Chapter 2
“Iwill do everythin’ in me power to stop this.”
Sienna gave Rhea a small smile. She was sitting by the window in the drawing room, pale morning light bathing her in blue. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, untied yet brushed to perfection, as always.
She looked so much like Callum, yet acted so unlike him that their resemblance faded in Rhea’s mind. Her pale gray eyes seemed to reflect the dull sky outside, the bleakness of the day infecting everything around it, even Sienna herself.
Callum… damn that man.
Ten months gone. Six months without a single word. Many thought him dead, and there was nothing Rhea could tell them to assuage their fears. How could she, when she feared the very same thing?
“And I ken that ye will,” Sienna said in her sweet, surprisingly alto voice. Yet Rhea knew she was only saying it to make her feel better.
It was far from an easy task to stop what was coming.
Rhea had donned her most regal, most armor-like garments—a dress of fine wool, dyed a deep red and trimmed with gold thread and lace, suffocating around the waist, keeping her back pin-straight and her head held high.
Sienna was similarly dressed in a dark blue gown, more understated as the sister of the Laird and yet just as imposing.
It was all they could do when they couldn’t hold a sword, when they couldn’t tower over those men who came to their home to threaten them.
“I will fight him with me own hands if I must,” Rhea quipped, trying to lift Sienna’s spirits.
It did draw a soft laugh out of her, but she didn’t seem any brighter for it.
“I truly fear ye might, Rhea. I wouldnae be surprised if ye brought him bleedin’ and bruised to me door.”
“Me Lady,” Lara’s cheerful, lilting voice called from the door as she poked her head through the gap. “He is here.”
Rhea turned to Sienna once more, giving her a reassuring smile. “Are ye ready?”
“Nay,” Sienna replied, shaking her head. “But let us go.”
The walk to the Great Hall was tense and silent, only the click of their shoes echoing around them. Every servant, every guard they passed on their way was just as tense, as if the sudden arrival of their guests had plunged the entire castle into a great sense of danger.
They weren’t entirely wrong. Though they weren’t in danger in a literal sense, without Callum there, Rhea didn’t know how she could ward off this threat.
Two guards opened the door to the Great Hall to reveal an entire delegation of people from Clan Barclay. And there, standing at the head, was none other than Lennon Edwards, the Laird of Clan Barclay.
The sight of him gave Rhea pause. She had expected a more impressive man, someone as commanding as Callum—as much as she remembered her husband. But the man standing before her was nothing like him, nor like the kind of man who could lead a clan.
He was older, probably in his late thirties, with blonde hair that had begun to gray at the temples. His dark eyes were scanning the room slowly, stopping at every single councilman who was there to oversee the meeting, before finally landing on her and Sienna. He smiled.
Something unpleasant curled in Rhea’s stomach. She didn’t like the look on his face, the way he was staring at the two of them as if he enjoyed what he was seeing. She didn’t want him to enjoy what he was seeing at all. She wanted him to be frightened off.
“Welcome, Laird Barclay,” Rhea greeted, taking the lead before he could. Sienna trailed behind her as she approached the man, bobbing a curtsy that was only as deep as propriety demanded, before straightening up once more. “I hope yer journey wasnae too unpleasant.”
“Nae at all,” Laird Barclay said, bowing to the two of them. “A long journey is a small discomfort when I will be rewarded with such a bonnie bride.”
Next to her, Sienna remained silent, her shoulders rigid. She gave Laird Barclay nothing, and that gave Rhea great satisfaction.
“Ye are here to discuss the possibility, Laird Barclay,” Rhea corrected him. “Lady Sienna hasnae accepted yer offer yet.”
Laird Barclay’s eyes fell on Sienna again, lingering on her for a little too long. “Is that so, Lady Sienna? Do ye find me unsatisfactory, then?”
“There is much to consider,” Sienna answered in the most diplomatic tone she could muster.
Laird Barclay turned to Rhea, grinning. “A quiet one, eh? That’s good; silence and timidity make for a good wife.”
The slight smile on Rhea’s face twisted into something more unpleasant, bile rising in the back of her throat.
In the past ten months, she had forgotten what it was like to be around men, especially men like him.
Her entire social circle consisted of women.
Sienna, the friends she had made at the castle, the maids—they were all women.
And now that she was talking to Laird Barclay, she could hardly control her expressions like she used to.
“Aye, well, there is plenty that may surprise ye in a lass.” She could practically feel Sienna seething next to her, trembling with rage, though the other woman remained silent.
Rhea had half a mind to tell her to speak up, to tell Laird Barclay precisely what was on her mind, but she couldn’t afford to lose another ally. She had to navigate this just right if she wanted to avoid marrying her off to him while also keeping him on the clan’s side.
