Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

T he chill in the air made Ciara shiver and she pulled her cloak around her tighter. Her breath appeared in wispy plumes as she knelt in the gardens behind her father’s keep. If he knew she had erected a small shrine to her mother, he no doubt would have gone berserk and destroyed it, so she’d had to keep it a closely guarded secret. Well beyond the grave markers of her twin brother, who’d perished just after birth, and the other stillborn children that filled the family cemetery, her mother’s marker was well hidden among the flowering shrubs near a small pond. With the riot of colors from the shrubs, the butterflies that frequented the area, and the sense of peace that permeated the air, Ciara was sure her mother would have loved it there.

Though she knew there was no body beneath the crudely crafted marker she had placed in her honor, having a place she felt like she could commune with her made Ciara feel better. Maybe it was silly. Her father would have certainly thought it foolish, but Ciara liked to sit out in the spot she’d created for her mother just to talk to her. Some days, she thought she could even feel her mother’s presence with her. Those days brought her a sense of peace and comfort that was absent in most every other corner of her life.

“I am sorry, Mama,” Ciara said softly. “I have tae do this. I just hope ye can understand. I cannae marry that man. I willnae. I just ask… please watch over me. And if it’s nae too much bother, watch over Elspeth too.”

She idly plucked away the leaves and debris that had collected on the marker since her last visit, doing her best to clean it up. Her mother deserved no less. The sound of footsteps rushing through the leaves and undergrowth sent a surge of adrenaline through Ciara’s veins and when she turned to see it was only Elspeth approaching, she let out a breath of relief.

“It’s gettin’ close tae dark,” the handmaiden said. “We should see about gettin’ you ready fer the feast or yer faither will have me hide.”

“Is everything else ready?”

Elspeth nodded. “It is. Ready and waiting.”

“Good.”

“Last time I’ll ask, but are ye sure?—”

“I’m more than sure, Elspeth. Enough with the questions.”

“Fair enough. I just felt like I needed tae ask one more time,” she said then paused as something akin to grief was etched into her features.

“What it is?” Ciara asked.

“Nothin’. I’m just goin’ tae miss ye is all.”

“I’m comin’ back, Elspeth. Just as soon as I can.”

“I ken. I just… we’ve nae been apart since we was just babes.”

Ciara stepped forward and pulled her friend into a tight, warm embrace. The girl melted into her arms, and they clung together for several long moments. Elspeth finally stepped back and used the cuff on her sleeve to dab her suddenly red and watery eyes. Ciara took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze, holding her gaze.

“I am comin’ back,” she said fiercely. “And when I do, things will be different here. Things will be better. I promise ye.”

“I believe ye. I dae.”

Hand in hand, they strolled through the garden back to the keep. The sun was slipping toward the horizon, casting the sky aflame in vivid shades of red and orange. But the bank of dark clouds in the distance sent a chill through Ciara for she knew that cold weather and very likely, snow, were on their way. The trek to the Highlands would be difficult. But her plan was already in motion and there was no turning back.

“Here she is,” her father said. “Lord Fairfax, I would like tae formally introduce ye tae me daughter and yer bride-tae-be, Ciara MacDougal.”

The English nobleman stepped forward and took her in. Dressed in white breeches, high boots, and a deep, rich blue surcoat that bore his house sigil over a white linen shirt, Fairfax gave off an air of nobility. His white-blond hair was cut short and neatly styled and he wore a thick mustache to match. His long, angular face and slightly hooked nose only reinforced that air of nobility he wore as comfortably as the furs he had draped over his shoulders.

“Good evening, me lady,” Fairfax said.

Dipping into a slight curtsey, Ciara nodded. “Good evening, Lord Fairfax.”

He reached out with long, slim fingers and gripped her by the chin, raising her head then turned it side to side, inspecting her. Her face burned with the indignity, and it took every ounce of strength in her to not slap his hands away. While she was able to control her hands, Ciara couldn’t manage to control her mouth.

“Would ye care tae check me teeth and ears next?” she snapped.

