“I’m quite thirsty,” Blaine said as Saeran passed her sister’s room. She’d hoped to just sneak by without her noticing, but luck was not in Saeran’s favor, and hadn’t been for quite some time. A full moon here, and not a single day had gotten better.

Her sister was slowly growing worse in attitude and actions. Servants had become too terrified to show their faces. Sabia’s children no longer ran around the hall. The Lion was home as much as cows flew, and even Brodrick had become scarce of late.

Even Connor, though he was around the keep more than the laird, stayed away from the halls, the kitchens, the gardens, and anywhere else Blaine was.

Saeran couldn’t even blame them anymore.

“Aye,” she muttered, forcing herself to smile. “I bet—”

“Why,” Blaine said with an irritated smile, “must you do that ‘aye’ thing? It is annoying to the point of distraction, sister. You’ve been doing it since we were children. I don’t even know where you learned that!”

At least Blaine was honest…

“I’m sorry,” she said, even though she wasn’t. It had become such a habit when she was younger that it had stuck with her and grew. In a way, it was a connection to her childhood.

She smiled a little.

Every year, there had been a fair with all of the clans—Lowlanders and Highlanders alike would come. The Sinclairs had not missed a single year of those fairs, but only because Saeran had forced them to go.

The laughing, the smells, the animals, the events. It had all been a thrill. Even as a girl, she’d known that feuds existed between every clan, born purely from pride and greed. Her mother had made Saeran promise that she wouldn’t repeat the muttered words she’d spoken, but they’d stuck with Saeran all through her childhood.

She hadn’t been able to understand them. The Lowlanders got along just fine. Since they rarely visited the Highlands, she hadn’t known of the brutes that roamed the dangerous land.

That is, up until she got lost at the fair one year. She’d only been the tender age of six, but filled with curiosity and excitement, she’d wandered off. It wasn’t until she’d stumbled into an area with large, burly men who all wore swords, that she realized she was lost.

Almost instantly, she’d started to cry. Saeran bit her lip as she remembered her own foolishness. Luckily, a small lad with hair as dark as night had come to her aid. He’d escorted her out of the area with a gentlemanly hand on her elbow.

He’d immediately became her hero. What a brave boy, she had thought with wonder, gazing up at him. He was so stern in the face, and he looked as if he never smiled. His young strength and confidence had given her the courage she needed to stop sniveling.

When he realized she’d calmed down, he began to talk.

The brogue in his voice was thick and heavy, much more so than hers. It had only added to her adoration of her savior.

As a young, silly girl, she hadn’t thought to ask his name. Every year during the fair, they would find each other for a day. Talking, laughing, and playing was all they’d do. He’d saved her countless times from wandering off, and had even escorted her to events.

Their fun was always cut short, and so they would part on sad terms, promising to meet each other the next year.

Over the years, she’d become so fascinated with his brogue that when she was home, she’d practice it. “Aye,” she’d say, over and over until she got it just right. Eventually it became habit for her to respond with ‘aye’, and as hard as her mother had tried to make her change her ways, she hadn’t.

The year that she’d perfected it, hoping to impress her friend, he hadn’t appeared at the fair.

He hadn’t come that year, or the year after that, or the year after that.

“Why are you just standing there?” Blaine asked, leaning out of the cracked door. Saeran sighed, closing her eyes. “I’m thirsty. I demand a drink, sister.”

“Yes, Blaine,” she said tiredly, rolling her eyes when Blaine slammed the door in Saeran’s face. Oh, her sister was such a joy these days. As she continued her way down the hall, past her room, she debated with herself. Her feet were sore, her arms were trembling from working, and her back ached like no other. Mayhap, if she were quiet enough, her sister would forget the demand she could have taken care of herself, and Saeran could just climb into bed.

Of course, if that happened, Blaine would only have words for her in the morning.

She glanced toward the kitchen. An apple for her troubles didn’t sound too bad, if she were honest with herself. Saeran rubbed the small of her back, then sighed, slouching her way down the stairs. Aye, her sister needed a swift kick in her lumpy arse if she—

Saeran stopped. Her eyes widened.

Lumpy arse.

She’d said her sister had a lumpy arse. She immediately felt guilty. So, so guilty. By today’s standards, her sister was gorgeous. She’d said it out of spitefulness, and there was a difference between spite and truth.

Saeran pressed her lips, continuing her way down the hall, becoming angry with herself.

“I’ve been at this keep for a full moon,” she whispered to herself angrily. “I’ve been here for a full moon, and every single day, it only gets worse. Why do I put up with her attitude?” she asked herself, throwing up her hands.

