Chapter 1

Robertson Castle, 1690

It was a warm morning. The kind of summer day Billie would usually make the most of by going out and looking for herbs and healing plants. But so far, she hadn’t left the castle. She had been reading instead, tucked into a corner in the drawing room, the sunlight streaming through the large windows keeping her warm, much like a cat who lounged in the morning sun.

After a message from one of the maids, her feet carried her swiftly through the corridors of the castle as she searched for her sister, the only one of the three still living there. It was a big place, but Billie knew her most frequented spots and visited them all looking for her: the kitchens, the flower garden, the training grounds.

And in the end, the library.

Billie pushed the door open without knocking, which probably meant the sight before her could have been avoided. Abigail was pushing a guard, Aidan, up against one of the bookcases, the poor man looking as though he was under threat of a sword when the door suddenly opened, his lips red and swollen.

Abigail, for her part, only looked amused, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder as her hands rested on the young man’s shoulders.

It was far from the first time Billie had caught her sister with a guard, especially Aidan, whose dark hair and handsome features had quickly established him as Abigail’s favorite. And yet heat rose to her face, her gaze focusing itself on a well-cracked spine of a book at the other end of the room. Though older by two years, Billie was nowhere near as comfortable with such things as her sister, and the mere thought of a kiss was enough to bring butterflies to her stomach, their wings fluttering inside her.

“Faither wishes tae speak tae us,” Billie said fighting a smile at the sight of such a blushed man. “I’ve been lookin’ everywhere fer ye.”

“An’ ye found me,” Abigail said with a grin, as she stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss on Aidan’s blushing cheek. The moment she pulled back from him, he cleared his throat, bowed at the two of them, and fled the room. Though had Billie not interrupted, she was certain he would have tried to keep Abigail there for as long as possible.

“Ye shouldnae torture the guards,” Billie said, as she and her sister made her way to their father’s study.

“It’s a sweet torture,” Abigail said. “An’ I’ve never heard them complain.”

Billie could not understand how Abigail did it. The two of them were as alike in appearance as they were unlike in spirit. When they were little, they had often been mistaken for each other, donning the same blonde hair and grey eyes, the same sloped nose and high forehead. However, as they had grown, it had become evident who was who. Not only had Abigail’s hair darken to a honeyed blonde while Billie’s had remained the same, but Billie could always be found with a book in her hand, while Abigail could be found stealing bannocks and chasing boys. In her twenty-one years, Billie had never managed to gather up the courage and flirt with a guard and she didn’t think she ever would.

“Maybe ye should try it,” Abigail suggested as if reading Billie’s mind. “There are plenty o’ handsome guards here.”

Billie shook her head, an amused chuckle forming on her lips. “I dinnae think so,” she said. “I am perfectly happy as I am.”

“Readin’ all day an’ gatherin’ herbs fer yer potions?” Abigail asked.

“They’re nae potions,” Billie pointed out. It wasn’t the first time her sister had tried to push her to find romance, nor was it the first time they had had this conversation. Billie had endless patience for Abigail, but she didn’t see why she couldn’t simply accept the fact that she had no interest in romance. It would only hold her back from what she truly wanted to do: help people. “They are salves an’ medicine. Ye make me sound like a witch.”

“Ach, ye’re certainly nae a witch,” Abigail said, as she looped her arm around Billie’s, tugging her along. “Ye’re too bonnie tae be a witch.”

“Maybe I use me magic tae appear bonnie,” Billie teased, drawing a laugh out of her sister. “Maybe I’m hideous under all the spells.”

Abigail scrutinized her for a moment, as if trying to look behind the veil of the magic. “Nay. I’ve kent ye yer entire life, so I ken what ye look like. Besides, I dinnae think a lad would care either way.”

It was Billie’s turn to laugh, the sound bubbling out of her as they reached their father’s study. She couldn’t help but think Abigail was right.

