Chapter One
March, 1715
Macgillivray Castle, Dunmaglass
Diana Macgillivray wanted to be anywhere but where she was. The grand ballroom was brightly lit, filled with music, and teeming with people, most of whom she didn’t know, in elegant attire and masks. The tables against the far wall were laden with food, the aroma of a thousand different delicacies filling the air, and the mood in the room was fun and festive. Laughter and conversation filled the hall as people made merry, but to Diana it sounded like the buzz of a swarm of flies on a carcass.
She adjusted the mask on her face, grumbling under her breath. Her mother had forced her to wear the heavy black gown and a black and white mask. It was uncomfortable, warm, itchy, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to her bedchamber. She had no interest and even less use for frivolous balls. She would never understand why people seemed to love those kinds of festivities as much as they did.
“Ye dinnae look tae be havin’ a good time.”
The tall, lean man her mother had introduced her to, Laird Finley Munro, sauntered over to where she stood. He moved with a casual grace, the swagger of a man who was well-trained with a sword, and the arrogance of one who knew he was handsome and drew the eyes of every woman in the hall. His dark-blond hair was wavy and perfectly cut, but his green eyes were flat.
She watched as clusters of gown and mask-clad women huddled together, stealing glances at him. Finley leaned against the wall beside her, making a show of pretending not to notice the attention he was receiving, but Diana could see he was eating it up. He was aware of the stir he was causing and loved it. It was one of the reasons Diana didn’t think he was anywhere nearly as handsome as he believed he was.
“Are ye nae havin’ fun, me lady?” he pressed. “’Tis a fine ball.”
“I’m nae one tae enjoy such frivolities.”
“Nay? Then what dae ye enjoy?”
His feigned interest in her was tedious and tiresome. She knew enough about Finley Munro to know his biggest interest in his life was himself.
“I enjoy readin’,” she said. “And betterin’ me skills as a healer.”
“A healer,” he said. “I’d heard ye were a healer.”
“Aye. People need tae be cared fer.”
He shrugged. “I suppose. Nae by a castle lady, however.”
Her lips curled downward as a sour expression stole over her face. His casual dismissal of the health and well-being of people lower than him turned her stomach. He took a sip of his wine, then turned to her.
“Dae ye ken who I am?” he asked.
“Aye. I ken who ye are, Laird Munro.”
His smile was wide and predatory. “Aye. ‘Tis right. And dae ye ken what I’m daein’ here?”
“I’d imagine the same as everybody else here,” she said. “Ye’re here tae eat, drink, dance, and laugh at jests that arenae all that funny.”
His chuckled was a deep rumble. “Ye dae have a sharp wit and sharper tongue, lass. I’d heard that about ye. Personally, I like a woman who isnae afraid tae speak her mind.”
She turned to him, a cruel smirk playing across her lips. “Is that so?”
“Aye. ‘Tis so.”
“And if she has a thought or opinion that differs from yers?” she asked. “Would ye still like a woman who spoke her mind then?”
He shrugged and flashed her a smug grin. “Hasnae happened. I’ve found most women tend tae think much the same way I dae.”
“Amazin’, that.”
“Aye. I thought so too,” he replied. “I suppose most women see me as a logical and rational kind of man and that me opinions are sound. ‘Tis hard tae disagree with that, eh?”
Hearing her mother’s voice in her head, telling her to always be a proper lady, Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The man’s arrogance was trying. But despite her distaste, she managed to put a pleasant smile on her face.
“Aye, I suppose so,” she said evenly.
As the man’s eyes slid up and down her body, lingering on her full breasts, which were accentuated by the abomination of a gown she’d been forced to wear, Diana shuddered. Perhaps mistaking it for a rush of pleasure, Finley flashed her a wolfish smile.
“Ye didnae answer me question,” he said.
“And what question was that, me laird?”
“Dae ye ken what I’m daein’ here?”
“I assume ye received an invitation from me parents.”
