Chapter One
She’d been promised since she was five.
Normal.
Expected.
Her duty.
Cora curled her lips in disgust. But even as her temper flared, she couldn’t quite sink into her own thoughts and take solace in believing she was right to be so outraged.
Would ye prefer a family that never thought to secure yer future?
It was a valid question. One she’d be very foolish to ignore the validity of.
Her father had negotiated a match for her, which would ensure she had a fine roof over her head and food in her belly, even in the dead of winter. Her children would know security, and she’d never feel the bite of desperation.
Not all daughters were blessed with such fortune. There were maids in the kitchens who would tell her frankly just how well off she was, while they struggled to stay in the favor of the Head-of-House to maintain their positions. Their next meal was never guaranteed, for they might be put out if they failed to impress.
And still, Cora raged against her life. She felt like chains bound her to a wall in a dungeon. Her spirit longed to be as free as the wind. She felt like a bird who was frantic to fly away because it belonged in the sky.
To do what precisely?
That was the question Cora sought an answer to while at the top of the north tower of the Mackenzie stronghold. She’d thrown the shutters open wide, allowing the wind to blow full into her face. The chilly blast seemed to calm something inside her. A recklessness that had been growing stronger in the last few years.
Honestly, maturity should have had the opposite effect. Wasn’t that the way life worked? Only a child embraced recklessness. Her need to rush headlong into the unknown should have diminished as the years of adolescence passed.
At twenty-two years of age, Cora should have discovered healthy respect for a secure home and a future where she was assured of prosperity. Logically, she understood that life had to be planned, and then, deep inside her soul, she fought against such order as she would have struggled against chains around her body.
It frustrated her.
She bit her lower lip for a moment. No, better to say—she frustrated herself.
Perhaps she was still a child, to rage against what made sense. Cora closed the shutters and moved over toward the bed. Stripping out of her clothing, she ended up looking at her reflection in the polished mirror.
A woman stood there.
Her figure was full. No traces of childhood left.
And besides, she didn’t even feel a tiny twinge of heat on her cheeks for looking on her nude body. No, she wasn’t a child anymore. Not in flesh or thought. Which left her contemplating her reflection and trying to decide why she was so discontented.
She’d never met her betrothed. He might suit her well enough.
Ye might detest each other…
Cora shook her head. Not because she agreed that she might not care for her intended husband, but because she was honest enough to admit that what burned inside her had nothing to do with Cormac Grant. She hungered for something else.
It would certainly be nice if she could decide what precisely it was she craved.
Yet, it eluded her.
She crawled into the bed and drew the bedding around herself. She noted the fineness of the sheets and how thick the comforter was. Above her head was a canopy supported by poles hung with thick curtains that might be drawn to keep the heat in.
Aye, she was not childish enough to overlook how fine her life was.
And yet, she looked toward the shutters. The latch rattled just a tiny amount with the wind. She stared at that latch. Something inside her longed to be out in it. Facing the gusts and feeling the tingle of its chilly touch on her face. She contemplated facing the brunt of nature’s wrath.
A foolish thought.
Yet it stayed with her throughout the night.
*
Rhedyn Lindsey stood beside her husband on the steps of the main keep at the Mackenzie stronghold. In the yard, Mackenzie Retainers were checking their saddles to ensure they were secure before mounting. Cora was in their ranks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation and her step light because she was so excited.
Rhedyn moved close to her husband. “Are ye certain about this? The Grants might send for her any day.”
Laird Buchanan angled his head down to look at his wife. “I suppose I see Cora’s complaint in the matter of her match with the Grants. Cormac has no’ even instructed his secretary to write her a single letter.”
Rhedyn lifted her hand and waved as Cora mounted in a single fluid motion. The girl had grown into a young woman who was very adept at riding. “Perhaps Cormac Grant has no taste for the match yer father made with Cora.”
Buchanan looped his arm around the back of his wife and pulled her close. “Just as ye had no taste for Rolfe Munro.”
She shook her head. “I find Mackenzies more to my liking.” She rose up onto her toes and whispered. “Much, much more.”
Buchanan placed a firm kiss against her lips.
“Can ye no’ wait until we’ve departed, brother?” Cora demanded. Her tone was playful and full of excitement, as she looked forward to the trip her brother had granted her permission to join in on.
“I cannot,” Buchanan informed his sister. “Since ye are taking so very long in departing.”
Cora’s horse was eager to go. The animal didn’t care for being turned back to face the keep. It pranced in a wide circle before Cora gained firm control of it. But she mastered the animal, proving her skill as she managed to make it stand facing her brother. She sat forward, her knees angled in toward her mount, and her thighs tight around the animal. She was going to ride the beast, not just allow it to carry her along. No one missed the skill she displayed. Buchanan nodded toward his captain, silently agreeing with the man over not settling Cora on a more docile mare.
But his sister was watching him, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of Buchanan and his captain scrutinizing her.
“We’ll celebrate Samhain when ye return.” Buchanan raised his hand in a formal farewell.
Cora narrowed her eyes for a moment but turned her mount toward the gate. A dozen Mackenzie Retainers joined her as they rode out of the stronghold.
“I don’t believe she got the point,” Buchanan muttered to his wife.
“Don’t doubt it,” Rhedyn argued quietly. “Cora has a sharp wit.” She held up a single finger. “And a care for not openly arguing with the laird, even if ye are her brother and baiting her.”
Buchanan drew in a long breath as the dust settled in the yard. The wind was blowing cold now. Around them, the fields were dry as the harvest had been brought in. Samhain would mark the end of the season. Snow would be falling soon after.
“Cora understands ye are giving her a chance to run free before ye must demand she settle into the place yer father promised her,” Rhedyn said what was on her husband’s mind.
Buchanan shook his head. “If the lass finds another man she’d rather wed…I would consider him. Seeing as the Grants have made no move. They can hardly argue too much if I inform them she’s set her sights on another.”
“Which is why ye have sent her to Munro land on a matter of little importance,” Rhedyn remarked. “To see if there is any spark between her and Rolfe.”
Buchanan locked gazes with his wife. “Cora has a need to be busy. If I do nae give me approval for something, she’ll think up one of her own.”