved a plain kirtle she hadn’t touched since before she returned to court the previous year after spending Christmas with her clan. She’d worn it the last day of the journey to court and then retired it to her chest, acknowledging that it would never meet the standards of courtly attire. She ran her hand over the stitching around the hem, remembering how she’d labored over it, pulling it apart and redoing it until she was certain no one would find fault with it. Her thumbnail picked at the one tiny imperfection where the left side seam met the bottom hem. She remembered how her mother chastised her for the uneven stitching even though it was in a place no one else would notice.

Allyson heaved a deep sigh as she set the gown on the bed and pulled out two older chemises that she’d also worn while traveling. They were sturdily made, but again not the quality expected of a lady-in-waiting. She placed one on top of the kirtle and the other in the satchel, then dug through the chest, pulling out three pairs of stockings, a pair of gloves, and a scarf. These were of superior quality, but the colors were subdued, unlike what she wore in Stirling. They were the clothes of a country laird’s daughter, not a courtier. They were what she preferred, what she felt most comfortable in. Once she’d placed the clothing and her Elliot plaid in the satchel, she lifted what remained in the chest and placed it on the floor beside her. She pried the false bottom from the chest and removed a pouch that filled her palm.

She’d tucked away coins for years and kept them in the suede bag. Anything she’d received for her saint’s day, Christmas, Hogmanay, Beltane, or any other feast, she hoarded. While her sisters had frivolously spent their money at the markets and fairs, purchasing ribbons and sweet treats, Allyson had only bought enough to keep her family from questioning her, anticipating she would one day need the coins after leaving home. She understood as well as any woman that anything she possessed when she wed would become her husband’s, but she also understood a woman should have a nest egg in case her husband failed to provide for her. She’d seen it with her oldest sister, married to a man twice her age who hoped to beget a son. He died of a heart attack in their bed, leaving her sister destitute with her new clan deep in debt. She hadn’t the money to even buy food for herself or her maid on their return to Elliot land. She’d had to rely on the meager contingent of guardsmen loaned to her from her husband’s garrison, and their father had to repay the men for what they’d spent on her sister and the maid. Allyson had sworn to never find herself relying on someone else for a meal and a blanket. She could always provide at least that much for herself. Now she would need the coins when she left Stirling.

Allyson considered her friend Elizabeth Fraser, who had been a lady-in-waiting before her marriage to Edward Bruce, the adopted brother, not blood brother, of King Robert. She and her husband left court and made a home at Inverlochy Castle after a threat to Edward’s life nearly killed Elizabeth. Dare I go to Elizabeth and Edward at Inverlochy? Would they take me? If I can make my way there, I think Elizabeth would allow me to stay until I can figure out what to do next. Doubt niggled at her mind that Edward might send her straight back to Stirling once he learned that she’d disregarded Robert’s order for her to marry Ewan.

I wish Isabella still lived on Dunbar land. At least I know my way around the Lowlands, even if we’re from opposite sides. But she and her husband have gone to the Sinclairs. There’s no way that I could travel that far north on my own. I barely know aught aboot the Highlands that border the southern portion of Scotland. I won’t make it in the wilds alone. A mon or a beast is more likely to attack me than I am to survive.

Allyson remembered how to reach Elliot land from Stirling, but it would be the first place anyone searched. She might go to their neighbors, the Kerrs or the Douglases, but they would turn her over to her father. Desperation set in, but Allyson refused to allow it to dominate her. She hurried her packing and hid the satchel in her chest before undressing and crawling into bed. The candle had just finished smoking when the door creaked open and her roommates entered. They eased through the door and moved about the quiet chamber as they readied themselves for bed. Allyson forced herself to remain still and regulate her breathing despite her mind jumping from one idea to another.

Who says I have to be Allyson Elliot any longer? No one has to discover I’m a laird’s daughter, nor do they need to learn I was ever a lady-in-waiting. For all anyone knows, I’m the young widow of a farmer and couldn’t maintain the plot on my own. I’m a fair seamstress despite what my mother might say, and Morgana said I was a natural in the kitchen. If our clan’s head cook believes that, then I must be at least decent. I don’t intend to work in a tavern, but perhaps I could work for a family in Edinburgh or Glasgow. I can’t remain in Stirling, but I need a city large enough to get lost in. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll say I’m a poor widow willing to assist a shopkeeper or become a maid in exchange for room and board. I must trade my finer clothes for money and use the money to buy less questionable stockings and gloves. I can claim the cloak and scarf were wedding gifts from my husband. I never imagined I’d become a servant, but I know I can do the work. I know how to do the work. At least my mother was wise to ensure all her daughters understood the duties of every servant if we were ever to be a proper chatelaine.

I’d rather be alone than with a husband who will shame me with a mistress under my roof. I don’t want to believe Ewan would ever force me, but he did little to disabuse me of the notion that he might. Some women might accept that lot, but I refuse to be overlooked and discounted any longer. It hurts too bluidy much.

Allyson slipped into slumber as she found some resolution to the quandary of how to evade her arranged marriage. She would figure out the rest when the situation demanded a solution.