Before she could fully dismount, the heavy wooden doors of the castle burst open, and Lenora came flying out, her golden hair streaming behind her, and her usually serene face flushed with panic.
“Lillith!” Lenora cried, rushing toward her. “I’ve been looking all over for ye!”
Lenora grabbed at Lillith’s arm with such force that Lillith jerked back instinctively, nearly losing her balance while one foot was still in the stirrup. Masie gave a bark, as Lillith clutched at her saddle to steady herself. “Get ahold of yerself!” she snapped at her sister, heart hammering from the near fall, and the mounting fear that Rory Matheson had not been lying after all. “Ye’ll have me breaking my neck before I’m even off my mount.”
Lenora stepped back, her hands fluttering nervously at her sides. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “But ye’ve been gone for hours, and everything’s gone mad, and I did nae ken where to find ye.”
Lillith swung her leg over and dropped to the ground, keeping one hand on her mare’s flank to steady herself. She had never seen Lenora this distraught, not even when that stable boy Caleb had broken his leg after falling from the hayloft last summer. Something truly terrible had happened—like mayhap Lenora being told their da had broken his vow to them, and she had to wed not only a stranger, but their clan’s enemy.
“What’s occurred?” Lillith asked, hoping her imagination was running wild. “Why are Uncle Brus and Uncle Rolland here?”
Lenora opened her mouth to answer, but then froze, her eyes widening as they fixed on Lillith’s bodice. “Do ye have blood on yer gown?”
Lillith glanced down, surprised to see dark specs across the front of her dress. She had no notion how Rory Matheson’s blood had gotten on her, but there it was. The man was the most bothersome and insufferable Scot she’d ever met—poor Lenora, if what he’d said was true.
“I accidentally shot some fool in the woods,” she said, willing it to be so that she never saw him again, and that he most certainly did not appear at her home, yet, even as she willed it, a memory of his piercing blue eyes popped into her head, startling her. She had no notion why she could recall his eyes with such detail, except, well, they’d had a mocking look in them. That had to be it!
“Ye what?” Lenora’s jaw dropped, and her panic of a moment ago seemed to disappear in the face of Lillith’s revelation.
Lillith shrugged. “He rode right into my line of fire,” she said, holding her reins out to the stable boy who approached them.
“Lillith!” Lenora gasped.
Lillith tried not to sigh at Lenora’s dramatic reaction to the shooting. It sometimes amazed Lillith how two people who looked identical could be so different in personality. Lenora was a worrier—abouteverything—whereas Lillith preferred to live life without fretting. “It was only a flesh wound,” she said to her gawking sister. “He’ll live,” she added in a soothing tone. She omitted the part where she’d left him to find his own way to the castle. That detail seemed unnecessary presently.
“Who was he?” Lenora asked, following Lillith as she started toward the castle doors.
Lillith hesitated, then decided there was no point in hiding it. “He said his name was Rory Matheson.”
“Matheson?” Lenora repeated, her voice rising an octave. “Ye shot a Matheson?”
“Shh!” Lillith said, glancing around. If what the man had said was true. Their little encounter could prove problematic for her. “There’s nae any need to announce it loudly for someone to hear.”
“Did he say why he was here?” Lenora asked, worrying her lip.
“Aye, though I vow he was lying,” she added, dreading telling Lenora.
“What did he say?” Lenora demanded.
Lillith paused just inside the castle door in front of her sister, studying a face that looked just as her own did. Her protective instinct for her sister rose, and she took Lenora’s hand and squeezed it. “Now, do nae get yerself worked up.” Lenora, unlike Lillith, most definitely wanted to wed, but for love, of course, not because she’d been ordered to by the king.
“Ye’re making me worried, by nae spitting it out,” Lenora wailed. “’Tis unlike ye nae to be blunt.”
That was true enough. Lillith took a deep breath and said, “He claimed he was here by order of the king to wed ye.”
At this revelation, Lenora burst into tears. Lillith stood frozen in shock. She had expected disbelief, perhaps even a bit of hysteria, but not this… this complete collapse. “Lenora,” she whispered, glancing around to ensure they weren’t drawing attention, but there was no one in the main entrance. “It’s likely nae even true.”
“That’s why I was looking for ye!” Lenora managed between hiccupping breaths. “Aunt Elena and Uncle Rolland arrived a bit ago, as well as Uncle Brus and Auntie Sebille, and Grandmamaand Granda. They’re all locked in da’s private solar, yelling at each other with Mama and Da.”
Lillith’s breath seemed to snag on something in her chest—likely worry. Rory Matheson might not have been lying after all. “Did ye listen at the door?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
Lenora looked affronted, drawing herself up despite her tear-stained face. “Of course I did nae!”
But Lillith knew her twin too well. Lenora’s right eye always twitched slightly when she lied—and it was twitching now.
“Ye’re lying,” Lillith said flatly. “What did ye hear?”
Lenora’s lower lip trembled. “Only bits and pieces. Grandmama was shouting about choices and freedom. Granda kept saying something about duty and the king’s command. And then Da…” Her voice faltered. “Da said something about one of us having to wed.”
