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For a short while longer, Niall stood looking down at the woman he was about to marry, aware that the one he loved was watching him. He screwed his hands into fists in sheer frustration, then thumped them against the wall.

Damn! he thought furiously. Why now? Why did she not wait a week longer?

Yet, he knew that whenever Beitris arrived would be the wrong time because he simply did not want her; even if she proved to be the sweetest girl in the world, she would never do because she was not Moira.

Moira watched him sadly. She could read him well now and his body was telling her that he was frustrated and furious, and when he turned to her again, she knew exactly what he was going to say.

She was standing buttoning up her dress when he came and knelt down on one knee by her feet, then reached out to grasp her hands.

“Moira—please, please, please don’t leave,” he begged. “I truly do not know what I’ll do without you if you go. I would be very happy to call off the wedding with Beitris. Please, Moira. I will do whatever it takes to make you stay.”

His expression was so agonised that Moira was almost tempted to give in, throw herself into his arms and say that she would do as he wished. But that would have been her heart speaking. Her rational self stubbornly resisted, and she had to give him the same answer as she had given him time and time again.

“Oh, please don’t make this any harder than it already is, Niall,” she replied, burying her face in her hands. “We can never be together. You have no idea how much I wish we could, but we will never be able to. Please go to your bride now. She’ll be waiting for you.”

“I don’t care about her!”

Niall’s voice was throbbing with fury as he moved Moira’s hands away from her face and looked into her eyes. Moira flinched at the rage in his face, since it was an expression that reminded her of her husband, and she drew back from him involuntarily.

Niall immediately saw what he had done and said gently, “I’m sorry. I should not have spoken like that, but I need you to understand that if you leave this way, you will break my heart.”

Moira said nothing because she was simply unable to. Niall waited for another moment, then said, as calmly as he could, “Moira, I will not ask again. If you leave, you will never come back again. I will be forced to marry Beitris, and that is something I really, really do not wish to do. What do you say now?” He gazed at her steadily, willing her to give him the answer he wanted.

But Moira could say nothing. She stared at the floor while Niall dressed, tears streaming down her face. She looked up once to see him gazing down at her as he tied his belt around his waist, then she stood up and turned away, hearing the door close as he left.

Niall usually walked with a long stride that ate up the ground at a speedy pace, but now he dawdled, trying to put off the evil moment when he would have to go to meet his future bride. Every step he took brought him closer to her but further away from Moira, and the thought that she was so close to him yet so far, away was driving him insane.

Why did she not agree to stay? he wondered for the hundredth time. What is she hiding?

He walked as slowly as he could until he reached the courtyard. However, Beitris and her uncle had already been shown into the castle itself, and were seated in a spacious reception room, to which he was directed. Glennie was absent, and Niall inwardly called her every bad name under the sun as he realised he would have to deal with Beitris on his own.

“Moira!” Glennie was tapping on Moira’s bedroom door and wondering why she was taking so long to answer. At last, Moira opened the door and Glennie entered, then her eyes widened in complete shock as she took in Moira’s state of dishevelment.

Her eyes were red with weeping, her hair was a tousled mess, and her dress was a mass of wrinkles, but there was something else wrong, something Glennie could not put her finger on.

“Moira, what’s wrong?” Glennie asked, taking her friend by the shoulders as she looked into her tear-stained face. “Tell me, please. Perhaps I can help.”

“Nobody can help.” Moira said heavily. “I must go, Glennie. Staying here is becoming harder and harder, and I will not be able to endure it for much longer, especially now that Niall’s bride is here.”

Glennie nodded grimly. “So you saw her arriving. I came to tell you, or rather warn you.”

“I looked out of the window,” Moira explained. “And saw her arriving.”

“My brother has no feelings for anyone but you, Moira,” Glennie assured her gently.

“I know that,” Moira agreed. “But he has to do his duty, and I’m getting in the way. I must go, Glennie.”

Glennie hesitated for a moment. “I have to go and meet her, but tell me you won’t leave before I get back.” She looked doubtful and a little scared.

“I would never go without saying goodbye,” Moira assured her, then, on an impulse, she hugged her friend. “I am so glad I met you, Glennie. You have been so good to me, and I will never forget you.”

