Chapter 1
Malina froze. This surely must be a mistake. Maybe it was some kind of trick to embarrass her in front of all these people.
She couldn’t stop staring into his green eyes as Aidan walked down from the throne toward her. Malina’s father’s hands on her shoulders tightened and then released as the Laird met them on the floor.
“M-M’Laird,” her mother stuttered as Aidan smiled at her, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.
Malina could not even think, her head spinning as Aidan officially introduced himself to her family members.
He couldn’t be serious, could he? He had always looked down on her, tormented her when they were children for her pale skin and light coloring.
He’d made her cry more times than she could count, and here he was, ordering her to marry him.
Malina huffed out a breath. Everyone was staring at her, likely judging her, and it was all Aidan’s fault.
“What is this?” she demanded to know, and Aidan turned his gaze from her mother to her.
“Please forgive her,” Malina’s mother said quickly, elbowing Malina in the ribs. “I believe she’s just in shock, M’Laird.”
Malina wrenched away from her father’s grip, and people shifted out of the way to give her room. Everyone in the crowd was clearly as shocked as she was, staring at her with wide eyes and open mouths.
“It’s a marriage proposal,” Aidan explained calmly, that dastardly smirk hinting at the corner of his generous mouth.
“It’s a bloody joke, is what it is,” Malina hissed, and her mother was glaring at her so hard that she’d be dead if looks could kill.
Malina couldn’t be fussed, though, ignoring her mother’s glares and her father’s desperate looks. She knew her family could use this alliance, could use the money and power that being a laird’s wife would allow. That was what made it so infuriating.
“I’m not laughing,” Aidan countered, but he sure was smiling, still with that infuriating smirk on his face.
“Your Lairdship,” Malina’s father broke in, moving between Aidan and Malina as if stopping an argument. “Perhaps you were mistaken? My younger daughter, Isla, might be a better fit.”
Aidan glanced over at Malina’s younger sister, his eyes traveling over her as if bored. It only made Malina’s blood run hotter.
How dare he play this prank on her family? The McDavis family had always been modestly positioned, never among the wealthiest clans, but they had managed to maintain their dignity despite whispered remarks in the village about their unusual looks.
Isla, however, stood apart, the only member of the family to inherit the striking, quintessentially Scottish coloring—blue-gray eyes and reddish hair that bore a striking resemblance to Aidan’s, a feature that lent her an air of belonging her family often lacked.
Malina couldn’t help feeling a twinge in her heart as her father offered up her younger sister, despite the fact that she had no interest in marrying the Laird. Did her father think her as ugly as the mean-spirited villagers who taunted her?
Isla smiled, curtsying, but Aidan turned back to Malina without giving her a second look.
“Your daughters are both bonny, McDavis, but it’s Malina I’d like to wed.”
Aidan reached out his hand, offering it to Malina.
Malina gaped at him, and her mother took her by the elbow, dragging her close and whispering in her ear.
“You’re the eldest daughter, Lina. It’s always been your responsibility to marry and take care of us. Don’t you dare reject him and disgrace this family.”
Malina swallowed hard. Her mother was right. It was her duty, her birthright, but did it have to be Aidan Cunningham?
She looked at the hand Aidan offered her, and when she finally took it, she was surprised to feel calluses on his palm.
Aidan instantly drew her closer to him, and she gasped, putting her hands up as if she might bounce against his chest. He let out a booming laugh that made Malina feel oddly lightheaded.
He grinned down at her, teeth white and even. “Speechless, lass?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
She couldn’t seem to quite look him in the eye, instead setting her gaze on his collarbone. She could barely hear the music over the pounding of her heart.
The impromptu dance floor was really just the middle of the room, and everyone who had been squeezed next to each other started to fan out, giving them a wide berth.
Malina could hear what they were saying about her.
Changeling. Seductress.
Brodie looked at her, his blue eyes narrowed, and Catriona wouldn’t meet her eye, as if she was disgusted. It was Archie, as usual, who spoke up, loud enough to be heard over the crowd but not quite loud enough that anyone but Malina could pick his voice out of the din.
“I told ye she was fae. They’re all tricksters, aren’t they? Used her magic to seduce our Laird.”
Malina huffed out a breath, ready to go over and give the trio a tongue-lashing, but she didn’t get the chance.
She let out a little squeak as Aidan pulled her up against his side, holding her hand tightly in his.
He looked right at the three who had tormented her most, the ones who were whispering the loudest: Archie, Brodie, and Catriona.
“Malina McDavis will now be Lady Cunningham, and as such, she’ll have all the protection of this clan. Anyone who insults her will have to answer to me.”
Malina felt a thrill rush through her. No one had ever protected her in that way, not even her father.
But along with excitement, there was worry.
She couldn’t stop thinking that this had to be some kind of mistake.
Aidan didn’t wait for the crowd to respond, simply tugging her closer to the fiddle player and the clansman playing bagpipes for the occasion.
The music was so loud Malina’s thoughts seemed scattered around by it.
Aidan looked down at her with that smirk on his face as they danced, Malina’s body moving almost mechanically.
His nearness made her heart race. Malina had never been this close to a man who wasn’t related to her, not on purpose, anyway.
Aidan’s arms held her close to him, his hand enveloping hers as they danced.
