Prologue
Kinross, Scotland, November 1612
Calla Ferguson, the Countess of Stanbury, tensed when her husband strode into the bedchamber. She had just endured another mortifying examination by his physician.
The silver streaks that ran through the Earl ofStanbury'sdark hair glinted in the gray light from the castle's window. When his spiteful, dark gaze swung to her middle-aged maid, Betty, she scurried into the nearby dressing room and softly closed the door.
The earl pinned Calla with a glare. "How long have we been married?" he demanded.
Why would he ask such a thing? He well knew they'd married when she was but sixteen summers. "More than two years."
"And yet I still have no heir. I have little use for a barren wife."
Barren?A chill shook her as the blood drained from her face. Could it be true?
Stanbury advanced on her. Fearing he would strike her, she backed up two steps, but a wall blocked her path. He placed his large hand slackly around her throat. Her heart stopped.Nay!Panicking, certain he would strangle her, she grasped both hands onto his forearm, but his brute strength proved immovable.
"Listen to me." He gave her a shake, his grip on her throat tightening the slightest bit, but not enough to cut off her air.
She froze, praying he wouldn't murder her on the spot.
"Do you see that window?" He pointed. "You're going to find yourself flying out of it one day soon."
The sensation of icy water trickling through her veins stole her breath. Dear God in heaven, he wanted to murder her.
"I'll give you one more month, and if you're not breeding…." With a final glower, he released her and left the room. In the corridor just outside the open door, he stopped one of the chambermaids, then pointed at Calla. "Watch her. She is in such despair, I fear she will fling herself from the window."
Saints!He would murder her and make it look like a suicide. Though her knees threatened to buckle, she forced herself to stand, tears streaming from her eyes. She had to do something.
His footsteps receded down the corridor. Betty hastened out of the dressing room and closed the bedchamber door. "Oh, m'lady! Did he hurt you?" She took Calla's hands.
"Nay." Calla wiped the tears from her eyes, ashamed of her weakness. "Not yet, anyway."
"You must do something," Betty whispered.
"You heard?"
"Aye."
"I cannot run away. I have no money. Where would I go? Where would I live? He would surely find me. I have no family other than my father's cousin, and we are not close. He would turn me over to Stanbury again. What if he's right? What if I am barren? The only reason he married me was to provide him an heir, and if I'm unable to do that…"
Betty shook her head, glanced back at the door, then whispered, "The earl was married twice before, you ken?"
Calla nodded. A harrowing thought chilled her blood. "Did he kill his first two wives?"
"One died of a fever. The other… 'tis a mystery. Even the physician hadnayinkling what was wrong with her when she passed. Anyway, I think the problem lies with him… that he cannot get a woman with child."
"Oh." At eighteen summers, Calla realized she was still naïve when it came to certain things. And a man being unable to sire a child was not something people discussed. "He will never admit to that."
"Of course not.'Tisalways the woman's fault," Betty said in a caustic tone, then glared at the door.
Calla clenched her hands together. She couldn't feel more trapped if she were inStanbury'sdungeon. How could her father have given her to this brute just before he'd died? He'd promised that Stanbury would protect her and care for her.
"What am I to do?" she whispered.
"Do you truly want me to tell you?" Betty asked, giving her a look that said she might not like the answer. But as a woman in her fifties with two grown children, Betty would surely ken what to do.
Calla nodded.
