“No, but I ken he dispatched four messengers yesterday,” Fenella responded.
“Four? Any idea to who?” Cairstine asked.
Fenella shook her head, but she had no opportunity to answer as Edward stood by the door to his solar, glaring in their direction. Fenella squeezed Cairstine’s arm again.
“Come find me afterwards, Cair. I have so much to tell you. I want to show you the fabric Mother convinced Father to buy for our wedding gowns.”
“I will, Fenny.” Cairstine mustered no excitement at the opportunity to see anything to do with her wedding.
* * *
“Cairstine, can you imagine my surprise when a messenger arrived with a missive from the abbot of Dundee Abbey demanding--oh no, he did not ask, he demanded—that I send your dowry to the priory? Can you imagine my greater shock to learn that not only were you no longer in Stirling but at Dundee Priory attempting to become a nun when I expressly forbade you to do that very thing? And as if those two bits of news weren’t enough, I discover you arrived at the priory with young Gordon beside you.”
Cairstine remained silent as Edward ranted. She recognized the questions were rhetorical, and she wisely kept her mouth shut. Her father made the same circuit around the desk and table that he’d made the last time he dressed down Cairstine. He shook his head before standing beside his desk. He lifted a stack of folded parchment. “These are rejections to my inquiries aboot betrothing you. Not a single eligible mon wants to marry you. Why might that be, Cairstine?”
When Edward cocked an eyebrow but said no more, Cairstine couldn’t avoid answering. “I can’t be certain, but I suspect none of them took a liking to me if they met me. I suppose I’m not always friendly.” She’d been more than friendly with several courtiers, but the brief kisses seemed inconsequential after what she shared with Eoin. But to other men—and women—she’d been as off-putting as she could.
“Unfriendly? None came out and directly said it, but I read between the lines. You have a waspish tongue, little between the ears, and are vainglorious.” Edward shook the stack of missives before tossing them onto the desk. “They described a woman foreign to me. That is not how your mother and I raised you, and that’s not the woman I know you to be. Explain yourself.”
Cairstine flinched at the demand, but she couldn’t avoid it. “Father, I’ve told you I’m not suited to marriage. I liked the days I spent at the priory. They were peaceful and filled me with a calm I’ve never experienced before. I suspected around the time I arrived at court that I didn’t want to marry, but I also understood I was there only in part to serve the queen. I knew you expected me to look for a husband. But Father, you would never approve of the men who lurk at court. Besides being mostly Lowlanders, they are disingenuous and manipulative. They would have married me for my dowry, and what they thought they could siphon from our clan. Between attempting to discourage them and fitting in with the other ladies-in-waiting, I became someone I’m not proud of, but neither am I ashamed. I don’t belong there any more than I belong as someone’s wife.”
“That’s a pretty little speech. But it means naught. You have a duty to this clan, and you will fulfill it. Your selfishness is hurting your sister.” Edward lifted his chin, knowing his barb struck Cairstine between the eyes. “Her life is on hold until you realize there is more to life than what you want.”
“Yes, Father.” Cairstine murmured. “Since you squandered your opportunity to suggest suitors, I shall now have to begin another round of inquiries. Men are already on their way to the Macleans, the MacDonalds, the Sutherlands, and the Campbells.” Edward named clans with eligible bachelors that she already knew.
She thought of Brodie Campbell, who before she became friends with Eoin, was the only man she knew who she thought she might tolerate marrying. But he was heir to his clan’s lairdship and would need his own heirs. Marrying Brodie was impossible. The same was true for Lachlan Sutherland, whose sister she had taunted while Maude’s future sister-by-marriage, Madeline MacLeod, was the unofficial leader of the ladies-in-waiting. She was certain the Sutherlands would burn the missive before saying yes.
Athol MacDonald was a known drunkard, and there were rumors that he’d strangled a whore one night after imbibing too much. It shocked Cairstine that her father would consider Athol. His reputation was no secret, and it proved her father’s desperation. Gavan Maclean was a sickly man who perpetually appeared to be on his deathbed. Cairstine admonished herself for briefly thinking he would be the best candidate since he might die before he consummated the marriage. Cairstine resolved to pray that none of the men accepted.