“She isn’t even herself anymore!” She mumbled on about her sister, filling a cup with water. She made her way out of the kitchen. “By all rights, I am her ‘brother’. I should be disciplining her! Lord! Even the laird does not favor her attitude.”

“Mayhap if he knew there was another option, he would further the process along,” a familiar voice said. She froze, hand tightening around the cup. Connor came from around the corner with a raised brow. “Do you talk to yourself often, my lady?”

Her lips tightened. She’d made an enemy out of Connor, and she had no wish to further the reasons why he should report her to the laird. For whatever reason, the day that he’d stormed away from her, he hadn’t revealed her secret—nor the day after that.

Every time the laird walked into the hall or singled her out, she began to shake with so much force she had to hold onto something to keep her balance. Ever since Connor had made it clear he wanted nothing more than to reveal who and what she really was, her life had been ruled by paranoia.

She passed him, expecting to just breeze away from him without a care in the world. He took hold of her arm, and the cup flew out of her hands.

Anger burned inside of her as she faced him.

“Not only do you make me fear for my life every day, now you manhandle me?” she hissed, yanking out of his grip. “I’ve come to the end of my rope with people forcing me to do this and that.”

He held up his hands defensively.

“Listen, my lady. I meant no—”

“Do not call me ‘my lady’ unless you plan on telling the laird. Otherwise, someone could hear you. Or is that your plan?” she asked. Her lower lip trembled with the force of her anger. The days of fear and anxiety had taken their toll on her, and she could hardly face the man who could ruin everything.

“No,” he said vehemently, shaking his head. “No, that is not what I plan.”

“You want to be the one to tell the laird,” she said, nodding. “Oh, aye. I completely understand. Take the glory of sniffing out a rat in your precious laird’s defenses for yourself, true?”

He frowned. Guilt flickered in his eyes. “No. My lady—”

The look on her face must have stopped him.

“My lady,” he said, this time softly, quietly. His voice barely carried to her, and she almost sighed with relief. “I have been watching you lately. I... I fear I understand where you are coming from now.”

Saeran didn’t say anything. Her heart was pounding too forcefully.

“Although you are wrong about the laird, I understand your concerns. And…” He sighed, giving her a beseeching look. “And any woman who has the patience to put up with Blaine’s demands as you have does not deserve to be treated like this.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” she said thickly. She forgot all about the water that was soaking into her shoes. Her hands started to tremble.

He came closer. “Yes you do, Saeran… I want to help you.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said, laughing bitterly. “Nothing you can do besides keep my secret, and you’ve made it perfectly clear that your loyalty lies with the laird—and I understand that.”

“Which is exactly why I want to help you. Saeran, you understand loyalty. The way you deal with your sister, how you ignore all of her bad habits just so you can make her happy, is what makes you...different.”

She blushed. Though his words were not said in the most romantic of ways, she couldn’t help herself. Never before had she gotten a compliment like that.

He smiled. She remembered the first time they spoke, before he found out what she was hiding. He was not a bad person—she could see that clear as day. She wanted to think he had an ulterior motive by helping her, but she didn’t think that was the case.

“I do not agree that keeping this from the laird is your best option.” She opened her mouth to say that he was wrong, but he held up a hand. “However, if it makes you feel safe to parade around as a man and get beat up every day while dealing with your witch of a sister, then I will support you.”

She blinked.

“You will?”

“Yes. I will—but only because I know that sooner or later, you’re going to want to reveal yourself to the laird.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” she asked incredulously. “The man is the devil! Have you not seen the way he yells at everything?”

Connor smiled. A small secret smile that made her frown. “I’ll enjoy watching you be proved wrong, my lady.”

She returned his smile, though hers was more uneasy. “And I’ll enjoy watching myself be proved right. There is not a single redeeming quality about the laird that could make me want to reveal myself. He is my sister’s betrothed,” she said indignantly. “That is the only thing I see about him.”

He laughed. “I just bet. You do realize that he hasn’t yet asked for her hand, though, correct? He still has time to decide.”

“Decide on what? There’s no other choice than for him to marry Blaine.”

His eyes rolled. “The other option is standing right in front of me.”

“Ha!” she said, laughing and waving a finger in his face. “You’re wrong about that. He has to marry Blaine. She is the only one that can provide an heir for him.”

“Whatever you wish to believe,” he said, shrugging. “Oh! I forgot to mention. I have conversed with him about your ‘training’. I pointed out that in the past moon, you’ve managed to break more things than learn, so he has agreed to let you clean the stables instead.”