Glennie smiled. “No matter where you go, we will keep in touch because you are my best friend too, Moira,” she said reassuringly. “Now, I must go, but I would give anything for you to stay. But I must do my duty and go to meet my sister-in-law, but let me assure you I’m not looking forward to it!”

She looked grim as she turned to walk out, then she reached out to give Moira’s hand a squeeze. The look in her eyes was one of deep tenderness, and when she had gone, Moira realised that not only had she lost her love, but she had lost a sister too.

Glennie had not been joking when she told Moira how she felt about Beitris, but she decided that perhaps, since they had such a short acquaintance, perhaps she was judging her future sister- in-law too harshly. Maybe she would improve with time as they came to know each other, although Glennie could never imagine being as fond of her as she was of Moira.

She made her way downstairs and into the reception room where they were all sitting. She saw Beitris before the other woman turned to see her, so Glennie had a few moments to size her up.

Beitris was tall and willowy, with light-brown hair that was piled on top of her head in an elaborate crown of curls. Her eyes were a dark blue, and her features were regular and pleasing, with high cheekbones and a cute, slightly turned-up nose.

She might have been beautiful, Glennie thought, had it not been for the near-constant expression of slight disdain she wore. It disappeared when she smiled, but Glennie had the feeling that the expression was false, and that she assumed it to appear pleasant to everyone else while she secretly looked down on all of them.

Glennie took a deep breath and stepped into the room, and Beitris looked up and saw her. The two women smiled and curtsied to each other, then Glennie said, “It is so good to see you again.”

Beitris looked baffled. “Have we met before?” she asked.

“Yes,” Glennie replied. She was furious inside, but kept her voice calm with a great effort of will. “At Janice’s wedding?”

Beitris stared at her for a moment. “I am so sorry, perhaps I had one too many glasses of wine that evening, but I don’t remember you at all. Forgive me.”

However, Glennie could tell she was lying in order to make her look small. She sat down and glanced across at her brother, who was seated across the room with a totally blank expression on his face, and she got the impression that he was trying to look as if he was not there at all.

As he had walked as slowly as he could towards the meeting with his bride-to-be, Niall’s mood had changed from one of anger to one of depression and impending doom, and he wished he could turn and run away—anywhere, just so that he could avoid the destiny that awaited him. However, he could not; his fate was sealed, and there was nothing he could do but face it.

He stood just behind the doorway for a moment to compose himself, then took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and went inside. When Beitris looked up and saw him, her face broke into a smile of genuine pleasure. Niall bent down to kiss her hand and said, “A pleasure to see you, My Lady. Did you have a good journey?”

He despised all the meaningless pleasantries, but they had to be endured for propriety’s sake.

Beitris beamed at him. “Indeed I did, My Laird, and thank you for asking.”

Niall stretched his face into a smile and sat down with an inward sigh. He looked at his betrothed and felt nothing—absolutely nothing. She was an attractive enough woman, he supposed. Perhaps he could lie in the marriage bed with her and be fairly satisfied; they might even have children, and he was sure he would love them, but they would not be his and Moira’s children. He and Beitris would never have what he and Moira had shared the night before. He could not imagine in a million years that the woman opposite him would play the kind of silly game they had just indulged in.

“May I ask what you do for amusement around the estate, My Laird?” Beitris asked.

“Hunting and fishing, mainly,” Niall replied, trying to keep the boredom out of his voice. “But of course, the tenants take up a lot of my time.”

Beitris frowned. “Do you not have a steward to do that kind of work for you?” She sounded shocked.

Niall poured out some wine while he composed himself enough to give her a civil answer. He despised this kind of snobbery. “I do,” he replied, then took a sip from his glass. “But my tenants like to see and talk to their Laird. They know they can come to me with their problems, and they know I will always help them.”

Beitris stared at him for a few seconds, and Niall could see what was going on in her mind. She had already judged him and found him wanting because he had committed the heinous crime of mixing with and giving assistance to people she considered to be on the bottom rung of the social ladder.

Niall knew that this attitude was not uncommon among his peers, but it was one he despised. He changed the subject abruptly.

