Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

T hree hours earlier…

It was a dreary morning, grey clouds hanging low over the Robertson lands. Abigail had hardly managed to sleep at all the previous night, tossing and turning as thoughts of her upcoming marriage plagued her.

Ever since the king himself had decreed that she was to wed Finnian Chattan, brother of Laird Niall Chattan, Abigail had spent several sleepless nights. It had been two months since then, a quick engagement even by such standards, and somewhere in that time Abigail had begun to while away the hours by coming up with all sorts of ways to escape the marriage.

She could pretend to fall ill and stage her own death. She could forge some documents that claimed she was already married. She could fake a kidnapping, throwing the blame of her escape onto someone else’s shoulders.

None of those plans would work, of course. She didn’t delude herself into thinking she could escape this marriage, though she wished she could.

With two of her sisters married for an alliance and the other wedded to the man who would inherit the Robertson Clan, Abigail had thought that perhaps she could get what she wanted and marry for love. Their clan was strong because of her sisters’ marriages; there was no need for her to find a man with uncountable wealth or sprawling lands. He would have to be a noble-born, of course, or at least have grown up in similar circumstances, but her options would be wider and the choice her own.

The king’s order had come out of nowhere, though, and had instantly shattered her dreams of ever finding love. At first, she had tried to be open to the idea, thinking that perhaps Finnian could be a good match for her, like her sisters’ husbands had been a good match for them, regardless of the circumstances of their marriages. The fact that it was arranged by the king didn’t necessarily mean that Abigail wouldn’t grow to love her husband or that he wouldn’t grow to love her.

That hope only lasted until the moment they had met. At thirty years of age, he was almost an entire decade older than Abigail, but he was a handsome man, tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes that gave him an air of mystery. He wasn’t the kind of man Abigail was usually attracted to, but she had to admit he was objectively handsome.

His looks weren’t the issue; far from it, in fact. It was his personality. Finnian could be dismissive at times, but he was also quick to anger, not only towards the servants but also towards Abigail herself. The more time she spent around him, the more certain she became that she didn’t want this marriage at all. She could never love a man like that.

She doubted he could ever love her.

When the morning of the wedding came, Abigail left her chambers to visit her mother’s. Every now and then, when life was particularly difficult for her, she visited those rooms just to feel surrounded by the love of the woman that had given birth to her, even if she had never known her. She had nothing but those items in the room, left there undisturbed since her death under her father’s orders, and a few portraits around the castle to give her a sense of what she had looked like when she was still alive.

It was the only place where she felt truly safe, as though no one could harm her as long as she was behind those doors.

No one else visited the chambers anymore. Abigail had caught her father there a few times in the past, looking at the things his wife had left behind, his eyes shining with unshed tears. A few times, her sisters had come with her to visit the rooms. But all of them had memories of Miriam Robertson to revisit whenever they missed her. They didn’t need that place like she did.

On her way to the chambers, Abigail walked by the guest wing. In one of those rooms, her betrothed would soon be getting ready for their wedding, just like Abigail should be doing, but the mere thought of wearing her dress made her stomach churn with disgust. As she passed by his chambers, she noticed that his door was slightly ajar, allowing her to peek inside just enough to see his brother sitting by the window.

Abigail didn’t like Niall either, though they didn’t know each other well at all. There was something about him that unsettled her, a chill to his gaze and in the way he spoke.

“It willnae be easy tae kill them afterwards,” she heard Niall say. Though she couldn’t see Finnian, concealed as he was by the door, she could hear his response.

“I ken that. He is the laird o’ the clan, Niall. Dae ye truly think I would find it easy?”

Are they talkin’ about me faither?

Niall had said something about killing someone. Could it be that they were planning to kill her father?

But what could that possibly get them that they didn’t already have? Abigail was more or less a willing bride and everyone had agreed to this marriage. Her father had put up no resistance, even though he had assured Abigail he would find a way out of this marriage for her if that was what she wished. Knowing they couldn’t go against the king’s desires, Abigail hadn’t let her father disobey the man and risk his wrath.

It had struck them all as odd that the king himself would be involved in all this, since Abigail was the last of her sisters and hardly that important, but nobody had questioned it. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with what Niall and Finnian were discussing now—was the king more involved than they thought? Was there a scheme shared among the three men?

“It is important that ye kill Cormac soon after,” Niall said and it was then that Abigail’s blood ran cold. There was no more denying that Niall and Finnian had a plan to hurt her family and they were going to use her to get to them. Cormac, her sister Keira’s husband, was meant to be the next Laird Robertson through his marriage to Keira. He was supposed to inherit the clan after Abigail’s father either stepped down from the position or passed.

They want the clan fer themselves. They wish tae kill me faither an’ Cormac an’ then take it by marriage right.

Cold sweat drenched Abigail’s brow and her heartbeat quickened to a sickening rhythm, fear wrapping like a vice around her and stealing the breath from her lungs. All this time, they had been fooling her entire family. All this time, they were planning to kill people Abigail loved just for their personal gain.

“I will,” Finnian assured his brother. “We have talked about this plan enough times fer me tae ken what tae dae even after ye return home. I dinnae need ye tae hold me hand through it. I can handle it, Niall.”

“I hope that ye can,” Niall was quick tae say. “Otherwise all this effort will go tae waste an’ our clan will be ruined.”

