Chapter 1

“He doesnae wish to eat, m’lord.”

Magnus let out a heavy sigh, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was nothing that he hadn’t heard before from his son’s governess, as he refused to eat more often than not, and no one, not even Magnus, could get through to him.

Ever since his wife had died, his son, Fergus, had turned from a cheerful, talkative little boy into a quiet, reserved child who wouldn’t listen to anyone. Sometimes, Magnus even wondered if anything that he told his son even registered in his brain, and if he was even paying any attention to him at all.

It was hard, Magnus couldn’t deny that. He also couldn’t deny that he was not the best father, perhaps, impatient and brash as he was. He knew how to be a father to his son; he didn’t know how to be a father to the child that his son had become.

“Then make him eat,” he told the governess, not even moving from where he sat behind his desk on his leather armchair. “I dinnae care if he wants to eat or not, it’s yer job to make him eat.”

“Aye, m’lord,” the governess said, giving him a small bow before she turned around to leave his study, only to bump into Fergus, who had sneaked into the room without being noticed.

He was good at sneaking into places, Magnus knew. In his five years in the world, he had had enough practice to remain unnoticed, and his small size only helped him, the colossal, mahogany furniture that were scattered around the study hiding him with ease.

“Ach, what are ye doin’ here, lad?” the governess asked Fergus, who simply looked at her without uttering a word.

Magnus took a deep breath before he stood up, deciding that perhaps he could try to get to his son one more time. It was his duty as his father, after all, but it also broke his heart to see his son like that.

Every time he tried to talk to him only to receive no answer, every time that he sat by his side only to have him look away, a part of his heart shattered. When Fergus had been born, Magnus had become the happiest man in the world, and the rush of love that he had for his son was unlike anything he had experienced. He loved his wife, of course; he loved her like a leaf loves the sun, and like a weary traveler loves a warm meal. He loved her completely and unconditionally, and when she died, she took a part of him with her.

Still, when Fergus was born, he loved him even more, despite never thinking that such a thing would even be possible. He had become his whole world, and he would do anything for that child.

That was why it hurt Magnus to see Fergus like that, and the fact that he didn’t know how to speak to him or how to make things better only made their relationship worse.

“Fergus,” Magnus said, as he crouched down next to his son. The boy didn’t even look at him, his gaze glued to the floor with his fingers wrapped around the fabric of his governess’ skirt. “Why dinnae ye wish to eat, lad?”

There was no reply from the boy; there never was. Times like those, Magnus thought that perhaps he should stop trying altogether, that there was no hope, no way to make Fergus speak to him. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to give up, even if he knew that in the end, he would end up shouting at his own child.

“Ye must eat, Fergus,” Magnus continued, a hand coming up to rest on the boy’s shoulder. Only then did Fergus look at him, and for a moment, Magnus was filled with the hope that he would finally speak, that he would say something, anything.

He didn’t.

Fergus only shrugged Magnus’ hand off his shoulder, and then his gaze fell back onto the floor.

Magnus was already getting impatient. He stood once more, hands on his hips as he looked at Fergus with a disapproving frown on his face, one that the boy didn’t even notice.

“Ye’ll do as yer told, do ye understand?” Magnus asked, “Ye’ll eat everythin’ on yer plate, or else.”

Fergus looked at Magnus once more, then, still silent, and the look that he gave him was more hostile than Magnus would have thought a five-year-old boy could ever muster. Deep down, Magnus feared nothing more than the possibility that his own son despised him. He often wondered whether it would have been better for Fergus to lose him rather than his mother.

Would Fergus be happier if he had died instead of her? Would he be like he used to be, jovial and talkative, a boy full of life?

Magnus didn’t know, nor could he possibly ever find out.

“Damn ye, say somethin’!”

The governess gasped in shock at Magnus’ words, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she looked at him with wide eyes. Magnus could only curse himself under his breath for losing his patience and for saying such cruel words to a child, but then he simply walked back to his chair, sitting down with a defeated sigh.

“Take him,” he told the woman, “Take him, and make sure that he eats somethin’. Anythin’ that he wants.”

The woman only nodded, before she took Fergus’ hand and led him out of the room, leaving Magnus alone to wallow in his self-hatred.

He wondered where he had gone wrong. Many boys grew up without their mothers, and they were perfectly fine, happy, and healthy. What was it that he had done wrong? What was it that drove Fergus to act in such a way?

Magnus let his head fall in his hands. He wished that he could stop the world, even for just one moment. He wished that he would have the time to breathe, to exist as something other than simply the Laird of his clan and Fergus’ father.

And then, he remembered that perhaps he had an excuse to do just that.

