Chapter 5
Darina found herself unable to sleep the following night and took to pacing the length of her bedchamber over and over until she feared she might go mad with worry.
Her mind presented her with a thousand different scenarios involving drawing rooms, parlors, and salons in London.
She envisioned herself being fitted for lovely gowns and dresses, being shown around at parties and concerts by her father’s connections there, being introduced to Englishmen looking to marry…
But she would still be very much an outsider in such a place, and she knew it.
Oh, perhaps they would smile in her face and pretend to be her friends if she was lucky enough even to be treated that well.
More likely, she would be mocked for her coarse accent and unfamiliar manners, teased for her way of looking at things, and ostracized from any events that truly mattered to anyone important.
She might be seen as a curiosity or a novelty by the men or a chance to conveniently fill their coffers with the dowry and position proffered by a Scottish laird in need of resources.
Even so, they would no doubt laugh at her. They would not make her feel welcomed in the slightest, and why should they? The English knew full well how largely despised they were by the Scottish, and they looked down their noses at the Scots in return.
Yet her father wanted—no, needed—for her to be married to one in order to save their clan from further bloodshed.
Was there any chance that she might find an Englishman who was genuinely enamored of her, one she might fancy in return?
She supposed it was possible, if unlikely.
Even then, though, she would still essentially be the subject of a transaction between her father and a man who was more or less a stranger to her.
What if this man presented a fine exterior but turned out to be a drinker, a gambler, or some sort of fiend, and she did not see it until it was far too late? She would be bound to this man irrevocably, both legally and as the mother of his children.
The concept seemed too large to fit inside her mind properly, and she groaned with frustration, rubbing her temples. Pacing the room was not helping. If anything, it was making the fog in her brain thicken hopelessly.
She decided that she needed to go out, no matter how late it was—and indeed, the full moon’s rays were shining through the window of her room. She had to have fresh air at once. It would help her think.
Because if she was having grave doubts, she knew that it would be better to discuss them with her father privately before he had a chance to send further messages to his connections in England and send her off as well.
Darina hastily dressed herself, then crept out of her room and down the corridor, not wishing to awaken anyone with her departure.
She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and so she did not want to risk a confrontation with her sisters—particularly Edwina, though the thought of Fionna’s incessant questions or Ella’s blank gaze unnerved her as well.
Sure enough, she managed to slip out of the castle and across the grounds without being seen or heard.
As she made her way toward the stables, she once more wished that her father had had the good taste to speak to her about his plans before trumpeting them to the entire family and expecting her to comply.
Part of her almost wanted to disappoint him as punishment for taking her thoughts on the subject entirely—and rather shamefully—for granted.
It would serve him right to be told that she had no intention of marrying an Englishman and that, as far as she was concerned, there was nothing he could do to force her into such an arrangement.
Yes, he would deserve to hear it, and she enjoyed the idea of the expression on his face when she informed him of it.
But then what?
The Wallace clan had managed to put a brave face on their struggles—the upcoming Beltane festival was certainly part of that, and she hoped it would work—but it didn’t change the fact that if the war was not conclusively ended soon, the damage it had done to them might prove irreversible.
It would take years for them to rebuild their armies and resources.
Years they could not afford. Years during which they would be vulnerable to attacks and attempts at conquest from any number of other clans.
All because she had refused to do one of the few things that were expected of her as a noblewoman: to marry the right man and thus benefit their clan as a whole.
She liked to think she did plenty of other things for the clan as well, of course.
Not just because it was her duty to do so, but because she genuinely cared about the well-being of her people.
That was why she traveled to the villages on certain days to distribute bread and alms. Her father had initially scoffed at the notion, and he’d tried to insist that she bring guardsmen with her as well, in case someone attempted to kidnap or likewise harm her.
But she had refused the protection of the guards, insisting that going among the people without them was a large part of the point—to show the members of the clan that their nobles were accessible, that they understood and cared, that they did not feel the need to hide behind men with swords and shields.
And it had worked. The people had remained confident in the leadership of their laird and his family, and they had continued to fight when called upon in defense of the clan.
After a while, her sisters had started to go to the villages with her, which made the showing of mercy and compassion all the stronger.
Now Laird Cawley praised their efforts and sometimes even joined them when he was able to find the time.
If I go tae London, though, she fretted, fer a season, or even longer, will my sisters continue what I have started? Will my father?
