Chapter 1
One year later
Betrothed since birth.
That pronouncement had hung over Brighit for eighteen long years, and now that her wedding was on the horizon, the days she had left to see to her own pleasure were quickly coming to an end.
She needed to take every opportunity she could to indulge herself.
Heaven knew, there’d be none of that with Darragh as her husband.
He’d require her constant attention, no doubt.
So Brighit decided to stay abed as long as she could… only to have her efforts thwarted by her mother. Thomasina, small though she was, managed to rip the covers from around her toasty warm body in one strong tug.
“Out of the bed this instant, or I’ll be calling yer father.”
Brighit sat up but refused to get off the pallet. “That’s yer threat?”
Thomasina’s usually beautiful face squeezed into a scowl. “Do not tempt me, Brighit. Ye’ll not like the outcome.”
Her mother was like a dog without teeth, but she was clearly piqued about something.
Something to do about Clan MacNaughton, more likely than not.
And it was Brighit’s fault that they were here.
If she had married Darragh before now instead of dragging out the betrothal in the hopes she could get out of it, her mother would have peace.
“If I am out of the bed, will ye feel better?”
Her mother’s stern expression was the only reason she relented, raising her hands in a show of submission.
Brighit continued, “As ye say. I am a good daughter—”
“I said no such thing.”
“—and I would not want to add to yer burdens this day.”
“Aren’t ye the thoughtful one?” Her tone indicated her disbelief.
She did love her mother even when she was in a foul mood. Thomasina huffed, shook her head as she glanced heavenward, and left Brighit to her ablutions.
Dipping a cloth in the cold water, Brighit scrubbed at her face and neck. Calling on her father to ensure she did as she was told? Given that her father was wrapped around her finger like a strand of thread, that was no threat at all. Her betrothed, however, was a different matter.
Brighit yanked the well-worn gown over her thin shift and tucked her feet into her slippers, foregoing any stockings. No one would know.
What did it matter that the great MacNaughton ri túath was here?
He was only Tadhg and his wife was only Tisa.
And their son, Darragh. He was a thorn in her side.
Catering to him this day was something she’d rather not do and he did so love to provoke her by asking her to do things for him, things he should be able to do himself.
And if she resisted his unreasonable request, both Tisa and her own mother would be giving her that expression of disappointment.
It wasn’t until shortly after they broke their fast that Brighit had the opportunity to slip away.
The day was perfect for a soak—the sky a clear blue without so much as one wispy cloud to mar its beauty.
The lough was a wee bit cold, but Brighit minded not at all.
The weightless floating was a welcome respite from her mother’s irritation.
It was freeing to do as she pleased… except she found herself thinking of Darragh.
The distance between the two clans was great enough that she’d only seen him on occasion in her youth and he’d kept to his father’s side.
She’d thought he was the most handsome lad she’d ever seen.
When her mother told her that he would look out for her, Brighit had immediately thought of the boys who’d run away after pushing her in the mud.
She had no older brothers to defend her and the idea that he could put them in their place for her?
Well, that had made him even more appealing.
His disinterest in Brighit had angered her.
She’d wanted to get to know him. Not anymore.
Now the distance suited her fine. The more distant he remained, the better she liked it.
As Brighit grew older, she had learned being betrothed to someone from another clan meant she had no lad’s attention at home.
No one would dare look at her, or even compliment her.
Not as a lass. But when she donned her brother’s trews and tunic, they’d pat her on the back and treat her as one of their own.
She’d prefer that behavior to the drooling she’d witnessed from those same lads—including her own brothers—over the dainty lasses with their pretty hair and flirty smiles.
Dumbstruck more often than not. Much better to earn their respect and companionship.
Many a time the lads would forget her presence and remark on the size of this lass’s bosom or the roundness of that one’s bottom. She would try not to laugh at their embarrassed expressions when they’d turn and see her listening to every word.
“Do not be looking at me,” she’d say. “I have my own and no interest in theirs.”
“And ye should not be talking so,” her brother Lachlann had said to her once. “’Tis not ladylike.”
“And what do ye know about being ladylike?”
“More than ye.” His face had turned nearly crimson enough to hide his freckles. “Ye should not even be here.”
His censorship had seemed like a betrayal. They had always been so close, training side by side. Though younger, he was her eldest brother. Her closest friend. That had set her off something fierce.
“Lachlann, ye have no right to be telling me what I should be saying or how I should be spending my time.”
He’d leaned over her, intimidating her with his size. Up until his latest growth spurt, he’d only been a bit taller. His new height dwarfed her small stature. “And if that is so, how would ye feel about me telling Ma and Da where ye been sneaking off to?”
Neither of her parents would be any happier about her escapades than Darragh had been, and well her brother knew it.
Her father had been proud of her accomplishments, fighting and hunting right along with the other boys…
right up until her menses had started while they were out hunting for the winter and far from home.
Her da had been shocked speechless by the blood, but her cousin, Aednat, had been there as well.
She was like a big sister, older and wiser, and she’d helped her.
Truth to tell, Brighit had not been well pleased herself.
Neither with the inconvenience of the whole experience, nor with the way she was now kept close to home and forbidden to go off with the boys.
Sean had refused to listen to reason and his whole demeanor toward her had changed.
He’d demanded she start wearing the longer, traditional léines and agreed with her mother’s assessment that it was time to put away childish things.
That was when she started to sneak off.
The lads she’d ridden with had been sworn to secrecy, and it had worked out fine.
Darragh’s threat a year earlier had not failed to make its mark, giving her even more reasons to dislike the overbearing man.
Her brother had toughened his stance since then.
He’d insisted that he only wanted what was best for her—which now meant being safely tucked away with the other lasses.
Lasses who had no use for her. Lasses who laughed at her lack of “ability.” Lasses who called her strange, stopping just short of saying she should have been born a boy.
She couldn’t ride with the lads anymore and Darragh was surely to blame. He’d taken away her freedom. That’s what the lads had, what they took for granted. And the lasses? They had to stay behind with their sewing and their gossip and their viciousness. What a waste.
The sound of men approaching jerked her back to reality.
If she were caught here unguarded, it wouldn’t go well.
Her father had warned her to take at least three men with her if she went through the woods and here she was with not a one.
How many men would he have insisted she bring had he known she’d be floating naked in the lough?
The dark green bushes to her left, intertwined with delicate honeysuckle, were thick with branches hanging close to the water, providing her with a chance to go unnoticed. Unfortunately, her gown was out in the open, but there was nothing she could do for it now.
“And so ye have the right of it.”
Darragh’s voice. Brighit gasped and ducked below the water, shoving off the bank toward the bushes.