His gaze scanned the desk in front of him, searching for the letter that he had received earlier that day. He found it among the mess of other papers on his desk, cluttered as it was, and he straightened it out with his hand before he began to read it once more.

“Le Havre

2^nd of February, 1789

Dear Magnus,

 I’m writing to you from port Le Havre in France, hoping that this letter finds you well.

 It seems to me that my days are numbered. I have fallen ill while traveling, and I know that death is near. Don’t mourn for me, but raise a glass to my memory.

 I am loath to ask you, but I want you to visit my sister, Adelleine, in my hometown. I want you to see if she is doing well after my death.

I have no money to leave to her or my family, but what worries me the most is that I will not be there for her and the rest of my  cousins. All I am asking from you is to pay her a visit and see if she is alright.

I hope to live long enough to hear from you, old friend.

Your dear friend,

Jacob

When Magnus had first read the letter, he could hardly believe that Jacob was in the clutches of death. The man had always been so full of life, so eager to travel and experience everything and anything, and to hear that he would have an untimely death was something that had shaken Magnus to his core.

He couldn’t ignore his best friend’s last wish, of course. He couldn’t pretend like he never received the letter, like he never read the words that Jacob had written to him. After all, Jacob was like a brother to him, and so he couldn’t help but feel as though he had a responsibility towards his sister and the rest of his family.

He would take care of them, Magnus decided. He would take care of them in Jacob’s memory, even though he hadn’t asked him to do anything more than pay Adelleine a visit.

Magnus remembered Adelleine, or at least the stories that he had heard about her from Jacob, who loved nothing and no one more than his own family. He remembered spending night after night with him on the ship’s deck, a smuggled bottle of whiskey shared between the two of them as they exchanged stories about their hometowns until the crack of dawn.

It had been a long time since then, but the memories hadn’t faded from Magnus’ mind. A part of him still longed for that kind of life, the sea calling out to him whenever he saw the shore, but of course, it wasn’t a life that he could lead anymore.

He had responsibilities. He had his clan and his son, and he had to be there for them.

He could spare a few weeks away, though, he thought. He could travel to Jacob’s hometown, since he knew that it wasn’t too far from the castle, and he would be back within in a few weeks. Surely, the castle and the clan would manage just fine without him for a few weeks, and Fergus . . . well, Fergus didn’t seem to need him at all, regardless of whether he was there or not. His governess would take good care of him, Magnus knew, and the boy wouldn’t have to listen to his own father shouting at him for refusing to eat.

It seemed to Magnus that taking a break would be good for everyone.

Magnus spent the night preparing for the trip, and got little sleep. He was excited to leave the castle for a while, along with all of his worries and responsibilities, and the part of him that longed for adventure had awoken once more inside him, eager to explore.

At first, he didn’t want to take anyone with him. He didn’t need guards, he didn’t need company, and he certainly didn’t need anyone to save him from brigands or fight his battles for him. Even though he was the Laird of his clan, he hadn’t allowed himself to get soft at the edges; he could still fight, and he could fight well.

Then, just when he awoke the following morning, ready to begin his travels, his right-hand man burst into his room without even knocking, a disapproving frown on his face.

“What do ye think yer doin’, m’lord?” Hendry asked him, and the tone in his voice did nothing to make the use of the honorific sound genuine. “Are ye leavin’? All on yer own? Where are ye even goin’? Dinnae ye think that it would be better if ye had told me about this?”

“I didnae tell ye because I kent what ye’d say,” Magnus said, a hand coming up to rub the sleep off his eyes. It didn’t become a Laird, he thought, to be seen in such a state of disarray, with his hair sticking up from his head and his body covered only by his night garments, but Hendry had never cared about such things, often barging into rooms without announcing his presence first.

“Weel . . . if ye kent what I’d say, then ye must have kenned that I’d stop ye, too,” Hendry said, “I willnae allow ye to leave this castle unaccompanied.”

Magnus couldn’t help but scoff at that, shaking his head at the other man. “I am the Laird! I can do anythin’ that I want!”

“Hmm . . . let me think about it, m’lord,” Hendry said. His hand came up to scratch at his chin, the man mockingly deep in thought before he turned to look at Magnus once again. “I dinnae think so.”  Hendry said, and in that moment, Magnus couldn’t help but think just how much Hendry looked and sounded like his mother, who would scold him in a similar way when he was a child. The thought brought a small smile to his face as he looked at the other man, which seemed to infuriate him even more.

“What will it take for ye to stop yer whinin’?”

Hendry seemed to consider that for a moment, and Magnus could only hope for a compromise. “Yer takin’ six guards with ye, or yer nae goin’ anywhere,” Hendry said.