“Glennie and I both like to fish,” he said, smiling at his sister. “We often bring home trout and other fish for the table, and our cook has some excellent recipes.”

Beitris looked as though there was a bad smell under her nose. “A woman fishing?” she almost glared at Glennie. “I have never heard of such a thing before!”

Glennie bristled, then managed a tense smile. “You have now,” she said. “It is a very productive way to spend time. After all, what can be better than providing your own food?”

She shot Beitris a challenging look, and Beitris shrugged, trying not to look disgusted.

“I am sure you’re right,” she conceded, although the expression on her face said that she did not agree at all.

“What do you like to do in your spare time?” Glennie asked her.

“Needlework, a little drawing, that kind of thing.” Beitris replied. “And I spend a lot of time in our chapel praying for those less fortunate than myself.”

Glennie was so angry that she felt every hair on her body stand on end. She was about to cry out what a sanctimonious idiot she thought Beitris was, but she heard Niall clearing his throat, and she saw him give an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

She backed down reluctantly, unclenching her fists and letting out a long slow breath to calm down. The thought that she would have to live in the same home as this complete hypocrite was unbearable.

Moira lay on her bed for a long while, then looked outside. The carriage had obviously been taken into the stables, and there was no one in the courtyard but the guards. She sat down on the bed, then thought for a moment.

She decided that it would console her a little to know that Niall was marrying a worthy woman. And despite the fact that the sight of Beitris Maxwell was going to hurt her heart even more, Moira was eaten up with curiosity. She dithered for a moment, then changed her clothes and crept downstairs.

It took her a while to find the right room, but she traced it eventually by the sound of voices, and stood out of sight, listening to the conversation.

She picked out Niall’s deep rumble at once, although he was contributing very little to the conversation. Moira knew every intonation of both his and Glennie’s speech, and it seemed to her that both of them sounded strained, as if trying to keep calm, and when she heard what Beitris had to say for herself, she was not surprised.

The woman was condescending in the extreme to Glennie, but spoke to Niall in an almost obsequious tone, and although Moira could not see her, she knew the kind of look that went with it. Her husband had used it when he needed favours from other men. Moira felt sick. She would have found it hard to part with Niall if he was marrying a good woman, but this creature was not one of those.

Presently, Glennie stood up and said, “Excuse me for a moment,” then left the room and came straight to Moira.

Moira jumped, startled. “How did you know I was here?” she whispered.

“I could see the edge of your skirt,” Glennie replied. She drew Moira away from the doorway a little. “Come inside with me, I want you to meet her.”

Moira was about to ask why, but Glennie was tugging her hand and leading a slightly dazed Moira into the reception room. Moira saw Gerald McNicholl looking at her with a deep frown that signalled extreme hostility.

“Lady Beitris Maxwell, this is my friend, Moira Jamieson,” Glennie said politely. Reluctantly, Moira curtsied. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, My Lady.”

Beitris gave her a brittle smile and said: “And yours.” Then she turned away to speak to Niall, not even sparing Moira a passing glance. “My Laird, will you take me for a tour around the estate? I would like to see the place where I will be living. I will, after all, be Lady McPhee.”

Niall only just stopped himself from refusing and giving this snobbish young madam a piece of his mind. “Of course,” he replied because he had no choice.

“Glennie—may I call you Glennie?” Beitris asked.

“Of course, Beitris,” Glennie answered, without asking permission to use her given name.

“Would you come too?” Beitris asked.

“I will have to change, so I will meet you in the stables in a short while.” Glennie pinned on a smile for Beitris and looked at Moira, who was quite unsure of what to do next.

Moira really did not wish to accompany them, and she was about to follow Glennie and tell her so. However, she felt Beitris’s hand gripping her arm and looked up to see her hostile glare. Glennie had walked away and was already out of earshot, so she did not hear Beitris when she addressed Moira in an icy, condescending tone.

“Your presence is not needed,” Beitris told her coldly. “Stay away from my betrothed. Now that I am here, you need not bother him again. You may go.”

For a second, Moira contemplated answering Beitris with a stinging rejoinder, but decided not to waste her time. She would be gone soon and Beitris would be the mistress of the castle. What difference would anything she said make now?