Tosia heard none of that. The only word that permeated the fog of her mind was the word wed.
What? Marry one of the king’s men?
She’d never been prepared for something like that, never been trained to be the wife of one of the king’s men. She was a crofter’s daughter! She had no dowry, no position, nothing.
Why would the king arrange a marriage for her? And to so important a man? Just how prominent was her father?
“Tosia, have ye heard me? Ye are to wed an important man!”
“Who?” Tavish finally spoke up. His eyes narrowed at their mother. “Ye refer to him as the king’s man, an important man, yet ye dinna speak his name. What are ye hiding, Mother? Is the man verra old? What is so wrong that ye will no’ speak his name?”
“Tavish!” she gasped with a sharp tone. “Dinna speak that way, especially of the king.”
Tavish dropped his gaze but didn’t pause his words that poured forth as Tosia sat and stared at him. “What’s wrong with this man, Mother, that the king would be willing to marry him off to an unknown lass?”
Their mother took a wet breath and wiped at her mouth with the blood-stained rag.
“The man. ‘Tis Sir James Douglas.”
Several silent heartbeats passed before anyone spoke. No one needed to. The very name sent a shaft of fear into the chest of anyone who heard it. They might live on the outskirts of civilization, but everyone in Scotland knew that name.
Nay,Tosia thought.Nay, nay, nay . . .
“Black Douglas?” Tavish whispered. “The villainous blackguard of the King’s commanders? That Black James Douglas?”
Tosia’s tongue was as frozen as the rest of her. Everything inside her protested, screamednayso loudly her brain cringed. But not a single word formed on her lips.
Douglas? The Black Douglas? The mountain-sized, black haired warrior? The man renowned for his loathsome and bloody attacks against the English?
Her mother must have misread the missive. Surely, she must be wrong.
Tosia’s shaking began low in her wame and spread to the rest of her body. Tavish placed a hand on her shoulder, offering his silent support, giving her the one connection to the world she needed, lest she faint away.
“Mother, ye must be wrong,” her voice was less than a whisper. “That man can marry anyone. A powerful lass of a laird. Even as a favor to his king, why pick me?”
Her mother reached across the table to pat Tosia’s shaky hand.
“Ye may think ye aren’t powerful, but ye are the daughter of Simon Fraser, illegitimate or no’. That name alone carries weight with the king, who feels he owes much for the man who at present occupies a spot on a pike next to Sir William Wallace.”
Tosia paled and cleared her throat. “Surely there are other young women, though. He doesn’t know me. Know us.”
“Douglas needs a wife. He doesn’t seem interested in anyone who’s been close to the king’s court, so much as ‘tis right now. Perchance a woman from outside might warm the Douglas’s heart.”
“His icy heart,” Tavish said in a snide tone as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Mother, this does no’ make sense!” Tosia wailed.
“Quiet!” Her mother’s voice rose before breaking into another fit of bloody coughing. She bent over, spitting into the rag.
“Mother!” Tosia cried. Tavish knocked over his stool as he raced to her side, cradling Maggie in his sinewy arms.
What little color that had remained in their mother’s pallor was gone. She choked and spat.
“Mother —” Tosia began, but her mother waved her hand.
“Ye are to wed this man. Your brother will be a squire in his house. I will write a letter of introduction to the king. Dinna tally. He is already expecting ye, so dinna think to remain here. Please, dinna arouse the king’s ire. He’s doing me, us, a great favor. Please, promise me this, that ye will go right to the king.”
Tosia’s tears fell freely at her mother’s pleas, wetting her cheeks and her mother’s kirtle. She held her hand as Tavish lifted her frail form in his steady arms.
