Chapter One
Glen Arrin, Scotland 1312
“She means to rid you of your child, my lady,” her maid Síla whispered in her ear, glancing down at the goblet on the table. “Do not drink any cup she gives to you.” Celeste de Laurent, Lady of Eiloch, kept her face expressionless, though the danger was real. Now that her husband was dead, his younger brother, Lionel, stood to inherit.
But only if she did not bear a child.
Hs wife, Lady Rowena, meant to ensure that nothing would threaten her husband’s inheritance. The goblet was likely laced with herbs that would force her to miscarry if she was pregnant.
“Leave us,” Rowena commanded. The maid obeyed, but cast another warning look toward Celeste.
The cup held a spiced wine, and Celeste toyed with the goblet, tracing her finger along the silver rim. But she heeded her maid’s warning and did not drink.
“You would do well to leave Eiloch,” Rowena said, her face placid with a soft smile. “Marry someone else and give my husband the lands that are rightfully his.”
“I have no wish to remarry.” Celeste straightened in her seat, staring down at the dark wine. “I will remain here, as is my right.”
“Why would you stay where you are not wanted?” Her gaze centered upon Celeste’s waist. “You may be entitled to one-third of Lord Eiloch’s property, by law. But that does not mean you must dwell here, within these walls.” Her smile turned menacing. “There are other places within our property where you could go.” Other, less desirable places, she didn’t say.
“I may be carrying Edmon’s heir,” Celeste said, refusing to back down. “Until I know for certain, you have no rights at all.”
Once word had come of Edmon’s death, Rowena and Lionel had descended upon Eiloch like a swarm of locusts. The threat of a pregnancy was all Celeste had left to defend her right to remain in her home. Her hands went to her womb, silently praying that she had quickened with her husband’s seed. A son might keep her safe from the circling vultures—but she worried about her own safety.
“Try to remain here, and I’ll see to it that your life is a misery,” Rowena warned. “You’ll get nothing from us, and you’ll live on the edges of our lands among the crofters.” She moved in closer, her eyes dark with intent. “It will be just like your life, before you wed Edmon. Or have you forgotten?”
Celeste pretended as if she had not heard Rowena’s threats. But even so, a chill ran through her blood, as she remembered the years of hunger and how she and her sister had huddled together for warmth on cold winter nights.
She gripped the goblet, as if she could absorb strength from the silver. “No, I haven’t forgotten.” She’d chosen this marriage to escape the memories.
“Edmon never should have married a woman like you," Rowena said. "You know nothing of what it means to be Lady of a castle.”
Celeste didn’t deny it. During her brief marriage, she’d tried to learn, but the complexities of governing the people and managing the rents had overwhelmed her. Edmon had no choice but to shoulder the responsibilities on his own. He should have married a rich Norman heiress, one who would have brought land and gold to his coffers. Instead, he’d chosen her, the daughter of a lowborn Scot.
Edmon had desired her, and she’d given up her freedom in return for the security he'd offered. Their marriage had been her means of escaping the poverty of her childhood, a way of keeping her sister safe.
And now, she might have nothing.
“You carry no child within your womb,” Rowena predicted. “And within a fortnight, we’ll know the truth.”
“Within a fortnight, you and your husband will be gone from here,” Celeste countered. “For I do carry a child.”
“You could not possibly know that.” Rowena poured herself a goblet of wine. “And when it is proven that you are not breeding, your sister will leave with you.”
Celeste wasn’t at all certain Rowena was allowed to force her from the castle, by law. But she would not put it past the woman to try.
“You would not want Melisandre to suffer, would you?” the woman continued.
Celeste stiffened at the threat. Her little sister was hardly more than three-and-ten. “She’s just a girl.”
“She is. And if you insist upon staying here, she will endure the same fate as you.” Rowena’s calm expression revealed no remorse whatsoever.
Melisandre was the only family Celeste had left, and she could let no one threaten her. Iron resolution stiffened her backbone, and she understood now, that everything depended upon her bearing a child. A child meant sanctuary, a means of protecting those she loved. It meant keeping her home at Eiloch and being rid of Lionel and Rowena.
But almost as soon as she envisioned the faint hope, a cramping sensation began in her womb. It was a harbinger of her menses, and in her mind, she envisioned Rowena’s threats coming to pass.
God help her. If anyone learned of this, they would lose everything.
“Drink,” Rowena bade her, raising her own cup. But Celeste stood from her chair, rising to her full height. She had little time left, but she intended to use every moment of it.