As she approached the stables, she saw that there was a lantern lit inside, giving off a ghostly white glow.
She supposed it was Old Lennox, unable to sleep and busying himself with the horses despite the lateness of the hour.
That was all right; she had made midnight trips like these before, and Lennox had come to understand that when she did, she generally preferred to be left to her thoughts.
When she got there, though, she was surprised to hear the sound of Lennox snoring loudly from his cottage behind the stables.
Had he left a lantern burning unattended? That certainly did not seem like something he would do at all…unless his advanced age was finally starting to make him forgetful.
She stepped into the stable and was surprised to find a man she’d never seen before.
He was tall and well-built, with shaggy brown hair and a face that was handsome yet scruffy. His green eyes gleamed like polished emeralds in the dim light as he brushed one of the horses and whispered to it.
When he heard her enter, though, he stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Is somethin’ the matter, my lady?”
“Nay, I…” She lost track of her words suddenly, taken aback by his strong features and impressive frame.
She couldn’t remember ever having seen a man so fetching before, and now that she had, it seemed strange for her to encounter him wearing ragged clothes and tending to horses instead of wearing the fine clothes of a nobleman and kissing her hand.
He smiled slightly, still awaiting her answer.
“I could nae sleep,” she pressed on, “and so I came tae spend some time with the horses. I find their presence most comforting, ye see. In many ways, I count them among my best friends, whom I confide in whenever I have a divided mind or a heavy heart,” she tittered nervously.
“I dinnae ken why I am tellin’ ye all of this. I must sound dreadfully silly…”
He shook his head. The gesture was oddly reassuring, and it put her at ease somewhat. “Nae at all, my lady. In fact, I think I ken precisely what ye mean.” The funny thing was, from the tone of his voice, it actually sounded as though he might.
She gave him a small curtsy. “I am Darina, the eldest daughter of Laird Cawley.”
“Aye, I ken,” he replied laconically. “I noticed ye in the village yesterday.”
“Ye noticed me?” She was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting, for she felt she might blush beneath his knowing gaze. “I am quite flattered.”
“A woman dressed in the gowns of a noble and handing out food tae the poor and needy rarely goes unnoticed in any land,” he answered evenly. “Ye have a good heart, clearly, and yer people care fer ye a great deal.”
“I certainly hope so, fer I care deeply fer them as well.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Er, ye haven’t told me yer name yet, Sir.”
He smirked mischievously. “Nay, I suppose I haven’t, have I?” He paused with a twinkle in his eye, and for a moment, she thought he might leave it at that. Instead, he went on. “I am Finn. Yer older brother learned that I was in need of work and generously offered me this position.”
“Aye, Cameron is a good man,” she agreed. “And our clan is happy tae welcome all who care tae serve it, particularly during these dark times when our enemies seek tae destroy us.”
“And which enemies might those be?” he inquired. He was doing his best to sound casual, but there was an edge of keen interest buried in his tone.
“The McDougals,” she informed him, shuddering visibly.
“They have brutalized us fer years, and I fear that if we dinnae turn the tide of war soon, we shall be doomed. Which is what has brought me here tonight. Ye see, I am faced with a decision I dinnae wish tae make, yet I am forced tae. Tae help my clan means tae go against my own desires, my principles, everythin’ I hold dear.
But how can I possibly contemplate an alternative which might keep our clan at war until we perish entirely?
” She felt tears stinging her eyes and blinked them back, hoping he would not notice.
“Oh, I am sorry. Once more, I am speakin’ foolishly aboot matters fer which you have nae context. ”
He took a step toward her, then another. The air between them seemed heavy and crackling, like the air before a thunderstorm. His eyes were locked on hers, and she suddenly felt as though she had forgotten how to exhale. Her breath was trapped in her lungs, aching, pounding to get out.
No. Her lungs were not pounding.
It was her heart.
“As I said before,” he told her quietly, “I might ken more aboot such things than ye realize.”
“I should return tae my room.” Her voice was high and breathless, barely more than a squeak.
He stopped moving forward and paused as though contemplating whether to let her go or not, then nodded. “Aye. It is late. And ye should nae be caught conferrin’ with the likes of me.”
“Nay, I suppose nae.” She tried to think of something else to say and, failing miserably, turned and walked out quickly.
She was halfway back to the castle when she breathed out, stars dancing at the edges of her eyes.
Where could such a man have possibly come from?
And why did it feel as though he knew her even better than she knew herself?