Chapter 1

1

“ T illie? Tillie, where are ye, lass?”

Tillie Kilmartin looked up from her painting and sighed.

Now what did her mother want?

It was not like her to walk the grounds. Usually, she would send one of the servants or stable boys to deliver a message.

“There ye are,” Tillie’s mother exclaimed. She was breathing hard from the exertion, her usually pale skin a blotchy pink. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, and she swiped at it with the back of her hand.

“Dinnae ye hear me callin for ye?” Alba Kilmartin, Lady MacFair, waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind about that. Yer father and I need to speak to ye.”

Tillie frowned. “Has somethin’ happened?” she asked, shooting a concerned glance at her mother.

Lady MacFair grinned and nodded. “Aye. We have the best news for ye. So stop dawdlin’, and get back to the keep, so we can inform ye properly.”

Tillie paused and glanced up. “Ye found me a husband.”

It wasn’t a question. Tillie’s parents had been searching for a match for their daughter for a while. She wasn’t in a hurry to wed, though. She had the unpopular desire to marry for love. Her family thought she was a romantic fool, but Tillie didn’t want to settle. She wanted to be happy, and to her, happiness meant a marriage of love, not convenience.

Laird and Lady MacFair, though, were notorious matchmakers. They’d never met a lady or gentleman they couldn’t find a match for. It was an ongoing joke among the family, of which Tillie had plenty. The MacFair clan was rather large with kin scattered across Scotland, some even in England, which kept the couple very busy.

She’d once heard her parents talking about how they had to marry everyone off or else they’d drain the coffers. Tillie knew they weren’t exaggerating. There were so many kinsmen and women that she and her siblings often ran into at least one wherever they went.

She wasn’t surprised her parents had found her a husband, only that it had taken so long. But now, anxiety pooled in her belly. Who had they found, and would she like him?

“Come along, Tillie,” her mother said, breaking into her thoughts. “The Laird is waiting.”

Tillie dutifully fell into step with her mother while she balanced her painting supplies carefully in her arms.

“Who have ye chosen for me, Mother? Is it Lord Evans? Or maybe Laird McGavin?”

Tillie liked both gentlemen well enough although she didn’t think she had much in common with them. However, they were the only men she’d been introduced to in the past few months, so she supposed her parents had accepted an offer from one of them. Lord Evans was English, and since he lived on the border, like Tillie did, she could see her parents choosing him because that wouldn’t mean sending their daughter too far away.

Laird McGavin was Scottish and had a nice castle about a two-hour ride from the keep. He was an older gentleman, but he had seemed nice when they’d met. He’d come to MacFair to look at a horse Tillie’s father wanted to sell, and her mother had instantly brought him inside to meet her. Still, she had doubts about marriage. Unlike other girls of marriageable age, Tillie was not as enthused about having a husband and family. In fact, she didn’t even want children, not with how fertile the Kilmartin’s were.

“Nay, daughter,” Lady MacFair said with a shake of her head. “Ye’ll not be gettin’ any information from me until we’re with yer father.”

Tillie sighed but knew better than to keep pushing her mother. She could be very stubborn when she wanted to, and it appeared this was one of those times.

By the time they reached the keep, Tillie’s arms were aching. Besides the painting equipment, she’d also been carrying a small sitting stool.

Setting her paint brushes down while she waited for her mother to reach her, Tillie took one last glance at her painting. She cocked her head to the side and studied her half-finished work with a critical eye. She’d chosen this field because it was a rare sunny day for this time of the year and the heather happened to be in full bloom.

Everywhere she had looked, the purple flowers dotted the landscape. But there were other vibrant colors too if one knew where to look. And Tillie did. The different shades of grass that varied from light brown to green. The bright blue of the sky that was eclipsed only by the white, fluffy clouds that slowly moved across the great expanse. Even the wild weeds had color, ranging from yellows to bright orange.

And she had captured it all. It was a good painting, and when she got it home, she would be able to complete it from memory. Most of the important outlining and sizing had been done. All she had to do was fill in the colors and shading.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to set down her belongings, but she didn’t have time to catch her breath before her mother grasped her arm and tugged her into the Laird’s study.

He looked up from his desk and smiled when she walked inside. He stood, the legs of his chair scraping slightly against the floor, then walked around the desk and enfolded her in a hug.

“We’ve got good news fer ye,” he said as he broke the hug and pulled back to look at her.

“Ye found me a husband.” Tillie repeated what she’d said to her mother. Her tone was flat and disinterested.

Her father frowned slightly, cast a look at her mother, then nodded. “Aye, daughter. ’Tis a good match.”

“Have I met him?” Tillie asked.

“Nay, I dinnae believe so,” her mother said. “Aidan Bane, Laird MacLuther is excited to meet ye.”

“Laird MacLuther?” Tillie frowned as she tried to remember if she’d ever met the man who was to be her husband. “A Highlander?”

Her father nodded. “Aye. He is a widower but only a few years older than yerself.”

“He sent ye this letter,” Lady MacFair said and thrust out a letter with the seal broken.

Tillie raised an eyebrow at her mother. “Ye read it?”

Her mother didn’t appear to be ashamed if the smile on her face was any indication.