“Daenae fash,” Laird Barclay said. “I am also quite fond of surprises.”
“Right so.” Rhea took a deep, steadying breath. She glanced around the hall for a moment, her gaze meeting that of the watchful councilmen, who all wanted this marriage to happen.
She couldn’t speak to Laird Barclay while all those men were watching. She had to get him alone.
“Shall we take this to the drawin’ room?” she suggested. “I’d rather speak in private, Laird Barclay. I daenae ken about ye, but I think a deal is between two people, nae a dozen.”
“Shame that ye were born a lass,” Laird Barclay remarked, much to her chagrin. “Ye would have made for a mighty laird.”
Rhea huffed out a humorless laugh and then turned around, fully expecting him to follow her—and he did. She led him out of the Great Hall and into the drawing room, where she dismissed the servants and guards before sitting down and gesturing for him to do the same.
The drawing room had lost some of its charm in the past few years, she had been informed by the servants.
The more gold and wealth the clan lost, the more the castle fell into disrepair, and though the drawing room had been spared from the worst of it, it was plainer than she had been used to when she was still living at Castle McAllister.
But apart from the Great Hall, it was the one room that still held the most wealth in the castle, and the one where she could still receive guests.
Alas, Laird Barclay was no fool. She could see the way he took in every single detail, everything that spoke of the finances of the clan.
“I will be frank with ye, me Laird,” Rhea began when he sat across from her in a plush armchair draped with luxurious green velvet. “I believe yer journey was in vain.”
“Is that so?” Laird Barclay asked, sounding truly surprised. “Why do ye say that?”
“Lady Sienna isnae interested in marriage right now,” Rhea said simply, giving no other explanation. “Though we appreciate yer interest, as well as yer offer.”
Laird Barclay stared at her for a moment, and then burst out laughing.
“Forgive me,” he gasped, waving a hand in the air. “Forgive me, me dear, but it seems to me that ye daenae ken the exact state of yer clan.”
Rage threatened to bubble over and spill out of Rhea, and she only barely managed to contain it. Her cheeks burned with anger, her hands shaking with it, and she clasped them together in her lap to conceal the fact.
But Laird Barclay was not done yet.
“The clan is at war,” he continued. “Ye have nay wealth, nay laird. Ye have nay heir. And as far as I ken, Laird McMahon hasnae sent word back to the clan for the past six months. Or is that a simple rumor, me Lady?”
Who told the bastard? Who told him that Callum hasnae sent word back?
Rhea stared at him in silence, gritting her teeth until her molars ached. What was she supposed to say to him now? The man knew he had the upper hand. Without Callum there, without even an heir, without any wealth to fall back on, there was little she could do to protect Sienna from this marriage.
Was it someone from our clan who told him this? Who else would it be? The only people who ken Callum hasnae sent word are us, his clan.
It was one of the councilmen, surely. It had to be. Or perhaps it was just the gossip among the servants and the guards, and Laird Barclay had heard it all.
Rhea didn’t know which was worse, having an informant among their ranks or having servants who were so loud-mouthed that simple gossip spread so far.
“Frankly, I’m quite surprised that Lady Sienna has declined me offer,” Laird Barclay said.
“Surely she doesnae think yer clan can afford this, or perhaps she truly doesnae ken the extent of the damage. But Lady McMahon, it’s me duty to wed her.
Ye understand, right? I cannae leave two young lasses alone and defenseless.
What if another clan decides to attack? What will ye do without a laird, without an army?
Ye have just enough men here to guard the castle from a rogue attack, but if there is a siege, how long do ye think ye’ll last?
How long do ye think yer men will last? How long do ye think yer grain stores will last? ”
Rhea had nothing to say to that. Laird Barclay was voicing all of her concerns, all the fears that had been brewing in her mind for the past months. It was as if he had dug deep into her mind to find her deepest fears and had brought them all to light, all to frighten her into submission.
What do I even say to him now? He’s right to think we wouldnae last under siege, but there is nay talk of siege.
Is this a threat? Is he threatenin’ to attack if he doesnae get what he wants?
That was ludicrous, and yet Rhea wouldn’t put it past the man. He was there to get what he wanted, and what he wanted was Sienna—and by extension, the clan, since he thought Callum was gone for good.
“Ye’re defenseless, Lady McMahon,” Laird Barclay repeated, rising from his seat and walking over to the door. “And I cannae in good conscience leave two women defenseless like this.”
“I’ll have ye ken that—” Before she could say another word, Laird Barclay opened the door and stepped out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him like a beast.
Rhea sat there, staring at the space he had just vacated with her mouth hanging open, too shocked to even move.
Damn him! And damn Callum for leavin’ like this!