"Oh, Saeran," Blaine wailed the second she saw her sister. She didn't have time to close the door to her sister's room before the curvaceous woman was throwing herself at Saeran, giant tears welling in her eyes. "He is terrible! What kind of man talks to his future wife like that?"

Saeran patted her back uneasily, kicking the door closed. Her sister was hugging her so hard that it was hard to breathe. Not only that, but she was leaning into Saeran so much, her leg began to throb.

"Blaine," she gasped, pushing at her sister's shoulder. "Blaine, sit on the bed."

"Do not boss me around like that!" her sister said, distraught. Still, Blaine pulled away from Saeran and threw herself onto the extravagant bed. She, of course, had taken the room most suited for her lady-like sensibilities. Saeran had thought this was the previous Lady Shaw's room. It was beautifully furnished, and everything was in the best of shape, though there hadn't been a woman in this keep since Annalise Shaw. At least, that’s what she'd heard from the maids. "Oh, he is absolutely dreadful! And large! Did you see the width of his shoulders? He is the size of an elephant, all large and clunky in the way he walked."

Saeran hadn't thought he was clunky. Aye, he was large, but he was definitely not 'clunky'. He moved with the grace of a lion. Soundless. Deadly. Everything about him was terrifying—especially the way he looked at her. It was as if he could see straight into her soul. As if he could see straight past all of the lies she was telling him.

She sat beside Blaine, letting her complain, whine, and cry over Laird Shaw, while her own mind raced like a horse.

He knew something was wrong. There was no doubt about it, for she knew she was a terrible liar. Everyone who knew Saeran also knew she couldn't even lie over whether she ate a meal or not! Her sister knew this better than most, and that had been one of the reasons why she'd let her sister take care of the talking.

She knew how to work her words so that anyone could believe them. She'd seen it happen with priests, with her parents, and with the men at court, but it had all seemed like fun and games. Saeran had never taken part, or commented for that matter, on her sister's sneaky habits. But now? She sorely wished she'd taken an interest in learning the art behind dishonesty.

Didn't that sound terrible of her?

"—and I have to be married to him, for the sake of your survival," her sister said sharply, jerking Saeran out of her thoughts. She looked at Blaine, shocked.

"Do not give me that look," Blaine said, pushing herself into a sitting position. If it weren't for your barrenness, this would not be a problem. All your fault—this is all your fault! Yes, I know that now. I should go down there right now and reveal—"

But it wasn’t her fault. It was the king’s, for even suggesting that they both be married. Lord, even her sister shared the blame—she had been the one to accept the deal! But still, she was now apart of the ruse, and if she was found out? Even though she was growing more and more distrustful of her sister, she couldn’t let her secret be revealed.

She didn’t want to think of what could happen to her if the laird found out she was lying.

Saeran grabbed her sister by the arm. "Blaine, whatever I did to upset you, I'm sorry—please, please do not go down there. Mayhap he is sore from his journey, or stunned by the king's announcement for him to be married."

Blaine's lip trembled, and she fell into the bed. "I'm sorry, Saeran. I don't know what came over me—I'm just so scared. The rumors surrounding him are true. I can feel it just by looking at him," she whispered.

Saeran's heart broke at the sight of her sister's distress. She scooted toward her, slipping her arm around Blaine's wide shoulders.

"Blaine, listen to me." Saeran took her sister by the chin and forced their eyes to meet. "Every heart of ice eventually melts. Everyone loves you, Blaine. Even the cats at court love you, why should a lion do any less?" she said, smiling when the confidence returned to her sister's eyes. "Soon enough, he'll be crawling on his bare knees to take your hand."

Blaine rested her dark head against Saeran's shoulder. "Thank you, Sae. You always manage to make me happy."

"We're sisters," Saeran murmured. "It's my job to make you happy."

"Yes, that it is." Blaine looked up with a frown. "Why do you favor your leg like such?"

She took her hand away from under her knee, the only place she felt comfortable nursing it, and shrugged.

"It's nothing." Nay, it wasn't nothing. But she'd tried to tell her sister about the injury earlier, and had gotten shut down. She didn't want to deal with the ache in her chest when it happened again. Too often, her sister was putting Saeran's needs and concerns aside. Their time here, and the muttered comments from the servants, had finally opened her eyes to the selfishness of her sister.

