Highland Barbarian. Hannah Howell

      “Because Anabel and Edmund want this.”

      When Old Meg stepped back to put her hands on her ample hips and scowl at her, Cecily stood up and moved to the looking glass to see if she was presentable. The looking glass was one of the few richer items in her small bedchamber, and if Cecily stood a little to the side, she could see herself quite well despite the large crack in it. She felt that small worm of resentment in her heart twitch over being given only the things Anabel or her daughters no longer wanted or that were marred in some way, but she smothered it. Anabel could have just thrown the cracked looking glass away as she had so much else that had belonged to Cecily’s mother.

      Cecily frowned as she realized she would have to plot some way to slyly retrieve a few things from hiding. She glanced toward a still scowling Old Meg. One of the woman’s most often voiced complaints was about how Anabel had tossed away so many of Moira Donaldson’s belongings. It was, perhaps, time to let the woman know that not everything was lost. At first, it had just been a child’s grief that had caused Cecily to retrieve her mother’s things and hide them away. Over the years, it had slowly become a ritual and, she ruefully admitted to herself, a form of rebellion.

      The same could be said for her other great secret, she mused, glancing toward the small ornately carved chest holding her ribbons and the meager collection of jewelry allotted to her. Anabel had rapidly claimed all the jewelry that had once been Moira’s, or so the woman believed. Hidden away beneath the ribbons and trinkets in that chest were several rich pieces of jewelry that Cecily refused to give up, pieces her father had given her after her mother had died. He had intended her to have the rest when she grew older, but Cecily had mentioned that to her guardians only once. Anabel’s fury had been chilling. In truth, Cecily suspected it was one reason Anabel made such a display of it when she threw away yet another thing that had once belonged to Cecily’s mother or father. Holding fast to those few pieces of jewelry had been enough to keep Cecily quiet when she saw Anabel or her daughters wearing the jewelry that had once adorned Moira Donaldson.

      The woman deserved something for caring for a penniless orphan, Cecily told herself, firmly pushing aside the resentment she could not seem to fully conquer; then she turned to face Old Meg. That woman looked an odd mix of annoyed and concerned. Even though Cecily had taken only a fleeting note of her own appearance, deeming it neat and presentable, she smiled at Old Meg and lightly touched her beribboned hair.

      “It looks verra bonnie, Meg,” she said.

      Old Meg snorted and crossed her arms. “Ye barely glanced at yourself, lass. Ye got all somber and looked to be verra far away. What were ye thinking on?”

      “Ah, weel, a secret I have kept for a verra long time,” Cecily replied, speaking softly as she quickly moved to Old Meg’s side. “Do ye recall my favorite hiding place?”

      “Aye,” Old Meg replied, speaking as softly as Cecily was. “In the dungeon. That wee hidden room. I ne’er told anyone, though I should have. Ye could have gotten yourself locked in there and, if I wasnae about, been stuck in there good and tight.”

      “Weel, ye were about and I was e’er safe. But heed me, please, for I may yet need your help. I have hidden some things in there, things Anabel threw away, things that Maman and Papa and e’en Colin loved.” She laughed a little when Old Meg hugged her.

      “And ye want me to be sure they go with ye when ye marry.”

      “Aye.” Cecily pointed to the small chest that hid her other treasures. “And that wee chest.”

      Old Meg sighed. “Your da gave ye that. Ye were so pleased with the gift. It has a wee hidey-hole in it, and ye loved to put your special things inside it. What have ye hidden in it now?”

      “After Maman died, my father gave me a few pieces of her jewelry. I was to get the rest when I got older, but Anabel,” Cecily ignored Old Meg’s softly muttered and rather crude opinion of Anabel, “kept everything. She said all of Maman’s jewels and other fine things were now hers. So I kept the ones Papa had given me a secret from Anabel. ’Twas wrong of me, I ken it, but—”

      “’Tis nay wrong for a child to hold fast to something that reminds her of her parents.”

      “That is what I tell myself whene’er I begin to feel guilty.”

      “Ye have naught to feel guilty about.”

      Cecily gently touched her fingers to Old Meg’s mouth, silencing what she knew could easily become a long rant about how poorly she had been treated by her guardians. “It matters not. Anabel and Edmund are my family, and I have been a sore disappointment to them. This time I mean to please them. Howbeit, I willnae lose what little I have left of my brother, father, and mother. I need ye to ken where I have hidden what few things I could hold tight to.”

      Old Meg sighed and nodded. “If ye cannae get them away yourself, I will see that they come to ye.”

      “Thank ye, Meggie. ’Twill be a comfort to me to have them close at hand.”

      “Ye are really going to marry that chinless fool, arenae ye?”

      “Aye, ’tis what they want, and this time I mean to please them. And as I said, I am almost two-and-twenty and have ne’er e’en been wooed. Or properly kissed.” Cecily quickly banished the thought of Sir Fergus kissing her, for it made her feel slightly nauseous. “I want bairns and one needs a husband for that. I am sure it will be fine.”

      Old Meg gave her a look that said she was daft, but only muttered, “Let us now pray that those bairns ye want dinnae get that fool’s chin.”

      “Weel, at least ye look presentable.”

      Cecily smiled faintly at Anabel, deciding to accept those sharp words as a compliment. She forced herself to stop staring at the intricate gold and garnet necklace Anabel wore, one that had been a gift her father had given her mother upon their marriage. It was painful to be reminded of times past, of the love her mother and father had shared, especially when she would soon be married to a man she was not sure she could ever love.

      She looked around the great hall, taking careful note of all the people attending the feast. It was the start of two weeks of festivities, which would end with her marriage to Sir Fergus Ogilvey. Cecily knew very few of the people since she had rarely been allowed to join in any feasts or even go with her kinsmen on any visits. She suspected these people came to this wedding celebration to eat, drink, and hunt all at someone else’s expense.

      When she finally espied her betrothed, she sighed. He stood with two other men, all three looking very self-important as they talked. Cecily realized she was not even faintly curious about their conversation and suspected that was a very bad omen concerning her future. Surely a wife should be interested in all her husband was interested in, she thought.

      As Anabel began to tell her all about each and every guest—who they were, where they were from, and why it was important to cater to their every whim—Cecily tried to find something about her betrothed that she could like or simply appreciate. He was not ugly, but neither was he handsome. He definitely had a very weak chin and a somewhat long, thin nose. His brown hair was rather dull in color, and it already showed signs of retreating from his head. She recalled that he had eyes of a greenish hazel shade, a nice color. Unfortunately, his eyes were rather small, his lashes thin and very short. He had good posture and he dressed well, she decided, and felt relieved that she could find something to compliment him on if the need arose.

      “Are ye e’en listening?” hissed Anabel. “This is important. Ye will soon be mixing freely with these people.”

      Cecily looked at Anabel and tensed. Something had angered the woman again, and Cecily felt her heart sink into her stomach. She hastily tried to recall something, anything, the woman had just said, only to watch Anabel visibly control her temper. Cecily was surprised to discover that she found that even more alarming. Anabel very clearly wanted this marriage—desperately. Even if she was not determined to do this to please Edmund and Anabel, to try to finally gain some place in this family, Cecily realized there really was no choice