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And what of the man she thought—hoped—was Cailin’s father? She closed her eyes—soft lips, firelight, and a man who looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. The heat in his gaze. The hunger. The way he saw her.

Would she ever find that again?

Could she trust a man not to break her?

Could she gamble her future on another cage…or a chance at freedom ?

Slowly, she pushed herself upright, swaying for only a moment before standing tall. Tammus straightened with her, towering, triumphant.

Davina lowered her head, voice soft and smooth as silk over steel. “I ken, Uncle Tammus. I’m humbled by the choice of a suitor, though I don’t deserve it.”

“Good.”

He circled behind the desk— her desk—his bulk settling into the chair like a final insult.

“I should have no trouble finding men who’ll suit your needs,” he said, voice already disinterested. “Stewart Glen and your da’s wool business will be your dowry. I want you married by month’s end.”

Three weeks.

Three weeks to escape this prison—or else learn to love the hangman’s noose.

∞∞∞

Before dawn, Davina went into the village to secure the smith. However, when she returned after sunrise, her uncle stood at the study door as if waiting for her, his brows flattened with disapproval. “And just where were you off to?”

Davina lifted her chin and clasped her hands before her. “I’ve arranged with the smith for locks to be installed on the doors to my chamber.”

His arms dropped as suddenly as his jaw did. “Locks? That’s expensive, girl!”

“And worth every piece of silver to ensure the safety of me and my daughter.”

“Silver?” Tammus grumbled and raked his hand through his graying hair. “Blazes, woman, why the bloody hell do you need keyed locks for inside the house?”

Her spine stiffened. “Have you forgotten so quickly about what happened with MacLeod?”

“Of course not, but—”

“If you’re going to have suitors parading through this manor, I’m not about to give a single one of them a chance to stake their claim by crossing my threshold!” Davina’s fingernails dug into her palms as she glared down her uncle.

He exhaled forcefully through his nose, retreated a step into the study, and slammed the door.

Insufferable man! She marched into her bedchamber and slammed the door just as loud.

The rest of the day dragged like a yoke around her neck.

Normally, Davina would have spent it in the study—tracking the shepherds’ progress, assessing the welfare of the flocks, organizing repairs where needed. The quiet rituals of stewardship grounded her.

But not today.

Today, she’d been exiled from her own responsibilities, reduced to aimless chores around the household.

Her hands were idle in the mundane work, her mind anything but.

Silence clung to the halls like thick fog—dense with judgment.

Every glance from the staff reminded her of Tammus’s wrath.

He hadn’t simply reprimanded her; he’d exposed her.

After the mid-day meal, she retreated to her chamber. There, with only Cailin’s gurgles and soft snores for company, she found brief peace.

Now, dusk crept across the sky. The nursery had gone quiet, save for her daughter’s contented breathing. But Davina could not rest.

The walls pressed in—heavy, close.

She paced, her bandaged hands painfully clenching and unclenching at her sides.

At last, she stepped onto the balcony. Cool stone met her fevered palms as she leaned against the balustrade. Beyond Stewart Glen, the hills rolled into mist and twilight. Somewhere out there, freedom awaited. But it had never felt farther away.

She would not— could not —bend to another man’s will.

A soft knock broke the stillness.

Davina turned, her spine rigid. She crossed the room, smoothing her skirts with impatient fingers, and opened the door.

Lilias stood beyond the threshold, her face blotchy and red, eyes swollen from tears.

A flicker of pity sparked in Davina’s chest. Just enough to move aside and let her in.

Lilias entered hesitantly, as though afraid of being turned away. Davina shut the door and leaned against it, arms folded.

Lilias twisted her hands. “Davina…I came to say I’m sorry.”

Davina’s jaw tightened. “Sorry, are you?” Her voice held a brittle edge. “Let me guess. Uncle Tammus arrived, and you panicked. One look at your brother and you spilled every word like a frightened child caught at the pantry. Tears, excuses, and all. Aye?”

Lilias flinched but lifted her chin, her expression hardening like frost. “I am sorry Tammus struck you. I didn’t wish that.” She hesitated. “But I’m not sorry for making things right.”

Davina’s brows arched, her voice cold. “ Making things right! Tell me, Mam—how is it ‘right’ to cast your daughter to the wolves and call it mercy?”

Lilias stiffened, fingers fidgeting at her sides. “What you did was illegal, Davina. You ken that well enough. If Tammus weren’t so merciful, you and Liam could be swinging from the gallows this very moment. Instead, he’s offering you a choice. You should be thankful.”

“Thankful?” Davina’s bitter laugh cut the air. She turned, pacing across the chamber like a bottled storm. “For what? A string of brief interviews with strangers I’m supposed to bind my life to? And I’m to hope they won’t turn cruel the moment Tammus is gone? You think that’s a blessing?”

Lilias stepped closer, her tone softening. “Your uncle’s trying to help you.”

Davina spun, her voice trembling with rage.

“Do you not remember Ian? Do you not recall how charming he was? How he convinced everyone— you included —that he adored me? Up until our wedding night, when his mask cracked, and I saw the devil underneath.” Her voice constricted, but her fury pushed through. “He was a cruel man, and you know it.”

“Davina!” Lilias hissed, glancing toward the nursery door. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“I’ll speak ill of him and every man like him,” Davina growled. “Dead or living, he was a monster.”

Lilias’s mouth opened—then closed. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders sagging under unseen weight. “I ken things were hard for you. Harder than I ever imagined. But Tammus is giving you a chance to start fresh. You’ve a bairn now. It’s time to do what’s right by her.”

Davina’s laugh came hollow and cold. “Like when I married Ian? Tell that to the wee bairn he beat from my womb. I thank God in heaven Cailin will never know what her da truly was. ”

Tears welled in Lilias’s eyes before she closed them and nodded.

Davina turned away, fists trembling at her sides. “I’ve no mood to talk further. You’ve said your piece. Now leave.”

Lilias hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. But with no further argument, she turned toward the door, her head bowed.

Davina stepped forward, shut the door behind her mother, and leaned against it.

The right thing, she thought bitterly. Her mother could whisper that lie as often as she liked if it eased her conscience. But Davina knew the truth. She’d done the right thing once before, and it had almost destroyed her.

Her gaze drifted to the window, but the past bled into the room like a chill wind. She remembered the night she’d nearly taken her own life. Cailin, growing inside her, would have died with her. The weight of that moment still clung to her bones.

Cursing her life, she thumped the back of her head gently against the wood. Arms folded tight, she looked to the door of the nursery where Cailin slept—small, safe, and blissfully unaware of the storm pressing at their walls.

What chance did she have of finding a man worthy of them both?

How could she know his heart in just three weeks?

Her breath caught.

She pushed off the door, spine straightening.

Her eyes widened. Her heart stirred.

Maybe there is a way, she thought.

And a plan began to take root.