Fairfax paused and stared at her for a moment, seemingly stunned by her outburst. His hard, icy blue eyes bore into hers and as she stared in their depths, Ciara knew all the stories about his cruelty were one hundred percent true. This was a man who enjoyed inflicting pain onto others. The corner of his mouth quirked upward as he released her chin then turned to his father who was glaring at her, his face lined with mortification.

“Begging pardon fer me daughter,” her father said. “She sometimes forgets her place.”

“Nothing to apologize for. She’s very spirited. I’ve had horses like that,” Fairfax replied, his voice crisp and curt. “I find it makes the moment you break them, that moment when they submit to your will, incredibly satisfying.”

“Quite so,” her father said then raised his wine goblet. “Tae breaking the spirited ones.”

“Indeed. To breaking the spirited ones,” Fairfax said, his eyes never leaving Ciara.

His words and the look on his face sent a flood of ice water washing through her veins and she suppressed a shudder. It was quickly replaced though, with a rush of heat as the anger built inside of her once more. To be looked at and treated like a prize horse at auction was the pinnacle of disrespect. If she’d had a sword, she would have run them both through.

She gave herself a small shake and pushed those dark thoughts away. She just had to get through the meal. If she could do that, she would be able to put it all behind her. She just had to hold it together for a little while longer.

“I hope ye’ve brought yer appetite, Lord Fairfax,” her father said. “Me cooks have put together a feast unlike anything ye’ve had before.”

“As it so happens, I am famished,” he replied.

“It’s good tae hear. Then come, let’s share a meal together,” her father said. “Ciara, come,” he ordered looking at her behind his shoulder like she was the family dog.

He was being so deferential and servile, it was all she could do to keep from getting sick. Her father was many things, but obsequious was not one of them. Until now, apparently. He was very clearly desperate to curry favor with Fairfax and it turned her stomach. That he would sell out to the English the way he was doing made her as sick as it made her angry. Aligning with the English was a death sentence for their clan. Ciara didn’t know how he couldn’t see it.

The dinner passed uneventfully. Ciara didn’t eat much, drank even less, and spoke rarely. Truthfully, she hadn’t uttered a single word the entire meal. Not that her father or soon-to-be husband had noticed. Or asked her thoughts about anything. She was there merely as a prop. As something for Fairfax to leer at and, judging by the lecherous gleam in his eyes, imagine the foul and vile ways he would have her once they had taken their vows. Ciara thought it was too bad for him he would never get to fulfill those fantasies. Not while she was still breathing anyway.

After dinner, they moved to her father’s salon where the two men continued the discussion about war and politics, and their dissatisfaction with the monarchy, they had begun over dinner. Ciara sat in the corner, cradling the glass of after-dinner wine that had been poured for her, listening to their inane ramblings.

“Well,” her father finally said as the end of the evening blessedly drew near. “I must bid ye a good night, but I encourage ye tae stay and get tae ken me daughter better.”

Ciara’s blood ran cold—colder still when Fairfax turned his cold, predatory eyes upon her.

“I thank you for your hospitality, Laird MacDougal,” the Englishman said. “This evening has been most… pleasant.”

The way he eyed her made Ciara think he had plans to cap the evening with an experience he thought even more pleasant. Gooseflesh broke out all over her body. Her father fixed her with a gaze that silently reminded her of his admonition to give Lord Fairfax whatever he wanted. With a slight bow to the English lord, her father turned and exited the chamber, the resounding boom of the heavy door closing behind him reminding Ciara of the door to one of the dark cells beneath the keep being shut.

“Well,” Fairfax said. “I must say, your father told me you were a beauty, but honestly, I was not expecting much. Most of you Scots… well… let us just say most are not to my satisfaction. But you, Ciara, are a rare jewel.”

“I am so glad tae be tae yer lofty standards, me lord.”

He clucked his tongue. “We will, of course, need to do something about blunting that razor-sharp tongue of yours. Lucky for you, I have some thoughts on the matter.”