Their father’s voice called them in when they knocked on his door, and Billie opened it to find him hunched over his desk, looking like a shadow of himself among all his books and papers. Her father, Laird Robertson, was far from a small man and was always imposing, even when he sat in his grand chair, behind that large, oak desk, bracketed by all his bookcases filled to the point of near collapse with old books and items he had collected. To see him like that, shoulders drooping and head dropped between them, could only mean that something was terribly wrong.

“Faither?” Billie asked, rushing to his side. Abigail followed her, closing the door behind her. “What happened? Is somethin’ the matter?”

Her father gave her a small, half-hearted smile. “I received news,” he said. “Two letters have come fer us. Sit… and I shall tell ye.”

Reluctantly, Billie left his side to sit across from him, she and Abigail occupying the two chairs before his desk. Though he seemed morose, he lacked the urgency which would betray the arrival of terrible news, and so Billie found herself reassured, at least to some degree. Surely, if it was something truly terrible, he would be more inclined to tell them swiftly.

“One o’ the letters is from yer sister,” he said. “I received it only this mornin’ from Evangeline an’ it says she is with child.”

Twin gasps echoed in the room, Billie and Abigail looking at each other with glee at the news. Evangeline had been with Iain for a while now and Billie knew how much they both wanted a child. Billie’s heart warmed at the thought of being an aunt to their children, of seeing them raise Iain’s heirs together.

But surely, she thought, that is joyous news. Why was her father unhappy?

“Is somethin’ wrong with Evangeline or the bairn, Faither?” Billie asked, leaning a little forward in her seat in concern. “Did she write that she’s feeling unwell?”

“Nay, nay,” her father said, quick to reassure her. “Naething o’ the sort. She is perfectly healthy an’ happy, an’ they say the bairn seems strong, too.”

Billie sighed in relief. She loved all her sisters dearly, the four of them inseparable throughout the years, even now that Evangeline and Keira lived away from home with their husbands. She wouldn’t have been able to bear it if something happened to one of them.

“Then why are ye like this?” Abigail asked. “What is the matter? Shouldnae ye be happy about our sister?”

“I am,” their father said. “I am very happy, dinnae misunderstand. But as I told ye, there is another letter. I received it early this mornin’, an’ I’ve been thinkin’ about what tae dae since.”

Billie exchanged a concerned glance with Abigail. It wasn’t often that their father looked so weighed down by worry, so helpless. Even in times of crisis, he was the kind of man who used all his efforts to make a plan rather than worry.

Somethin’ must be different now.

Whatever it was that was bothering him, Billie knew it was serious. She could only hope there were no rumors of a war—the Highlands had seen their fair share of bloodshed throughout the previous years, and Billie didn’t want her family to be caught in the middle of yet another conflict.

“The other letter is from the King,” their father said, and though Billie hadn’t thought it possible, he looked at them with even more concern and sadness than before, as if he was looking at them for the last time. “He wishes one o’ ye tae wed the new Laird MacAuley.”

Billie was speechless, her mouth hanging open uselessly as her gaze darted between her father and her sister, trying to make sense of this. It wasn’t so strange that the king—or perhaps his advisors—wanted a strong alliance for the new laird of the MacAuley Clan after Keira’s husband, Cormac, and his twin brother Ellair, had killed the old laird and his right-hand man, the clan soon falling into chaos.

She had heard of Laird MacAuley’s son’s return to Scotland. Everyone had heard of it, how the council, in need of a new laird, had reached out to Domnhall MacAuley, asking him to come back and take his rightful place. Billie had just never considered the possibility that she or Abigail would be swept into it all, one of them forced into marrying the man.

“Why us?” asked Billie. “Why must it be one of us who marries him?”

“I suppose they are countin’ on the support o’ the MacThomas an’ the MacLaren Clans,” her father said. “Yer sisters are married intae those clans, so Iain an’ Cormac will have nae choice but tae support the MacAuleys in case o’ conflict if one o’ ye is married tae the laird.”

