Page 1 of Scottish Rose: Coira

Chapter 1

Glasgow, 1368

“Coira MacDuff, stop bein’ so restless and let Zara read the cards for ye.” Effie MacKeefe rubbed her very pregnant belly, sitting at a table at the Horn and Hoof as they waited for the wedding to begin.

“Effie,” said Coira, wringing her hands together as she paced the floor. “I’m no’ sure I want to do this after all.”

“I’m yer older sister, and I say that ye need to relax. Ye always worry too much.”

“That’s right. Sit, Child,” said the old, English, gypsy woman, Zara, nodding toward the bench. She shuffled her oversized cards and placed the deck on the table. “It’s just for fun while we wait for your betrothed to show up. If he ever does.”

“That’s what I mean,” said Coira, feeling sick to her stomach. She glanced back at the tavern door. It was late. Nightfall would be here soon. Hopefully, her betrothed wouldn’t show so she wouldn’t have to marry him after all. That would solve all her problems. Coira seated herself on the wooden bench next to her sister, thinking that perhaps she’d head back home without having to make any vows after all.

“Cut the cards,” said Zara with a slight nod. The small bells on the edges of her headscarf tinkled with every move she made. A stray curl of grey hair peeked out, resting above one eye.

Coira did as told, not even paying attention to what she was doing. “Effie, ye’re the strong one, no’ me. We both ken it. I canna marry an Englishman who is naught but a stranger to me.”

“It’s to maintain alliances with the Sassenachs over the border.” Effie’s husband, Aidan, told her, walking up with his two good friends, Ian and Onyx at his side. The three of them had grown up together, and danger was something they craved. They had done so many crazy things that they were referred to as the MadMen MacKeefe.

They all had smiles on their faces and tankards of old Callum MacKeefe’s Mountain Magic in their hands. Callum, the grandfather of Chieftain Storm MacKeefe, brewed the most potent whisky in all of Scotland. He was older than dirt but didn’t let that slow him down. Callum owned the Horn and Hoof. Since Storm married an Englishwoman, the tavern was a place where Highlanders, Lowlanders, and the English could meet without a fight.

“That’s right,” said Ian. “The MacKeefe Clan, as well as Clan MacDuff, will be aligned with Lord Lance de Selby because of ye, Coira. It will make the borders safer for our wives and bairns.”

Kyla, Ian’s wife and also Aidan’s sister joined them, overhearing their conversation. “I feel safe just bein’ around ye, Ian.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him on the lips. Coira had been at their wedding and liked the fact that lifelong friends had turned into lovers.

“Who’s watchin’ the bairns, Kyla?” asked Ian with concern in his voice.

“Lady Lovelle wanted to hold baby Grant since she is excited about bein’ bairned again,” said Kyla, speaking about their one-year-old baby boy and the fact that Lovelle was pregnant. “Her son, Charles, is watchin’ Finn and Quinn.” Kyla waggled her fingers at their three-year-old twin boys across the room.

“Lovelle’s holdin’ the bairn?” Onyx’s head snapped around, and he stretched his neck. “I had better go help her.”

As he started away, Kyla looked up at Ian and shook her head. “Ian, dinna let Dagger touch the bairn,” she said, using the name Onyx’s close friends called him. He will throw the laddie into the air like he’s tossin’ a caber, just like he did with his children, Creighton and Davina, when they were bairns.”

“Och, ye’re right,” said Ian. “Let’s go stop him.” He headed away with his arm around Kyla.

“Mayhap I can collect bets on how high Dagger is goin’ to throw the bairn.” Aidan chuckled and hurried after them to get in on the action.

“Thank guidness they all left,” said Effie, still rubbing her stomach. “Now, let’s get back to the cards, Coira.”

“Choose a card,” Zara told Coira, fanning out the cards face down.

“I – I dinna ken which one to choose.” Coira had never been any good at making decisions. She stared at the cards, feeling anxiety course through her.

“Pick one, Coira,” scoffed Effie. “If ye take any longer, I’m goin’ to birth this bairn before ye even decide.”

“But – what if I choose the wrong one?” asked Coira, feeling her rapidly beating heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to do the wrong thing. “And what if Lord Lance de Selby is the wrong husband for me? I dinna even ken him. Effie, are ye sure this is helpin’ the clans and that I shouldna have waited and married a Scot instead?”

“Waited?” Effie blew a puff of air from her mouth and pushed a red lock of hair behind her ear. “Coira, the rest of us have many bairns already. Ye are well past marryin’ age, so I think it’s about time ye wed.”

“I am only nine and ten summers,” said Coira in her defense.

“Ye ken that lassies normally are married and have several bairns before they are yer age. Now, dinna fret about it,” said Effie. “Ye told me ye wanted to help the clan and this is the best way to do it. Yer brave action is goin’ to bring about a powerful alliance.”

True, Coira did say she wanted to help, feeling very appreciative of the fact that Effie, as well as Aidan, had saved her life six years ago. Thoughts of that dark time when she and Effie were prisoners of the English at Liddel Castle haunted her still. Because their grandmother, Isabel MacDuff, went against her husband, John Comyn, and crowned Robert the Bruce as King of Scotland, it seemed the women in their family were cursed to suffer in some way or another. It was the given right for a MacDuff to crown the Scottish kings. But because of it, her grandmother had been the first MacDuff woman to ever hang in a cage. Hopefully, Effie and Coira had been the last.

“Give me your hand, Child,” said Zara, reaching out and taking Coira’s hand in hers.

“What are ye doin’?” Coira pulled out of her grasp. Since she and Effie had been raised with gypsies, she should have seen this coming.