“Aye. But then, I receive many invitations tae many events. Most I dinnae go tae. I tend tae find most gatherings borin’.”
“And why have ye graced us with yer presence then?”
“I came here thinkin’ I might be able tae find somebody tae court,” he said. “As laird of me clan, I’m expected tae marry and provide an heir.”
Diana made a point of glancing at the knots of women all around the hall, most of whom weren’t being particularly subtle about looking Finley’s way.
“Well, it looks as if ye have yer choice,” she said. “Ye’ve got quite the selection tae choose from, me laird.”
His chuckle was a deep rumble in his chest. He never glanced at the women in the hall though, never taking his gaze off her.
“I’m rather particular about the sort of woman I’d be willin’ tae take as me bride.”
“I’m certain whoever ye select will be very fortunate tae have yer affection.”
“Aye, she will be.”
Diana suppressed another shudder but edged a couple of steps away from the laird, searching for a way not just out of this conversation, but out of this tiresome social obligation altogether. She glanced at her parents Dunn and Elayne, who sat upon the dais at the far end of the hall. They were engaged in conversation with a couple of their noble friends and didn’t seem to be paying attention to her. As if her thought drew her mother’s attention, though, she turned and locked gazes with Diana. She felt pinned to the wall and unable to move.
In a blur of red and white silks, Diana’s younger sister, Beatrix, swirled in, laughing and smiling wide. She took hold of Diana’s hand then turned to Finley.
“I hope ye dinnae mind me borrowin’ me sister, me laird,” Beatrix said with a giggle. “I need her help with somethin’.”
Annoyance flashed across his features, but he quickly got himself under control and sketched a stiff bow. “Of course, Lady Beatrix.”
Diana let her sister pull her through the whirling, dancing crowd, somehow narrowly avoiding crashing into the people. Beatrix pulled her behind the curtain and into a small room to the right of the dais where her parents sat. Diana pulled the curtain aside gently and caught sight of her mother looking this way and that, searching for her. She smiled to herself.
“Ye’re welcome,” Beatrix said.
She sighed. “Thank ye, Beatrix. Though tae be honest, I thought ye would have rather enjoyed seein’ me squirmin’ under that man’s attention.”
“Believe it or nae, sister, I dinnae want tae see ye sufferin’.”
Beatrix and Diana were opposites in every meaningful way. Whereas Diana’s hair was the color of honey and was usually in a braid, or pulled back like it was now, Beatrix’s hair was a deep, rich auburn that she usually let spill free over her shoulders. Her eyes were dark and Beatrix’s were a vibrant green. Even their body types were different. Diana was slender and lithe, her sister shorter in stature and lusciously curvy.
Their personalities were as different as their physical traits. Diana was quiet and thoughtful. She was reserved and preferred spending her time at study or plying her knowledge to help heal others. Beatrix was… wild. She was a vivacious girl with a personality larger than her stature. She laughed easily and often and seemed to make friends wherever she went. People genuinely seemed to like her sister while they seemed to see Diana as more of a curiosity.
Diana laughed. “’Twas torture tae be nice tae that man. I appreciate ye pullin’ me away.”
Beatrix grinned at her. “I cannae lie. I enjoyed seein’ ye squirm a little bit. I only stepped in when ye seemed ready tae bolt yerself. Thought it might give ye some cover from Maither’s wrath.”
Her sister’s consideration was surprising to Diana since they didn’t have the warmest of relationships. Their differences in personality, as well as the different ways they saw the world around them, led to them frequently butting heads. Diana liked to say they spent more time at each other’s throats than they did being sisters to each other. It was a never-ending source of consternation for their parents, who just wanted their daughters to get along. Diana didn’t think that wish was going to be fulfilled. Not in this lifetime.
But every once in a while, Beatrix surprised her with a kind thought or gesture. This was one of those times, and like every other time it happened, Diana was taken aback and wasn’t quite sure how to react. She cleared her throat and smiled.
