When Josephine first set eyes upon the MacAulay keep, ’twas all she could do not to weep. ’Twasn’t the majesty, for it was far from majestic. ’Twas made of gray stone, only three stories tall with one high, circular tower. The keep sat in a wide clearing at the top of a cliff that faced the ocean.

Nay, ’twasn’t majestic, neither was it regal, nor was it stately.

But it was home.

For years, she and the MacAulays had exchanged countless letters with one another. Many nights, she had lain awake, envisioning what the keep would look like and how she might feel when she saw it for the first time. Nothing her mind had conjured up equaled this one, small moment of time.

An overwhelming sense of relief, happiness and hope surged within her heart. ’Twas something she likely would never be able to describe thoroughly to anyone. She was finally home. A place where she knew, without equivocation, she would be safe.

Safe.

Cared for.

The last time she had felt either safe or cared for was on the day of her mother’s death ten years ago. ’Twas a feeling she never thought she would regain.

But here, at the MacAulay keep, she did feel safe and knew she would be cared for. By the MacAulay family, if not her husband.

The wind here was just as ferocious as it had been on the other side of the island. It beat all around her, her heavy cloak offering some protection, but not nearly enough.

Traigh came to help her dismount, a broad smile making creases around his eyes. “I fear ye missed our summer, Joie.”

Her brow drew in with confusion. “But it is summer, Traigh,” she told him.

“Aye, it might well be summer elsewhere in the world, but here, it only last three days. We had our summer last week.”

Josephine laughed at his jest and for a fleeting moment, she thought of Helmert. Mayhap had Helmert been raised by the MacAulays, he would have been a kinder, more gentle soul.

“Joie MacAdams!” A deep, baritone voice called out across the cobblestone courtyard, breaking her reverie.

There, at the top of the steps was Marcum MacAulay with a smile as wide as the River Tay. All of his sons took after their father in looks as well as manners. He was as tall as Traigh, but carried more girth in his middle. His hair was growing whiter with each passing year.

Josephine beamed as she raced across the courtyard with Laurin following closely behind. They met Marcum at the bottom of the steps where he hugged Josephine so tightly he lifted her off the ground.

“Och, lass!” he said as he squeezed her tighter before setting her back on her feet. “Ye be a sight fer these auld eyes!”

“’Tis good to see you as well, m’laird,” Josephine said, the smile never leaving her face.

“Ye can call me Da now, seein’ how ye’ll be me daughter-in-law in a few short days,” Marcum said with a wink. He caught sight of Laurin, then and cocked his head ever so slightly. “And who might this bonny lass be?”

Traigh stepped forward in time to answer. “She belongs to Albert now,” he teased.

Laurin’s creamy skin turned red with embarrassment while Marcum’s mouth fell open.

“Traigh, stop teasing her, please,” Josephine chastised him. Turning to Marcum she said, “This is Laurin, my dearest friend. Laurin, this is Marcum MacAulay, the father to all these MacAulay men.”

Marcum bowed at the waist and smiled at Laurin. “’Tis me great pleasure to make yer acquaintance, lass.”

By now, Graeme, Remi and the rest of the men had stepped forward. Marcum could not hide his surprise at seeing his youngest son. “Graeme?” he said as if he disbelieved his eyes.

“Da,” Graeme said.

Marcum pushed through the throng of people and placed a hand on each of Graeme’s shoulders. “’Tis good to see you, son,” he said, before pulling him in for a warm embrace.

“Yer mum has been worried sick over ye. She’ll be verra glad to see ye’re home.”

Graeme gave his father a look that said he found that hard to believe, but he kept any thoughts on the matter to himself. Graeme introduced Remi to his father.

“Welcome to our keep,” Marcum said with a nod.

“My thanks,” Remi replied with a slight bow at the waist.

“Let us get ye all indoors,” Marcum said as he left Graeme and Remi, and offered one arm to Josephine and one to Laurin, before happily escorting the women inside.

With a confused brow, Graeme looked to his brothers for insight. As they had done during their journey here, they refused to answer. ’Twas the same answer each time, whenever he asked about his betrothed. “Ask her yerself.”

A frustrated sigh passed through his lips as he took the stairs and followed the happy trio inside.

In a swish of silk skirts and rose water, Kathryn MacAulay all but ran across the gathering room to meet her future daughter-in-law. “Joie!” she exclaimed happily, with a smile so bright and full it rivaled the sun in its brilliance.

Letting go of Marcum’s arm, Josephine rushed to meet her with open arms. They embraced, or rather, Kathryn wrapped her arms around Josephine so tightly that she could barely breathe.

