Page 1

PROLOGUE

The day had been one of the happiest of Orla’s life. Her jaw ached from smiling so much, and her legs had the same sensation from dancing. Her belly had been filled with delicious food, and her heart was plump with happiness. Her green eyes had shed happy tears, the tracks of which had long since diminished after a night of dancing. She had jigged with the best of them, swirling around, her dress billowing along with the pounding rhythm of the music. Sweat now soaked her brow, and her dress clung to her clammy skin, which was flushed, her cheeks on her heart-shaped face possessing a rosy glow. It was almost as red as her hair, hair that flowed down in a thick wave to the middle of her back. Orla was a girl of below average height, but what she lacked in height she made up for with an effervescent spirit that made her as impossible to resist as a giant. She laughed gaily as she stumbled away from dancing, to many boos from the men who had delighted in her company. She caught her breath and pushed herself through the throng of people. The air was thick with wine and mead, and people were groaning after having stuffed themselves with delicious food. Her eyes darted around, searching for her dear older sister, Nova, the bride.

Orla had had two happiest days of her life. The first had been when her eldest sister Halle married the charming Englishman Viscount Charles Ackley, the second was this day, when Nova had found love with the Englishman Edward Wellington. At first he had seemed like a rogue, but in the end he had a heart of a gold, a heart that now belonged in the Highlands, with Nova.

Orla wandered out of the great hall and into the cool nightly air. The pale moon hung above her and the stars glittered, each one of them holding a promise, a wish. She gazed up at them and headed towards the village outside, searching for her sister. A fire crackled in a lively manner, blurring the beauty of the night with its amber glow. A man stood there, his hands clasped behind his back. Orla approached him.

“Dae ye know where Nova and Edward are?” Orla asked softly, her gaze drawn to the fire. The hues of red and orange danced before her eyes, twisting into a frenzy that could not be ignored. Her father, Laird Stewart, was transfixed by them. He smirked a little as he answered her question.

“I believe they hae taken the right of every husband and wife and left the celebration early. I’m sure they are… becoming better acquainted with each other,” as he said this he finally tore his gaze away from the fire and looked towards the tall, towering keep. Behind one of the dark windows the married couple were there, sharing all the secret things that occurred between men and women in love. Having two older sisters meant that Orla knew more about these matters than most girls her age, but the subject still brought a rosy glow to her cheeks, and of course she did not wish to speak about these matters with her father.

“I see,” she said. “I was hoping tae speak with them before they left.”

“I’m sure ye will get ye chance before they ride away. And it’s nae as though Nova is gaeing very far. They are still gaeing tae be in Scotland, even if the estate is something of a ride away. She’s nae gaeing as far as Halle,” he said, his voice trailing away in a wistful tune. Orla looked towards him. Orla’s thoughts turned to Halle, who was now living in the heart of England’s capital, London, with a family of her own. She was still family, but she had become too much like a stranger for Orla’s liking. Her letters were received with joy, but she could not hug paper, and now when reading the words that Halle had written, it was harder for her to hear them in Halle’s own voice. It was as though each day she grew more and more distant.

“I miss her,” Orla said.

“Aye, me tae lass, me tae,” the words rolled out of Laird Stewart’s mouth in a long sigh. “And I am gaeing tae miss Nova tae. It’s a hard thing tae be a father. People dinnae prepare ye for what it’s gaeing tae be like. Ye love them sae and ye care for them with all ye hae, and ye know that one day they are gaeing tae hae tae leave, but when it happens, ye are nae prepared for it. Naething can hit harder than the silence of an empty keep,” he looked downcast and spent a moment in silence before he raised his head again. He took a deep breath, as if shrugging off some of the weight that rested on his shoulders.

“But at least I hae ye,” he said. He reached out and placed a strong hand on her shoulder, gripping it tightly, perhaps a sign of how difficult it was going to be to let her go. Orla’s heart sank.

“Aye,” she said, feeling her throat tighten.

“And I know ye are gaeing tae be married as well. Dinnae ye fret, I will nae keep ye here like an old maid. But I dae think it’s time for one of the Stewart lasses tae marry a Highland lad. I dinnae hae anything against the English, like some of the other Lairds, but it is certainly easier tae keep ye family close when they marry someone nearby. But all that is yet tae be. There’s still plenty of time for ye tae stay here with me.”

Orla returned his smile, but it was only out of habit. Her eyes were filled with a sense of dread. As she was the youngest sister, she had always had to wait for things to come to her. Halle and Nova were able to soar away from their place of birth, while Orla could only watch impatiently and wait for her moment. She had seen both her sisters fall in love with Englishmen and their stories had ended happily, but what about her own? She longed for the same fate as her sisters; to find an Englishman of her very own, but it seemed as though her father was going to prevent that from happening. She turned towards the keep, wondering if she was going to be forced to stay in this place by sheer virtue of being the last one left.

It did not seem fair that she always had to be the one who waited.