“’Twas very kind of ye, Beatrix. Thank ye.”
She flashed Diana a toothy grin. “’Twas nae all altruistic.”
“Nay?”
Beatrix shook her head. “As the second daughter, I cannae be courted or marry until ye are married. We may nae always get on, but that daesnae mean I want tae see ye trapped in a horrible marriage tae a horrible man. I want ye tae be happy, Diana. And as that man is nae goin’ tae make ye happy, which means ye’ll only drag yer feet on marryin’, the sooner we find somebody that makes ye happy, the sooner we can get ye married, and the sooner I can find a man of me own.”
Diana laughed. It was very much Beatrix’s logic. She had always been boy crazy and was looking forward to the day she was allowed to be courted. Self-serving or not, Diana appreciated her sister’s intervention.
“And is there any particular man ye’ve got yer eye on?” Diana asked.
Beatrix’s cheeks flushed and she smiled. “Aye. Come and see.”
Her sister pulled the curtain back a bit and pointed to a man standing to the side of the hall. He was holding a cup of wine and his mask in his hand and was talking with a couple of women who giggled and fawned all over him. The man was tall and lean, athletic and well built. He moved with the same sort of casual grace Finley did, telling Diana he was a swordsman. His hair was sandy brown and tousled, and his light brown eyes sparkled with the same sort of mischief that glinted in her sister’s eyes. They seemed like two sides of the same coin.
“He’s handsome,” Diana said. “What’s his name?”
“I dinnae ken,” she replied. “Nae yet. But I intend tae.”
“Aye, well, ye better nae let Maither and Faither catch ye learnin’ his name.”
Beatrix giggled and cast a mischievous grin at her. “I’m very good at nae lettin’ Maither and Faither catch me daein’ anythin’.”
“Beatrix!”
“What? I have tae be,” she replied. “If I didnae sneak around, I’d never get tae have any fun. Nae so long as ye remain unmarried.”
“Oh, so yer bad behavior is me fault.”
“Well… aye. It is,” she said with a laugh.
They laughed together in a way they hadn’t since they were children. Diana knew it wouldn’t last though. It never did. It wouldn’t be long before they were at each other’s throats for one thing or another again. But she would enjoy the peace and goodwill while it lasted.
“Ye’re incorrigible, dear sister,” Diana said. “Simply incorrigible.”
A cheeky idea occurred to her, so she grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her out of the small antechamber.
“Where are we goin’ then?” Beatrix said with a giggle.
“Come with me.”
Feeling inexplicably emboldened, Diana marched her sister over to where the man she’d been eyeing was standing. When they were close enough, she gave Beatrix a small nudge with her elbow. Startled, her sister squeaked and dropped the lace and silk handkerchief she’d been holding. Diana watched the small square of cloth flutter and fall to the floor near the man’s boots. He offered Beatrix a smile filled with warmth and bent down to pick it up for her.
“I believe ye dropped this,” he said.
“Thank ye,” Beatrix said in a soft, breathy voice. “I’m Beatrix.”
“I’m Gavin, me lady. Gavin Davidson.”
Their gazes were locked and the conversation between the two started to flow. They spoke so fervently, it was as if the entire room around them had fallen away, leaving just the two of them in it. Smiling to herself, Diana turned to leave, wanting to give them some time and privacy to get to know each other and ran straight into a large, burly man. She bumped the cup of wine in his hand, spilling it all over the front of her dress, drawing a gas from her.
Och, damn it!
“Apologies, me lady,” the man said.
“Dae ye nae watch where ye’re goin’?”
Diana raised angry eyes to the man and felt her breath catch in her throat. He was a head taller than her and was broad through the shoulders and chest. His dark hair was wavy and fell just to his shoulders. Although dressed in finery, the man was rugged and handsome with strong features, a smooth, tawny complexion, and pale blue eyes that burned with an intensity that sent a flutter through her heart. But then she noticed that he looked… amused. And anger took the best of her.