Saeran could have cried. Finally, after so long of aching and being hit by men three times her size, she was free of the nightmare. She nodded stiffly, forcing the tears of relief from her eyes. Then dread began to settle in.

Blaine.

She’d have to deal with more of Blaine. The only redeeming thing from her time in the training grounds was that it gave her time to ignore Blaine and everything she wanted to complain about. Now, she wouldn’t have a choice except to put up with Blaine.

“...Though I do believe the laird needs someone to help him with accounts.”

Her ears perked up.

“Accounts?” She’d done them plenty of times for the Sinclair estate. Her mother had either been too busy prepping Blaine for another ball, and her father had... Well, he’d never preferred to work with numbers. That was what had started her on books, accounts, and everything not court related. Though it had started out as a bother and a frustration, she’d excelled in her work. She had eventually taken over everything that required running an estate.

“Yes, accounts. The laird does not have time to do them; and when he leaves, I leave. With the MacLeod’s waging war, it’s becoming a hassle for him.”

“Didn’t he have someone to do it before?” she asked, wringing her hands.

“Blaine scared him away.” Of course she did. Saeran should have been angry over it, but she found her opening.

“I—I can do the accounts. It’s only fair, since my sister is the reason they aren’t being done now,” she said, practically jumping on her feet. Oh, she’d missed doing them! Numbers were numbers. Simple. Practical. Perfect. There was only one way the sums could add up, and she reveled in knowing that she could do it correctly. It was the only thing she could do correctly.

“You?” he asked, raising a brow. “What does a lady know about—”

“I did them for my family. Could you speak to the laird? About me doing the accounts for him? That would be another way to do my part around here. I’m quite efficient.” She nodded. She needed to do this. Numbers were the one thing she could do without a problem. And, if she were stuck doing accounts all day, her sister would have no reason to bother her.

He started to frown. “I know he must seem terrifying to you, but if you want the job, you will have to ask him yourself for it.”

“But I thought you were going to help me,” she whined playfully, knowing he was right. It didn’t matter to her if she had to talk to The Lion or not—there was now a light at the end of the tunnel and she could practically feel its warmth.

“After the McGregors leave on the morrow, he’ll be free to talk. But only for a moment. After that, he’s paying a visit to the MacLeods, and I do not know when we’ll be back.”

“The MacLeods?” She stilled, meeting his eyes. Trepidation went through her. “Does that mean you’re going to…”

“No.” He shook his head sternly. “There will not be a battle unless they attack first. I fear the MacLeod is planning more than just taking his revenge for his sister, and if the Campbells are involved…” He swiped a hand over his face. “The laird has been too concerned over this to court your sister.”

“It’s understandable,” she murmured. She still didn’t have the best of thoughts toward the laird, but at least this gave her a reason as to why he was so barbaric whenever he came around. Too often he’d been out in the fields, talking with the McGregors—who had been there for a fortnight—and too little time had he spent getting to know Blaine.

She knew her sister was difficult to get along with. She was sure that once the laird spent more time with her, he’d realize they could be happy together. The only reason Blaine had grown irritable with Saeran was because of the laird. The more she thought that, the truer it became. With his lack of ambition in taking Blaine as his wife, Blaine was beginning to feel inferior. Because of that, she was taking her frustrations out on everyone around her.

Saeran knew she’d never felt that a day in her life, and blamed her attitude and selfishness on the laird’s negligence. She was terrified of him, but Blaine was stronger than Saeran. Stronger and braver. She could handle him better than Saeran would ever be able to—and luckily, they were avoiding that all together. He’d been too busy dealing with the impending battle to worry about the Sinclairs, who were taking over his keep.

“You are indeed one of a kind,” he said quietly, gazing at her. There was a look in his eyes, an appreciation that she’d never seen before, that made her blush and back away. He shook his head, and then that same humorous smile lit his face. “It’s late, and I imagine you’re tired. Now that we have established I am your ally, and not your enemy, I think it’s time you go to bed. You’ll have to wake early if you wish to catch him.”

She blinked. “What do you—oh! The accounts!” She grinned, unable to help herself from hugging him. The joy inside her was so abundant that it was practically pouring out. “I’m so thankful,” she said earnestly, clasping him. He returned the hug, then set her away from him.

“Any woman being put in your situation needs all the help they can get,” he said with a sigh. He nodded his head to her, exiting the kitchen before she could ask what he meant by that.

“Saeran?!”

The sound of her sister’s ungodly loud shout made her flinch. The water—That’s right. She’d spilled the water. She heaved a sigh. There was a tinge of hope now—hope that for once, something good might happen to her.