Chapter 6

Billie’s chambers were predictably impressive, with a large, ornate bed and carved furniture that must have been in the family for generations. The walls were decorated brightly and the large window at the far end of the room flooded the place with light.

Billie spent only a few moments there, until the servants had left, before she rushed to her sister’s chambers. They were only two doors down from her own, and it took her only moments to find them, knocking but not bothering to wait for an answer before she walked in.

Abigail rolled her eyes, but Billie didn’t have time for her scolding attitude now.

“I must speak with ye,” she said, rushing over to take her hand and pull her into one of the chairs by the window. She occupied the other, noticing how this room, too, was grand and bright, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the laird’s room looked like if the guests were received with such opulence. “Ye dinnae have tae say anythin’ if ye dinnae wish tae talk tae me. I only need ye tae listen.”

Perhaps it was the urgency in her voice or perhaps Abigail’s fear and anger were fading fast. Either way, she leaned a little closer, a concerned frown on her face.

“What is it?” she asked. “Is it… because o’ what happened?”

Billie nodded, though it wasn’t exactly the truth. She didn’t know where to start, though, how to explain anything that had happened to Abigail. Her embarrassment and her shame were suffocating, tearing her words to pieces before they even managed to make it past her lips.

“I’m sure it was simply a misunderstandin’, like the laird said,” Abigail assured her. “He seemed eager tae marry ye afterwards.”

“It’s… nae as simple,” was all Billie could say for a few moments. Then she took a deep breath and tried again. “Last night, when I left ye… I told ye I met a man. An’… an’ we kissed an’…”

Billie stammered through her words, her cheeks burning with embarrassment even as Abigail chuckled softly. It wasn’t an unkind or mocking sound, but rather a patient one, just a little amused.

“I understand what happens between a man an’ a woman, Billie,” Abigail reminded her. “Aye, ye said ye had a lovely time. At least until ye fled.”

“Aye,” Billie said. “Well, I didnae ken at the time, but I ken now that the man was… Laird MacAuley.”

It took a few instants for it to register in Abigail’s mind, judging by the way her smirk held for a few moments, before finally fading. Then she chuckled nervously, as though she expected Billie to tell her it was all a tasteless joke, but when she saw how serious she was, her mouth fell open in shock.

“I cannae believe it,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Is that why he said he wouldnae marry ye?”

“Aye,” said Billie. “He said he didnae want a wife who is tainted.”

“But yer nae tainted!” Abigail protested. “Ye havnae even looked at a lad all these years! Surely, he cannae simply refuse tae marry ye because o’ this. Did ye explain it tae him?”

“We’ll still marry,” Billie reminded her, though she couldn’t explain to her how she had managed to convince Domnhall to go on with the original plan. She didn’t want her sister to know the lengths she was willing to reach to give her the life she wanted to have and to save her from an unwanted marriage. When Domnhall had demanded to marry Abigail, instead, Billie had seen her sister’s terror in her eyes and in the way she had grabbed her, as though she was the only thing keeping her grounded. Billie would never let her suffer such a fate.

For a few moments, Abigail was silent, considering everything Billie had told her. Then, she asked, “Was he very angry?”

“More than ye would believe,” Billie said with a sigh. “But it’s alright. I can handle him.”

If Domnhall thought he could get away with harming her or ruining this engagement, he was a fool. Billie wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid of anyone.

There was nothing in the great hall but the sound of cutlery against plates. Hugo was trying in vain to engage them all in conversation, but even his own remarkable skills at talking seemed to be insufficient for such company.

Abigail was the only one who spoke with him a little, though Domnhall had no doubt Billie had told her everything, judging by the way she glared at him every now and then. Billie herself was silent for the most part, though she did smile politely at Hugo whenever he addressed her and answered his questions pleasantly.

Domnhall, for his part, hadn’t said a single thing. In the hours between the women’s arrival and dinner, he hadn’t managed to get a moment alone with Hugo, so he hadn’t told him what had happened. He couldn’t wait for this dinner to be over, not only because the atmosphere was suffocating, the tension between him and Billie sucking all the air out of the room, but also because he had to drag Hugo to his study and tell him about everything.

He couldn’t leave before dinner was over, though, not without appearing even ruder than before, and so he sat there, suffering through dish after dish and waiting for the moment he could finally flee.

“I’m sure Laird MacAuley will wish tae wed soon,” Abigail said, pulling Domnhall out of his thoughts and back to the reality of the table. There was something in her tone he recognized, something he had heard in her sister’s tone, too. It was the sort of anger he had heard that very morning while he spoke to Billie. “When will the weddin’ be?”

Domnhall glanced between Hugo and Billie, but neither of them were inclined to help him. All he could do was give Abigail a strained smile and say, “Soon.”

That answer didn’t seem to satisfy anyone around the table, and the look Hugo gave him was one of utter disappointment and confusion. Naturally, he couldn’t imagine a reason why Domnhall was being so difficult. All he could see was a beautiful girl happy to marry him. He didn’t know who Billie truly was, how she acted when she thought no one would judge her for it.

