Heat Of The Knight. Jackie Ivie

      “That wasn’t bothersome to you when I still had my dowry,” she answered.

      “Well, it’s gone, and with it went hope. Until now. We want our futures back. That’s all we want,” Angela said, and this time she was aggressive.

      “You should probably give the gold back, then,” Lisle replied, and her voice had sound to it after all.

      Angus flinched. Not one of them would meet her eyes, and she looked at each one in turn. “I believe I’m going to bed now, Clan MacHugh. I’ll thank you to save further words until I’ve rested. It’s been a powerful long day, you see. Good eve to you all.”

      Lisle turned, and had almost reached the steps leading to the chieftain’s bed chamber, before the emotion turned into sobs that tormented her own chest with the strength of them.

      She knew why they were doing it. She could even forgive them for it. If she were a MacHugh faced with what they had been, for as long as they had been, she’d have done it, too.

      Lisle woke late, took several breaths, and then remembered. She tried to sit up, and groaned at the motion before her body betrayed her and dumped her back onto the mattress, making it sway a bit.

      “About time you woke.”

      It was Angela. She was sitting on a padded chair that looked new, and knitting with what appeared to be bleached, freshly carded wool. She didn’t look up as Lisle turned her head to face her. Angela had always been the most outspoken of them. That came with maturity, and losing a motherly hand at a very young age…twice. With Lisle’s upcoming desertion, it was now three times.

      “What time is it?” Lisle asked.

      “Late,” Angela replied to her knitting.

      Lisle’s lips thinned and she rolled her head back to look at the ceiling above her. Angela was probably getting ready to assert her authority as matriarch of the clan, if she hadn’t done so already. From the way she was clicking her needles and the way she’d spoken, she had probably already done it, and Angus presented no challenge. That man had the life sucked out of him over a year ago, at the battle he couldn’t forget. He wasn’t up to challenging over authority.

      “Do you wish me to leave now, or do I get a respite?” Lisle asked.

      “Now would be best,” Angela replied.

      Lisle sighed softly. It was time to prove that she knew what love was. She knew it, very well. There was a part of her that wanted to demand the gold back, turn her back on the lot of them, march right back to the Dugall clan stronghold, and make what was left of them take her in. With thirty thousand in gold, she’d be most welcome, until they found out why she had it, that is.

      She sent a silent prayer for strength and courage, and for unlimited guile to hide all of it. That way, not one of them would know what it was costing her, because that’s what love was.

      Lisle knew very well what love was, because she’d spent six years praying about it and asking about it, and then she’d spent the last year showing it, with every part of her trousseau she parted with, and every drop of sweat she’d shed over every bit of labor to try and keep this family from ruin. She was actually grateful that she had the chance to finish, and do it so completely.

      “Is there a bucket of water for my use?” she asked, grateful God was granting her prayer as her voice didn’t even have a suspicion of the warble she’d expected it to have.

      “Over yonder. It was warmed hours earlier. It is nae more, though.”

      “I shouldn’t have slept so long,” Lisle replied.

      “Nae, you shouldn’t have.”

      Her body really did have the strength. She was willing it there, and it worked, since moving her own legs toward the side so she could stand did show a bit of an ache, but it was small compared to the one in her heart. That pain was growing heavier with every beat of it.

      “Will you grant me privacy?”

      “Will you be needing it?” Angela replied, not once looking up.

      “I think it would be best. I’ve nae idea how long I’ll be, and I’ve a very long walk ahead of me at the end of it.” And I’ve bruising, and torn palms from slivers, broken blisters on my heels, and such, and I need to keep it all hidden, she finished in her thoughts.

      “There’s a black, unmarked carriage at the end of the drive. Just outside our property. Waiting.”

      “There is?” Lisle’s voice cracked, despite the control she was exercising to keep it at bay.

      Angela didn’t seem to notice. Lisle watched as she nodded, her head bobbing along with the way her needles moved. “Been there all day. None of us had the inclination to ask what it’s there for.”

      Lisle sighed. “You dinna’ need to. It’s him.”

      “That’s what we suspicioned. Must you dawdle so?”

      Angela wasn’t going to like looking at herself very much when she was older. Lisle looked at the lines of concentration stretching across her forehead, and how she was squinting slightly, bringing creases to both sides of her eyes. The girl was prematurely aging. Lisle only hoped it wasn’t partly due to her failure at nurturing, protecting, and being a mother to her.

      Her shoulders set, making her wince slightly. It was ridiculous. She’d walked before. She’d lived with sliver-filled palms for days now. She’d never had the weight of censure and banishment accompanying it before, though. Well and good, then. She couldn’t change her future. All she could do was make certain those she loved didn’t know what she was paying in order to save them.

      The Black Monteith had also promised a dowry to the stepdaughters. He needn’t know they didn’t consider themselves that anymore. He could hear the truth of it, along with everyone else. He could hear it from their own lips, which everyone would—as long as it was later, after he paid. He was going to pay a dowry, and put it in trust for every one of them. She’d make certain of it. She still held out hope for the other girls, but sensed that Angela, for one, was going to need her dowry.

      She shrugged, moved to the edge of the mattress, put her feet on the floor, sun-warmed by the uncurtained window, and grimaced slightly at how much she ached, before forcing her legs to support her.

      They may have warmed the bucket of water, but it was hours earlier. It was tepid now. Lisle shivered as she touched her fingertips to it, and then told herself she was being ridiculous. Just yestermorn, before she found out what her future was, she’d bathed by swimming in the loch, luxuriating in the smell and touch of lavender soap, and kicking through water that was ice cold. She hadn’t a hint of a shiver then.

      “I wish you’d leave me to this,” Lisle said, pulling the tie undone at the neckline of the one nightgown she’d claimed and owned and worn and washed, until the satin was so threadbare it no longer shone.

      “You’ll need help with the donning of it,” Angela replied to her knitting.

      Lisle’s heart sank, and her eyes flew to where her wedding dress had hung after they’d bartered the armoire away. They were wedding her off now? Without any more time to assimilate?

      “’Tis your own fault, too.”

      “It is?” Lisle asked.

      “Yours were the fingers applying all the seed pearl buttons and beading, weren’t they?”

      “Aye,” she replied.

      “There’s nae way to fasten it about oneself without an assist.”

      Lisle didn’t think through how Angela’s hands on her back, while she fastened the dress, were going to feel. She closed her eyes and sent another prayer heavenward, this time asking for the blessing of numbness. The MacHughs were right. She wasn’t going to go to Monteith unwed, and she wasn’t going to be allowed to stay from it. She