Chapter One #2
It was true, after all. I had rebelled. Not more than an hour after Caleb’s banishment, I had run to the stables.
I knew that my father’s men would follow me and return me home, disgraced.
Even so, I asked one of the stable boys to prepare a small carriage for me.
Before he had even secured the horses in their harnesses, my father and his men had found me.
Lash her again, my father had commanded his officers, so she’ll remember that my orders are not to be disobeyed.
Again. Let her carry the bruises to remind her of her place.
A task that the men had been all too willing to carry out, and with particular dedication.
And I had fought back, as I had done before, but with more strategy this time.
I’d grabbed one of the soldier’s knives and swiped it at him, cutting his hand.
Even so, I’d been outnumbered and easy enough for them to constrain and punish.
The pain seemed to echo through me even now, with an ache both searing and deep. My outward signs of bruising had faded, but those inflicted on my heart and on my soul remained, as always. And my father’s words lingered.
If you carry on with such foolery, you’ll not be eligible to marry a nobleman. You’ll be forevermore seen as a ruined woman. Your lowly blacksmith has neither the resources nor the disposition to fight off my men. He has no means to support you. You’ll be doomed to a life of exile and poverty.
As much as the memory humiliated me, I knew my father’s warnings had been accurate enough.
Caleb was as young as I was, inexperienced in the ways of fighting and weaponry.
He was skilled at making swords, but not at using them.
Still, I yearned for him. His mildness. His sensitivity.
He was the only man I had ever met who did not make me feel utterly defenseless.
Tadgh, whose bold insistence only seemed to emphasize the divide between these lusty warriors and my gentle lost love, leaned closer, pushing a strand of my long hair back behind my shoulder to gain better access to my ear, then proceeded to whisper to me, “You’re far more beautiful than your sisters. Positively stunning, you are, lass.”
I moved away from him, staring at his face in mute shock.
What an outrageously rude thing to say! With my sisters capable of overhearing.
But Tadgh appeared amused by my expression and continued, getting closer despite my attempts to distance myself.
“I’d heard you spoken of, but the descriptions hardly do you justice.
The combined effects of your beauty and your feisty spirit have gained you some repute, you know.
There are men who have come here tonight, some from great distances, for the sole purpose of laying their eyes on the mysterious Stella Morrison. ”
I could feel that my cheeks were burning in embarrassment. Was it true? Had I been spoken about in this way?
I wished I could take my leave and return to the guest chambers.
But my father would be furious, and the last thing I wanted to do was provoke more of his outrage.
I knew I had little choice but to accept the consequences of my privileged position and do as I was told.
This gathering, after all, had been planned with that specific goal in mind: securing at least one match for Clementine, me, Maisie, Ann or Agnes.
My father was ailing now, and getting old.
I had even heard it said that he fought off the beginnings of madness, which I believed to be true.
His accusations were becoming laced with nonsensical edges.
The fact that he had five daughters and two nieces, but no brothers, sons or nephews, did little to ease his state of mind.
To make matters worse, his brother-in-law, my uncle, who had been groomed to take over the lairdship, had been killed in battle during the Campbell uprising over a year ago.
So it was up to one of us to marry well and secure a new laird for our moderately prosperous keep and our large but somewhat-flagging army.
Marriage to a Mackenzie would secure an alliance that would unite our forces to theirs; this was crucial to my father, now more than ever since the Campbell rebellion was threatening to reignite.
Maisie was as feverish as my father about her potential match to Wilkie, which she hoped would be arranged officially this night.
She felt fortunate that her conquest was not only noble, wealthy and talented, but also exceedingly good-looking.
All three Mackenzie brothers were celebrated for their bravery, their swordsmanship, their military prowess and—it had to be said—their looks.
Looks that would, in my father’s words, produce a handsome heir.
So my father was anxious to secure the engagement.
He had already begun arrangements with Laird Mackenzie regarding Maisie’s marriage to Wilkie.
The rest of us, too, were obliged to seek out men with credentials: lands, wealth and military alliances were to be at the top of the list of our considerations.
Only with one or more of these attributes would the suitor in question gain my father’s approval.
A Munro would please my father, I knew that.
Preferably the one in line to accept the lairdship.
If I recalled correctly, the name associated with that privilege was Magnus, not Tadgh.
Either way, I couldn’t quite bring myself to care.
“Would you like to go for a stroll with me, Stella, to the drawing room?” Tadgh suggested. “I’ve heard the tapestries in there are even more spectacular.”
I knew he was mocking me. We were both well aware that there was not the tiniest likelihood that I would—or could, for the sake of my reputation—agree to a private stroll to an unattended drawing room with the likes of Tadgh Munro.
“Thank you, but I must decline,” I replied, perhaps overly shortly.
Bonnie attempted to smooth over my rudeness with a suitably charming comment.
I scarcely heard what it was, or Tadgh’s response to it.
I was allowing myself a small, delicious reprieve.
I thought of Caleb and the stolen moments we’d shared in the blacksmith’s hut, where he worked.
Once I’d watched him bang a still-molten sword with a hammer, honing its blade.
Another day he’d been making chains, linked together while hot, forged solid and unbreakable once they were cooled.
I’m to install these in the dungeons, he’d said, and I’d marveled at the thought.
Such a task would require considerable bravery, and skill, I had thought at the time.
Although Caleb and I hadn’t spent much time together, these brief memories were some of the sweetest I had ever known.
Such was the extent of my distraction that I didn’t notice, after a time, the accumulating crowd enveloping us.
I turned to see Kade Mackenzie talking casually to Tadgh, just a few feet from where I stood.
I was, I had to admit, riveted by the sight of him.
Kade Mackenzie was even taller up close.
His shoulders were squared and solid. The white tunic he wore emphasized the dark hues of his hair and his tawny, sun-bronzed skin.
He looked every inch the savage warrior he was reputed to be.
His eyes were a memorable shade of clear, light blue, a detail I couldn’t help but notice as he watched my finger absentmindedly twirl itself through a ringlet of my long hair.
An expression of relaxed arrogance played across his bold features, softened only by the glimmer of subdued fascination that lurked behind it.
It was true I was somewhat different-looking from my sisters.
My hair was darker and I wore it longer.
My eyes were a lighter hue than my sisters’, almost amber in color, with unusual flecks of yellow.
I thought of Tadgh’s unsettling comment.
And of a description my sisters liked to tease me with.
Stella, you’ve the eyes of a frightened wildcat and the face of a fallen angel.
My clan members often commented that I was the child who looked most like our mother, though I myself could not remember her. She died when I was three.
Against the backdrop of my lingering thoughts of Caleb, and even amid the jaunty camaraderie of the Munros, the sudden looming countenance of Kade Mackenzie was even more daunting and dramatic than it had been from afar.
His presence seemed to close in around me and cause an inexplicable tightening of my throat, as if he were somehow stealing light and air.
Sequestered and restricted to the company of my sisters and cousins for most of my life, I was entirely out of my element in the company of men.
I knew this was why I preferred the nonthreatening gentleness of Caleb to the overt masculinity of men like Kade Mackenzie.
His swarthy charisma leaped into the space all around him, and provided a sharp juxtaposition to the shadow of Caleb’s mild, soothing memory.
There was nothing soothing or mild about Kade Mackenzie.
Which was precisely why I wanted to put as much distance between us as I could.
But I was held in place by my younger sister Ann and my cousin Bonnie, who strung their arms through mine, as though sensing my thoughts and preempting any attempts I might make to leave.
“Ladies,” Angus Munro was saying, “may I top up your drinks? ’Tis a night for frivolity, after all.”