Saeran looked at her lap, feeling horrible for thinking such things. Her sister was justified in being selfish. She was saving Saeran's life while risking her own by marrying The Lion. With the added duties to keeping the estate running properly, Saeran could only imagine the stress her sister felt.

"No, let me see," Blaine said, uncharacteristically concerned. She reached out, probing Saeran's leg before she could stop her. A pained breath hissed from between her teeth. Her sister blanched. "Oh, no. Let me see it this instant."

Saeran shook her head, moving away from her sister. "It's on my upper thigh. Really, Blaine, it's nothing for you to fret over."

"Of course it is," she snapped, pointing at her thigh. "Take off the trews. Let me see what’s happened."

"But...it's broad daylight and...Blaine," she said pleadingly.

"No, off with the trews!"

Saeran shook her head. Blaine had always been the curvaceous sister with the flawless skin, whereas Saeran was too scrawny and dotted with bruises from her training. Knowing that her sister knew she was the better-looking one made it that much harder for Saeran to reveal her body.

Blaine sighed. "I am your sister. Lord, I gave you baths all of the time when you'd get into mud, or some other ungodly substance. I know what you look like unclothed. Not being as curvy as I, does not mean you are not beautiful."

The way she said that, made Saeran feel the exact opposite.

"Come now, off with the trews. We still have duties to attend to, you know. I can't wait all day for you."

There was the Blaine she knew.

Sighing, she stood up. She hid her flaming face as she unwound the belt and let the trews fall to the ground.

"Oh, my. Saeran, what did you do to yourself?" Blaine reached out to lightly brush her fingers over the blood-red bruise. It was so gentle that she didn't feel it—until Blaine pressed a little harder.

She jerked away from her sister's hand.

"Did that hurt?" she asked, staring at the bruise with fascination. It was like she'd never seen one before—which she very well might not have. Blaine had lived the majority of her life at court, and nothing daring or dangerous happened there. If Saeran were honest with herself, coming to this keep was the first time she'd ever been exposed to fighting and bruising—and it was only the latter that she excelled at.

Thinking of the training made her stomach flip. She shouldn't have mentioned anything to the laird—he might have forgotten about it completely. Nay, wait. Brodrick would have hunted her down. She sighed to herself, and then began pulling up her trews.

"That's...quite atrocious," Blaine said, wringing her hands together. "Have you done anything to lessen the pain of it? I can imagine it feels as if someone had cut you in two!"

"Sabia was trying to help me when you walked in. It doesn't hurt so much that I can't walk, though. The horse didn't do as much damage as it could have.

A look crossed over her face, but it was gone quickly enough that Saeran didn't have a chance to decipher it.

Blaine stood. "Yes, well. I still need someone to come to the village with me."

"I'll go saddle your horse for you," she offered. She might be a terrible rider, but at least she could do that much. Saeran took guilty pleasure in knowing she could saddle a horse while her perfect sister could not.

Blaine looked at her as if she'd grown two heads. "Horses? No, we will walk."

The thought of walking made her leg throb. "Walk? Blaine, my leg..."

"You said yourself you can walk on it," she said, waving a hand through the air. She crossed to her door, opening it. "Now that I have regained my composure, I can show my face in the hall. How barbaric of him," Blaine snapped to Saeran, as if it was her fault. "The hall looked lovely and he did not like it. It is a blatant insult to his betrothed!"

She stormed out of the room. For a second, all Saeran could do was stare after her sister.

Now that she thought about it, the cats at court had actually hated her.

She's just stressed, Saeran, she chided herself. She must marry an ogre of a man so that you can live. An ogre of a man with startling green eyes...

Eyes that suspected too much.

She'd have to stay away from The Lion if she wanted to keep the two of them safe. In a way, she was grateful that he already had a squire. That way, she wouldn't have to cater to his needs, and there would be less chance of her slipping up.

"Saeran!" her sister yelled from out in the hall. Saeran tied her belt and ran out of the door, closing it behind her.

"Coming, sister—"

Her words were cut short by a slender body colliding with hers.

"I'm so—"

"Excuse you!" a male voice said sharply, grabbing her by the arms. She would have fallen if not for the surprisingly strong boy who'd grabbed her.

