“My father wished to be a monk, but his three older brothers died in battle. The lairdship passed to him, and he had no choice but to leave the monastery where he’d already become a monk but was yet to take his final vows. His brothers’ deaths forced him to leave just two moons before his ordination. He has struggled to accept God’s will when it was contrary to his own desires, contrary to what he’d always believed God intended. I think he’s fought feeling guilty because he has never accepted that he didn’t get what he wanted. He’s done his duty and is a mon I’m proud to call father and laird, but he isn’t a mon who is loveable or loving. He’d prefer to spend his day in prayer, but his responsibilities force him away from the kirk. He, like your mother, ensured he had children, but once he fulfilled that obligation, he ceased paying my mother any attention. Did your mother ignore you when you were a child?”
“Not when I was a wean. She wasn’t affectionate with me or Ewan, but she taught us more than just Scripture. She ensured Ewan and I can read, write, and speak English, Gaelic, French, and Latin. She taught us a tremendous amount aboot nature and an appreciation for all God’s creatures. She wasn’t cruel; she just wasn’t warm.”
“It sounds as though our parents are more alike than not,” Cairstine mused. She hadn’t realized she was gazing into Eoin’s blue eyes until they crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
“Cairstine,” Eoin dropped the honorific, and neither seemed to notice the informality. It felt normal to both of them. He continued softly, “What will you do when the queen denies you?”
“She can’t.” Cairstine blinked rapidly, forcing away the tears of frustration and fear that burned the back of her eyelids. “She’s not an unsympathetic woman. She understands what forced marriages can bring. I don’t worry that my lot in life is as severe as hers was, no one will hold me under house arrest for eight years. But I pray she will understand why I don’t wish to marry.”
“And why is that?” Eoin pressed.
“I don’t want to talk aboot that. That’s no one’s business but my own. Don’t ask again, Eoin. I won’t forgive you for prying.”
Eoin had little choice but to relent. There seemed to be little to say after that mandate, so he escorted Cairstine back to the horses. They rode back to the castle in silence, and they bid one another good day before going their separate ways.
Chapter Six
Cairstine held her breath as she entered the queen’s solar the next morning. She’d had another fitful night of sleep, but this time her dreams were a replay of her conversation with Eoin as they stood looking out over the bluebells. She was certain that despite it being a dream, she could feel his hands on her waist as he lifted her onto his saddle and then when he set her on the ground. In the dream her elbows tingled from Eoin’s hands on them as they talked. His words rejecting her plan to plea for help from the queen echoed over and over just as they did now. Cairstine waited for Elizabeth de Burgh to settle into her carved chair, the seat from which she presided over her ladies-in-waiting and the matrons who often joined them. Queen Elizabeth’s imperious mien tempted Cairstine to abandon her plan entirely, but she reminded herself that nothing ventured was nothing gained. She exhaled and clasped her hands before her as she approached, lowering her chin in deference.
“Lady Cairstine, is there something we can do for you?” The queen swept an assessing glance over Cairstine, and Cairstine swallowed her nerves as she drew closer.
“Your Grace, I hope for but a moment of your time. I have a quandary and wish for your guidance.”
“A quandary? That makes it sound serious. Approach.”
Cairstine followed the queen’s order after dipping into a low curtsy. She took a place on a cushion on the floor beside Queen Elizabeth’s seat. It was an awkward angle, but it reminded anyone who sat there that they were well below the queen in social standing. It forced deference through its discomfort.
“I have spent a great many hours in quiet contemplation aboot the path God would have me follow.” Cairstine kept her gaze lowered and began her request by aiming directly at the topic the queen held most dear. A fervently religious woman who spent many hours of each day in prayer, Cairstine intended to use that to her advantage, but she chose her words carefully so she could gain her desired outcome without boldly lying. “I believe God is calling me toward a life of less frivolity and more introspection.”
That wasn’t a lie. Cairstine didn’t doubt that marriage would cause less whiling away of her days and more thought about her own misery. She would avoid the falsehood that God called her to be a nun. She knew God had done no such thing. She wasn’t sure that God even thought about her or her future, but she had no desire to test that and end up smote in front of the queen.
“Are you dissatisfied with your life at court?” Queen Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow.
“No, Your Grace. But I understand I cannot remain here forever. I’ve been of an age to marry for quite some time, and I believe being a bride of Christ is the highest calling.”
“You want to be a nun?” Queen Elizabeth didn’t hide the disbelief and amusement from her voice. “I don’t think you’re suited to the veil, Lady Cairstine. Not suited at all.”
“That’s what I believed too, Your Grace, when the thought first entered my head. But it is persistent, and I pray for the chance to follow this path.”
“If you are bringing this to my attention, I assume your father is not in agreement. I assume Laird Grant has other plans for his daughter.”
“My father would prefer me to marry, but he has given me time to consider.” This wasn’t entirely a lie either. She had time to consider a husband, but she didn’t feel the need to add that. “He was on a path to serving God before he unexpectedly inherited the lairdship. My family has a history of wanting to serve the church. I could fulfill that.”
“Lady Cairstine, you spin a pretty tale,” the queen began, “but not once have you actually said that you feel a calling from God. I think you wish to avoid marrying someone you don’t want.”
Cairstine couldn’t prevent the heat that crept up her neck and into her cheeks. They felt on fire, and she was certain the temperature in the chamber rose by several degrees as sweat broke out along her hairline. She was about to confess something she hadn’t spoken aloud. Ever.
“Your Grace, might I tell you something in utmost confidence?”
“Of course, my child.” The queen’s amused gaze shifted to one of genuine concern as she noticed Cairstine appeared on the verge of tears, her distress very real.
“May I whisper it to you?” Cairstine heard the begging in her own voice, and the queen must have as well, because she nodded. Cairstine kneeled and leaned toward the queen to whisper, “I have never told another soul this. It’s too shameful to speak aloud. Something happened to me many years ago. It wasn’t my choice, and it was beyond my control. It made me an unsuitable bride to any mon. I can never tell my father that.”
“Does your mother know?” Queen Elizabeth murmured. It stunned her to learn someone had assaulted Cairstine. She never suspected such a secret lurked within the lively lady-in-waiting.
“No,” Cairstine shook her head, relieved to hear no censure in the queen’s voice. “No one in my family does. Only Alexander and Magnus Sinclair and my guard, Bram, know. They helped me.”
Queen Elizabeth sat back, and Cairstine returned to sitting on the cushion. The queen’s eyes softened as she took in the anxiety that radiated from Cairstine’s rigid posture. She’d feared for her life countless times as a young bride to a man who would be king but spent years on the run. She recognized the same fear she’d experienced when her future was uncertain and she had to place her trust in others when she wasn’t sure she should.
