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The men all nodded solemnly as Gavin refilled their cups.

“What about the McKenna lass?” he asked. “I heard tell that she’s a bonnie one. Though if she shares her brother’s fiery temperament, there willnae be a piece of crockery left unbroken in the entire castle.”

“She’s got the McKenna bright red hair,” Connor confided.

“Any priest will tell ye that’s the mark of the devil,” Duncan warned.

“Though if she’s as beautiful as they say, ye might enjoy being in hell,” Aidan snickered.

The men broke into laughter, and Gavin couldn’t help but join them. He took another long sip of the whiskey, conceding it was aiding him in this discussion.

“All right, then. I need to stay away from Colville, McKenna, and Shana Agnew,” he said, wishing he had a quill to cross the names off the list entirely. No matter, he’d remember. And if he didn’t, Aidan, Connor, and Duncan would remind him.

Duncan frowned. “What’s wrong with Shana Agnew?”

“She’s a whiny, frightened rabbit of a female who likes to wail with every passing emotion,” Gavin muttered.

“Sweet Jesus!” Aidan swore. “Ye don’t need to stay away from that lass, ye need to run as far as ye can!”

“Now, repeat the names of the lasses ye will consider,” Aidan suggested. “’Tis easier to make a choice with fewer women.”

“Nay,” Duncan interrupted. “I say ignore the women and concentrate on the clan and the alliance. Which match is better fer all of us?”

“Excellent point.” Gavin lifted his cup in a toast, then drained it and promptly filled it again. Squinting down at the parchment, he slowly read the names, leaving out the ones they had already rejected.

The three brothers listened attentively, yet remained quiet. Gavin mulled over the choices. “Sinclair?”

Duncan tilted his head. “Aye.”

“Agreed.” Connor let out a long breath.

Aidan nodded. “Sinclair is the best choice. He’s a fierce warrior and his men are well trained. His lands are close, his coffers full, his judgment fair, though harsh at times.”

“His daughter?” Gavin said quietly.

The men exchanged looks. “I’ve not heard anything about the lass,” Aidan admitted, and his brothers nodded in agreement.

“No matter.” Gavin sighed. “This is apolitical match.”

“Still, it makes sense to set eyes on the lass before ye start negotiations,” Connor insisted.

“Or at least make inquiries,” Duncan added.

Gavin leaned back and gave the trio an amused look. “Bloody hell, just listen to us! Gossiping like a gaggle of old crones. The Sinclair lass will come with an impressive dowry of land, a noble pedigree, and the political alliance the king seeks. The rest is unimportant.”

Yet even as Gavin spoke them, the words left a sour taste in his mouth. Despite the various benefits, he still hadn’t fully accepted the notion of wedding a stranger. A picture formed in his mind of his unknown bride standing stiff and silent beside him outside the chapel doors while the priest prompted them to recite their vows. ’Twas not an overly appealing sight.

“Will ye present a formal offer in writing to Laird Sinclair, or discuss the terms in person?” Aidan inquired.

Gavin heaved a sigh of resignation. “I’ll think on it a few more days and then decide.”

Fiona felt the weight of Alice’s censuring stare as the maid watched her add another pinch of herbs to the small pot simmering over the blazing fire.

“I need more wood, Alice. Kindly place another log on the fire.”

Warily Alice obeyed the command, placing the wood on the edge of the fireplace, then pushing it into the flames with her foot. The small chamber was already beastly hot, noxious vapors permeating the entire space. But this was the only place in the entire castle where Fiona could be assured of privacy, leaving her no choice but to brew her draught in her tiny bedchamber.

Fiona knew there were many who would condemn her for what she was doing, including Father Niall. Preventing conception was a moral sin, but Fiona had always contended it was a woman’s burden either way, and not something a man could decide.