Page 22 of The Devil in Plaid
“I assure ye, I would make no such jest.”
Fiona slowly dragged herself to her feet and slumped into one of the chairs, shaking her head. “What am I to do?”
“I do not ken what ye should do,” Abby said in a rush. “But I know what ye can’t do, and that’s marry the MacLeod!”
Fiona had no reply for Abby. She shifted her gaze to Esme whose face had turned pale. Within Esme’s eyes, Fiona glimpsed the undeniable and horrible truth—something she needed to explain to Abby.
“I have no choice,” she told the lass.
Abby frantically shook her head and rushed to Fiona’s side, kneeling at her feet. “Ye know the cruelty of the MacLeod. The screams of their beaten women echo through the halls of CastleLàidir.”
Fiona pressed her hands to her ears. “Ye must stop. Say no more!”
Abby’s face crumpled as tears poured down her cheeks.
“There, there, love,” Fiona crooned, wrapping her arms around her maid. “My fate is sealed. There is naught I can do.”
“That isn’t true,” Abby exclaimed, pushing Fiona away. She hastened to the wardrobe on the other side of the room, swung open the door, and gathered an armful of Fiona’s clothes. “Ye can run away. Ye can seek protection elsewhere, another clan perhaps?”
“And where shall she go, Abby?” Esme said softly. “To the MacKenzie? If ye recall, his land surrounds ours. Our world has changed. There are no safe places, not anymore.”
Abby shook her head. “That’s not true. If she can make it past the MacKenzie, then she can go farther inland to the Sutherlands or Clan Ross like her grandmother before her.”
“And what of my people?” Fiona asked. “When my grandmother fled the MacLeod’s keep and broke their betrothal, our clan faced no other enemies. What happened just now in the great hall was no simple alliance. My father does not do this to assuage the MacLeod and to bring peace between our two clans. He is trying to save our clan from total destruction.”
“And ye’re the sacrificial lamb,” Abby muttered, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
Fiona swallowed hard. “It would seem that I am.”
“But that isn’t fair,” Abby cried. Esme pulled her sister close.
“Of course it isn’t fair,” Fiona muttered, crossing to stand at the open casement. “I am the laird’s daughter. Despite my father’s affection, I am a tool—this I’ve always known. Certainly, I favored the match with Adam. He was young and gentle. He would have read to me more than made love to me. His affections were as soft and unobtrusive as he was. I counted myself lucky, but I was never in love with him. Our betrothal was made for the alliance.”
She stared down at the courtyard, quiet at that hour. Then her gaze shifted beyond the outer curtain to the village and rolling moorland beyond. She knew one day she would have to leave Castle Creagan, but never in her wildest nightmares did she think it would be for CastleLàidir.
“It is almost as if ye’ve resigned yerself to the match,” Abby said, accusingly. “There must be another way to make peace between our clans that does not involve ye marrying that beastly man.”
Esme expelled an impatient sigh. “Peace has been impossible for more than a century. What are we going to hatch up here in this room to fix what none could do before us?”
Fiona closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed to find her courage. She would not put her own well-being above that of her people. Whatever ill future awaited her, she would be able to withstand any horror knowing that her people were safe.
She stood tall and addressed her maids. “The correct decision has been made. We will not speak on this matter again. Now, then, we must discuss preparations as I leave the morrow after next.”
“We cannot be ready so soon,” Esme cried. “That isn’t nearly enough time!”
Fiona held out a pacifying hand. “Calm yerself. Only I leave at that time. Ye and Abby will travel when ye’re ready, and ye’ll be guarded by our warriors.”
Once again, Abby clasped Fiona’s hands. “Please don’t give up, my lady. Surely, yer father’s mind can be changed.”
Fiona closed her eyes, steeling her heart against her young maid’s pleas. “My laird is no longer my father.” A well of emotion filled her throat. “My laird is now Jamie MacLeod.”
