Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Uncle wishes everyone to dine together tonight," Jocelyn said quietly, sitting down on the dressing table's bench, next to Blair.

Blair quietly nodded, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her vibrant eyes glistened in the sun washing through her room. She could see the window behind her, the drapes open wide, letting in the light. She stood and walked over, pulling them shut. "Please, sisters, I've asked we keep this window closed."

Deirdre, the youngest of the sisters, sat on the edge of her bed, braiding her long red hair. "I never understood why. As the oldest, Blair, you have the best room in the keep. Ye can see the whole countryside from that window. Though I'd much rather explore it than stare at it."

Blair held tightly onto the drapes, flashes of the night, eight years before, when her father came riding up on the horse. Her sisters had all been too young to remember. Blair was the eldest at eighteen. Jocelyn was three years younger than her, Aoife, six years younger, and Deirdre, eight years younger, barely two when their father passed. Blair sometimes had trouble remembering that night, and she had been right at the center of it.

She put her hand to her cheek, the place she last felt the warmth of her father's hand.

"Blair," Aoife said. "Are you alright?"

Blair took a deep breath, pulling herself out of the memory. "Of course. Yes, the Laird wishes us to be at dinner. I suppose he'll want to officially announce the wedding."

Jocelyn glanced at Blair as she sat back down next to her. Her sister shook her head. "I suppose I'm next, though I don't seem to mind as much as you do. I'd do anything to get away from our uncle and his wretched son. I hope whoever I marry has a huge library."

"Quiet," Deirdre whispered. "You never know if cousin Bram can overhear."

Aoife sighed. "It would surely be another week of torture fer us all."

Blair turned on the bench, looking at each of her sisters. Sadness shrouded her heart looking at their beautiful faces. All three were the epitome of their dear mother, all orphaned just a year after their father's passing, when she took ill and passed during the night. From that moment forward, it was Blair's responsibility to keep them as safe as possible. They, including her, were supposed to be the heirs to the clan, despite being women.

"You'll put on the bravest and most proper of faces. You'll curtsy to our uncle and thank him for keeping us all these years. You'll give Bram no reason to get ye in trouble."

"He'll find a reason, even if there ain't one," Aoife grumped.

"And you'll hold yer head up high just as father did in hard times, whether you remember or not. Ye are the daughters of a Laird and Lady, don't ye forget that. Ye know Bram and the Laird never will. Now, go on, get ready fer dinner. I won't have any of ye lookin' a mess."

As Jocelyn stood, Blair took her wrist. Blair waited until the others had left the room. "Ye remember, when I'm gone, ye're the eldest in the castle. Yer job will be to look after those two like I would. At least until ye're married off as well."

Jocelyn nodded, whispering. "It's not fair. This is our home."

Blair took a deep breath and stood up, pulling Jocelyn's shoulders back. "Many things aren't fair for a Highland woman. We take what we are given, and we make the best of it, ye understand? We have a duty to our father, God rest him, and to our mother too. Not Bram, not uncle, none of 'em can take our blood connection to this clan away, ye hear?"

Jocelyn lifted her chin and nodded, hugging Blair. She hurried out of the room and closed the door behind her. Blair sat down on the bench and sighed, grabbing her brush. She undid the large braid in her hair and slowly ran the brush through her wavy hazel locks. She stared at her reflection with every stroke, thinking about what the future would hold for her.

Blair lived with so many questions she dared not speak around her uncle. She knew that her father wanted for her to be the one to take over the clan, despite her being a lass. She knew her father had died from a wound caused by another person, but everything else was lost. When her father died, her uncle immediately stepped up, becoming the Laird. He moved his son, Bram into the castle but allowed her mother and the girls to stay. The night her mother died, her uncle gave her just a few minutes to say goodbye, before casting the girls to their quarters to mourn. At the time, she thought for sure her uncle would open his arms to them like a father, but instead, he turned away from them and shut them off.

They were allowed to stay at the castle, but had all servant staff taken away, and were charged with common chores around the grounds. They were treated as property, their names constantly thrown around as possible treasure to be traded. Blair could never understand why her uncle hated her so much, but it passed down to Bram as well. He tortured the girls, locking them in the dungeons, burning their beautiful gifts from their father, and threatening them on a daily basis. He hated them as much as her uncle did.

And now…it was only getting worse for them. Blair was to be married. She knew that she was past the age she should've been, but the marriage came as a shock for her. She had thought for sure that her uncle would have her spend her days as a spinster, unwed, caring for her sisters. She had long since figured she would end up joining the healers, or becoming staff of some sort, until one day, all that was left of her father's memories was the faint pink stain on the entryway's stones. It was barely visible, but Blair took notice every time she passed over it.

