Page 21 of Falling for His Cousin’s Betrothed

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For what felt like years, Laila posted up in her chambers. She sat on the edge of her bed at times and walked the room at others. Her heart was confused, torn, it felt, in more than one direction. After much contemplation over the course of seven days, she decided there were two ways to look at the situation. She could choose to fight tooth and nail against the arrangement with Alastair, or she could try and find the silver lining, accept the scenario, and make it what she wanted. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, after all, she thought, combing her honey-colored hair on the eve of the sixth day of the third month of the year. She had decided to finally get out in the town, go have a cup of tea, and see what the local artisans had crafted in her absence. Hiding away in the castle would get her nowhere. That was for sure.

“Lyall, I’m going out for a bit. Please tell the gatekeepers to prepare new linens upon my return.” Laila had dressed in a proper patchwork skirt, a wool vest with pearled buttons, and a red scarf that she wore confidently as she made her way down the stairs. It felt good to move, to face the day with a new attitude, and to feel, at last, that she was once again worthy of happiness. It had felt like she’d been on a circuitous expedition, running away, meeting Robert, and being swept up by his advances. She told herself that she had to focus on the present and pretend she had never met him. Besides, what were her choices, otherwise? To seek him out and place herself in danger based on the plans of Laird Fairfax? She didn’t want to tempt such fate, so she opted to keep her spirit tempered, at least for the time being.

“Morning, Lady.” One of the townsfolk took off his hat as he passed her on the cobblestone path that led to Morven’s Hattery. A sycamore nestled in the forest grove to the right boasted a nest of recently hatched Scottish crossbills. Laila watched them preen themselves for a few seconds, amazed at their tenacity, even at so early an age.

“Morning, sir.” Laila politely greeted him and secured her scarf in the breeze.

The warm sun on her face gave her strength, peace, and calm. Today was going to be a fine day for visiting the market, for walking the town, and for nurturing her spirit.

“Good day, Lady,” Morven’s daughter, Arrow, greeted her when she arrived. “My mother said to prepare you a cup of tea while you wait. Would you prefer chamomile or hibiscus?”

“Hibiscus, Arrow. Thank you.” Laila loosened her scarf and took a seat on one of the wooden chairs that were situated in a circle around the guest table outside. She blew gently on her teacup and added some honey from a pot on the table. Then she held the cup to her lips, sipped the drink slowly, and placed it back down with appreciation. Laila and Morven had spent a few afternoons there after the Highland Games, chatting about the townsfolk and sharing their thoughts on current events in Scotland and around the world. Laila had grown fond of Morven and valued her opinion, especially when it came to relationships.

“Good morning, Lady!” Morven appeared from around the corner, her long, blond ringlets cascading down her back, her large bosom secured tightly inside a lace corset. She wore a sunset-colored skirt, tied off on the side with what appeared to be a long sash of green velvet. Laila stood up and gave her a hug.

“I like your skirt.”

“Thank you. Mother helped me sew it last week. I used some of Gwendolyn’s lace from the shop and tried to give it a little flair.” Morven smiled as she twirled around, and Arrow giggled. “Hopefully it will suffice, at least for the likes of this town.”

“I wanted to tell you about Alastair. I’m slated for marriage, Morven.” Laila leaned in across the table. Arrow flitted away in the direction of the cobblestone path.

“Marriage?” she took a seat next to Laila and clasped her hands on the table. “Since when?”

“Since I was told that if I didn’t, something bad would happen. How bad? I don’t know.”

“Nonsense.” Morven pursed her lips and attempted to fold her arms across her chest, but her large mammae impeded her, so she settled on placing them by her side. “I’ve never heard such talk.”

“Well, according to Lyall, that is the truth. Far be it for me to question what is reality, though, according to her.” Laila turned up her nose and chortled. “She is such a difficult woman.”

“Well, difficult woman or not, Laila, that sounds like a peculiar tale.”

“If you saw Laird Fairfax recently, you would understand. He is my uncle. The man is odd, but aside from all that, I am now to be wed to a man I know barely anything about, and I must do so to preserve my longevity. How absurd is that?” She took a sip of her tea and looked to her right. A man on horseback drew closer in the distance.

“Perhaps this situation should be addressed with another laird,” suggested Morven, brows raised. “Maybe you can garner more information from which to secure a balanced opinion.”

“I’m not sure it would do any good. My uncle is stark mad, and since he’s back at the castle grounds, it is a moot point. He and Lyall communicate like two little titmice, scurrying back and forth, one more tiresome than the other. I must simply accept my fate, at least for the time being. He is about to take the lairdship and become my guardian in case I don’t marry Alastair.” Laila sighed and looked over her shoulder. Then the man on horseback drew even closer, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Lady Laila.” He trotted to the table, then drew back on the reins. “What are the odds?” Robert smiled atop his chestnut mare and dismounted at once. Laila sprung up from the table and wrapped her hands around his waist. Robert held her close and kissed her forehead.

“Alastair?” Morven stood up and extended her hand. “Laila had just informed me as to your arrangement. I believe congratulations are in order.”

“No, no, no.” Laila giggled and held her hand to her mouth, embarrassed. “Morven, this is Robert. He is from Glencoe Village.” She gave his hand a squeeze, and Morven shook her head.

“Well, I am terribly confused now,” she laughed.

“I know, Morven.” Laila reached for her arm. “It’s complex. You see?”

“I’m so glad to have happened upon you. I rode straight from the village around eight and, deciding the mare needed a good stretch of the legs, thought I’d continue Eastward and visit the bakeshop in town. Lovely day for riding, anyway.” Robert took Laila’s hand in his. “Care to join me for a walk along the river?” Laila nodded.

“Morven, you’ll excuse me.” She took the last sip of her tea, set the mug gently on the table, and gave Morven a hug goodbye. “I shall see you sooner than later.” Before Morven could even think of objecting, the two were off, strolling along, hand in hand, the chestnut mare walking amiably beside them.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” Robert looked at Laila as they passed a large hedgerow dotted with berries and flowers.

“Thank you.” Laila batted her lashes and sighed. “I had just told Morven about my uncle, Laird Fairfax and Alastair.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It seems like ever since I was a young girl, there has always been some other party interfering with my life. I don’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful. I’m sure Alastair means well, but…” She paused and stopped in her tracks. “Robert, I missed you. In only a short lapse of time, I felt your absence. I lied in bed, wondering if I’d ever see you again and if you would take it upon yourself to find me, to brave those dreary castle gates of the Highlands.” Laila’s eyes welled with tears. She wished at that moment for freedom, for the chance to flee with Robert, to find a village where nobody knew their names, one where they could make a fresh start and live in perfect union.

“Stop, Laila. I feel the same way you do, but we both know it simply can’t be.” He looked pleadingly at Laila and moved her closer to his side. “I cannot dishonor my cousin. It would start an upheaval that neither of us would want to see the likes of.” He looked to the sky and watched as a single cloud drifted along.