Seona shook her head and went back to staring at the trencher before her, hands clasped in her lap. Her rigid posture gave Mary pause. Was something wrong? The lass seemed upset—and unhappy. Perhaps she’d been told their parents would wed after all and disapproved of whatever arrangements Lady Grant intended to make for her brother and her. She might have heard how Mary’s father had treated betrothals for her younger sisters. Seona would have reason to fear how he’d control her marriage prospects
Mary suddenly felt pity for Seona. If she had a beau here at Grant, chances were strong Father would never allow her to wed the lad. Mary debated whether to warn her, but decided this was not the place or time. Seona would find out soon enough.
The smell of food restored Mary’s appetite. She had barely taken a bite of her own breakfast when her father stood and took Lady Grant’s hand on one side and Seona’s on the other. Seona gasped and paled, making Mary glad she hadn’t warned her what her future might be like. She took Seona’s other hand and whispered, “’Twill be well,” even though she hated that she probably lied.
Seona shook her head as Mary’s father lifted her hand and pulled her to her feet.
The shimmer of tears in the girl’s eyes shocked Mary. Yet her mother, who now stood on the other side, wore a wide smile.
Confused, Mary frowned. Did Seona oppose the idea of her mother being wed again? She’d been widowed for years, as had Mary’s father. The lady would be a good companion for her father, and an experienced chatelaine, which would free Mary to pursue her own life, if her father didn’t immediately betroth her to a stranger.
James Rose waited until everyone in the hall noticed he and the Grant women were on their feet, and ceased speaking. Then he cleared his throat.
Before he could say anything, Lady Grant announced, “Laird Rose has some happy news to share with ye.” Then she turned to him and prompted, “James…”
He nodded, but Mary thought he looked a trifle annoyed that Lady Grant had exerted her role as head of the clan and took control of the room before he had a chance to. Well. She would be an interesting partner for him. Another woman to stand up to his demands, as his younger daughters had done. Mary smiled to herself. He should be used to headstrong women. He’d married one in France and raised three equally determined daughters.
“Lady Grant and I,” he began, then glanced aside until she nodded for him to continue. “Lady Grant and I are pleased to announce a betrothal between clan Grant and clan Rose.”
Truly? Mary watched, fascinated, while the hall echoed with a rumble of voices. He had their attention now. Here it comes, she thought and schooled her features to politeinterest. Why had her father not told her his plans before he told the gathered Grant clan members?
“The documents were signed this morning. I am happy to inform ye,” he continued with a glance toward Seona and Mary, “Lady Grant has agreed to betroth…”
He stopped and cleared his throat, making Mary tense. He should be happy, yet suddenly, he looked nervous, his gaze shifting around the room, lingering on her, then settling on Lady Grant.
“…Has agreed to betroth her daughter Seona to me.”
Mary couldn’t help it. Her mouth fell open. She looked from her father to the lass standing between them and back to her father again. On his other side, Lady Grant wore a smug smile, as did her son, who smirked at his sister. He must be happy to have his older sister out of his way, though the Grant succession stayed in the male line. Her absence, however, left him the sole object of his mother’s attention and under her control until he reached an age to take over the clan. Mary wondered if he’d considered that in his eagerness to see his sister wed to an older man.
“The wedding will take place at Rose in a fortnight,” her father added, as Seona collapsed into her chair, pulling her hand from his.
If Mary hadn’t already been seated, she would have collapsed into hers, too. As it was, the gasps of the assembled Grants in the hall rolled over hers, and covered the soft whimpers Seona uttered.
Mary sat, frozen, while the noise died down, wishing for some of Annie’s optimism or Catherine’s brashness. Something that would let her react to her father’s announcement with anything other than shock anddismay. Seona was the same age as her youngest sister, nearly nineteen, to her father’s forty-two summers.
“I’m pleased my daughter will be instrumental in strengthening the ties between Grant and clan Rose,” Lady Grant added, smiling at her people. Then she turned to Mary’s father. “I look forward to being received at Rose in a fortnight for the nuptials.” Her smile quickly turned to a frown as she regarded her daughter, now seated, pale and shaking, her hands clasped together on the tabletop and her head bowed over them as if in prayer. “Seona,” she hissed. “Stand up.”
The girl tried, but her knees would not support her. Mary put a hand under her arm and whispered to her, “Ye can do it. I’ll help ye,” then lifted. Seona must feel humiliated. Her new betrothed simply turned to frown at her. Far be it from him to add his support. Mary returned his frown with a glare, heedless of how it might appear to the gathered Grants.
Seona made it to her feet, but it was a near thing. Clapping and cheers suddenly filled the hall, and she looked up in surprise, pink staining her ashen cheeks.
Mary noted one well-built lad slam down his tankard. His table companion gripped his shoulder, but he knocked the man’s hand away, jumped to his feet and bolted from the hall. She glanced at Seona. Her gaze was on the hallway where the man had disappeared, her brow and lips pinched with pain. So Seona did have a lad she cared for. Or one who cared for her.
This was awful. She’d been through similar upsets with her sisters and hated the prospect of another. Her father made Iain choose among the three of them then denied his choice. He’d also made three ill-advisedmatches for her youngest sister, Catherine, who loved the Brodie lad her father had refused. Each time she’d seen the misery on Catherine’s face, she’d wanted to scream at their father. Not that screaming would have done any good. Not then, not now. As bad as what he’d done to Annie and Catherine had been, this was so much worse. How could he even think of taking a young lass like Seona to wife?
She shuddered. Of course, he wanted a male heir. His daughters were grown and gone, except for Mary, and with Catherine’s departure last month, his thoughts must have turned with urgency to his legacy. Her father was smiling benignly at the gathered Grants, as if nothing were amiss. While she still felt sorry for Seona, she found the idea of a male heir suited her fine.
Mary patted Seona’s hand, trying to soothe the lass. How embarrassed would she be if she fainted dead away in front of her entire clan? Her pallor told Mary it could happen.
But Seona as chatelaine? Surely the girl was as ill-prepared for that responsibility as she probably was for motherhood. She’d already said she didn’t care about the things around her—just her clothes and jewels. How would she care for a clan, a keep and her own bairn? Mary knew full well on whom James Rose would lay the responsibility to see her readied for all of those.
Mary’s hand froze over Seona’s as she realized her tenure at Rose was far from over.
Chapter 5
Cameron heard a commotion out in the bailey and made his way to his window. Mary! He counted James Rose and eight Rose warriors in the bailey with her, and two stable lads who took charge of Mary’s and her father’s horses. Rose looked angry, but then he often did. Mary looked weary.
Cameron considered going down to the great hall to greet her and find out what had happened. He was stronger now than when she’d left nearly a week ago and had spent some of the time she’d been away wandering the keep. He enjoyed seeing areas he’d missed up to now, imagining her in them. He’d walked every day and even done some light exercise in his chamber. The healer had kept a close eye on him, happy that no more fevers had wracked him. Mary would be surprised, and he hoped, pleased.
