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CHAPTERELEVEN
“They say the laird of the Strathclydes is seekin’ a wife,” Ella said, picking at the food on her plate.
Murdina rolled her eyes and sighed. She and her sisters were dining in the laird’s parlor. A fire had been kindled in the hearth, and candles lit around the room for the night had closed in suddenly, with dark cloud brooding on the horizon. A storm was coming, much like that which had wrecked Kin’s ship, and Murdina had stood on the battlements in the last of the daylight, watching the clouds sweeping over the sea.
“But they also say he is a womanizer, nae content with only one lass at a time,” Freya replied.
“Oh, listen to yerselves. Are ye just pawns in a game of chess?” Murdina exclaimed, shaking her head.
Her two sisters looked at her in surprise.
“What ails ye, Murdina. Ye have been in a dreadful mood these past few days. Ye must lay aside the worries of the past,” Ella said.
If these words were meant to serve as a comfort, they did little to do so. Murdina was not about to lay aside her worries–not if, by that, Ella meant forgetting their sister Aoife.
“The two of ye think this is all a game–that findin’ a husband is the simplest thing in the world. But tis’ nae simple, and if ye are nae careful, ye shall find yerselves married to a tyrant, a man who does nae love ye and will never love ye,” Murdina said, rising angrily from the table.
“Ye only say that because the man ye were supposed to marry has been proved a traitor,” Freya said, turning her nose up.
“Nay one has heard a word of Murdoch, but that does nae mean he is a traitor. But if Father wanted me to marry him, then he would be sorely disappointed. I had nay intention of marryin’ the man. I found him repulsive,” Murdina replied.
She had enough of her sister’s company now, and with the evening drawing on, it would soon be time to meet with Kin in the library. Her excitement had been growing as the day progressed, and the thought of at last sparring with a man who might prove a worthy opponent was enough to set her heart beating with anticipation.
“But what is the alternative? What other choice dae ye have? Dae ye really think Father will let ye remain unmarried?” Ella said, and Freya nodded.
“We are women, Murdina–women in a world which belongs to men. Ye think us foolish for wantin’ to marry? Well, ye are the fool for avoidin’ it,” she said.
Murdina was about to reply angrily when the door to the parlor opened, and their father entered the room. He looked at them each, in turn, realizing, it seemed, he had just interrupted an argument.
“Well now, since ye have finished eatin’, I have somethin’ to say to ye,” he said, closing the door behind him.
Murdina resumed her seat, as did her sisters.
“We were just talkin’ about the prospect of marriage, Father,” Ella said, and Murdina glanced at her with a scowl.
“And tis’ just that matter I am here to discuss,” he replied, pointing to a half-finished bottle of claret which Freya hastily poured him a glass from.
“The laird of the Strathclydes is….” Ella began, but their father raised his hand for silence.
“I am nay interested in yer speculations, Ella. The laird of the Strathclydes seeks a wife wherever he can find a woman’s bed. I will nae see one of my daughters married to such a man. But since it appears I have made a poor choice in Murdoch McGill, we must reconsider what next to dae–for ye all,” he replied.
“Must we talk about this now?” Murdina asked, making to rise from her place, anxious to make her way to the library and await Kin’s arrival.
“Aye, Murdina, we must. Tis’ a matter of great importance. A man in my position with three daughters to marry has nay time for complacency. That is why I have decided to hold a feast,” he said, and both Ella and Freya clapped their hands together in delight.
“A feast? Oh, how wonderful, and will ye invite suitors?” Ella asked, interrupting their father, who grimaced.
“If ye will let me finish, Ella… aye, I shall invite suitors, I have already done so, the feast is tomorrow, and ye shall have yer choice of them. All of ye,” he said, glancing at Murdina with a pointed expression on his face.
“Tomorrow! Oh, Father, ye give us nay time to prepare. What will we wear? What dances shall we learn?” Ella exclaimed, clutching excitedly at Freya, but Murdina only sighed and shook her head.
“I see nay reason for it,” Murdina replied.
It was yet another attempt at marrying them off, of forcing his own intentions on each of them–their father wanted three Jacobite sons-in-law, three men to produce three heirs who would also be loyal to the Jacobite cause. The thought of it turned her stomach, for if Murdoch was now out of favor, what sort of man would replace him?
“There is every reason for it, Murdina. The three of ye have languished in this castle for long enough–tis’ time my daughters repaid their debts. Each of ye has much to offer, and many men will be pleased at the prospect of marriage to ye. I will hear nay argument; the decision is made. The feast will be planned, and I shall invite the other clans to send their most eligible men,” he said, a smile coming over his face.
Ella and Freya looked entirely enamored by the prospect, but Murdina could not help but despair at the thought of another attempt at finding her a husband. But there was little point in arguing, for it would only serve to increase her father’s determination.