Graeme watched with mouth agape the display of affection playing out before him. He had never witnessed such an outward, public spectacle from his mother. What happened next left his head reeling with confusion.

His mother and Josephine began conversing in French. Rapid, perfect, flawless French.

“I am so glad that you are here, Joie! It brings my heart great joy to finally meet you!”

Josephine’s smile was almost as bright as Kathryn’s. “I feel the same, Kathryn. You are even more beautiful than Marcum and your sons told me.”

Kathryn leaned in closer, “’Tis you who are even more beautiful than they told me,” she said. “There were many times I feared this day would never come.”

“I must admit to that same fear.”

What in the bloody hell was going on? Graeme cursed inwardly. For more than three days, he and Remi had engaged in conversations in French. And not once in all that time had Josephine indicated she understood it. He felt his neck burn red, before the color traveled to his face. He wasn’t embarrassed; he was angry. Why would she keep such a secret from him?

Traigh and Albert came to stand on either side of him. Broad smiles of satisfaction broke out on their faces when they saw him in such a state of confusion.

“She speaks French,” Graeme muttered.

Traigh turned quite serious and nodded his head. “Aye, she be speakin’ French. Mayhap she learned it from listenin’ to ye and yer French friend speakin’ it these past days.” Though his tone sounded serious, there was a decidedly sarcastic undertone to it.

“Ye knew,” Graeme said as he glared angrily at his brother.

Traigh feigned innocence. “Moi?”

Graeme’s glare intensified. “Why did ye no’ tell me? Why did she no’ tell me?”

Traigh smiled thoughtfully and placed a hand on Graeme’s shoulder. “Ye did no’ ask.”

Josephine and Laurin were given a nicely appointed room on the second floor of the keep. Unpacking was a simple and quick affair, for neither of them had brought much along. Together, they lifted the mattress of Josephine’s bed and carefully hid the Gladius under it.

They hung their dresses on wooden pegs in a corner of the room and other items were put into the large trunks that sat at the foot of each bed. After much needed baths, they napped for a short while before Kathryn came to wake them to dress for dinner.

Josephine found she liked her future mother-in-law immensely, even more now that she had met her in person. It had been Kathryn who reached out to Josephine not long after her mother’s death. What had begun as a letter of condolence later blossomed into a friendship. Kathryn had taken up the role of surrogate mother to Josephine, albeit through writing.

Making certain the two women had everything they needed, Kathryn soon left them to tend to matters below stairs. Before leaving, she hugged Josephine and told her again just how happy she was to have her there.

Josephine helped Laurin to dress first, choosing a deep blue brocade dress. “With your fair hair and blue eyes, the blue will make you look even prettier than you already are.”

“Nay,” Laurin said when Josephine held the gown out for her. “I be just yer lady’s maid, remember?”

“You know you are more than my lady’s maid, Laurin. You are my sister, remember?”

“Bah! Yer illegitimate sister, ye mean.”

Though she had said it as a jest, Josephine knew how much it bothered Laurin not knowing who her father was. “You know I do not care what your bloodline is or isn’t. I could not love you more if you had been born as my sister by blood.”

Laurin’s smile slowly faded. “I do no’ want to be accused of tryin’ to be somethin’ I’ve no right to be, Joie. I ken ye love me and fer that, I will be eternally grateful.”

“Well, as your older sister, I insist you wear the blue brocade. And if anyone has anything to say on the matter, they will have me to answer to.”

Reluctantly, Laurin put on the dress and even allowed Josephine to style her hair. When she was finished, Josephine took a step back to look at her. “You are so beautiful, Laurin,” she said with a smile. “I imagine Albert will agree.”

Laurin’s smile evaporated instantly, replaced with a look of desolation. With her shoulders drooping, she went to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What is the matter?” Josephine asked as she sat down beside her.

Laurin took a deep breath before answering. “I do no’ want anyone to think me ungrateful, Joie, fer I truly am. Until a few days ago, no one besides ye ever stood up in me defense.”

“Aye, ’twas a very kind thing Albert did,” Josephine agreed.

An errant tear trailed down Laurin’s cheek. She swiped it away. “I do no’ want to be bought, ye ken?”

The merks, Josephine thought. She could not blame Laurin for feeling as she did. “I do not believe Albert meant to purchase you, Laurin. In my heart, I believe he meant it only as a way of showing Helmert and everyone else that he was not going to leave without you.”

Laurin did not look so convinced. “But why would a man who does no’ ken me at all pay all those merks fer my release if he does no’ expect anythin’ in return?”

Josephine patted her friend’s hand. “But he does know you.”

Laurin responded with a doubtful brow.