Ciara got to her feet and moved behind the chair, doing her best to keep the heavy furniture between her and the lecherous man. Moving slowly but deliberately, he circled around, forcing Ciara to keep moving. They did this dance around the chamber for several long minutes before he stopped in front of the fireplace, an expression of exasperation on his face. He set his goblet down on the mantle above the roaring fire and turned to her, the exasperation fading, replaced by a dark anger that set his icy blue eyes alight.

“As much as I enjoy a spirited woman, these games grow tiresome,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “Come to me right now, Ciara.”

“I willnae.”

“You are to be my wife,” he says. “As such, there are duties you are expected to perform.”

“Perhaps. But I cannae help but notice that I am nae yer wife yet.”

“Your father instructed you to make me happy, yes?”

“Aye. He did.”

“Then you should know that I am not happy right now.”

A cruel little grin quirked the corner of her mouth. “Me Ma used tae tell me our happiness is always in our own hands.”

Fairfax’s lips curled back in a sneer. “Girl, you do not want to test me.”

“I am nae feeling well, me lord. I believe I should retire fer the evening.”

“Not until I’ve had a kiss.”

“Me lord, I am nae sure how it is done in England, but here in Scotland, a lady doesnae give up her virtue until her wedding night. Tonight is nae our wedding night, hence I willnae be giving up me virtue.”

“I have heard a great many tales of your Scottish virtue,” he said. “My understanding is the lot of you are wanton harlots, ready to give it to any man who asks.”

“Then ye have heard what we Scots like tae call fairy tales,” she said and set her goblet down on the table. “Goodnight, Lord Fairfax. We will speak again on the morrow.”

“Ciara, I will have my kiss.”

“Then perhaps ye should go find one of those wanton harlots ye’ve been told about.”

Before he could reply, Ciara bolted from the salon and dashed through the corridors of the keep until she got to her room. She burst in, then quickly closed the door behind her, making sure to lock it. Once she was certain nobody could get in, she stripped out of her gown and pulled the bag from beneath the bed and opened it. She dressed in a pair of black breeches, high boots, and a linen shirt. She pulled a plain black surcoat over that, then wrapped herself in a dark green cloak.

Once she was dressed, Ciara went to her window and slipped out. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she quickly made her way into the woods. She crept through the darkness, moving as swiftly and silently as she could until she came to the rocky outcropping where Elspeth waited.

“How did it go?” Elspeth asked.

“As well as could be expected, I suppose. But there is nay going back now.”

Elspeth looked worried as she handed over her horse’s reins. Ciara quickly tied her bag to the saddle and made sure she had her bow and sword. Once she was sure she had everything, she turned and pulled her friend into a tight embrace.

“Where will ye go?” Elspeth asked.

“I dinnae ken yet.”

“Ye’re going tae need money.”

“Aye. I managed tae filch some from Faither, but I will definitely need more.”

“The Highland Games will be startin’ soon. With yer skills with a bow and a sword, I’m sure ye’ll be able tae win enough tae sustain ye for a bit.”

Ciara nodded. She hadn’t even thought about the Games. Of course. It was perfect.

“That’s brilliant. A fine idea,” she said. “I’ll start there.”

Elspeth’s eyes shimmered and her cheeks glistened in the moonlight. Ciara took her hands and gave them a squeeze.

“I’m going tae miss ye,” Elspeth said.

“And I’ll miss ye too,” Ciara replied. “But I’ll be home before ye ken it.”

“I hope so.”

“I ken so.”

They embraced one last time before Ciara jumped into the saddle and got herself seated. She turned and gave Elspeth a final smile.

“Be safe, lass,” she said. “And God be with ye.”

“Ye be safe too, Elspeth. I’m sure me departure will cause some… upheaval. Keep yer head down,” Ciara replied.

“I will.”

Ciara turned her horse and started down the darkened path that cut through the forest, moving quickly through the mottled shadows.

“All right,” she said to the horse. “Tae the Isle of Skye we go then.”