“Ye have been very silent, me laird,” Billie said, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table next to her plate. Domnhall knew what he looked like; everyone in the castle would think him odd now, believing him the strange one for acting in such a rude manner. Still, he held his tongue. It wasn’t just his desire to keep Billie’s actions secret for her sake that stopped him. If he was going to marry her after all, he couldn’t have rumors circulating about her past. It would harm him as much as it would harm her.

“I’m afraid I have a headache today,” Domnhall said, as diplomatically as he could. “I will ask the healer tae prepare somethin’ fer me.”

“I could dae it fer ye,” Billie offered. “I am studyin’ tae be a healer.”

Domnhall didn’t know if she was only trying to torture him or if she wanted to see if he would say anything about her continuing her studies after they were married. He remembered their conversation the previous night, how he had told her that if he had had a wife like her, he would never have forced her to stop, but he didn’t want to give her the reassurance she could have been asking for, just so she wouldn’t get too comfortable. She was, after all, his enemy now, like he had told her.

“I will ask the healer,” Domnhall insisted, and then just so he wouldn’t appear entirely rude, he added, “I would hate to burden ye.”

Once again, the table fell into an uncomfortable silence. Billie’s only response was an insincere smile, before she focused back to the food she was pushing back and forth on her plate.

When the dinner finally came to an end and Billie and Abigail excused themselves for the night, Domnhall turned to Hugo, tilting his head towards the doors. He stood, Hugo following him through the corridors and up the stairs to his study, and when Domnhall closed the door behind them, he leaned against it with a sigh.

“What is the matter with you today?” Hugo asked once he was certain no one else would hear him. When he was angry, his accent peeked through even more, giving his words a lilting character. “You have been acting strange all morning and now this? How do you expect to make a good first impression on the poor girls?”

“I have already made a first impression,” Domnhall said with a bitter laugh as he made his way to his chair, sinking in the cushion, his hand already reaching for the wine. “Ye willnae believe what happened last night.”

With a frown, Hugo came to perch himself on the chair opposite Domnhall, taking the cup of wine he was offered. “Last night?” he asked. “At the tavern?”

“Aye,” Domnhall said, taking a sip of wine. “Dae ye ken what I did after I left ye drinkin’?”

“I assume you found a girl,” Hugo said. “As you always do. I was quite busy myself, you see, with this beautiful girl from?—”

“Hugo,” Domnhall said to put a quick end to the soliloquy that was sure to come. He had neither the time nor the patience for it at the moment. “I did find a lass. An’ that lass was none other than me new bride.”

Hugo’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, his fingers curling around the ends of the armrests as he leaned forward. “Billie Robertson?” he asked, though it could have hardly been anyone else. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Domnhall assured him. “I’m very serious. An’ ye understand why I didnae wish tae marry her.”

Hugo parted his lips as if to speak, but then said nothing. When he spoke, it wasn’t what Domnhal wanted to hear. “I don’t, actually.”

“Hugo… can ye nae imagine how many other men she has let bed her?” Domnhall asked. “How many have been there before me?”

Hugo gave him a dismissive shrug. “How many have been there before her? You’re certainly not one to talk.”

Domnhall looked at his friend in disbelief, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I’m a man!”

“That you are, mon ami,” Hugo said, entirely unimpressed. “But it’s a common secret that a woman do the same things as men, no? They simply don’t… let it be known. After all, who would you bed if all women remained pure until marriage?”

Domnhall glared at Hugo, a part of him wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. He couldn’t help but blame his French sensibilities for this reaction. Hugo didn’t seem to notice or if he did, he didn’t pay any attention to it.

“There is more,” Domnhall said after a short pause. “She threatened me that if I dinnae marry her, she will reveal me secret.”

“Yer secret?” Hugo asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

For the first time in a long while, Domnhall felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. He could hardly admit what he had confessed to her, but Hugo had to know. He was one of his closest advisors and the only one he could trust with this.

“I told her I fear I may be a bastard,” he said, and before Hugo could say anything, he continued. “I didnae think I would ever see her again. She was never supposed tae ken who I am.”

“And yet here we are,” Hugo said with a heavy sigh. “Well, I suppose you have no choice but to marry her now.”

“I already said I will,” Domnhall pointed out. He wished Hugo would berate him, mock him, anything to break this stifling disappointment he seemed to radiate. “I ken I have nae other choice, but I dinnae have tae be happy about it. Who would wish tae wed a lass who is disloyal? That is all that matters tae me, Hugo… loyalty an’ honesty, an’ she has neither.”

For a few moments, Hugo sank in deep thought, his brow creasing as it always did when he pondered something. When he met Domnhall’s gaze once more, he was smirking.

“Perhaps you should toy with her a little, then,” he said. “If she is so certain she wants to be your wife, you can see if you can prove her wrong.”

As Hugo’s suggestion took roots in Domnhall’s mind, he responded with a smirk of his own. It wasn’t a bad idea at all, Domnhall thought. Maybe if he did as Hugo suggested, then Billie would end up changing her mind about the wedding.

He had but a few days to torture her, but he was determined to make the most of it.