“Aye, we needed to be sure he was the right fit for ye. We sent him yer paintings, includin’ the self portrait ye painted last month, and he seemed impressed.”

Tillie looked at the letter, at the nice, bold handwriting, but didn’t read it yet. She would rather take it to her bed chamber and read it in privacy.

“Ye must hurry, though. The Laird will be here shortly to meet ye in person and take ye back to Castle Geamnaben, his home.”

Tillie’s mouth fell open, and she stared aghast between her mother and father. “He is comin’ today ? And ye are only tellin’ me now?”

This time, her mother had the grace to flush, if only slightly. “We wanted to make sure he was actually goin’ to be here. We just received word he is about a half day’s ride out, so I went to fetch ye immediately. We dinnae ken he had already left days ago.”

When Tillie just stood there, staring at her parents as if they had lost their minds, Lady MacFair continued.

“Read his letter to ye,” she urged. “I think ye will be pleased.”

“Go on, now,” her father said, waving his hand toward the door. “Yer maid is already packin’ yer trunks, so ye need only to read the letter and get dressed.”

Lady MacFair nodded. “Cook is makin’ a nice dinner for His Lairdship to give ye some time to get acquainted.”

“At least there is that,” Tillie muttered as she left her father’s study and climbed the stairs to her chamber.

The family rooms were on the top floor. It was a bit draftier up there, but the rooms were larger and more private. Tillie went into her chamber, still dazed by her parents’ news. She couldn’t believe they were sending her off so soon, without even a warning.

She slowly sat down on her bed and looked around. This would be the last time she saw her chamber. The last time she slept in her bed. What would her new home be like? Would she be comfortable there? Would she like her husband?

The only clue she had about her betrothed was from the letter in her hand. Her hands shook as she unfolded it and began to read.

Tillie read and then reread the letter again. A smile stretched across her face as she cradled the parchment to her chest. Laird McLuther was a romantic, she decided. And he loved her paintings. He did not call it a frivolous endeavor and even said there were plenty of places for her to paint.

Mayhap her parents had made a good choice. The Laird was well-spoken, and she could practically feel the kindness from his words. He, like she, appreciated the beauty of nature and art.

Suddenly Tillie was anxious to meet Laird McLuther. But she couldn’t meet him like this in her painting rags! Jumping up from her bed, she rushed to her closet and pulled the doors open. Her heart fell to her stomach as she realized the maid had already packed her things. But, as she looked closer, she realized there was one dress left behind. A beautiful emerald green gown with a lighter green overskirt.

Tillie laid the dress on her bed and spread out the skirts then rushed to wash her face and hands. The maids and other staff were busy loading her trunks, but thankfully Erica came in to help Tillie get dressed.

“I just cannae believe ye are leavin’ us,” Erica said. She held a silver handled brush in her hand and waved it toward the chair in front of the looking glass.

Tillie obediently sat down and let her sister style her hair. She left strategic soft, brown tendrils curling by her face and as an afterthought, stuck a couple of heather blooms on the sides.

“I cannae believe it either,” Tillie mumbled, absently watching Erica arrange her hair. “And without notice! Why, he’s been travelin’ for nearly a sennight, but he dinnae see fit to send word ahead?”

“Mayhap he’s too eager to see ye in person,” Erica offered.

Dressed and cleaned up as best as she could with such short notice, Tillie stuffed the Laird’s letter inside the inner pocket of her skirt and hurried downstairs, Erica following close on her heels

The sound of an unfamiliar male voice floated up to her as she descended the stairs. Her heart skipped a beat as excitement and dread warred within her breast. Although she looked forward to meeting Laird MacLuther, she just wished she had time to get to know him first.

Tillie’s steps slowed as she neared the main hall. Usually, there were several people at any given time of the day inside the hall, but right now, she could only see her family. As she stepped further inside, though, she laid eyes on the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. Was this to be her husband?

He was very tall. That was the first thing she noticed. And fit. He wore dark trews and a dark shirt that showed off his broad shoulders, trim waist, and long, muscular legs. Tillie’s gaze traveled upward and caught on his black hair, so dark it reminded her of a raven. She could only see his profile until he suddenly looked her way, made aware of her presence somehow.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her steps faltered. His face was sun warmed and all angles. It was as if a master carpenter chiseled his features. But it was his eyes that were so captivating. They were a deep blue, so blue it almost hurt to look at them. He was so big and muscular, Tillie shivered. He could snap her in half if he wanted to.

“Tillie,” Lady MacFair said. Her tone was relieved, as if she’d been waiting for Tillie for too long. “Laird MacLuther has arrived.”

Tillie walked over to the Laird and dipped into a deep curtsey. When she stood, she gave him her best, most welcoming smile. “Laird MacLuther.”

The Laird studied her from head to toe, his gaze spending longer than was appropriate on her hips. But he didn’t bother to even greet her and instead just continued to stare at her, making Tillie feel very uncomfortable.

“Ye must be thirsty after yer travel,” Tillie observed. “May I get ye some refreshments?”

“Laird MacLuther has expressed his desire to return home,” Lady MacFair said, her mouth pulled down in a show of disapproval.

Tillie’s eyes rounded. “Surely ye have time for a small respite,” she argued.

The Laird shook his head, sending strands of dark hair swirling around his broad shoulders. “Nay. We leave now.”

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