“Six?” Magnus asked, incredulous, “Why do I need six guards with me? I’ll take one.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Deal.”

Magnus didn’t want to push his luck, not with someone like Hendry. It wouldn’t surprise Magnus in the slightest if he looked behind his shoulder while traveling, only to see Hendry following him.

He hoped that taking three guards with him would stop him from worrying so much, at least. It was a compromise that he was willing to make if it meant that it would give Hendry some peace of mind.

It startled him when his door was flung open once more all of a sudden, and he looked up to see none other but his younger sister, Isla, her hands on her waist as she glared at him.

“Where do ye think yer goin’?” she asked.

“Does nay one ken how to knock in this castle?” Magnus asked, instead of answering his sister’s question, “I’m nae wearin’ any clothes!”

“Och, dinnae try to avoid me question!” she scolded him, “Where are ye goin’?”

Magnus explained the same thing that he had already explained to Hendry, weary and impatient. Just like Hendry, Isla didn’t seem to like the plan at all. Her brows furrowed in that way that reminded Magnus not only of their father, but also of himself, and that seemed to run in the family, disapproving and stern.

“What about Fergus?” Isla asked.

“Isla, get out of me chambers!” Magnus told her, sounding just like he used to when they were both children, bickering about everything and anything, “I’ll tell ye everythin’ when I’m dressed!”

With a scoff, Isla left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Magnus didn’t have time to even sigh—in relief that Isla had left or in annoyance, he didn’t know—before Hendry brought up the very same subject that she had, much to Magnus’ chagrin.

“What about Fergus?” Hendry asked, “Will ye take him with ye?”

“Nay . . . nay, the road isnae a place for a wee bairn,” Magnus said. The truth was that he simply wanted to get away from that issue, too, but he was too embarrassed to admit something like that, even to Hendry, who knew all of his secrets. “He’ll be better off stayin’ here, in the castle.”

Hendry gave Magnus the kind of look that he couldn’t quite decipher, the kind of look that the man gave him every time Fergus was mentioned. Magnus supposed that Hendry blamed him for Fergus’ behaviour, just like everyone else in the castle. Then again, they were all right; he was the one who should be blamed, Magnus thought.

“Verra weel,” Hendry said, never one to argue with his Laird for such matters, “When will ye be leavin’?”

“Right the noo,” Magnus said, as he finally stood from his bed, before he began to rummage through the room, looking for the clothes that he had discarded the previous night, “The sooner I leave, the better.”

“Did I really have to find out about this from the housekeeper? Did Isla have to find out through her?” Hendry asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Magnus, “Ye couldnae have told us both that yer leavin’?”

“Och, Hendry . . . it’s only for a few weeks,” Magnus said, “I’ll be back before ye ken I was gone. I am only doin’ a favour for a friend.”

“Do ye mind sharin’?”

Magnus paused then, even as his trews were pulled only halfway up his legs, and he looked at Hendry. “Remember Jacob?” he asked, “He came to visit the castle several years ago.”

“Aye, I remember him,” Hendry said.

“Weel . . . he’s either dead or dyin’,” Magnus explained, “And he asked me to visit his sister.”

Hendry simply nodded at that, a slow, understanding nod that told Magnus he knew just how serious the situation was, and for that, Magnus was grateful. He didn’t know what he would have said to Hendry if the man had tried to stop him from doing one last act of kindness for his friend.

“Of course,” Hendry said, “I’ll go get the men, m’lord.”

Chapter 2

The words kept floating in Adelleine’s mind, repeating themselves over and over. There was nothing that she could do to stop it, and there was nothing that she could do to avoid the one simple truth.

Jacob was dead. He was dead, gone forever, and Adelleine would never see him again, she would never talk to him again, she would never laugh with him again.

She couldn’t wrap her mind around the news. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that her beloved brother was gone from her life, because she knew that the moment she came to terms with it, she would also break into a hundred pieces.

She missed her brother terribly, and she wished that they would have had more time to spend together. She wished that things were different, she wished that he would have never left their home, but wishing did nothing but make her grief seem insurmountable.

There was no point in wishing. There was nothing that she could do to bring Jacob back.

“Adelleine . . .are you alright, girl ?”

Her Aunt Victoria was sitting next to her in their sparsely decorated kitchen, her hands on top of Adelleine’s own where she had laid them on the wooden table. Adelleine could barely hear her aunt’s words, the buzzing in her ears obscuring everything else, but when she gripped her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake, she finally looked at the other woman.

There were no tears in her aunt’s eyes, but then again, Adelleine couldn’t even remember if she had ever seen her cry. Victoria was a strong woman, and ever since her husband had died, she had been ruling over her family with an iron fist, even though it was her son, Fin, who had become the man of the house.