“In my letters to all the MacAulays, I oft spoke of you. They all know how kind you are, how smart, witty, and beautiful. They all know I think of you as my sister. And once Albert saw with his own eyes that I did not lie — especially about how beautiful you are — I think he was taken aback.”

“But how can a man get to know a woman through letters?” Laurin asked.

Josephine smiled and rested her forehead against Laurin’s. “The same way I knew we could trust the MacAulays, that we would be safe here. People oft write things they might not feel comfortable speaking openly. You can learn much through letters, Laurin.”

She thought on it for a long moment. “So ye do no’ believe he looks at me as the whore he purchased?”

Josephine scoffed openly at the notion. “Of course not!” she exclaimed. “He looks at you as my sweet younger sister with a heart of gold, for that is what you are.”

“I still cannae believe we are finally here,” Laurin said, sounding more hopeful than she had just moments ago. “Ye’re certain we will be safe here?”

Josephine smiled thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

Laurin thought about it for a few moments before she answered. “Well, they do seem kind, aye? And so far, no’ one of them has tried to lift me skirts. And they do no’ drink and curse and carry on like the three eejits did.”

The “three eejits” she referred to were Helmert, Darvord and Clarence. ’Twas a living nightmare the three men had put them through, though Laurin suffered far more than Josephine had. Trusting anyone was not an easy feat for Laurin, and who could blame her after all the “three eejits” had done to her over the past few years? Though it was comforting that she believed the MacAulay men were kind, Josephine knew it would be a very long time before Laurin put complete trust in any man.

“I agree,” Josephine told her. “They are a marked improvement over the eejits.”

Laurin giggled. “Pigs be an improvement over the eejits.”

They chose a burgundy dress with long, tapered sleeves trimmed in yellow for Josephine. Styling her dark hair with braids pulled away from her face, the rest of her long locks hung in waves down her back. After stepping into their slippers, she and Laurin left their bedchamber to go down to the evening meal.

As they approached the long, stone staircase, they saw Albert walking up with Graeme behind him. Albert came to an abrupt halt when he saw Laurin. He stood as still as a statue, his eyes never leaving her, even as he leaned back a bit to whisper something to Graeme.

Josephine smiled and leaned into Laurin, whose face had turned a lovely shade of pink. “See? That is the look of a man who is quite smitten with a woman,” she whispered playfully.

Josephine had to admit that both Albert and Graeme looked quite handsome. Graeme most especially. He wore a dark gray tunic under the MacAulay plaid of dark red, green, and black. A MacAulay brooch held the plaid in place over his shoulder. Leather boots fit snugly over his well-muscled calves. His long blonde hair was held back at his nape with a leather thong.

When he finally looked at Josephine, she wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. She didn’t see the same flicker of pleasant surprise she saw on Albert’s face when he looked at Laurin. Nay, Graeme looked…unhappy? Nay, not unhappy. Perturbed? Frustrated? Who knew?

Her heart felt heavy. She had hoped and prayed that once they returned to his home, his mood would improve. Mayhap he needed more time? Mayhap they simply needed to spend more time together, to become friends. Josephine held on to that hope with all her strength, for that was all she had left.

Albert bounded up the stairs and bowed graciously to Laurin. “M’lady, would ye do me the honor of allowin’ me to escort ye to the evenin’ meal?” he asked with a broad, hopeful smile.

Laurin swallowed hard, then turned to Josephine with a questioning look. Josephine had to smile at her friend’s uncertainty. “She would be delighted, Albert,” Josephine answered on Laurin’s behalf.

He offered Laurin his arm, on which she placed a reluctant hand. A moment later, he was escorting the young woman down the stairs.

For the first time in many years, Josephine was alone with Graeme. She tried to focus on the young man she remembered. The one who had saved her from her cruel brother on more than one occasion. She tried searching his eyes for some glimmer of that Graeme, the one she had admired and liked a great deal. Did that man still exist?

Eventually, Graeme took the stairs, bowed, and offered Josephine his arm. Gracefully, she accepted.

Halfway down the stairs, he broke his silence. In French he asked, “Why did you no’ tell me ye spoke French?”

There was just a hint of frustration in his voice. She would not apologize for her actions. If he was embarrassed, he had no one to blame but himself. “You didn’t ask.”

He cast her a suspicious look as they stepped into the hallway, but said nothing else. A few steps to their right was the gathering room. It was filled with all manner of people, laughing, chatting, and some who were quite eager to see the woman Graeme was to marry. Long trestle tables sat perpendicular to one another. At the head of the room on a dais, was another long trestle table. Marcum and Kathryn were already seated there. To Marcum’s left sat Traigh and his wife, next to them Bruce and his. The two seats next to Kathryn were empty, but next to them sat Ronald — the brother closest in age to Graeme — and his lovely new bride, and Connor, who had yet to marry.

