“Aye, exactly!” Lillith agreed, as if the dog had offered a particularly astute observation. “The nerve of him! He’s the one who was in my way, and yet somehow ’tis all my fault.” She sat up, crossing her legs beneath her and taking Masie’s face between her palms. “Ye’ll stay loyal to yer mistress, will yenae, Masie? Even if everyone else thinks I’m naught but a wild hellion?”
The dog’s tail thumped against the bedcovers in what Lillith chose to interpret as fervent agreement.
“Good girl.” Lillith sighed, flopping back among the pillows. “Do ye ken,” she said, turning to look at her hound who stared at her as if she understood every word Lillith said, “he met me for three breaths before deciding he would wed Lenora and nae me?” Lillith sniffed, and Masie licked her palm. “Ye do nae need to comfort me. I do nae wish to wed any man—especially an arrogant one like him. But…it does chafe me a wee bit to think someone views my personality as unpleasant or bothersome even.” She looked once more to the ceiling, feeling a tightness in her chest that was most certainly indignation and not injured feelings. She refused that notion completely. She was slightly irritated, that’s all.
She clenched the bedcovers, bunching the fine fabric into her fists. Masie nudged her cold nose under Lillith’s hand, letting out a slight whine.
Lillith glanced down at her white-knuckled grip on the furs and slowly released them, smoothing the wrinkles with a shaking hand. “Mayhap my feelings might be hurt just a wee bit,” she admitted in a whisper, as if afraid the stone walls might overhear this confession of weakness. “Och! I’m being ridiculous. Imagine having to look at Rory Matheson’s scowling face as I break my fast every morning for the rest of my life! Even if it is attached to shoulders broad enough to—” She cut herself off, horrified at the direction her thoughts had taken.
Before she could chastise herself further, the door to her chamber burst open without so much as a knock. Lillith sat up so quickly that Masie nearly tumbled off the bed, recovering with an indignant woof.
Eve swept into the room, followed closely by Aunt Elena, Aunt Sebille, Grandmama Marion, and finally, Lenora, whose face was pale and drawn. Each woman wore an expression of fierce determination that made Lillith immediately wary.
“What is it?” she asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Has something else happened?”
Eve shook her head. “No, we’ve come to discuss strategy to save Lenora from this forced marriage,” she announced, her green eyes glinting with purpose. “This arrangement with the Matheson heir will not proceed as the men have planned.”
Before Lillith could speak and share her idea, Lenora stepped forward, tears welling in her eyes. “I—I kinnae wed Rory Matheson,” she whispered, then louder wailed, “I will nae wed him!”
“We do not want ye to have to do so,” their grandmama assured Lenora.
“Ye do nae understand!” Lenora cried out. “I love Caleb!”
“The stablemaster’s son?” Lillith blurted, shocked.
Lenora nodded. “I’ve loved him since we were but fourteen summers.”
Lillith felt her jaw slacken in surprise. Lenora had been harboring a secret love for four years? How had she not known? A pang of hurt lanced through her chest, but a fierce protectiveness quickly replaced it as she saw the naked vulnerability in Lenora’s eyes.
Aunt Elena moved to stand beside Lenora and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Is Caleb the lad with the limp?”
“Aye,” Lenora replied, swiping at her tears. “His right leg is shorter than his left, but he’s kind and gentle and clever.”
“Does he return yer affection?” Aunt Sebille interrupted.
“He does,” Lenora confirmed, a small smile playing at her lips despite her tears. “He wishes to wed me. He has for over a year now. But he—” Her voice faltered.
“He what, child?” Grandmama Marion asked, stepping closer to the circle that was forming around Lenora.
“He insists he will nae ask Da for my hand until he can prove himself worthy by passing the warrior test,” Lenora explained, her shoulders slumping. “He says a laird’s daughter deserves a husband who can protect her, nae one who would be a burden.”
“And the test?” Lillith found herself asking, though she already suspected the answer.
“He’s failed it three times already,” Lenora whispered, fresh tears welling. “Each time he trains harder, pushes himself further, but his leg… it will nae allow him to complete the sword work as quickly as the other men. I’ve assured him I do nae care and that I would wed him tomorrow, but he’s a stubborn Highlander.”
The women all nodded in understanding as Lillith moved to her sister’s side, taking her place in the circle of women that had formed naturally around Lenora. “Ye should have told me,” she murmured, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.
“I feared ye would think me silly,” Lenora admitted, reaching for Lillith’s hand. “Ye’re always so strong, so certain that ye do nae ever want to wed.”
“That does nae mean I would mock yer heart,” Lillith replied, squeezing her sister’s fingers. They felt cold with fear in her grasp.
The women gathered closer still, and Lillith was struck by the force they made, standing united against the plans of men.
“This makes matters even more desperate,” Grandmama Marion said. “We cannot allow Lenora to be forced into a marriage when her heart belongs to another.”
“Especially when the other twin is available and unwed,” Aunt Sebille added, her calculating gaze now fixed on Lillith.
Lillith’s stomach dropped to the ground. “I do nae wish to wed!” she protested. “I want to be a warrior like Aunt Bridgette!”