“I’m alright, Aunt Victoria,” Adelleine lied, and even to her own ears, it didn’t sound like a good lie. She could do nothing to conceal her grief and her pain, and the pity in her aunt’s face told her that she didn’t believe her either.

“It’s really a shame what happened to Jacob,” her aunt said, “Such a shame . . . he was a good man.”

“Yes.”

It was all Adelleine could say before the words died in her throat. How could she talk about him? How could she say anything about him when the wound was still so raw?

There was a stretch of silence between the two women, but it was one that didn’t last long. Soon, her aunt cleared her throat with a quiet cough, just enough to get her attention.

“We must find you a man to marry soon,” she said.

Adelleine could only frown at that, her mouth hanging open as she looked at her aunt. She stared at her in silence, blinking a few times as she wondered whether or not she had heard her right.

“Aunt Victoria, what . . . what does it matter?” she asked, “What does it matter whom I marry and if I marry at all right now? It doesn’t matter to me at all.”

“Well, it should,” her aunt said, her voice stern and cold, “You have no dowry, nothing to your name. I was hoping that your brother would be able to send you some money to marry, but now that he is dead, there is no money. There is nothing . . . nothing but yourself.”

That didn’t surprise Adelleine in the slightest. With the six daughters and the son that she had to raise, along with her and her brother—at least until Jacob had left for a life in the sea—her aunt had gone through the money that Adelleine’s parents had left her and Jacob in a short time. It was all she had had after their deaths, and it was money meant to secure her future, but she couldn’t blame her aunt.

She was a widow, after all, and she had to raise nine children on her own.

Of course, she would have liked to have kept some of the money, but as things were, she could only do as her aunt said. She had to find a man to marry, and she had to do so quickly, because she knew that her aunt wouldn’t be able to afford having her in the house for much longer.

“Who . . . who will I even marry?” Adelleine asked, “I can’t think of anyone with whom I’d like to share the rest of my life.”

“You don’t need to like the man you marry,” her aunt said with a small shrug, as though love didn’t matter to her at all. As far as Adelleine knew, Aunt Victoria had loved her husband dearly, and so she couldn’t understand how she could be so dismissive of feelings. “You only need to secure your future. Even if you never love him, you’ll have your children to love and care for. When it comes to your husband, you’ll only need to perform your duty.”

Adelleine wasn’t naïve; she knew precisely what kind of duty that was, and she couldn’t even imagine giving herself to a man that she didn’t love. How could her own aunt expect her to do so?

Aunt Victoria laughed, then, as though she could read her mind. She tutted at Adelleine, and then stood, walking around the table until she could put her hands on Adelleine’s shoulders.

“Don’t look so shocked, Adelleine,” she told her, “Sometimes we must do things that we don’t wish to do. It’s no different for you.”

Adelleine wondered what it was that her aunt had been forced to do, if anything at all. Aunt Victoria was hardly the kind of woman to do something that she didn’t wish to do, and Adelleine couldn’t help but think that her words didn’t apply to herself.

Of course, she didn’t dare say that to her.

Adelleine then began to think about her life. She began to think about what would happen to her, about the man that she would end up marrying only for stability and money, and the future that she saw ahead of her was a grim one. She sat on her chair, shoulders slumped under the weight of her aunt’s hands, and she stared at her own hands as she fidgeted with the end of her sleeve, her fingers bunching up the fabric until it was wrinkled.

What other option did she have? If she didn’t do as she was told, her aunt would one day throw her out of the house; and that day would come soon.

“I see . . .” Adelleine said softly, her hand coming up to wipe the tears off her face. She hadn’t even realised that she was crying, and she didn’t know what it was that she was crying about.

There were too many things that saddened her, too many to count and too many to handle.

“I have a few men in mind for you,” her aunt informed her cheerfully, as though it was good news, “All of them wealthy men, who would kill to have a girl as pretty as yourself.”

“Are they kind?”

That was all that mattered to Adelleine. She didn’t mind hard work, and so if she needed to work, she would. What she was worried about was marrying a cruel man, someone who would make her despise her life.

“I’m sure they are perfectly kind,” her aunt assured her, though Adelleine could hear the hesitation in her voice, “And what kind of man would hurt the mother of his children? Don’t worry. . . you’ll be just fine. No man will hurt you.”

It wasn’t much of a reassurance, but Adelleine decided to take it anyway. It was better than thinking that her life would soon be over, and that the only thing she would have to look forward to would be the births of her children.

