“No’ just for ye, hen.” Hester’s voice was firm, and she frowned grimly as she took off her mistress’s clothes and helped her into her warm scented bath. “For everybody on the estate, an’ I am willin’ tae wager that many families are alive tonight because o’ him. Now stop these foolish thoughts. I will get ye some valerian tea so ye can sleep, an’ I will lie on my cot beside ye so that ye can call me if ye need anythin’.”
Cora nodded and submitted to her maid’s ministrations without a murmur of protest. She was too tired and sad to care about anything. She swallowed the valerian tea without tasting it, and allowed herself to be tucked into bed like a child. Before too long, the tea and her own exhaustion took their toll, and she drifted off into a nightmare-plagued sleep.
2
When Cora opened her eyes the next morning, it took a few moments for the reality of her father’s death to sink in, but when it did, it slammed into her so hard that she began to scream. Hester, who had been awake for a while, rushed to her bedside and once more enveloped her mistress in her arms, then rocked her like a baby until her cries of distress stopped.
“Come, milady,” she said soothingly, as she gave Cora a glass of warm ale. “I hope ye dinnae mind, but I have spoken tae the lairds, an’ they will be gentle wi’ ye. Ye must ready yerself tae meet them.”
Cora nodded, and allowed herself to be led through the rituals of being dressed in a somber gray gown, which was the nearest she had to black. Hester combed and styled her hair, then stood back to look at her. Cora had great purple circles under her eyes, which were bloodshot from weeping, but there was nothing that could be done about that.
Hester pressed a linen handkerchief into Cora’s hand and led her downstairs, where she found that the gentlemen were already seated in the dining room. She took a deep breath. Seeing them again was the last thing she needed, but she had to put on a polite face for her father’s sake.
She curtsied as she entered, and all the men stood up. Laird McKenzie pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down gratefully.
“You look better this morning,” Glenn Adamson said gallantly.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, sighing. “I could not look any worse than I did yesterday. At least I have no blood on me!” She gave a half-hearted laugh, and the gentlemen smiled uncomfortably.
When the breakfast arrived, Cora stared at her empty plate while the others loaded theirs with sausages, bacon, eggs, and kippers.
“Come, milady,” Laird Henderson said gently. “You must eat. You need to face your people and look strong, even if you do not feel that way.” He spooned some eggs and a sausage on her plate. “We would all feel much better if you had some nourishment.”
Cora nodded and began to eat. Surprisingly, she found that she was hungry, and began to partake eagerly of the delicious food until her stomach was full.
“Better?” Laird Mackenzie asked, smiling.
“Yes, thank you.” Cora smiled at him. “Now, shall we go to the parlor and talk?”
“Yes,” Laird McKenzie answered. “And then we must go our separate ways.”
When they were seated, Glenn Adamson spoke first. “Milady,” he began, “as we were saying yesterday, you need protection, and you can only have that security if you marry. I am sure I speak for all of us when I say that there are any number of young men who would be willing to ask for your hand, but time is of the essence. These Sassenachs that we fought yesterday will be on us again soon. They will likely take a few days to regroup, and that will give us the chance to see to your future, but we have a week at the most before they are on you again. Let us take advantage of that time to send a few eligible young men to meet you.”
Cora, who had the beginnings of another throbbing headache, thought for a moment, looking into the fire. She realized that the lairds and Adamson needed to be on their way, and she did not want to be the means of keeping them from their families at such a fraught time. Besides, she could think of no better plan. Perhaps there would be a young laird who would suit her and be a loving husband, but she was willing at that moment to settle for one who would give her protection and security.
“You are right, gentlemen,” she sighed. “I need to find a husband who is brave enough to defend me. It does not sit well with me that I have to bow to his wishes, but that cannot be helped. Bring them tomorrow—as many as you can.”
The men stood up to take their leave. “You are doing the right thing, milady,” Adamson said gravely as he took her hand and kissed it. “If you had a brother or a cousin...” He trailed off and bowed, then turned and left.
As she watched them ride over the drawbridge, Cora felt her heart sink. The last thing she wanted was a horde of young hopefuls fighting over her, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Her father’s funeral was quick and without ceremony. His coffin was laid to rest in the family crypt within the walls of the castle, and the fallen soldiers were laid to rest in the small cemetery in the village, where they could be attended to by their families. Cora could not cry. She had put her weeping behind her and was now ready to take on her next challenge—that of finding a husband.
It never happened. It was two days since Cora’s father’s death, but apparently, word had gone around the local area that Inchrigg Castle was vulnerable since most of its garrison had been destroyed. As the lairds had predicted, the vultures had descended to feast on the kill.
Cora was awakened at dawn on the day that her suitors had been due to arrive to find that the castle had been besieged during the night, but not by an organized force of rival clansmen from one family, or even a group of English soldiers, but a ragtag mêlée of deserters and renegades from every enemy the Hendersons had ever fought, as well as plenty of the kind of ne’er-do-wells that seemed to appear from nowhere as soon as they smelled blood.
Now, however, it seemed that their enemy did not want blood, even though they were prepared to shed it to get what they wanted. They wanted Cora.
“Not more bloodshed!” Cora sobbed, as she looked down at the mass of heavily armed men below her. Her own garrison, already depleted and still weak from the previous few days’ fighting, would never be able to fight them off. It would not be long before the castle fell, since there were too few men left to defend it. As well as that, there were not enough supplies in the castle to withstand a prolonged siege. Many of the staff and soldiers would likely die from hunger. The archers could have inflicted heavy losses on the rabble, but there were too few of them, and the enemy was assembling just out of bowshot range.
Presently, a horse came out of the brush, bearing a rider carrying a plain white flag of truce. He called for the captain of the Guard, who appeared on the topmost turret, carrying a longbow that was aimed straight between the eyes of the enemy commander.
“We wish tae parley,” the man—a ragged, bearded, dirty creature—called out.
“State yer terms!” Samuel McGillvary called back.
“We want the maid!” the scruffy creature called back. “Her father is deid, so she owns the estate now, an’ she needs a husband.”