"I'm so sorry," she finished quickly, pulling out of his arms. If she didn't catch up to her sister soon, there'd be hell to pay. Blaine had already yelled at her about being irresponsible.

When she turned to leave, she was stopped once again. The boy ran in front of her. She paused, looking at him.

The boy she'd run into wasn't slender, but lithe. Mayhap she'd been around too many brawny men to recognize anything except sheer strength and domination. The boy standing in front of her wasn't quite a boy, yet he wasn't quite a man, either. He was at that awkward in-between phase. Unfortunately, the interest in his eyes as he stared down at her wasn't purely boy.

"What are you running for?" he asked, cocking his head.

"My sister is waiting for me."

He nodded slowly, still looking her over. She backed away from him, thinking that putting some space between them would act as a barrier. It looked as if he was undressing her with his eyes—and not in the way that the laird had.

She didn't much like that, even if the boy thought she was a completely different gender—which made it that much more strange. A strange feeling settled in her gut.

"Why don't you come with me?" he said, more of a demand than anything.

She frowned. "I just said that my sister was—"

"Who is your sister?"

"Blaine Sinclair, future Lady Shaw."

Realization dawned on his face. "I was not aware she had a brother. I'd been told she had a sister."

Saeran smiled uneasily. He didn't give her a bad feeling—as in, he wasn't coming off as lecherous. The boy was simply curious. That, she could understand.

"The king has many family members. It's easy for him to get confused," she said, feeding him the lie the two sisters had agreed on.

"Yes, well. That's interesting enough." He leaned against the wall, gazing at her still. Saeran heard her sister vaguely call her name, and he raised a brow. "Don't tell me you'll go running after her like a pup."

Saeran frowned.

"She is my sister. I have to escort her."

"There are plenty of people here that could take her to the village. She needs another woman to do the shopping with her." He frowned. "Although, the laird won't like her going to the village at all right now."

"Why is that?"

"I am not sure if I should tell you," he said ruefully. The charming, boyish smile drew her back.

Saeran, ever curious, leaned forward. "You can tell me. I'm an excellent keeper of secrets." She might be an excellent keeper, but lying...not her specialty.

"No, I think it best that I keep it to myself for now. The laird wouldn't be so pleased to have his fun spoiled."

She couldn't stop her derisive snort and spoke before she could stop herself. "The laird would not know how to have fun if a jester were dancing in front of him."

He frowned sharply. "You cannot say such things about him, especially in the open. It's highly offensive."

"Well, I apologize. May I be frank?"

"Yes, of course," he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. If it hadn't been for the gleam of humor in his eyes, she would have walked away. His interest in her was intense, but not enough that she couldn't overlook it and see a future friend.

She had never had a real friend. Besides Blaine and a boy she'd known when she was younger. Her sister liked to keep Saeran to herself, and she didn't mind. Books and her sister were all she had needed after their parent’s death.

"I am worried for my sister's safety," she said quietly, glancing down the hall. She hadn't heard or seen her sister in a couple of moments, and with Blaine's fickle mind, she might get off the hook just this once.

The boy burst into laughter. Just like his smile, it was charming, though there was a tone to it she'd never heard. It wasn't unpleasant, but it made her curious.

"Trust me when I say that your sister does not need to fear the laird."

"What about myself?" she asked. "Should I fear being sent away? He would not let me be his squire. I'm merely a chaperone for my sister. The second they are married, he'll send me away."

His laughter returned with full force. "Oh, you're killing me here! Listen," he said, choking down his amusement. "I swear to you, you do not have to worry about being sent away because of a marriage."

She frowned. "You say that strangely. Why?"

"For private reasons," he said, chuckling. He covered his hand with his mouth, an oddly feminine gesture. "Soon enough, you'll know everything."

"Aye? How soon? What is there to know?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I ought to be like my sister and demand answers."

His eyes rolled. Again, a very...feminine gesture. At least, the way he did it was. She looked closer. Was that...was that blush, upon his cheeks?

"I've heard much about your sister and her demands. I do not think I could handle them from her brother as well."

Saeran laughed, despite herself.

"For some reason, I agree with you."

Their laughter fell into an odd silence.

