Her father leaned forward and steepled his hands on the desk, his gaze returning to her. “But Egan and I will deal with this. No need to worry your bonny head,m'eudail—my dear.”
She ground her teeth and refrained from pointing out it was she who’d brought the news, not Egan.
Just then the dogs’ barks turned louder and fiercer than before. Curious, she walked back to the window and glanced down into the courtyard. Three men were speaking to a Dunbar retainer. She recognized the short, round one as Hamish Ross, who was about two decades older than Phoebe herself, and next to him was his rawboned younger brother Broden. They were a neighboring clan to the Dunbars. But then Phoebe’s eyes fell on the third man, with the pale Romanesque features in the redcoat’s uniform, which had caught the dogs’ attention. Unlike Hamish and Broden, their cousin Faye had been raised in England and wore his red uniform with pride and arrogance. Phoebe froze. Dizziness overtook her, and her muscles went cold and numb. She palmed the window’s sill to steady herself.Spies don’t fear. They fight,Falcon had said.
CHAPTER 36
“What is it?” Her father asked, still seated at his desk.
She hadn’t even been back a full day. How was it he was already here? Hadn’t he relocated to the south years ago? The coldness on the length of her spine turned to sweat, Falcon’s words forgotten.
She turned to her father. “What are Hamish and Broden Ross doing here?”
“Oh. From the expression on your face, I thought you’d seen aglaistig… a ghost. They’ve come to discuss fencing off their lands from ours, to avoid mingling of livestock.” Her father exhaled audibly as if exhausted, then continued. “Duncan has been fighting with the Rosses again because their sheep and cattle keep crossing over to our side of the moors.”
“But why is their redcoat cousin with them, if they’ve come to talk about livestock?” Phoebe asked, her voice sounding higher and harder than usual to her own ears. Was she cursed to be plagued by vile redcoats even inside her own childhood home?
Her father looked towards the window, his mouth twisting with distaste. “For the sake of keeping the peace with our neighbors, let’s leave our political biases at the portcullis, shall we, Phoebe? Besides, the English are garrisoning more and moreof their soldiers in the Scottish Highlands; we simply have to get used to theSassenachs.”
Her father never understood the depth of her dislike for the English, orSassenachs, if she wanted to be disparaging like him. And perhaps that was her fault for being unable to tell him. Part of her bias came from her hate for the English brutalizing Scottish rebels and their families, including innocent women and children. But the other part was currently standing in their courtyard, dressed in a red uniform. He’d threatened to hang her mother, father and brother and murder the rest of her clan if she ever told the truth.
Rigidity coalesced on her entire posture as her heartbeats boomed in her ears and her muscles tightened painfully. “Where is the meeting to be held?” Phoebe asked.
“Right here in the solar.”
Oh, no. No. She couldn’t face him. Phoebe glanced at the door. The need to flee was so powerful her breathing stuttered. “I’ll leave … leave you to it.”
Phoebe turned and half walked, half sprinted for the door to escape.
But the door clicked from the other side. Phoebe’s heart landed in her stomach. How had they reached this floor so quickly? But when the door swung open, instead of the Rosses and their vile cousin, her mother appeared in the door. Despite the relief that enveloped her entire body, she sank down into the nearest velvet-cushioned mahogany chair for fear her knees would give away.
Her mother glided in on the faint scent of rose water, a warm smile on her face, her graying red hair up in a flawless chignon. The graceful swish of her sky-blue mantua gown sounded as she neared Phoebe and planted a sweet kiss on her forehead.
“I trust your sleep was restful after your long journey, my dear?” her mother said.
“It was, mother. Thank you,” Phoebe lied, she’d been too worried about Slade’s bleeding nose and the ensuing scandal after her supposed kiss with Slade. She was already the center of the clan’s gossip. If only she’d known Slade’s injuries, and the supposed kiss, weren’t the only things she’d have to worry about today.
“I am glad. Now that you are well rested, my dear, we need to settle the issue of Slade MacLean,” her mother said with kind eyes, walking over to stand next to her father, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her parents exchanged a soft, intimate smile before facing her with unwavering parental concern in their steady gaze.
She understood. Her parents were a unified front against her.
She braced herself for what was coming from her parents, even though every cell in her body screamed at her to leave the solar before Faye Ross entered.
“Egan gave me quite a startling report right here in this solar yesterday when he arrived. Considering the compromising position you and Slade MacLean found yourselves in at the Black Hog’s, there is but one solution to avoid a scandal. You will marry Slade,” her father said, his tone resolved.
The thump of her heart jarred painfully against her ribs. Slade for a husband was any girl’s dream come to life. But she couldn’t marry him. She wouldn’t. Society and the law dictated a wife was her husband’s property and she would be no man’s property. Giving up control of her life would kill her.
When Faye Ross had hurt her, he had taken away her peace of mind and control over her sense of self, of how she dressed, who she interacted with and where she went. But these past two years she had regained control by being part of the Movement, fighting against what Faye Ross represented;ruthless subjugation, and cruel control. She couldn’t give this up. It would destroy her.
Her fingers curled against damp palms, and she leveled her gaze with her father’s. “I cannot.”
His jaws set in a grim line. “You disregarded propriety. You were seen kissing him in plain view of everyone. And in front of the biggest gossip and troublemaker in our clan, Duncan. Have you no care for your reputation? For the illustrious reputation of our family? Our clan?”
The tendons on the back of her neck tightened. “I can’t marry him, Father. Please,” Phoebe pleaded.
A crease appeared between his brows. “Why not? Slade MacLean is quite a prize, from what I hear of the women gossiping. And you clearly have feelings for him, ever since you were a wee girl.”
She stared at her father, struggling to get a grip on the nightmarish quicksand of her life. Her blood roared in cold panic.