She wanted more. Just like Jacob, she had always wanted to leave her hometown and see other places, to meet other people and create a life for herself, without having someone like her aunt to dictate what she should and shouldn’t do.

Jacob was born a man, though, and she wasn’t. She was a woman, and so she had a duty.

“Who do ye have in mind?” Adelleine asked, taking a deep breath to steady herself, “Who are the men?”

“Well . . . I’ve been thinking that your best choice is the baron,” her aunt said.

Adelleine froze, her eyes going wide. “Baron Caton?” she asked, “Aunt Victoria . . . he is twice my age! How can you say that? How can you think that he is a good match for me?”

“He’s a baron!” her aunt said, as though that made any difference to Adelleine.

She knew the man; everyone did. She had met him several times, especially since he seemed to have taken a liking to her family, and he often helped them financially, becoming a sort of benefactor for them. The baron was always polite, always with a smile and a kind word in his mouth, but there was something about him that Adelleine couldn’t quite pinpoint, something that made a shiver run down her spine every time she met his gaze.

And he was twice her age. He wasn’t an old man, but he wasn’t the kind of man that Adelleine would want for herself, either, regardless of the wealth that he had.

“Aunt Victoria, I beg you . . . don’t make me marry that man!” Adelleine cried, suddenly realising the gravity of the situation. When her aunt had her mind made up about something, there was no stopping her, and so Adelleine was certain that she would end up married to the Baron in no time at all. “I don’t wish to marry him! Please! Anyone but him!”

“Hush now!” her aunt hissed at her, leaning over so that she could look at Adelleine in the eyes, “Don’t say things like that, and don’t let anyone else hear you say that. The baron is your best option, don’t you see that? He can take care of you. He can give you anything that you ever wanted!”

“Tell me one thing, Aunt Victoria,” Adelleine said then, “Is he helping us because he wants me for his wife? Is he trying . . . is he trying to buy my affections and force me into this marriage?”

Her aunt stayed silent for several moments, her hands eventually sliding off Adelleine’s shoulders. She sat back on her chair, facing her, and worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“All I know is that he has an infatuation with you,” her aunt admitted, “You’re a beautiful girl! Of course he wants you as his wife!”

“But is he trying to buy me?”

Adelleine couldn’t bear that thought. She didn’t want to be yet another pretty thing that the baron would put in his house, a pretty thing that he would play with until he would lose interest and move on. She didn’t want to be an object, and she certainly didn’t want the man to think that money was all that mattered to her.

“Oh,  don’t be foolish,” her aunt said, waving a hand dismissively, “He is only trying to be kind to us. No one is trying to buy your affections. That man could have any woman that he wanted, but he wants you. You’re a lucky girl, Adelleine. I don’t know how else to explain this to you so you can get it through your thick skull.”

Adelleine didn’t feel very lucky. She became more and more desperate at the thought that she would have to marry the baron, and it brought fresh tears to her eyes to think that she would be his. Her breath began to come out in shallow puffs, and she couldn’t stop her sobbing no matter how much she tried to bite those wails back.

There was a hint of pity in her aunt’s gaze, but not as much as the situation warranted in Adelleine’s eyes. She knew that Aunt Victoria didn’t feel sorry for her, at least not enough to put an end to her marriage to the baron before it had even started.

In that moment, she felt alone. She felt as though she had no one in the world anymore, and her entire world was crumbling down faster than she could rebuild it.

Jacob was gone. Her parents were long gone. Fin, her cousin, the only other person that she could trust and rely on, was far away, and her own aunt was willing to sell her to the highest bidder.

Adelleine didn’t care whether her intentions were pure or not. Perhaps her aunt was simply trying to ensure that she would have a good future in the only way that she knew, or perhaps she was trying to get that future for herself and her daughters. It didn’t matter either way; the result was the same for Adelleine.

Before Adelleine could protest any further, there was a knock on the door, and both she and her aunt looked at it with a frown. They weren’t expecting any guests, after all, and it was an odd thing for them to have guests in the first place.

Adelleine wiped the tears off her cheeks once more, taking a few deep breaths so that she would look presentable, and then she followed her aunt as she opened the door, standing a little further inside the house.

Behind the door, there was a man, tall and graceful, with black hair and a pair of brown eyes that reminded Adelleine of pools of honey. Behind him, there were three other men, who looked like guards, and Adelleine couldn’t help but wonder who the stranger was.

He was certainly very different than anyone else she had ever seen in her hometown. She had never seen clothes as fine as his, and she had certainly never seen a man being followed by guards.

“Good afternoon,” the man said, “I am lookin’ for Adelleine.”

Adelleine froze, her eyes narrowing as her brow furrowed.

Who could the man be? And what could he want from her?

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