Robert was stunned. “You are making this up,” he growled. He stood up, and advanced towards Mhairi threateningly.
However, she did not budge an inch. “I cannae help it if ye will no’ believe me,” she replied earnestly. “But it is true. I swear on the lives o’ my children, an’ I am a god-fearin’ woman.” Robert could hear the ring of truth in her words.
The next day he confronted Ailsa.
“Of all the men around here,” he said furiously, “you had to choose him!”
“He is a good man,” she said faintly, avoiding his eyes.
“If you vow never to see him again, I will give you another chance,” he offered. “And we will never speak of this again.”
Ailsa shook her head. “I will not give him up. I love him.” Her voice was firm as she looked up at him again. “I release you from our betrothal, and consider myself free.”
* * *
“So you see, I cannot marry Ailsa anymore,” Robert said sorrowfully. “I will have to find another way of making an alliance with the Ballantynes. However, that leaves me with another problem, but we can solve it. I need an heir, you need an alliance, Grace, so instead of marrying Fergus, it makes much better sense for you to marry me. I am the Laird, after all.”
Grace felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. Her mouth dropped open, and she looked across as Fergus, who was staring at her impassively. His eyes were cold and expressionless, and suddenly she wondered if she herself was at fault. Had she done something to hurt him? Had he met someone else?
He had obviously fallen out of love with her, if he was allowing his brother to treat her this way, and clearly, he had no objection to the change in their situation. What had happened to make him so indifferent to her?
“Fergus,” she said suddenly. “Have you nothing to say for yourself? Do you not care for me anymore, or have you never really cared for me at all?”
Fergus said nothing, and his expression did not change. He rose from the table and excused himself, then strode out of the room, leaving her with Robert.
She was about to stand up and leave when Robert put his hand over hers on the table.
“I know this is a big shock for you, Grace,” he said, more gently than she had expected. “But just think. You will be a Laird’s wife, in charge of all this -” He waved his arm to indicate the size of the big room. “You will have everything your heart desires, and no one will be able to disobey you. And in the fullness of time, we may have children. How would you like that?”
“I would love to have children,” Grace admitted. “But I had expected to have them with Fergus.” She sighed. She was miserable and angry and felt tears forming in her eyes, but whatever happened she was determined that Robert would not see her weeping.
“I will be a good husband to you,” Robert went on. “I will take care of you, and never give you any cause to complain. In return, you must be a good wife to me and remember that I am the head of the household, and you must defer to me in all things.”
3
Grace stared at him for a moment. “So I am your servant?” she asked in disbelief.
“Of course not,” he answered with a condescending smile, “but all wives must submit to their husbands. It is the law of God and of nature. You are weaker than we are in every way, and understand that men are stronger, so you must submit.”
Grace felt sick. She had the sensation of being trapped as if she was a prisoner in the dungeon or a bird in a gilded cage; she could not possibly endure marriage to this man!
However, she decided that there was nothing to be gained by fighting about it now, so she pinned on a smile and said: “I will, of course, be the best wife I can be. Thank you, M’Laird.”
She ran upstairs to her room and burst through her bedroom door, weeping. Crissy was sitting sewing and looked up in fright as she saw Grace looking so disheveled and distressed.
“My God!” she cried as she moved forward to take Grace in her arms. “What’s happened, hen? What has got ye so upset?”
Grace gulped down her tears and took a moment to compose herself. “I cannot marry that man!” she growled.
“But I thought ye loved him?” Crissy asked, puzzled.
Grace shook her head. “I’m sorry, Crissy. I am so upset I forgot for a moment that you didn’t know. I have just been told that I have to marry Robert and not Fergus.”
“What?” Crissy could hardly believe her ears. “Sit down, hen.” She fetched Grace a large measure of whisky and sat beside her on a couch beside the fire. “Tell me everythin’.”
Grace began to let the story pour out of her, and when she was finished, she looked up at Crissy, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I have a feeling that I will be nothing more than a slave to him,” she sobbed. “He is a cruel, cold man. I can’t even bring myself to like him, never mind love him.”
“Aye hen, I have the same feelin’.” Crissy’s voice was grim. “But dinnae fret. Your brother arrives tomorrow.”