“Beg pardon, me lady. ‘Twas an accident. I didnae mean tae—”
“Me gown is ruined!”
The fabric of her gown was soaked through, sticking uncomfortably to her skin, clinging to her curves in a way that was almost lurid. When she looked up again, she found the man eyeing her curiously, although she thought she could see desire as well. She felt her cheeks flush and the flutter of hummingbird wings in her heart. They stood there in silence for a moment, neither of them seeming able to find the words.
The air about them was filled with tension and the rest of the ball melted away. She no longer heard the laughter or the music. All she heard was her own breath and beating heart. The man was staring at her in a way she deemed inappropriate and Diana was appalled at herself because she sort of… liked it. She gave herself a shake, pulling herself out of the moment, as the sound of music and crowd around them rang in her ears once more.
The man licked his lips and straightened up. “Is there anythin’ I can dae tae help?”
“I think ye’ve done enough.”
Her cheeks still flushed and her heart still racing, Diana turned and fled rather than stand there in front of the man in a dripping wet gown. Instead, she dashed from the hall and sought refuge in her father’s salon.
She moved quickly to the table and a dry cloth, which she dipped into the basin of water and dabbed at the wine that had been spilled on her gown. The door to the salon opened behind her. Assuming it was Beatrix, she turned around. The acidic remark about the oaf who’d run into her withered and died on her tongue when she found not her sister, but the oaf himself standing in the doorway. She swallowed the lump in her throat and quickly composed herself.
“I came tae see if ye were all right, me lady,” he said.
“I’m fine fer havin’ had a cup of wine dumped all over me.”
She sniffed and glared at him coldly. A small grin flickered across his lips, stoking the flames of her indignation. How dare he laugh at her discomfort.
“Again, I apologize fer what happened,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “But if ye’d nae spun around so fast, ye might have seen—”
“Oh, so this is me fault?”
The man shrugged his broad shoulders. “Aye. At least partly.”
“How dare ye!”
He laughed. “’Tis nae me fault ye werenae lookin’ where ye were goin’.”
Her face was hot, and she could not quell the tremor in her heart. There was something about being near the man that set her insides ablaze and made her stomach churn. She’d never had that sort of reaction to a man before and it was as confusing as it was infuriating. Although the corners of his mouth continued to curl upward, the man held up a hand, a gesture of peace.
“Forgive me, me lady. I dinnae mean tae laugh.”
“Are ye sure about that?”
“Nae really. But it seems the right thing tae say.”
She huffed and stared hard at the man. “Ye’re an oaf.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m certain ye have.”
The sparkle in his eye and the smile that crept across his face only made those strange, disconcerting feelings rampaging through her grow in intensity. Her heart pounded like she was running, and her legs trembled. Fearing they would give out beneath her and spill to the floor of the salon, Diana cleared her throat and patted her hair as she stood with her back rigidly straight, attempting to reclaim some bit of her dignity.
As they stood there staring at each other, Diana became even more aware of the way her body was reacting to him. In addition to the flutter in her belly and the heat in her face, she realized she was growing warmer and feeling a strange flutter in a different, lower part of her body. It was disconcerting. As his icy blue eyes burned into hers, she realized they were alone in the salon. And if her parents happened upon them… it would not be good.
“’Tis inappropriate fer us tae be here alone,” she said.
“Aye. Probably.”
“Definitely,” she countered. “Ye need tae leave.”
“I came tae help ye, seein’s how it’s half me fault ye’re in here.”
“I dinnae need yer help.”
“Are ye sure about that?”
“Aye. I’m sure. Now, please leave.”
He didn’t move though, and continued staring at her, making that flutter in her belly all the more pronounced. Diana swallowed again but didn’t seem able to control her insides. The man was having a strange effect on her and if she was going to regain control over herself, she knew she had to get away from him.
“Are ye goin’ tae stand there or leave?” she demanded.
“Dae ye always obey the rules of what’s right and proper?”
“Aye. I dae.”
