brow melted all defiance. “Papa, please…”
“My mind is set, Breghan. This union will give you equal status of wife and at the first indication of you being with child, the Kerr will be obliged to wed.”
“You cannot force me into this handfasting.”
“I can give you to Arran Kerr regardless. You will be his to do with as he pleases. You’ll have no rights and no prospects and your children will be born bastards. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Then we are in agreement.” McAllen turned to open the door. “Half your brothers are still out there searching and your mother hasn’t slept since you disappeared. I trust you will stay put this time.”
It wasn’t a question.
Breghan rose on wooden legs. Of all the punishments she’d resigned herself to, she hadn’t anticipated the physical blow of losing her father’s love.
“No man tolerates wilful disobedience,” he said as she reached him.
Breghan searched his eyes for a hint of softening and found none. “How can you do this to me?”
How can you throw your only daughter away so easily?
“You did this to yourself, Breghan.”
“I have made a terrible mistake,” she said miserably. “Can you not forgive me?”
“Beg your forgiveness from the Kerr. The man has shown remarkable patience thus far and will undoubtedly be pressed no further.”
She tried to form an indignant protest but couldn’t seem to make it matter. Even at her angriest, at her most hurt, she’d never given up loving her father. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d given up on her, given up loving her, maybe even before she’d run off. Why else had he promised her to the Kerr despite her desperate pleading?
She swept past him and into the great hall. A few castle servants were rushing about, continuing with the wedding feast preparations that had been temporarily aborted. The high table was set with polished silver and the floor around it strewn with fresh petals from a variety of wild flowers. The tapestry her mother had been working on for years took place of honour on the wall behind. The picture was of Breghan as a young girl racing her mare across McAllen fields and was intended for Breghan’s wedding chest.
Arran was seated at one of the trestles, deep in conversation with Broderick and Duncan. As if sensing her presence, he looked up, straight into her eyes, and stood.
As he came toward her, she dropped her gaze. Tears were rising in her heart and she was afraid they’d spill. She felt alone, abandoned, cast out of her family. His boots came into focus as he stopped in front of her. She held her breath, staring at the well-worn leather, refusing to meet his triumphant gaze with her watery one. Then he walked on without saying a word. By the time she’d drawn a deep breath and looked up, Arran was following her father into the charter room.
Breghan turned and ran, weaving through the trestle tables and dodging servants until she reached the main entrance. She came to an abrupt stop at the outer steps when she saw Tristan waiting at the bottom. No one would allow her to run free today, to run through the fields until the closeness threatening to choke her slowly shed, one layer at a time.
Spinning about, Breghan ran back through the hall and up the stairwell to the second floor. Once inside her room, she pushed the door shut and fell upon her bed. Her heart was throbbing, not from the exercise but from emotional exertion. She welcomed it. The relentless throb filled the hole inside.
Her thoughts turned to Arran and the discussion no doubt taking place in the charter room. Scrambling up to sit cross-legged on the bed, Breghan pulled a pillow over and hugged it to her chest. Would her father truly hand her over to Arran Kerr, with or without a handfasting? He could cast her out of Donague and then where was she to go? As hard as she thought, Breghan came up with only one alternative. Her mother’s sister, Aunt
“My mind is set, Breghan. This union will give you equal status of wife and at the first indication of you being with child, the Kerr will be obliged to wed.”
“You cannot force me into this handfasting.”
“I can give you to Arran Kerr regardless. You will be his to do with as he pleases. You’ll have no rights and no prospects and your children will be born bastards. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Then we are in agreement.” McAllen turned to open the door. “Half your brothers are still out there searching and your mother hasn’t slept since you disappeared. I trust you will stay put this time.”
It wasn’t a question.
Breghan rose on wooden legs. Of all the punishments she’d resigned herself to, she hadn’t anticipated the physical blow of losing her father’s love.
“No man tolerates wilful disobedience,” he said as she reached him.
Breghan searched his eyes for a hint of softening and found none. “How can you do this to me?”
How can you throw your only daughter away so easily?
“You did this to yourself, Breghan.”
“I have made a terrible mistake,” she said miserably. “Can you not forgive me?”
“Beg your forgiveness from the Kerr. The man has shown remarkable patience thus far and will undoubtedly be pressed no further.”
She tried to form an indignant protest but couldn’t seem to make it matter. Even at her angriest, at her most hurt, she’d never given up loving her father. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d given up on her, given up loving her, maybe even before she’d run off. Why else had he promised her to the Kerr despite her desperate pleading?
She swept past him and into the great hall. A few castle servants were rushing about, continuing with the wedding feast preparations that had been temporarily aborted. The high table was set with polished silver and the floor around it strewn with fresh petals from a variety of wild flowers. The tapestry her mother had been working on for years took place of honour on the wall behind. The picture was of Breghan as a young girl racing her mare across McAllen fields and was intended for Breghan’s wedding chest.
Arran was seated at one of the trestles, deep in conversation with Broderick and Duncan. As if sensing her presence, he looked up, straight into her eyes, and stood.
As he came toward her, she dropped her gaze. Tears were rising in her heart and she was afraid they’d spill. She felt alone, abandoned, cast out of her family. His boots came into focus as he stopped in front of her. She held her breath, staring at the well-worn leather, refusing to meet his triumphant gaze with her watery one. Then he walked on without saying a word. By the time she’d drawn a deep breath and looked up, Arran was following her father into the charter room.
Breghan turned and ran, weaving through the trestle tables and dodging servants until she reached the main entrance. She came to an abrupt stop at the outer steps when she saw Tristan waiting at the bottom. No one would allow her to run free today, to run through the fields until the closeness threatening to choke her slowly shed, one layer at a time.
Spinning about, Breghan ran back through the hall and up the stairwell to the second floor. Once inside her room, she pushed the door shut and fell upon her bed. Her heart was throbbing, not from the exercise but from emotional exertion. She welcomed it. The relentless throb filled the hole inside.
Her thoughts turned to Arran and the discussion no doubt taking place in the charter room. Scrambling up to sit cross-legged on the bed, Breghan pulled a pillow over and hugged it to her chest. Would her father truly hand her over to Arran Kerr, with or without a handfasting? He could cast her out of Donague and then where was she to go? As hard as she thought, Breghan came up with only one alternative. Her mother’s sister, Aunt
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