Prologue
Caitlyn sighed with relief as she watched yet another young man mount his horse and leave the castle. He was the third that week and she hoped he would be the last, at least for a while.
The Laird of Avenmount was a handsome young man who bred some of the best draught horses in Scotland, and she would have been very comfortably off had she married him, but she was not inclined to.
Her mother, Eileen Brodie, tut-tutted in exasperation.“Oh, Caitlyn!” she wailed as they saw the horse and rider disappear over the drawbridge and out of sight. “What is wrong with this one?”
“Nothing at all, Mammy,” Caitlyn sighed. “I am just not attracted to him. Don’t worry, he will have no trouble finding a wife.”
“Caitlyn,” Eileen said, spreading her hands in a gesture of appeal. She frowned deeply as she looked at her beautiful, headstrong daughter. “I am not worried about him, Caitlyn. He is not my responsibility, but you are. You have turned down five young men in a fortnight! Soon they will stop coming and you will be left on the shelf—a spinster forever!”
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows and cast her eyes heavenwards. “When they stop coming, Mammy, I will send a prayer of thanks to the Lord!” she replied, her voice rising to a shout. “I told you I will marry for love and for no other reason!”
“And how can you come to love someone if you never get to know them?” Eileen asked, now angry. “You are eighteen years old—you have two more years, then no decent man will look at you!”
“Two years is plenty of time!” Caitlyn snapped. “And if I do not find the man that I want then so be it! I would rather be happily single than unhappily married!” She glared at her mother, who had been rendered speechless by her daughter’s outburst, then turned on her heel and left.
Eileen looked at her daughter’s retreating back and gave another deep sigh.
Soon the word would spread among young men of substance in the area that Caitlyn Brodie thought that she was too good for all of them, and no more suitors would come calling.
Caitlyn, unusually for a woman, was the heir to an estate, but that would change with her marriage, when all her wealth would pass to her husband. This was part of the reason why she was so careful. She did not want a fortune hunter who would take all her material possessions and cast her aside or abuse her.
Then there was the kind of man who took his wife out in public and showed her off while secretly having a string of Mistresses.
No, when I get married my husband will be faithful to me and only me,she thought,or I will make him very sorry indeed!
She looked outside, thinking that it might be a good time to take her mare Rosie out for a ride, but it was pouring with rain and the sky promised more to come, so she went to her favorite room, the library.
She loved the big room, which was lined from floor to ceiling with books, their colorful spines painting the room in stripes of gold, royal blue, scarlet, bottle-green, and crimson. It smelled of lavender wax wood polish, beeswax, and parchment, a scent that always made her happy. She loved it even more in winter when she could draw the thick brocade curtains over the window then sit in front of a roaring fire listening to the storm howling outside.
She picked up a romance and began to read it, but after she realized that she was reading the same page over and over again, she admitted defeat and picked up something a bit more challenging, a book of genealogy.
This was a subject that had always fascinated her, and she could have spent hours poring over generations of Brodies, McDonalds, McLarens, Baxters, and Bruces. The branches of their trees spread outward as they grew, intermingling with other trees and forming new branches. Some came to dead ends, and some became longer and stronger and sank new roots of their own. She was just becoming engrossed in the latest book when her father came in, his brow furrowed and his green eyes dark with anger.
“What have you been saying to your mother?” he asked angrily. “She is weeping in the parlor and I have had to spend twenty minutes trying to calm her down!”
“I told her, and I am telling you, Pa, that I want no more young hopefuls turning up on our doorstep asking for my hand!” She had risen to her feet and was glaring at him furiously. “I will marry the man I choose, and I will marry for love, even if he is a blacksmith!”
John Brodie knew there was no point in arguing with his daughter when she was in this mood.
“We will talk later,” he growled, “when you can be more reasonable. Goodnight, Caitlyn.”
Caitlyn sat down again, but the book could not hold her attention any more. She went to bed, but it was a long time before sleep claimed her.
1
The Accident
The ground was rough and uneven after the recent storm, but Caitlyn and Eileen Brodie had traveled it literally hundreds of times, and they had no fear at all. The only problem they had was the discomfort of being jogged from one side of the carriage to the other, which Caitlyn always made into a game, exaggerating the sideways motion and giggling merrily.
Eileen had never been quite so sanguine about it. She always made sure to go out with an empty stomach on days like this, because nausea often overtook her halfway through the journey and once or twice she had been obliged to stop the carriage to be sick.
Today was a bad day, and Caitlyn forgot her lighthearted game and held onto her mother tightly. Eileen leaned on her daughter’s shoulder gratefully, thinking how fortunate she was, after four miscarriages, to have given birth to this perfectly beautiful young woman, even if she could be exasperating at times.
“How are you feeling, Mammy?” Caitlyn asked anxiously. “You look very pale.”
“I will be fine as long as you hold onto me, darling,” Eileen replied, trying to summon up a smile. She felt queasy in the extreme, but she did not want to spoil the journey for Caitlyn, who always loved riding in the carriage.