Everything seemed to go by in a blur as Aidan waltzed her around on the floor, his eyes seeming to bore into hers. He kept hold of her hand as he introduced her to various other clansmen, told her names she didn’t remember.
To her credit, the clansmen barely looked at her, only paying attention to Aidan, and the subject quickly changed to other things; What day they were to be wed, how the farm was faring, how many horses had been put down this quarter.
Throughout it all, Malina forced a smile.
Her mother’s warning kept ringing in her head.
She’d been told of her duty as the eldest daughter her whole life.
She couldn’t abandon all her principles, not now.
But she was sure that this was all some grand mistake; some prank being pulled on her and her family, and she’d be damned if she’d let it lie. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to call out the Laird in front of the whole clan, but he would get a piece of her mind as soon as she could manage it.
Aidan finally left her side at the bequest of Elder MacDuff, who beckoned him over to help.
As soon as she possibly could, Malina escaped, breathing hard as she pressed her back against the wall. The sounds of the party trailed into the hallway, sounds of laughter and music and merriment.
Malina felt as if she were waiting her turn at the gallows. She hadn’t expected a marriage proposal when she arrived here, having been irritated that she’d had to come at all, but her father had insisted.
“How will it look if I leave my eldest daughter at home?” he’d argued.
“Ye know he will not choose me.”
Malina pressed her lips together as she examined the grass stains marring her younger sister’s fine muslin dress, hanging in front of her.
Isla was an odd one, preferring to climb trees with that boy Royce instead of learning the household skills that Malina had mastered out of necessity—sewing, cooking, managing tasks for the family.
Their parents indulged Isla, coddling her whims in a way they never had for Malina, and sometimes the unfairness of it pricked at her.
Malina had spent her youth burdened with extra work, ensuring the family kept its footing, while Isla roamed freely, unencumbered.
Perhaps Malina envied her sister’s carefree life—or perhaps it was simpler than that.
Isla belonged. With her bright hair and lively smile, she blended into the village like one of their own. Malina, with her unusual features and quiet demeanor, had always felt like an outsider, a difference that no amount of hard work could erase.
“He likely won’t choose Isla, either, but when the Laird asks all the marriageable lasses to gather, we do as he says.”
So, of course, Malina had gone. And now she was regretting it. She wished that she’d hopped off Blackie, her father’s horse, that she’d run off into the woods instead. Better to live among the trees as the changeling everyone accused her of being than marry that awful man.
She hadn’t wanted to marry at all, at least not now. She supposed that she was getting a little long in the tooth, compared to the other lasses in the village, who had three bairns by the time they were nineteen years of age.
But she’d never imagined being a wife and a mother. She’d thought she’d be a spinster like her aunt Florence, thought she’d spend her days helping her mother with the younger ones.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she walked down the hallway, looking for a room she could hide in. Many of the doors were locked, however, and when she finally found one that wasn’t, she breathed out a sigh of relief.
But she’d barely gotten the door closed before it opened again, and a young girl stood staring at her with wide eyes. Malina stared back, confused.
“Who are you?” Her words came out harsher than she’d intended, and the girl winced, looking down at her feet before curtsying.
“I beg yer forgiveness, m’lady,” the girl muttered in a thick Scottish brogue. “My name is Mary, and his Lairdship has asked me tae help ye undress.”
Malina kept staring at her in disbelief. She’d never needed a handmaiden, and she hardly ever asked her sister or her mother to help her undress.
“No need.” Malina lifted her head up high, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I won’t be getting undressed.”
“But, m’lady—”
“I said there’s no need.” Her voice came out stronger the second time, and the maid blinked at her, clearly confused and a little afraid.
“M’lady, it’s so cold out. Let me run ye a hot bath.”
Malina did think about it for a moment; how the hot water would feel on her skin, how nice it might be to ease her nerves. But right now, she couldn’t give into the temptation. She was not ready to accept her role as Lady Cunningham.
“I wish to see Laird Cunningham.”
The maid flushed, her already-ruddy skin turning even redder.
“His Lairdship is quite busy, given the feast. I’m sure ye can understand my position…” She trailed off, and Malina felt guilty of what she was about to do, but it couldn’t be helped.
She briskly walked up to the girl, taking her bony shoulders in her hands and shaking her lightly.
“Ye will get me his Lairdship, or I’ll have ye caned!”
The maid’s eyes filled with tears, and Malina looked away quickly, not wanting to see the tears fall.
The poor girl was only doing her duty, but Malina had to see Aidan, had to confront him about this cruel joke he was playing on her.
She ran out of the room as fast as her feet would carry her, and for the first time, Malina looked around the room.
The bed sat in the center, a huge mattress with furs, spread across it.
Fox furs, it looked like, and when she ran her fingertips along the blankets, it confirmed her suspicions.
There was even an elk head mounted above the bed, and the pair of breeches thrown carelessly over the dresser confirmed that she was standing in Aidan Cunningham’s bed chambers.
She shrank back from the feel of the fox furs, pacing around the room and waiting impatiently for the Laird. The maid did not return, even after Malina spent half an hour in the room.
If he thought that she’d sit here and take his disrespect just because he was laird, he had another thing coming. If he wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him.