Graeme led Josephine to the dais, up the stairs and pulled out the chair next to his mother. Josephine sat down and scanned the room for Laurin and Albert. Curiously, they were sitting at the table nearest the dais.

Kathryn was beaming proudly at Josephine. When she saw her eyes had landed on Albert and Laurin as well as her curious expression, Kathryn leaned in. “Laurin refused to sit with us,” she explained. “She said she felt it was no’ proper. I decided no’ to push the matter.”

Relief settled in. Josephine thought it awfully generous of Kathryn to allow some leeway in the matter. She thought it even kinder that Albert was sitting with Laurin.

Once Marcum saw that Josephine was seated, he stood to speak to his people.

“Clan MacAulay!” he said over the din. The people instantly quieted and sat in rapt attention.

“This be a verra special night, fer Clan MacAulay. As many of ye be aware, our Graeme will be marryin’ Josephine MacAdams in a sennight. I expect ye all will find her as charming and kind as we do.” With that, he raised his cup to Josephine, and then the crowd. “To Josephine and to Graeme!”

Cheers went up, people clapped, and Josephine sat as still as a stone. A sennight? What of the banns? The preparations? The fact that the groom does not like me? Panic began to swell.

From Graeme’s angry glare, he knew nothing about the date having already been set.

Josephine took a drink of cider before turning to Kathryn. “What of the banns? The preparations?”

Kathryn patted her hand. “Joie, do no’ worry it. Marcum posted the banns three weeks ago. We knew Graeme was on his way home. The law says we must post them for at least three weeks. It can be longer. We could have married the both of ye the moment ye entered the keep. I told Marcum the two of ye needed at least a week to get to know one another.”

Josephine did not feel nearly as confident as Kathryn sounded. She drank down the rest of her cider while her mind raced hither and yon. A week. She imagined it would take a lifetime before Graeme ever thought of her as more than someone he had been forced to marry.

Graeme sat silently fuming. Josephine could almost feel his body vibrating with anger. She was, at the moment, at a loss for words. What could she possibly say to make him feel more at ease, to have him look at her as a friend and ally?

“Graeme,” Kathryn said, leaning over slightly so she could see him better, “have ye met Traigh’s bride? Or Bruce’s?”

With his jaw clenched, he answered, “Nay.”

“Och!” Kathryn smiled. “Irline is a sweet lass. Traigh is verra smitten with her. And Bruce?” She rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. “The moment he set eyes upon Mairi, he fell in love. Came to us the followin’ day and told yer da and me that she was the one and he would marry her, with or without our permission.” She giggled at the memory. “That was a wee over two months ago. I do believe they be verra much in love.”

Graeme was now seething, his lips pursed into a fine line, his eyes nothing more than slits. “Bruce was given a choice?” he asked in a low grumble. He had spoken in such a low voice that Kathryn had to ask him to repeat himself. Josephine, however, heard every word.

“Bruce was given a choice?” he asked a second time, louder, and with more anger and venom.

“Of course he was. As was Ronald,” Kathryn answered.

Graeme, rarely so openly furious, was unable to contain himself any longer. Slamming his fist down on the table with such force that it rattled the cups and dishes, and made Josephine nearly jump out of her skin. “Then why was I no’ given a bloody choice?” He all but shouted the question.

The room fell silent.

Josephine was so frightened by his display of anger that she sat in stunned silence for a long moment. Humiliation began to spread from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers. Without saying a word, she pushed herself away from the table and stood to leave.

“Where are you goin’?” Graeme asked, his voice still quaking with anger.

“To my room,” she said, tossing her answer over her shoulder without looking back. Connor, clearly upset with his brother, pushed himself away from the table and stood. “I’ll escort ye back, Joie,” he said as he cast a very disappointed look at Graeme.

Graeme’s face darkened as he quickly stood. “Sit down, Connor! I’ll escort her back.”

Josephine picked up her skirts and ran from the room.

Marcum stood to his full height, the disappointment in his youngest son’s behavior more than evidenced by his fierce scowl. “Me study,” he said as he stepped away from the table. “Now.”

Although Graeme was a grown man, he knew he had crossed the line. Arguing with his father would serve him ill. Besides, his father was a head taller, heavier, and still as strong as an ox. Graeme knew he’d beat him to a bloody pulp if he even tried to argue, no matter how old he might be.

With his head held high, Graeme followed his father out of the room. Kathryn motioned to the rest of her family to stay seated. “I’d better go, else Marcum is likely to make Joie a widow before she’s even had a chance to say her vows.”