“Are you listening to me?” Edward’s voice permeated Cairstine’s thoughts, and she realized she hadn’t noticed her father was still speaking.
“My apologies, Father. I remembered what I know aboot Gavan Maclean and Athol MacDonald.” She couldn’t keep from shuddering the latter’s name. Her father noticed, and Cairstine sensed her reaction bothered him.
“What do you ken of Athol MacDonald?”
“Father, he drinks too heavily when he’s at court, and I’ve heard it’s the same at home. He killed a woman who worked in a Stirling tavern. He strangled her when she turned down his advances.” Cairstine swallowed before mumbling, “He terrifies me.”
“Lass,” Edward eased his tone as he watched his normally stalwart daughter retreat into a shell at the mention of the prospective groom. “I will rescind my offer if he should express interest. It isn’t my intention for you to ever come to harm. Marriage isn’t meant to be a prison, and I’m not trying to sentence you to a life of misery. My hope is that you can marry a mon who will appreciate you as much as I do your mother, and who can trust and rely upon you as much as I do her.”
Cairstine sat stunned. She’d never heard her father speak fondly of her mother. Cairstine had always assumed that Edward was oblivious to what Davina did to serve the clan. She nodded and forced a weak smile. “Thank you, Father,” Cairstine murmured, but she gathered her nerves and looked her father in the eye.
“Go and see your mother and sister. They’ll be beside themselves wondering whether I chewed you up and spat you out.” Edward offered one of his rare paternal smiles, and the one Cairstine offered in return was genuine.
* * *
“Cair!” Cairstine’s sister ran toward her as Cairstine entered the bedchamber. Her sister’s exuberant welcome formed a pit in Cairstine’s stomach. After the disheartening conversation with her father, Cairstine wasn’t excited to discuss wedding plans or the material they would use to sew their inevitably matching gowns. Cairstine plastered a smile on her face despite feeling anything but eager to play along with her sister’s vivacity. Her sister grasped both of her hands and squeezed. “Cair, you’re just in time. Mama and I were discussing the best cut and embroidery for our accounts.”
“That sounds lovely,” Cairstine tried to infuse enthusiasm into her voice, but she feared it fell flat. Cairstine looked around the chamber she had spent many hours in and at the bed, which she and her sister often shared when one of them was scared at night. While everything seemed familiar, it also seemed so foreign. After two years at court and the anticipation of joining a nunnery, walking into her sister’s room no longer gave her a sense of belonging. She caught her mother watching, but she couldn’t interpret the expression on the older woman’s face. It appeared to be a combination of understanding, regret, and acceptance. Davina patted the bed beside her as she moved to make space for Cairstine to sit at the foot. Cairstine leaned against her mother when Davina wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the crown of her head. Her mother’s scent was the only thing that felt wholly familiar and comforting. She closed her eyes, holding her tears at bay, so she wouldn’t dampen her sister’s mood.
“Let’s talk later,mo ghruagach,” Davina had always called her daughters “my lass,” even as they grew to be adults. The simple use of the word “my” changed the meaning and bolstered Cairstine’s spirit.
“Aye, Mama,” Cairstine returned in just as quiet a whisper as both women watched Fenella twirl with a swath of fabric beneath her chin.
“Fenny, tell me more aboot Kennon. All I really know is that he’s Brodie’s cousin. But he’s never accompanied Brodie to court, or at least not as far as I know.” Cairstine shifted the attention to Fenella’s relationship, hoping it would distract Fenella from Cairstine’s undecided future.
“He’s simply wonderful. He’s kind and patient, and he’s rather quiet.” Fenella giggled. “I suppose that’s not a dreadful thing since I like to talk so much. He’s intelligent even though he didn’t have as much instruction as Brodie. He enjoys reading as much as he does hunting and riding. He’s very strong, and,” Fenella’s face turned red, “very braw.”
Cairstine’s mind drifted to how she would describe Eoin, and she found similarities to what Fenella listed, but she considered his natural leadership, his sense of humor, his protectiveness, his faith, and something she couldn’t describe that drew her to him.