He smirked. “’Tis a shame. Slavishly followin’ the rules all the time isnae always fun.”
“’Tis nae about fun. ‘Tis about what’s right.”
“I disagree—”
“Please… leave.”
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he flashed her another smile and nodded. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the salon, gently closing the door behind him. When he was gone, Diana leaned against the table and let out a long, deep breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.
She poured herself a glass of her father’s whiskey and drank it down to steel her nerves, slow her racing heart. It took a couple of minutes, but she finally managed to regain her composure and let out a heavy sigh as she tried to banish images of the handsome, rugged man from her mind. As arrogant and annoying as he was, he’d had a profound impact on her that was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. And it was only then that she realized she’d never learned his name.
Chapter Two
May, 1715
Macgillivray Castle, Dunmaglass
Diana stretched out in her bed, a small smile playing across her lips as she enjoyed the book in her hands. This was her element. Other than healing the wounds of others, this was where she felt most comfortable. She was a simple woman who enjoyed simple things. She despised elegant balls and fancy social gatherings. It was the one thing most of the men who tried to court her did not understand about her. And if they did not understand her, Diana had no desire to marry them.
Her parents were giving her some freedom in choosing her suitors. She was grateful to them for that. However, she knew if she continued to reject suitor after suitor, their patience with her would eventually run out and they would make the decision for her. It was a thought that sent a chill rushing down her spine. It wasn’t that they would intentionally pick a bad man. It was just that she felt that nobody really knew her at all and that they might pick a man who was bad for her. It was a conundrum she had been grappling for some time.
Diana yawned and set her book aside. She wanted to sleep and push all thoughts of suitors and marriage out of her head. At least for a while. She knew once she woke, she would have to deal with them all again, as her mother would undoubtedly begin pestering her with a list of names of “suitable men” to court her. Of course, her idea of a suitable man differed greatly from Diana’s. She knew the time was coming when she was going to have to find the least objectionable man from the list her mother offered.
With a heavy sigh, she reached for the oil lamp but quickly pulled her hand back at the thunderous crash in the corridor beyond her door. Her heart pounding in her chest, Diana jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe, quickly pulling it on as she dashed to the door. Her hand trembling, fearing what was happening, she pulled the door open and peeked outside. Rather than the soldiers from an invading army as she’d half-expected, she found her sister, Beatrix, crouching down, picking up the remnants of a shattered vase.
“What,” she looked around and whispered, “the hell are ye daein’, Beatrix?”
Her sister gave a start as Diana rushed over to her. “I—I bumped intae the table and knocked the vase over. Help me clean this up, Diana. Please.”
“Where were ye?”
“I was… I was out.”
“At this hour? Out doin’ what?”
Beatrix’s cheeks flushed and a small smile curled her heart-shaped lips, telling Diana exactly what her sister had been out doing. She’d been out with a lad. Of course, she had. Diana sighed. Given that her parents’ bedchamber was just around the corner, she knew there was little to no chance they hadn’t heard the crash in the corridor.
“I will fix this. We need tae get out of the hallway,” Diana urged. “Maither and Faither will have heard ye break the vase fer certain—”
The sound of footsteps echoed around the corridor and sent a bolt of lightning through Diana’s veins. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she stood up and turned around, unsurprised to see their parents, Dunn and Elayne, standing behind them, cross looks on their faces.
“What is all this?” their father, growled.
Diana knew their parents were with Beatrix than they were with her. It was yet another issue that contributed to their often-sour relationship. It wasn’t Diana’s fault, but her sister would hear none of it. Her sister blamed her, often accused Diana of trying to ruin her life. It couldn’t have been further from the truth, but Beatrix believed it.
As angry as she was with her sister for her ridiculous accusations, some small part of Diana felt bad for Beatrix. She knew her sister was frustrated and only wanted to live her life… something she couldn’t do while being forced to live in Diana’s shadow. And it was a shadow that would only dissipate once she had married and had begun her life away from her family’s home.