“Our clan is already ruined,” Finnian said. “We have nae gold, hardly any land… we willnae last the winter like this. There isnae even enough food. Dinnae fash, I ken I must dae this soon. By the end o’ winter, they will both be dead.”

“Winter?” Niall asked with a humorless, hollow laugh. “We dinnae have that much time.”

“Any sooner than that an’ perhaps people will suspect,” Finnian pointed out. “With Abigail as me wife, I will be able tae have Laird Robertson or Cormac send food and textiles tae us.”

“I dinnae wish fer charity,” Niall said.

“Then ye shouldnae have brought us tae this point,” Finnian said, his tone full of malice.

For a while, neither of them spoke but instead fell into an uncomfortable silence. Even so, Abigail had already heard everything she needed to, to know she couldn’t accept this marriage anymore.

If she married Finnian, then her father and Cormac and perhaps everyone else she loved would be in grave danger. Abigail could go to her father and tell him everything she had heard them discuss, but even so, they would have no real proof. It would be the word of a woman who was openly against her upcoming marriage versus the word of a man the king favored. Her family would believe her, of course, but no one else would.

How can I stop him? What can I dae?

She could flee the castle and hide somewhere Finnian would never find her, but that would only cause trouble for her father. He would have to be the one to explain to the king that his daughter had gone on her wedding day, despite the fact that everything seemed to have been going well up until then. He would have to be the one to deal with the rage the king would hold for the Robertson Clan after his orders had been ignored.

Simply fleeing wasn’t an option. She needed a better way, something that would keep her father safe not only from Finnian, but also from the King. There had to be something she could do, something to stop Finnian and his brother.

Suddenly, there were steps coming from the other side of the door and Abigail fled quietly down the hallway, reaching the sanctuary of her mother’s room. She locked the door behind her, even though she knew it would prove to be a flimsy barrier if her betrothed truly wish to come in, and then she fell to her knees next to the bed.

What can I dae? Anythin’… anythin’ but this.

It had been a few days since Abigail had last thought about one of her escape plans, those very same plans that she had thought could never possibly work. They had been nothing but a way for her to entertain herself in the dark of the night, but now they seemed like the only weapon in her arsenal.

Faking her death was not only difficult, but it would also hurt her family too much. Abigail didn’t want her father and her sisters to think she was gone. She couldn’t forge papers either. That would take precious time she didn’t have; let alone skill she didn’t possess.

At first, the thought of faking a kidnapping seemed ridiculous to her, but the more she turned the idea in her head, the more convinced she was it would be the only way forward. In the long hours she had spent with these plans, going over them meticulously for lack of anything better to do, she had orchestrated the entire thing and now knew precisely what she had to do to make it seem as though someone had kidnapped her. This would not save her and her family for long but it’d buy her time.

Forgive me, Maither, fer yer things.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Abigail grabbed a few porcelain figurines from the table, smashing them onto the floor. She didn’t care too much about them if she didn’t think of their connection to her mother, and so it was quite easy for her to destroy them. However, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to smash much of anything else.

She had managed to make enough damage, even cut her own hand to spray some blood and make it believable, when the door was kicked open. Abigail had expected to see Finnian and Niall there, coming to kill her for uncovering their secret, but it was only Hugo.

“Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed upon entering.

Unlike Finnian, he was the kind of man that Abigail found attractive, with his luscious blonde hair and dark eyes, the broad shoulders and the handsome features of his face. Despite that, though, he left a sour taste at the back of Abigail’s mouth whenever they spoke. They didn’t know each other well, but Abigail had the impression that he didn’t like her much.

“What are you doing?” Hugo demanded as he took in the chaos of the room.

“I will explain,” Abigail had assured him and she had headed for the window, hoping that Hugo would cover for her at least for a few hours, even if he refused to keep her secret.

But then he had surprised her by asking her to wait and telling her he would go with her.

“But your plan isn’t believable enough,” he said, as Abigail was still reeling from his promise. Why would he want to go with her? He could barely stand to be around her most days. “Have you ever heard of a silent abduction? We must make it seem as though we were truly taken out of here after a fight.”

“How will we dae that?” Abigail asked, trying to push every other concern from her mind. Before anything else, she had to deal with her escape.

Moving closer to her, Hugo pinched her arm before she could do anything to stop him. Abigail yelped, half in pain and half in surprise, but then there were a few seconds when she could do nothing but stare at him in disbelief.

Then, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek, smirking when Hugo’s head snapped to the side, a pained groan escaping him.

“Why did you slap me?” he all but shouted before he seemed to remember their situation. “I’m not the enemy here!”

“Perhaps,” Abigail said with a small shrug, terribly pleased with herself. “But I always wished tae dae this. Besides, if someone attacked me, I wouldnae simply take it without fightin’ back.”

Briefly, Hugo froze in surprise, staring at Abigail with wide eyes. Then, his lips stretched into a small smile and for a few moments, Abigail couldn’t help but stare at them, her own mouth going dry.

She only snapped her gaze back to the rest of him when he moved, grabbing a china plate from the mantle that had been used as decoration. After a moment of hesitation, he threw it at the wall, the sound of the plate breaking jarring in the quiet of the room.

“We have a plan, then,” he said, and Abigail couldn’t help but return that smile, already triumphant.