Highlanders' Forced Brides

Prologue

It was supposed to be the happiest day of Elspeth Ariss’s life.

For the past nine months, she had watched her mother’s stomach swell with the life of her little sibling.

Her mother was certain that it would be a boy; she said that women could tell these things.

Elspeth didn’t quite understand how that all worked, but then again, she was only twelve, and there was much about the world that she didn’t understand.

Elspeth was the picture of her mother: slim and slender with brown hair and green eyes.

She had been helping her mother around the house during the pregnancy and felt proud of how she was growing up.

“Ye’re gaeing tae hae tae take care of this wee one as well,” her mother said. “Ye are his older sister, and ye are gaeing tae hae tae watch over him. He will look tae ye for guidance. Will ye protect him, Elspeth?”

“Aye, with all my heart,” Elspeth vowed as solemnly as her young heart could swear.

Her mother was beautiful. She glowed with radiant beauty, and her father, Lyle, was happy as well.

He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a stocky build.

He used to scoop Elspeth up in his arms and toss her into the air without effort.

Somehow he always gave her the feeling that everything would be well.

He had a thick beard and usually had his sleeves rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms covered in dark hair.

Elspeth’s mother often referred to him as his sweet bear, and she was his peach.

He was a devoted father, working hard, tending to the laird’s grounds to ensure there was always food on the table.

They spent their nights talking about the future and what their family would be like when the baby was born.

Elspeth’s parents went to great lengths to reassure her that having another child didn’t mean they would love her any less.

“The thing ye need tae understand about love is that it’s as endless as the sky and the sea.

The new baby just means there is more love tae gae around,” they explained.

Elspeth thought she understood what they were trying to tell her.

In some ways, it was fortunate that she was twelve, for if she had been younger, she might have been jealous of her younger sibling, and she wouldn’t have been able to help her mother as much as she had done.

There were some moments when Elspeth didn’t understand why anyone would put themselves through having a child.

Her mother seemed to be in pain all the time, especially when she moved.

She suffered from hot flashes, and there were occasions when she had the strangest things to eat.

She was sick a lot as well, and Elspeth swore that she would never let the same thing happen to her.

Then the day of the birth came. It was a day of great excitement.

Her father was beaming, and he had been allowed to stay home from work so he could be by his wife’s side.

The house was packed with people who were there to help.

They received many gifts from their friends and neighbors around Kilin, mostly pies and baked goods.

The healing woman stayed with Elspeth’s mother in the bedroom.

Elspeth and her Lyle remained outside. What happened behind the closed door was a mystery to Elspeth.

Her heart jangled in her chest like chains as she waited, hand in hand with her father.

He paced around, and she didn’t quite understand why he was so nervous.

There had been many children born in Kilin, but until this moment, she had never realized what a dangerous thing it could be, even though it was natural.

From the room came screams of pain, shrieks that were sharper than anything Elspeth had heard before. She couldn’t imagine what her mother was going through, and she looked to her father with shock. He clasped his hands together, and his eyes swam with tears.

“It’ll be alright lass, we just hae tae wait here.

The worst thing is the waiting, knowing that there’s naething ye can dae,” Lyle said.

Elspeth stared at the door and tried to swallow the uncomfortable lump that settled in the back of her throat.

Her skin tingled with nerves, and she bit her lower lip as she waited, hating that her mother had to be in such pain.

But then something changed about the screams. The door was flung open. The midwife stood there, sweat dripping down her ruddy face. Her hands were stained crimson.

“Ye need tae get in here!” she called to Elspeth’s father.

He rushed in without hesitation, but the door was slammed in Elspeth’s face.

She heard wailing, and then her father’s deep voice joined in the chorus.

The whole thing must only have taken a matter of moments, and yet it seemed as though an eternity had passed.

The door opened again, this time creaking as slowly as a yawn.

Elspeth’s face paled as she saw the sheets stained with blood, her father kneeling at her mother’s side, clasping her hand, head bowed and shoulders shuddering.

Her mother’s skin was as pale as a shadow, and her head lolled to the side.

Strands of hair were matted to her forehead, so soaked with sweat that they looked black, as though shards of shadows had fallen across her face.

It was a horrible sight to witness, and Elspeth stood there, frozen in place as she looked upon her parents, her heart crumbling inside.

“Will he take him, lass? One of ye needs tae take him,” the midwife said.

At first, Elspeth didn’t know what was happening, didn’t quite understand, but then a small bundle was placed into her arms by the midwife.

It took Elspeth a few moments to realize that it was her brother.

She looked down into the swaddled cloth and saw the small features of the child, its wide, dark eyes, its impossibly tiny mouth and nose, his hands clenching and unclenching—sharp cries emanated from him, which joined in with the gnashing moans of her father.

“Wha…what happened, Da?” Elspeth asked. The women in the room were busy trying to clean up Elspeth’s mother. They draped a sheet over her face, making it appear as though a veil had fallen over her.

“The birth was tae much for her body tae take. It happens sometimes,” the midwife explained, for Elspeth’s father was in no condition to.

The midwife came up to Elspeth. She had a kind face.

“We tried all we could, but…” She trailed off and then looked at the child.

A ball of anger was beginning to swell inside Elspeth’s heart.

If it hadn’t been for the child, this never would have happened.

“What ye need tae remember is that it’s nae his fault,” the midwife said.

“He needs ye more than ever. Unlike ye, he never got the chance tae know his ma. Ye will need tae tell him stories, and ye will need tae remember her for him. Ye and yer da are the only people this wee one haes left.”

Elspeth swallowed hard and nodded. Her gaze drifted down towards the child again, and the anger vanished, replaced by a deep, solemn love.

“I will take care of ye, Eoin,” she said, for her mother had already picked out a name for the child. “I will show ye how much Ma would hae loved ye.”

Then, she took the child over to her father.

His head was buried against the outline of her mother’s body.

He looked up, and tears trickled down his cheeks.

He tried to force a smile, but even she could see it was the pale shadow of one.

He opened his arms to her and the new child, and Elspeth buried herself in the comforting warmth of her father.