It was an effort to keep her knees from knocking together as Alana walked into the castle keep, her eyes moving this way and that as she took in sights which she’d never seen the likes of before.

It must have taken a hundred years to build something so wondrous. The vaulted stone ceilings stretched far above her head, supported by stone columns so thick she doubted she’d be able to wrap her arms around them and touch her fingers together. The floor was stone, as well, though strewn about with straw which crunched underfoot.

Large, wooden fixtures hung from chains affixed to the ceiling, holding thick candles which dripped wax onto the floor.

A wide staircase caught her eye, leading up to a second floor. At the head of the stairs, across from the landing, was an arched window which nearly reached the vaulted ceiling above.

Everything was so large, overwhelming her at every turn.

And it would be her home. Hers to manage.

How would she ever do it? And could she ever feel at home in a castle which made her feel so very small?

“This way,” the young man who’d led the way thus far beckoned, motioning for her to follow him through a narrow passage of columns to a large, open room which boasted a blazing hearth at both ends. Blood-red tapestries hung from high up on the walls, embroidered with golden thread, and tall, narrow windows which came to arched points at the top allowed the sun’s light to fill the space.

“The earl’s study,” the young man explained. “This is where he spends much of his days, going about the business of overseeing the earldom. You will be expected to assist him in the management of the estate.”

Her head spun as her eyes fell on a table covered in scrolls and ledgers. She would be expected to assist in the management. An overwhelming prospect, but this was an overwhelming situation on the whole. It came as no surprise that yet another aspect of her new life left her breathless.

Sharp, strident footsteps met her ears, and her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Her intended. She lifted her chin in what she hoped was a confident, defiant gesture even as she questioned her ability to hold her water.

She’d only known true terror twice. Once, while in a tree as a boar waited to make her his next meal. And now, at this moment, knowing she was about to meet the man who’d brought her to his home.

He swept into the room, throwing his cape over one shoulder as he did. Her first impression was one of his great size, though he was not an inordinately large man—in fact, he was somewhat shorter than Brice, and more compact in build. But he was forceful, commanding attention with every step he took.

His raven-black hair was streaked with white at the temples, telling her how much older he was than she. Yet his face retained a youthful smoothness even so.

Likely because he had spent his time out-of-doors in the pursuit of hunting with friends, as he had just done prior to her arrival. While the management of an earldom could not be simple—she was not naïve enough to believe anything else, it surely had not taken a physical toll on the man.

He came to a halt while still several paces from her, standing with hands on his hips as his eyes took a brief tour of her face, hair, and body.

“So this is my bride.” Alana could not tell if he was pleased with her or not.

“My name is Alana Stewart,” she murmured in a voice which sounded little like hers. She had so hoped to sound confident, sure of herself, in control. Instead, she might as well have been a shaking child.

He held his head high, his features sharp. They reminded her of a bird. A hawk. “I’d heard you were a beauty. I’m glad to see I was not misled.”

She felt as though the compliment—if it was one—deserved a reply. “Thank ye kindly,” she murmured, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Edward.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is Edward Remington. Best become accustomed to addressing me as such now, as we will be sharing so much time together.” Dark eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Yes. I find you pleasing.”

Why, when his words were so pleasant, did they send a sick chill down her spine? He regarded her in much the same way as she’d regarded the lovely little mare Brice and the others had purchased on her behalf.

As though she were an animal.

Edward waved a hand to the steward who had accompanied him into the room, and the young man hurried off through a door cleverly concealed in the wall. “He shall fetch refreshment for you, my dear, as I’m sure you must be quite weary and malnourished after such a long journey.”

“Aye, I am at that,” she agreed, feeling again as though she ought to be gracious. It was impossible to get a feeling for the man, to understand where his true intentions were when he spoke to her and offered refreshment. Impossible to know whether he truly cared about her comfort or was merely behaving out of habit or custom.

He perched upon a chair cushioned in red velvet. “Please. Make yourself comfortable. I wish to know about you so that I might be better able to answer the questions my guests have already been asking.”

She swallowed hard as she sat, hoping his questions were not too probing or uncomfortable—and that she might be able to come up with the correct answers for them. While she still had no intention of marrying the man, she did not wish to anger him, either.

He looked her up and down once again as he sat back, leaning one elbow on the chair’s arm. Long, thin fingers tapped against his smooth-shaven cheek. “The men who escorted you here. They treated you fairly, I presume?”

“Aye, indeed.”

“None of them… bothered you in any way? Interfered with you?”

Her cheeks burned hot, though she managed to maintain eye contact so that he might not think her dishonest. “They did not. They were gentlemen.”

He snorted. “Scottish gentlemen? I’ve yet to meet one.”

“Now that you mention them,” she ventured, thinking quickly, “might they not spend their evening here, within the walls of the keep? I understand you were to offer them arrangements in the stable.”

“And it’s far better than they would receive at any other estate in the country,” Edward assured her, sounding bored rather than angry. “They’re fortunate I’m even giving them space inside the castle walls.”

She bit back a stinging retort, reminding herself that they were strangers. The man’s hands did not appear as though he’d ever done a day’s hard work with them, but that did not mean he was unable to hurt her.

“At any rate, they were kind to me,” she assured him.

He waved a dismissive hand. “And you are intact? I was led to believe so by your father.”

