Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
“We’ve spoken amongst ourselves, me lady,” Douglas said, his voice rough with age. “The council has taken a vote, and tis been decided—the clan must have a laird.” His steady, expectant gaze met hers. “Ye must marry.”
The council chamber of Castle Domnhall was dimly lit by the flickering glow of the hearth.
Lady Kendra Domnhall sat at the head of the long oak table, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
The council elders sat across from her, their expressions grim with determination.
Douglas, the eldest among them, waited for her reply.
Kendra did not flinch, nor did she lower her eyes as many women might have in the face of such a decree.
Instead, she lifted her chin, her voice firm. “The clan already has a ruler, Douglas. I have led well since Gregory’s passin’, and I will continue to do so.”
Douglas sighed, shaking his head. “Aye, ye’ve done well enough, but a woman cannae lead alone. We need a strong hand, a man to guide the clan through these times.”
Kendra rested her hands on the table and gripped its smooth wood as her patience began to thin. “Are me decisions nae enough? Have I nae proven that I can rule without a man at me side?”
William, a younger council member, leaned forward, his expression harder than Douglas’s. “This isnae a matter of yer competence, me lady. ‘Tis the will of the clan, and we are bound by the laws set before us.”
Kendra’s gaze darkened, but she did not let the anger color her voice. “The laws of men,” she said coldly. “And yet, I have upheld them all without fail. Why now do ye seek to strip me of me rule?”
Douglas’s face softened, but William’s did not. “Because Gregory granted us this power before his death,” William said bluntly. “He trusted the council to ensure the future of the clan. If ye do nae choose a husband within the month, we will choose one for ye.”
Silence settled over the chamber. Kendra felt the weight of their stares and the silent challenge in their words. They thought they had won—that she had no choice but to submit. But they underestimated her.
Her lips curved into a slow smile. “Very well,” she said, her voice smooth as glass. “I will find a husband meself.”
Douglas exhaled, relieved by her agreement, but William studied her suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as he did so. “See that ye do, me lady,” he warned. “For if ye fail, the choice will be ours to make.”
Kendra met his stare with a steely glint in her eyes. “I’ve seen what men ye would choose. Therefore, ‘tis best I nae fail.”
Kendra rose and strode from the meeting hall, her steps measured but firm, refusing to let the council see even a flicker of weakness. The heavy wooden doors groaned as they shut behind her, sealing her from the men who believed they could dictate her life.
How dare they put such a threat upon me?
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself as she walked through the stone corridors of Castle Domnhall. Yet, no matter how many breaths she took, Gregory’s memory still shadowed her like a ghost she could never completely shake.
She had been only three-and-twenty when she was wed to Gregory, a match arranged without her say. At first, he had seemed like a respectable, honorable man—charming, even, to those who did not know him behind closed doors.
The first time he struck her, she had been too stunned to believe it had been real. The second time it happened, she had learned not to cry out, for it only made him angrier. By the third, she had taught herself to remain silent and endure his merciless blows in order to survive.
And survive she did—until fate intervened, delivering Gregory to the grave in a shattered carriage, leaving her with a title, a clan, and a freedom she had never known before.
Even now, years later, she could not trust easily or look at men without measuring the degree of danger they posed.
The council’s decree that she must wed again filled her with dread.
A new husband meant another man would possess power over her, and she would once again be at risk of losing herself to clenched fists and whispered threats.
"We shall see about that," she whispered.
Kendra stood before the heavy oak door, her fingers curling into a tight fist before she knocked.
Surely Maither will support me.
Her mother’s soft, firm voice beckoned from within. Taking a deep breath, Kendra pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Rebecca Ancrum sat in a high-backed chair near the hearth, her silver-streaked hair braided neatly over one shoulder. She turned as Kendra entered, setting aside her embroidery work. Her sharp gaze swept over her daughter, detecting the tension in her stance.
“What is it, lass?” Rebecca asked, arching a brow. “Ye look ready to tear a man’s head from his shoulders.”
The bedchamber was grand, befitting of the previous Lady of Clan Domnhall.
Rich tapestries of deep burgundy and gold hung upon the stone walls, each depicting scenes of their ancestors’ triumphs.
A large canopy bed stood at the center of the room, its heavy velvet curtains drawn back to reveal thick furs piled atop the mattress.
A polished mahogany dresser sat beneath a wide window.
Kendra crossed the room, folding her arms tightly. “The council met today. They took a vote and decided that I must marry—said they’ll choose a husband for me if I daenae find one meself within the month.”
