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There was a knock on Tovie’s door. She was prepared to ignore it when she realized that wasn’t going to do anyone any good. The last thing she wanted was to show the world that she was immature. This was just another challenge that she had to face head-on, and although she had prepared herself to meet challenges like this, she did wonder why there had to be a constant stream of them. Just once she would have liked the world to treat her gently and kindly, and to give her a reward for good behavior. She had always been told that only the wicked were punished, but when she wracked her brain to think of sins she had committed, she could think of none.

Now she was in the midst of another fresh torment, another Wallace man come to torture her in a new way.

It was probably him now, she thought grimly, who came to boast about his prowess in battle and gloat that not only had he emerged victorious against her husband but that he had won the clan from her as well. She felt spiteful toward the elders, who she thought had betrayed her completely. Perhaps it was her own fault, though, for not playing the political game. She had never sought to charm them or win their favor, and her loss had been a long time in the making.

There was nothing she could do to reverse the decision, but she wasn’t about to accept this as the end of the matter. This Niall was going to find that she was more than he bargained for. One day she would have the clan again, no matter what, and if he wanted to gloat, then she would show him that it didn’t affect her one bit.

She swung her legs out of the bed and walked to the door, the stone floor cold against her bare feet. She wore a nightdress that hung around the curves of her body. She pulled the door open, standing behind it as if it were a shield. She wore a pinched, dark look on her face, which transformed when she saw that it wasn’t Niall standing there at all, but one of the elders, a thin, hunched man with skin as thin as parchment and crinkled lines running over his round face.

“I am sorry tae disturb ye in the morning, but I need tae talk tae ye about the…recent developments,” he said in a voice that was as soft as a whisper.

“Ye mean the developments where ye betrayed me,” she spat.

“I know ye disagree with the decision we made. If Niall haed been any other man then we would hae chosen different, but he is a Wallace. He haes a right tae this place by birth, by blood, which supersedes marriage,” he said.

“I disagree with that,” Tovie said, opening the door a little wider. She was less opposed to the elder seeing her bedchamber than Niall. “But I dinnae see what else ye hae tae tell me. It seems simple enough, doesnae it? He’s here now, and he haes all the rights that I used tae hae. I am even lower than I was before. I shall just stay in my chamber like a wee quiet mouse and never come out. I know when I am nae wanted.”

“Actually it’s nae as simple as that.” He wrung his hands, and there was a troubled look on his face. “Now that Niall is the laird, he haes control of the clan and haes taken over from his brother in every respect,” he said.

At first, Tovie didn’t understand his meaning, but he continued to gaze at her, and something twitched in the back of her mind.

“Dae ye mean…”

“Aye, lass. Everything yer husband haes is now his, including ye.”

“Me?” The word came out in a soft sob, and she staggered back as though the breath had been taken from her lungs. The shock faded in a moment and was swiftly replaced by anger. “This cannae be. This is wrong! He cannae simply hae me as his wife. I never agreed tae it! I never agreed tae marry him!”

“I know, my lady,” the elder said, backing away as he was afraid to suffer her wrath, “but this is simply tradition.”

“Well, I will nae agree tae it,” she said, crossing her arms tightly.

“If ye seek tae break a marriage, well…” the elder said.

Tovie’s heart sank. She knew the punishment for such a thing was dire, and the stain on her reputation was something she could never cleanse. The hopelessness of her situation began to sink in, and she closed the door, telling the elder that she wanted to be alone, telling him to send for her maid.

While she waited, she sank to the bed and felt the softness of the sheets wanting to embrace her. The cool morning breeze drifted through the window, although it was not enough to soothe her. Tovie’s throat tightened, and her stomach clenched in a knot as she thought about the path of her life and how again she was being punished for something she hadn’t done. It had been bad enough to be married to Fraser, let alone this man who was an unknown quantity. She couldn’t imagine that Niall was any better, especially because he had killed his own brother.

Tovie’s mind drifted back to a night not long before Fraser had left for the battle.

* * *

The footsteps of her husband echoed outside. Tovie cringed, annoyed that he was coming to her rather than spending the night with one of his wenches. She felt so ashamed that she longed for her husband to be in another woman’s bed, but when he came to her, he was always drunk and never seemed to know the limits of his own strength. His breath was warm and fetid; his words turned into incoherent grunts and growls. He seemed more animal than man. She tried to remain still, pretending she was asleep, but even that didn’t stop him. He pulled the sheets away, leaving her exposed. She curled into a tight ball, trying to make herself as small as possible, while he stood towering over her at the side of the bed.

“I hae need of ye,” he would say.

“Why dinnae ye gae tae one of yer whores,” she would reply, spitting the word with a fiery venom, even though it only served to anger him. Not that it mattered. He seemed to get angry no matter what.

“Ye are my wife,” he would growl, and then place his hands upon her, tearing away her clothes, taking her because he thought he had some right.

She had always believed that her marriage vows were there to protect her and bind her to a heart that loved her, not to chain and shackle her and give him an excuse to do whatever he wanted. Fear crawled over her body, and she was forced to go into that tiny part of her mind where everything was safe, where she didn’t have to worry about him. She crawled and crawled until the rest of the world was distant from her, until her body seemed so far away, until she could almost ignore everything that was happening to her.

But the bruises on her body reminded her, even though she tried her hardest to forget. That was the sad thing about the world. The truth always reared its head. Sometimes it was beautiful, and sometimes it was so ugly it made her want to vomit.

Fraser had been charming when she first met him, but the more she got to know him after marriage, the more she learned how brutal he was, unleashing his ferocious strength upon her. Once, she had asked him if he treated the other women like this. He said no, that it was reserved for his wife, and she wondered how she had been so unlucky as to deserve this.

* * *