Page 1 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

Chapter One

The manor’s great hall seemed smaller, the hundreds of people who were gathered there, along with the numerous lavish decorations made it appear cramped, overcrowded. The ladies’ skirts, blinding flashes of colour under the candlelight, twirled along with them as they danced, big, bright smiles on their faces that Marion could never hope to have on her own.

“Look at them,” her mother said, her tone dripping with contempt, a hint of her former accent that she so fervently tried to suppress making its way through and alerting Marion to the fact that she was angry. She was sitting next to Marion, and had done so the entire night, ensuring that Marion wouldn’t get any strange ideas in her head and join the others in their dance, or laugh along with them. “Dressed in their silks, drinking their weight in wine. They have no shame.”

Marion looked down at her own dress, a dull grey with no embellishments, matronly and unattractive. It was all her mother would allow her to wear, and it was somehow the most festive dress that she owned.

Across the room, her cousin Mary was enjoying the feast that her parents were throwing for her, a cup of wine in her hand and a smile on her lips. She was dressed in the finest silk, its red colour complementing her pale skin and dark hair.

Marion had been told that she could look like her had she only been pretty.

Sometimes, she would catch herself getting jealous of Mary, whose parents loved her so dearly and so clearly, and who was so beautiful that she was in everyone’s favour. Her jealousy would eat her up from the inside, bile rising to the back of her throat, wishing that she could be her.

And then she would stop herself, not because her mother had taught her that jealousy was a terrible sin and she would go to hell for it. No, she would stop herself because Mary was not only beautiful, but also kind and caring. She had never been anything but loving to Marion, even when no one else even noticed her.

Mary didn’t deserve her jealousy, or her wrath.

“And such a lavish feast,” her mother continued. “A waste of gold if you ask me. Your aunt and uncle just love to show their wealth, do they not? Your father and I . . . we both have gold, and we don’t act like this. It isn’t fit for pious people to behave in such a way. But then again, their family was never pious, wouldn’t you say, Marion?”

“Yes, Mother,” Marion said, knowing very well that she had no other choice than to agree with her, at least if she didn’t want her mother to drag her to the nearest room and yell at her until the morning.

She had found out the hard way many times in her life that her mother didn’t allow any room for disagreement in their family. Sometimes, Marion couldn’t help but wonder what her father was like before he met her mother, or even what her mother had been like before she met him.

Could they both have been normal people who just happened to bring the worst out of each other?

No, surely her mother was never normal, she thought. Marion couldn’t allow herself to think like that, because it would mean that marrying her father and having her was what had turned her mother into the woman that she was now.

It was a thought too devastating to bear.

“Pay attention, Marion,” her mother said, her voice a low hiss as she spoke. “You are not to become like them, ever, do you hear me? It is not proper to act in such a way.”

Marion looked at the people around her, who were all drinking, dancing, and having a good time, and then she turned to look at her mother with a frown. “What are we doing here then, Mother?” she asked. “If you don’t think this is proper, why did we come all the way here for this feast?”

“Because your father willed it so,” her mother said through gritted teeth. “Because he thinks it has been too long since we saw this part of the family, and that it would be improper to decline their invitation. And I suppose I agree, no matter how much I dislike the way they decide to spend their money. It is true . . . they have invited us here many times throughout the years. It would be rude to refuse to come.”

A part of Marion wished that they had left her behind at home. At least, if she had stayed home, then she wouldn’t have to sit and watch everyone else enjoy their night while she could not so much as smile.

Smiling was forbidden, her mother had told her that morning. It was too flirtatious, she said; it invited too much attention.

“And that Forsythe boy . . . who does he think he is?” her mother continued, clearly not having yet exhausted her arsenal of insults, as though she had never stopped. “Look at him. Isn’t he absolutely dreadful?”

Marion did look at him, though she did not see what her mother seemed to be seeing. There was nothing dreadful about John Forsythe in her eyes and, judging by the number of women that had gathered around him, all of them laughing and twirling their curls around their fingers as he spoke, no one else found him dreadful either.

He was the most handsome, most charming man that Marion had ever met, with his dark hair and blue eyes, and that smile that made Marion stumble over her own words like a fool. And yet, Marion had only spoken to him a handful of times, and even then, it had only been for a short time; she was always too ashamed of her looks and her old, drab dresses to say anything more than a mere greeting to him.

Marion didn’t speak to people; she watched them from afar and wondered what it was like to live one’s life. In her twenty-one years of being alive, she had never made any friends, never done anything but sit by her mother’s side in her hand-me-downs.

She had never lived.

“Excuse me,” Marion said, as she stood from her chair and made her way to the exit, but her mother was quick to follow close behind, weaving her way through the crowd.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked Marion, her lips pursed into a thin line. “I will not have you wandering around this manor all alone, who knows what you’ll do if I don’t keep my eyes on you!”

“I only need some fresh air, Mother,” Marion assured her, giving her a small, hesitant smile. She had never been good at lying, but her mother had never been good at confronting her in front of other people, and so it wasn’t a surprise to Marion when her mother turned around and left, a huff escaping her lips.

Marion watched her walk away for a few moments before she made her way out of the manor. She didn’t stop until she was by the manor walls, away from all the other people who had attended the feast, and for the first time in the entire night, she managed to breathe.

I wonder if anyone will know that I’m gone. I wonder if Mother will remember at all in the end.