Rebecca sighed, shaking her head. “Aye, but what did ye expect? A woman cannae rule a clan on her own, nae forever. Tis time ye faced the truth, Kendra,” Rebecca continued.
“A lass with nay husband is a lass with nay true power. The men will never respect ye as their laird. Marry, and ye secure yer place, and the clan’s future. ”
Kendra’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “I am already actin’ as laird, Mai ther. I have led this clan since Gregory’s death, and we’ve done just fine without a man dictatin’ our fate.”
Rebecca scoffed, rising from her chair with an exasperated shake of her head. “Fine? Is that what ye call it? Holdin’ onto power by a thread while the people plot behind yer back? A husband would put an end to that nonsense.”
Kendra’s nostrils flared as she fought to keep her temper in check. “Ye would see me bound to another man like Gregory? Ye would have me risk bein’ caged again, silenced, made to kneel before a husband who sees me as naught but property?”
Rebecca’s expression hardened. “Nae all men are like Gregory. Ye had bad luck, but that doesnae mean ye should turn away from yer duty.”
Kendra’s heart pounded in her chest. “Me duty is to this clan, nae to some man who would use me as a means to his own power.”
Rebecca stepped closer; her gaze unwavering. “Ye think yerself strong, Kendra, but strength alone willnae hold this clan together. Ye need a husband to stand beside ye, to command respect where ye cannae.”
Kendra’s breath hitched, disappointment sinking deep into her bones. “Ye were once a woman who spoke of freedom, who told me I could be more than a wife. What happened to ye?”
Rebecca’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I learned the way of the world, lass. Ye can fight it all ye want, but in the end, it will break ye if ye refuse to bend.”
Kendra shook her head, turning towards the door. “Then I’d rather break than become what ye have.”
Without another word, she strode out, her heart heavier than before.
Kendra left her mother’s chamber, her heart pounding with frustration.
The conversation had left a bitter taste in her mouth, disappointment settling heavy in her chest. She had hoped, foolishly, that Rebecca would stand by her, but her mother had long since abandoned the fire she once had.
Kendra clenched her fists as she walked, her boots echoing in the dimly lit corridor.
As she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with Sinead, her younger sister.
The wide-eyed girl’s curls bounced as she stepped back quickly.
There was a nervous energy about her, the kind that only meant one thing—Sinead had been eavesdropping on their conversation.
Kendra narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms as she regarded her sister with suspicion.
Sinead bit her lip, then sighed. “Daenae be givin’ me that look. I heard the last part of yer conversation with Maither r.”
Kendra arched a brow. “And ye thought it wise to listen in on things that daenae concern ye?”
Sinead lifted her chin defiantly. “When it concerns ye, it concerns me. What’s goin’ on?”
Kendra exhaled sharply, glancing around to ensure no one else was lingering in the hallway. “The council has declared that I must marry. They’ve given me a month to find a husband, or they’ll choose one for me.”
Sinead’s expression darkened, her youthful features twisting with anger. “What? They cannae do that! Ye’re as good as a laird, nae some pawn for them to pass around!”
Kendra let out a humorless chuckle. “Aye, well, they seem to think otherwise. And worse still, Maither agrees with them.”
Sinead’s fists clenched at her sides. “She would, wouldn’t she? Ever since Faither died, she’s bowed to whatever the council says, like a leaf in the wind.”
Kendra softened slightly, placing a hand on Sinead’s shoulder. “I had hoped she’d see reason, but she’s far too lost in their way of thinkin’.”
Sinead shook her head fiercely. “So, what are ye goin’ to do? Surely ye willnae let them force ye into another dangerous marriage?”
Kendra’s gaze hardened, and her resolve set like steel in her bones. “Nay, I willnae. If they want me to wed, I’ll do it on me own terms.”
Sinead studied her, suspicion flickering in her eyes. “Ye have somethin’ planned, don’t ye?”
Kendra smirked slightly. “Aye. Tis time to pay a visit to Laird McKie.”
Sinead’s eyes widened in shock. “Laird McKie? The cruel, scarred brute that sends grown men shakin’ in their boots?”
Kendra nodded. “The very one. If I must wed, then I need a man the council willnae dare to cross, and there’s nay man more feared than him.”
Sinead stared at her for a long moment, then burst out laughing. “By the saints, Kendra, ye never do anythin’ the easy way.”
Kendra smirked, determination now glowing in her eyes. “Nay, I never do. But I am determined to do it me way."