Finally, when it became too much for Saeran, she bowed her head. "It was nice to—"

"My name is Connor," he blurted, sticking out his hand. She stared at it. "Laird Shaw's squire."

Tentatively, she held out her hand. As a lady, she never "shook hands". It was bowing, nodding, and curtseying. He didn't comment on how utterly foolish she looked as she worked the dynamics of the manly handshake. If anything, his smile widened.

"Would you walk with me?" he asked, gesturing down the hall, in the direction her sister had went. Now that Blaine had forgotten about her, she didn't want to put herself in Blaine's vision. But she nodded, knowing that if her mother saw her refuse a gentleman's offer, she'd be horrified.

"How long have you been a squire?" she asked. Saeran had no clue how small talk was done, especially between two men.

"For as long as I can remember."

"Is that...bad?"

He gave her a look. "In some eyes, yes. The laird has been very generous and understanding. My father and he were friends. Once my father realized I had no intention of becoming a knight, he made it his goal for me to become one."

"Why would you not wish to become a knight?"

He gave her a small smile. "I've proven to these Highlanders that Lowlanders are just as lazy as we appear."

Despite the barb at her own people, Saeran snickered. "Your humor is most dry. I'll have you know, my sister and I come from the Lowlands. It was not all that bad."

Connor ran his eyes over Saeran, then turned a raised brow to her. She flushed. "If you'd have grown up here, you would not have the stature of a leaf."

She scowled. "You're not much better yourself!"

"Yes, well, I'm a squire in partial-name-only. I am not required to be buff and masculine. For you, on the other hand...You’re out here chaperoning your sister. One should have some skill in combat for that sort of thing. The men out here are like rabid dogs. If one of them so desired Blaine, they'd take her without a second thought, and bully you for being a leaf."

"I am not a leaf, sir," she said, though she was trying her best not to laugh. "I am but a las—lad who has taken the slender side of the family. 'Tis not a crime where I come from."

"That is true. However, in the Highlands, it's kill or be killed. And you, my lord, are of the size to be killed."

"What if I were smart? Would I be more likely to survive then?" His words were no longer amusing her. Images of being run through with a sword played in her mind, and she shuddered. Blaine was a rare find. Men would come for her left and right. And Saeran! Saeran was expected to protect her sister's honor by defending her.

Connor laughed. "Half the men in these parts have more muscle than brain, my lord."

So basically, she was not in luck's favor. Saeran's shoulders slumped.

"Do not worry. I happen to like men who are more slender than burly. It's refreshing."

"You like..." She stopped before she could finish the sentence. Not only was it ridiculous, but it made her feel like a fool for beginning to suspect something that couldn't be possible.

But he blushed. Sweetly. Adorably. She moved away from him so quickly that she bumped into the wall. Saeran stared at him with wide eyes.

"'Tis not a secret around here that I do not prefer women."

"What—"

He came close to her, bracing his hands on either side of her head. Suddenly, all of those odd gestures made sense. The look in his eyes when he'd first seen her. The way he'd gazed at her as if she was a piece of meat to be devoured.

Saeran was so stunned that she couldn't move as his head dipped to her neck.

"Sir, this is—"

"The laird has always been tolerant of my ways," he murmured soothingly. "He will not care if we share something like this."

"This is—too fast—I'm not like that—"

He chuckled, reaching up to rub a thumb over her cheek. "There's no need to lie about it. Your flirting was enough for me."

"What—" He puckered like a fish, and moved in for the kill. Quicker than she'd ever moved in her life, Saeran ducked under his arms and backed away from him. He whirled around, face full of confusion, and reached for her arm. She expected a wall to catch her.

There wasn't. All there was to save her was a banister—that her fingers missed.

Fear locked in her throat. But before she could tumble to her death, Connor grabbed her by her shirt, right in the center. His fingers curled not only around her shirt, but the binding that spread over her breasts. The shirt tore under his fingers, revealing the binding.

His quick grab was enough to give her time to grab the banister. Thank the Lord, because a second later he was swiping his hands on his thighs as if he'd touched fire.

The look he gave her told her everything she needed to know. She quickly gathered the edges of her shirt together, cursing herself. She hadn't put on the shift after her bath because of the way it clung to her body, and now, she might just pay for her lapse.

"Why," he hissed, "do you have breasts?"