“’Tis me fault,” Diana said. “I snuck out of me chambers tae fetch some sweetcakes from the kitchens. I bumped the table and Beatrix came out tae see what was happenin’. I’m sorry.”
Her father was no fool though. His eyes shifted from her to Beatrix, his face tightening. Diana knew he saw right through her.
“Beatrix, is this true?” Dunn asked.
Her sister’s eyes shifted to her then back to their father as she licked her lips. She nodded.
“Aye. ‘Tis true,” she squeaked.
“Then why are ye wearin’ a dress and a cloak?” he demanded. “Daesnae seem like somethin’ ye’d wear tae bed.”
Diana and Beatrix exchanged a glance, their mouths open, neither of them seemingly able to form a coherent word. Their parents looked at them disapprovingly.
“In me salon,” he growled. “Both of ye.”
Beatrix stepped forward. “Faither—”
“Now.”
Their parents turned as one, stalking down the corridor toward his salon expecting them to follow. Diana and Beatrix sighed and did. Their mother closed the door behind them when they stepped in. The chamber was cold, the fire having been banked long ago. Their father had already lit a couple of oil lanterns, casting the chamber in a dim, gloomy light. He shook out the match in his fingers then turned and crossed his thick arms over his broad chest and glared at them, his icy blue eyes glittering in the dim light.
“Now, what is this all about, girls?” he demanded. “What are ye daein’ creepin’ around the castle in the small hours?”
Diana racked her brain, trying to figure some way to cover for and protect her sister. Before she could say anything though, Beatrix stepped forward and raised her chin, her eyes glittering with defiance.
“I took a walk through the grounds,” she said. “With a lad.”
Their mother’s eyes widened, but their father’s face darkened. Diana swallowed hard, not sure what to say to mitigate what was coming. She had long known her fascination with men would get Beatrix into trouble at some point, though she never expected her sister to open the floodgates like that. But her sister stood strong, her chin lifted, her face betraying no fear.
Diana held her breath, waiting for the coming explosion from her father. Instead, her mother put a gentle hand on his arm and some bit of silent communication passed between them. His jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, but he gave their mother a small nod and stepped back, letting out a long breath and tried to compose himself. Their mother stepped over to Beatrix, standing in front of her, a look of compassion on her face.
“And who is this lad, Beatrix?”
“His name is Gavin. Gavin Davidson.”
Their parents exchanged a knowing look, and Diana got the idea the name was familiar to them. It was only belatedly that she realized Gavin was the man Beatrix has been mooning over at the masked ball a couple of months ago.
“And what dae ye ken about this lad?” Elayne asked.
“I ken he’s the second born son of Clan Davidson. And we exchange letters often,” Beatrix said. “I ken that he’s sweet. Smart. He writes well.”
The way she spoke and the expression on her face told Diana her little sister was over the moon about this man. She could practically see hearts in her eyes as she described meeting him in secret.
She didn’t see this situation between Beatrix and this Gavin man ending well for her baby sister. She was going to have her heart shattered like glass. But then, Diana thought it might be for the best. It was time Beatrix learned to be an adult, learned some lessons about life and about love. Maybe it would finally temper her childish enthusiasm for boys.
“And why have ye been sneakin’ around behind our backs?” Dunn growled from where he stood across the room. “Why nae talk tae us about it?”
“Because ye never would have let me see him! Because of yer stupid bleedin’ rule about Diana always havin’ tae be with me,” she howled. “Diana only ever wants tae sit in her chamber and read or go muckin’ about in the mud fer her precious herbs. ‘Tis like I cannae have a life if me sister daesnae have a life.”
“Beatrix, love, ‘tis nae that we dinnae want ye tae have a life,” Elayne said gently. “But there’s an order tae things. There’s a way these things are supposed tae be done. And until yer sister is wed, ye cannae be courted. Tae dae it otherwise would be invitin’ scandal.”
