Page 87 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
What pain must her mother have suffered from being parted from her, not knowing whether she lived or died?
Nobody deserved to suffer the loss of a loved one, not even a drunken bully. And however much Clara disliked the laird, he was Murdo and James’s father.
As Clara returned to the great hall, she spotted Shona McCallum standing in a corner, her eyes filled with despair. James, who looked equally miserable, stood by the fireplace with Murdo and the laird, together with Lord and Lady McCallum. Duncan stood across the hall, his expression one of broken resignation.
Clara approached Shona.
“Is anything the matter, Miss McCallum?” she said. “You look unhappy.”
A tear slid down Shona’s cheek. “My da says it’s a good match. I’m to be Lady McTavish—my son will be laird and I’ll bring pride to my family.”
Her voice was flat, as if she recited a laundry list.
“Are you pleased?” Clara asked.
“It’s what Ma wants.”
“What about your father? And you—what doyouwant?”
“A daughter’s duty is to obey her parents,” Shona said, “and a wife’s duty is to obey her husband.”
“So you’ve resigned yourself to a lifetime of obedience?” Clara said.
“Haven’t ye done the same?”
Clara smiled. “I refused to pledge a vow of obedience to my husband.”
“And yer mother? Yer father?”
“My mother wanted me to make the right choice,” Clara said. “Both my mother and stepfather disapproved of my choice—but, in the end, they respected that choice as mine.”
“Then ye’re fortunate, Mrs. McTavish.”
“You must call me Clara if we’re to be sisters.”
Shona flinched, and another tear spilled onto her cheek.
“You don’t want to marry James, do you?” Clara said.
“It’s what Ma wants.”
“And your father?”
“He wants me to marry, but…” Shona hesitated.
“But he’d rather you had a say in the choice of husband?”
Shona nodded, and Clara’s heart ached to see the sorrow in her eyes. She placed a hand on Shona’s arm.
“Do you love another?”
“Murray Campbell,” Shona said. “We danced at the ghillie’s ball last year, and he asked me to wed him. Da liked him well enough, but Ma refused.”
“Why did she refuse?”
“Because he’s aCampbell. Ma says they’re treacherous—thieves in the night, filthy blackguards who’d stab ye in the heart for a coin. They’re even worse than the English, and—Oh!” She let out a cry. “I didn’t mean…”
“You didn’t meanme?”