The fact that the two men had discussed something so intimate turned her stomach, but that was the way of the world. She wondered what would have happened if she’d answered in the negative, if she told him she’d been compromised by a man along the route to the castle or even years earlier, outside the awareness of her terrible father.

What would he have done?

“I am intact,” she whispered, lowering her eyes. It was all unbearable. One indignity after another.

“I’m glad to hear of it. That was one of the conditions of my agreeing to wed.”

Alana was unsure whether she wanted to know what the other conditions were, but felt compelled to ask—after all, she reasoned, it was her life at stake.

“What were the other conditions?” she asked.

“I want a wife who will bear me children,” he explained, his tone clipped. “I need viscounts to carry on the family line. The Remington name is a good one, an old one, but I am the only living son. My brothers all either died in infancy or on the field of battle.”

“I am sorry to hear of it,” she murmured.

“I am the last hope of the bloodline, you understand,” he continued, ignoring her or simply not sharing her feelings. “And the fact that you are half-English makes you a very attractive mother to my children. Your mother’s family name was a good one in this part of the world, until the family fell into ruin. Hence marrying her off to a Highland clan leader.” The man’s nose wrinkled as though he smelled something rotten.

Self-righteous anger rose in her chest. How dare he? She bore no love for Douglas Stewart, nor for the clan he led, but it was clear the man’s distaste was for Scotsmen on the whole—and Highlanders in particular.

She would have enjoyed watching Brice put the man in the velvet cape in his rightful place.

“You’ve no other living relatives?” Edward asked.

She shook her head.

“Good. No family coming to call, then. I have several sisters who occasionally bring their brats here for holidays. I’ve little time for such matters, but that will be your affair to manage.”

“I see.” She did not see at all, and the fact that he referred to his nieces and nephews as brats told her all she needed to know of his feelings toward children.

“Of course, I plan to have you with child within one or two moons, but you will be up and about before your interment comes. You will find every possible need has already been attended to.”

He would have nothing to do with the raising of the children, naturally, taking credit for their excellence while heaping blame upon her whenever they fell short. He would likely ignore the girls, marrying them off to strategically sound young men while focusing his attention on the boys.

The poor babes. She felt terribly sorry for them, though they had not yet been born.

The steward returned with a tray laden with wine, bread, cheese, meat and dried fruit. Edward took everything in with a practiced eye. “The kitchen is currently being put to use for tonight’s feast and the wedding preparations, too. I hope this is acceptable to you.”

It was a veritable feast on its own, better than almost anything she’d enjoyed since leaving home. “It looks quite fine, thank ye.”

“You,” he murmured, pouring wine into a chalice.

“Excuse me?”

“You. You keep saying, ‘ye,’ as some Scottish peasant. You are to be a countess. You must use proper English.”

“I will do my best,” she said, speaking carefully even when there was nothing she wanted more than to claw his eyes from his head. The way he spat out his words when he spoke of the Scottish…

He handed her a chalice before pouring wine for himself. “I expect you to share my bed at my command. When I am not in need of you, you will sleep in your chambers. Your ladies in waiting have small chambers of their own just beside yours and will be at your command. I care little what you do with them. I also care little for what anyone thinks of what I do with my time—or who I choose to share my bed with when I am not with my wife.”

Her hand shook, causing the wine to spill over the top of the chalice and stain her kirtle. “I do not understand.”

He leaned forward, speaking slowly as though he were addressing a child. “I will have whichever woman I choose. I might grow fond of one of your maids, or of a friend, or of a harlot. It is not your concern.”

She swallowed.

“Say it,” he whispered. “It is not your concern.”

“It is not my concern,” she whispered.

“Of course,” he continued with a satisfied sneer, “you will behave as a countess is expected to. You will be where I want you to be, when I want you to be there, whether it is my bed or the dining table or the hunt or a banquet or at my side as the farmers bring gifts on holy days. You will be chaste, obedient, and you will keep your sharp-tongued opinions to yourself. Your father warned me about your temper and your inability to keep a thought in your head without speaking it aloud.” He sat back, shaking his head as he did. “I cannot have that, and I will not.”

When she found her voice, she whispered, “Why did you agree to the marriage, then? If he told you about my temper and my opinions?”

He smiled almost charmingly then. “It is easy to correct such ill-mannered behavior, my dear. I’ve corrected it in many a woman. But none of those women were the type a man in my position weds or employs in the bearing of his children. You are. That is all that separates you from them, Alana Stewart.”

He studied her reaction, perhaps expecting to find her shaken by his words. He knew nothing of her, naturally, or else he would have known how little the threats of a man affected her.

Douglas Stewart had raged and shouted and sworn at her throughout her life. She knew how to control herself when the time came to do so.

“I’m certain you will find me a pleasant man, so long as my needs are attended to and my wishes not circumvented,” he assured her, his mood brightening. “I’m quite agreeable, even good company. So long as I get my way and the woman at my side is agreeable, as well.”

“I shall do my best to be agreeable, then,” she murmured.

He broke off a piece of bread, dipped it into his wine and licked his fingers once he’d eaten. “Please. Help yourself. You will need your strength for what is to come—the greeting of my guests, the feast this evening.”

She willed her hand into steadiness as she broke off a piece of bread, a chunk of cheese. While she had no appetite whatsoever, something the earl had said rang true for her.

She would need all of her strength, for there was no way she would stay in his castle through the night.