“’Tis what I mean, Maither,” Beatrix whined. “She is nae interested in bein’ married.”
Diana bristled at her sister’s remarks. But she held her tongue because she could not really refute them. She had no interest in being wed. At least, not to any of the men her parents had been parading in front of her.
“What about Laird Munro?” Dunn asked. “Diana, ye’ve nae said nay tae him courtin’ ye. As I understand it, he’s very interested in ye. And he seems like a fine—”
Diana could hold her tongue no longer. “I’m nae interested in Laird Munro. Why would ye want me tae be interested in a man who allies with the English? A man who’s arrogant and hungers fer power and naethin’ more?”
Her mother turned to her. “Diana, he is a gentleman—”
“Tae yer face. But I had a chance tae talk tae him when ye werenae around and he was hardly a gentleman. He was arrogant and dismissive. He was condescendin’ and cruel,” Diana said as she shook her head. “Nay. I havenae said nay tae him because I didnae think I had tae. I didnae think ye’d see him as a suitable suitor.”
Beatrix stamped her foot. “Dae ye see?” she cried. “She’ll never marry. She’ll reject every suitor ye deem fit. And she’ll keep draggin’ this out until I’m old and gray. Ye might as well lock me away and call me a spinster now. I’ll never get tae be with Gavin because she’ll never find anybody good enough for her.”
“Stop whinin’ like a bairn,” Diana almost shouted. “Nae everythin’ is about ye! I willnae marry because ye want me tae, Beatrix.”
“Diana!” her mother snapped. “Hold yer tongue. There’s nay reason tae be hollerin’ at yer sister like that.”
Diana fell silent but glowered at her sister who shot her a smug look. Elayne and Dunn exchanged another look, once again giving her the sense they were communicating without words. It was a gift that couples who’d been married as long as they had seemed to possess and one, despite her sister’s words, Diana longed to have with somebody. She thought her parents had the ideal relationship. Her father valued her mother, sought her advice and counsel and truly took her words into account before making any decisions. That was the sort of relationship she wanted to have. It was also the sort of relationship she knew she’d never have with any of the men they had paraded before her.
“All right, Beatrix. We’ll allow ye tae see this Gavin lad,” she said. “But only if he brings his braither, the first-born son of Laird Davidson with him. From what I ken he’s nae married yet. Ye can get tae ken them both taegether. And ye’ll only ever be in Gavin’s presence if his braither and Diana are there as well.”
“Maither, Faither. ‘Tis nae fair,” Beatrix whined.
“Those are our terms,” Elayne said.
“Aye. Clan Davidson is an ally of ours and a match between Diana and their first-born son would be beneficial fer all,” Dunn said.
Beatrix turned to Diana, her eyes burning with something akin to desperation and anger. Diane looked back at her sister with a cool, frosty gaze. Beatrix was behaving like Diana owed her something. She did not. But thanks to the social norms being enforced by their parents, Beatrix’s future truly was beholden to Diana’s whims. She couldn’t be courted until Diana had agreed to marry. As much freedom as their parents had given them to choose their suitors—a rarity, to be sure—that was the one norm they strictly adhered to.
“Please, Diana,” Beatrix begged. “I love him. I dinnae want tae lose him.”
Perhaps making this sacrifice would improve her relationship with her sister. She really did want to be on good terms with Beatrix. But she wasn’t sure how it was going to help since she already knew this firstborn son of Laird Davidson was, more than likely, not going to be somebody she would be interested in marrying. The fact that he hadn’t offered himself up as a suitor already made her question whether he even had interest in courting her, which immediately made Diana uninterested in being courted by him.
But perhaps she could make Beatrix happy, for at least a little while. And perhaps, allowing her to see Gavin would somehow bring them closer together.
“Fine,” she said. “All right. “I’ll meet this man fer her sake.”
Beatrix threw her arms around her waist and thanked her profusely. Diana had to keep from rolling her eyes. But at least she’d make her sister happy.
At least for a little while.
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