MacLeod shuffled pages, then cleared his throat. “‘I am sorely sorry for this requirement, dear daughter, but it is my hope that you will grow to understand my position. As you’re sixteen now—’” The lawyer broke off and tugged at one pendulous earlobe. “He wrote this last year, you understand, before he—”
“Aye, while I was naught but a bairn.” Caithren crossed her arms and legs. Beneath her unadorned black skirts, the leg on top swung restlessly back and forth as she talked. “Now, having attained the advanced age of seventeen, I imagine I’m a confirmed spinster—”
“‘As you’re sixteen now,’” MacLeod rushed to continue, “‘it’s time you looked to securing your future. In addition, I promised dear Maisie on her deathbed that I would see you safely wed. Since you’re hearing these words, it’s apparent I failed to live long enough to do so. Caithren, my love, you cannot but admit to a certain streak of stubbornness and independence, and bearing such, have left me no other avenue to make certain your dear mother’s wishes are granted. I know you’ll do right by your mother, myself, and your own life, rather than see Leslie fall into your brother’s incompetent hands. Please forgive me my duplicity and know it’s for your own good.’”
Silence enveloped the small study, the pitter-patter of the rain unnaturally loud against the window. Caithren stared up at the timber-beamed ceiling.
Cameron’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “It’s sorry I am for you, sweet. This is a hard day for you, I know.”
“Da suffered. It’s a blessing he’s passed on. Didn’t everyone tell me that today?”
But despite having decided she was done crying, her throat seemed to close painfully, and her eyes grew hot as well as itchy.
She blinked hard. “I have no intention of marrying.”
Rising to tower over her, Cameron straightened the dark blue and green Leslie kilt he’d worn for the funeral. “Never?”
“Ever.”
“But you’ll have your pick of the young men.” Cam ran a hand back through his straight, wheaten hair. “Surely there must be some fellow…” He frowned, then smiled. “Duncan. Maybe you’d consider Duncan? He has land of his own, and the village maidens are forever tittering over his good looks—”
“He’s a fool.” When Caithren stood, Cam took a step back. “He’d be no better for Leslie than Adam. And he’d never let me have a hand in running things, or you, for that matter.”
“James, then. James is no fool.”
“Aye, you’ve the right of it there. But James isn’t one for the land. He keeps his nose in a book all the day. He’d be no better than Adam, either.”
Cam walked to the window and gazed out at the pouring rain. “Surely there must be someone.” His voice bounced muffled off the uneven glass. “What sort of life would you live, then? Your folks were so happy…don’t you want as much for yourself?”
She joined him there and watched familiar gray clouds glide slowly over the green rolling hills where her family had lived for generations. Beyond a stone wall, the ponies she and Cameron were breeding fed in a nearby field, swishing their long tails. Tenant farmers worked in the distance—people she knew as well as her own kin.
She’d lived her entire life in this fortified house that looked like a wee, turreted castle. Da had built it for her mother—he’d always treated Mam like a queen. Love owercomes the reasons o’ mind, Mam used to murmur when she walked up the path to her home; the heart always rules the head. But she’d said it with a laugh and a blush of pleasure.
Aye, Mam had been loved. But she’d still been the property of a man.
“For all Da loved her, Mam had nothing to call her own. I want no master. And I want us to run Leslie together, you and me, the way we’ve been doing since Da fell ill. Any husband of mine would inherit my property upon marriage, and no man would allow you an equal partnership.” One of her fingers traced the crooked line of a raindrop as it trailed down the pane. “We’d never realize our grand plans. Even my own father plotted to manipulate me from the grave. All men are the same.”
“Not all men, Cait.”
When she turned to him, Cam’s eyes held a challenge.
“Maybe not all,” she conceded. “Not you.” Turning back to the window, she traced another raindrop…two…three.
Sudden hope made her gasp. “You!” She whirled to face him. “I shall marry you! Leslie should be yours in any case—how many times have I said it?”
Cameron stared, incredulous. “Me? Are you daft? We’re kin.”
“So? Kin often marry. We’re cousins, not brother and sister.”
“First cousins.” MacLeod’s voice came stern across the room. Caithren had forgotten all about him. “I’ve heard it said that such inbreeding can result in diseased children.”
“Inbreeding?” Cam was still sputtering beside her. “Cait, I…I love you, but not that way. Not the, er, breeding sort of way. More like a sister.” He was red as a cherry.
“I knew as much. And my love for you is the same.” She sighed. “I never expected to wed at all, much less for romantic love.” She felt a lump rise in her throat as her excitement gave way to defeat. “It’s hopeless.”
Her fingers went absently to play with her laces as she wandered back to MacLeod, tears swimming in her eyes. “Is there no other way? Must I wed or see it all go to Adam?”
“Well…” The family lawyer met her gaze, then looked away.
“Aye? What are you thinking?” Slapping her palms onto the desk, she leaned toward him. “You’ve an idea, don’t you?”
MacLeod glanced heavenward. “May your father forgive me for circumventing his plans.” He smoothed his fine wool doublet. “If you could persuade your brother to sign over his rights—”
Caithren’s heart galloped in her chest. “That would work? Such a paper would be legally binding?”
“I cannot see why not. It wouldn’t be signed under duress, and who would there be to challenge? I assume, in