Blair carefully rebraided her hair before pulling it back into a bun. She pinned it neat and plain, knowing the best thing to do around her uncle was to blend in as much as possible. Blair shook her head, thinking back to when she was a child, when she loved every time that her father would call for a feast. There would be music and laughter. She would wear her best skirts and dance around the hall with her sisters, watching her mother and father smile dotingly down on them. The entire castle was different back then. The light shone through all the windows, food was plentiful, music bountiful, and the clan came together as a family.

Reaching down the front of her blouse, Blair pulled a small medallion from her breast, opening it. It was a locket, with the clan's crest and a single rose etched on the outside. Blair kept it on a long chain, tucked in secrecy from the outside eye. It was one of the very few things she had left of them, one of the few things her cousin Bram hadn't taken away or tossed in the fire. On the night her mother died, she had tucked it secretly into Blair's hand and whispered to her to keep it hidden.

Older now, Blair realized her mother knew they wouldn't be safe once she passed. She only wished her sisters had such vibrant memories of their parents. Almost everything they could remember was of the days when their uncle took hold of the clan. Those were darker days, and not just for the sisters. They were darker for the clan as well. People went hungry, gave too much to the Laird, and were hustled by the Laird's guards when crops didn't yield, or someone fell ill.

Blair struggled to understand how they found themselves in that place. How they had been cast into darkness and ruin, after that dark rainy night.

A whistle of wind echoed down the hall, making Blair's heart race. Since their mother's death, almost all of the tapestries and drapes had been pulled from their area of the castle, leaving a long and cold draft. The whistle of the wind down the corridor always brought shivering memories back to Blair. She could see the blood on her hands, the sound of the healers yelling orders, and the wild shadows dancing ominously across the castle walls. Through the haze and smoke, she could remember the old wise woman, and how her eyes, so blue and clear, pierced her to her core. One touch from the woman had sent all her fear to the wind, and set her in motion as the caregiver of her sisters.

It was almost as if the woman knew what was to come. Blair knew the old woman was the only one left, if she were even still alive, that knew what really happened to her father that night. Her sisters were all too young to remember, and even Jocelyn barely remembered the storm. The only thing she vaguely remembered was Blair returning to the room with blood on her cheek, hands, and tunic.

Her goal, until the marriage was announced, was to seek out this wise woman and find out what the truth was. Blair needed to know what happened to her father all those years ago. She had everything in her mind planned and had even learned the way of the sword, having her friend teach her at odd hours of the night. When her uncle told her of her pending marriage, it nearly broke her. She was enraged that she would be given away, made to part from her sisters, her clan, her lands. She had argued with her uncle that night, and it took months for the bruises on her face—from when Bram found her walking in tears from her uncle's library—to return to a regular coloring.

If nothing else, Blair knew it would be a good warning to her sisters to not argue with their uncle, because Bram was always watching. Not that they didn't know what a good whooping felt like. Bram had been told by their uncle to keep it hidden from plain view, meaning not to leave marks on their faces, like he did when he was younger. Luckily, as he got older, when they were out of sight, they were out of mind, so Blair and her sisters lived in the shadows, trying to avoid the torture as much as possible.

Being required to have dinner with everyone was not something that happened often with the sisters. Normally, they took their meals with the staff, or in their rooms. While Blair didn't know if he would announce her marriage at dinner, she was more concerned about being there in her uncle's view, and more importantly, within their cousin's.

A knock echoed on the door, making Blair jump. She tucked her necklace back into her blouse and looked in the mirror one last time before standing up. Opening the door, she found a guard with her sisters standing quietly behind her. The guard nodded. "The Laird requires you and your sisters' attendance at the feast tonight. He sends a message with it. He asks to remind you what impropriety gets you and hopes you have learned from your mistakes in the past. This dinner is not for you or your sisters, but others will want to see you as part of it."

"Of course," Blair whispered quietly. "We shall be quiet and still like statues."

"Very good," the guard replied, allowing Blair to shut the door and join her sisters.

They looked to Blair as they walked, and she forced herself to stand tall, keeping her chin up. She knew they would follow suit, not looking around them, not fidgeting, and holding the same honor on their shoulders they would have if it were their father himself asking them to join dinner. Blair knew it would irritate Bram and her uncle, but she refused to allow them to show their fear and insecurity to the crowd that would have been summoned to them.

Blair was a McMillan, and she would never forget that, no matter what man she was given away to. She just hoped that when she left, they wouldn't become the last of her father's name.