They were in the small chamber behind the hall, where her da had always conducted his business. She turned to Dougal and held out her hand.
“Is that the letter ye ha’ there? Gi’ it to me. I ha’ best read it.”
Dougal swallowed. “Mistress, I ha’ read it.”
“Eh?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Was it addressed to ye, then?”
“Nay, mistress.”
A rare anger stirred in Katrin’s heart, mingling sickeningly with the dread in her stomach. She felt so little these days, was careful to let herself feel little. But like a vixen besieged by hounds, she experienced the desire to turn and fight.
“Then why ha’ ye read it?”
“Mistress Katrin, ye maun understand. I, and your father’s otheradvisors, are doing our best to deal wi’ the situation. To protect both yer welfare and that o’ the clan.”
“Am I no’ the chief?”
“Nay, mistress.”
What had he said? Katrin blinked at him, trying to make sense of it. When she did, the rage flared and clawed its way up her throat. Following all the hollow emptiness, it almost felt good.
“Am I no’ my father’s heir?”
“Well…” Dougal struggled visibly with the answer to that question. “Since there is nay male heir, aye and nay. If ye wed—”
The hand Katrin still held out in demand of the letter began to tremble. “Gi’ that to me.”
He did, extending it silently. Since the room was dim, she took it to the low-burning fire and unfolded it there.
She could read, if not particularly well. The script upon the page was ornate and difficult to decipher, but it was, aye, addressed to her.
How dare her father’s advisors, however well trusted, withhold it from her? Keep from bringing it to her until they’d had a chance to discuss its contents, no doubt. She wondered—without much sympathy—how Dougal had drawn the dubious duty of facing her.
Slowly she puzzled the letter out. Heat rose to her head, making it feel like it would explode.
Her neighbor but one—for MacEwan held the stretch of coast between them—was Oran MacGill. They’d long had what might best be called cordial relations with him.
Now he wrote offering to solve Katrin’s current dilemma by doing her the great honor of making her his wife.
I apprehend, mistress, that as a woman standing alone at the head of a great yet much-damaged clan, ye find yourself in a perilous position. Prey to any unscrupulous lord or baron who might happen along. Since your father has left nay heir, I am prepared to offer ye my protection in the form of marriage to be performed as soon as can be arranged. I am sure that ye will see the wisdom of this and I accept your gratitude in advance.
Katrin read it once. Twice. The parchment trembled in her hands. She raised a stricken face to her father’s advisor.
“He offers, here, to marry me.” Of course, Dougal already knew that.
“Aye.”
“He does me the great favor of offering.”
“He does, mistress—”
“He is twice my age.”
“That scarcely matters.”
It might not to Dougal. Nor might it to Katrin’s shattered heart.
“It is, mistress, a solution to the predicament in which we find ourselves.”