It made sense, of course. Through marriage, the Robertson Clan had become one of the most powerful in the area, and it only made sense that the MacAuleys would want some of that power and protection that a Robertson bride would offer, guaranteeing the Robertson Clan as an ally.

“The order came from the king, ye said?” Abigail asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Aye,” their father said. “But I will find a way tae change his mind. I willnae force ye intae a marriage ye dinnae want.”

It was nice of him to try, Billie thought, but she knew it would be hopeless. All three of them knew it. If the order had come straight from the King and his council, then there was no way to avoid it, unless they found a better candidate.

And as things were, there was no better candidate.

Billie glanced at Abigail from the corner of her eye. Her little sister had always been a daydreamer, always imagining the moment she would marry the man of her dreams, a man she would love, not someone she would have to marry out of convenience or because someone else willed it. She always spoke of the day she would meet someone who would make her feel like the most special woman in the world, and Billie couldn’t help but doubt that man would be the new laird of the MacAuley Clan. He, too, after all, was marrying for convenience, not love.

For all Billie knew, he wouldn’t even try to give Abigail the life she wanted. For all she knew, he would be just like his father, cruel and terrifying, or if not as bad, then at least cold and distant.

Billie couldn’t let such a fate befall her little sister. She had spent her entire life protecting her, and she wasn’t going to stop now, when it mattered the most.

Standing, Billie tried to gather up her courage and force the words out of her mouth. There was only one way this could end, and she had to come to terms with that. For a moment, she glanced at the book in her hand, the cover worn with age, the pages crinkled where she had pressed her fingers time after time. She knew it almost by heart. She could name all the herbs in its pages, all the practices it taught to heal wounds.

She placed it on her father’s desk with a thump.

“I will dae it,” she said. “I will marry him.”

At her words, Abigail and her father gave her identical looks of surprise, and in that moment, Abigail truly looked like her father’s daughter.

“Billie… ye dinnae have tae dae this,” her father said, shaking his head. “I told ye, I will find a way tae change the King’s mind.”

Even as he spoke, her father must have noticed how impossible that was. He averted his gaze with a sigh, running a hand through his greying hair and tugging at it as if trying to rip it out in his despair.

“We all ken ye cannae dae that, Faither,” Billie said gently. If she was going to do this, she didn’t want him or her sisters to worry about her. She wanted them all to realize it was her choice and hers alone, and that she was fine with it. Either way, she would have to marry one day, that much she knew. At least if she married Domnhall MacAuley, Abigail would have a chance at finding true love, like she had always wanted.

“Ye dinnae ken that,” her father insisted. “I could write tae the King?—”

“Please,” Billie said, holding up a hand to silence him. It only made it harder for her, listening to him. She desperately wanted to agree, to tell her father he should do anything in his power to change the king’s mind, but that would only be harmful to him and the clan. The last thing Billie wanted was to earn the King’s wrath and lose his favor. “It’s fine, I promise ye. I will be fine. It’s me own choice an’ I stand by it. Ye can write tae the King an’ Laird MacAuley an’ tell them I accept.”

Her father hesitated, and when Billie turned to look at her sister, she found her wide-eyed, her bottom lip trembling just slightly. She gave her a small, reassuring smile, though she didn’t know if it had the intended effect. After all, Billie herself hardly felt reassured.

“If he is cruel… if he wishes tae hurt ye, ye will tell me,” her father said. It wasn’t a request. He wasn’t going to let that go, even if there wouldn’t be much for him to do if the man was truly cruel.

Still, Billie nodded. Everyone knew the kind of man his father had been, and no one in their right mind would want to give their daughter to his son.

“I will,” she promised. “But dinnae fash. I’m certain everythin’ will be fine.”

Her voice didn’t waver as she spoke, nor did her smile. She could do this. She could be strong for her sister, for her father, for her entire family.

She could bear it for them.