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K eira looked out her window into the courtyard. It had rained a little that morning, and the air around the castle was cold and relaxing—something she could barely ascribe to herself these days.

It had been just two days since she had that meeting with the councilmen and had asked them to invite Laird Kincaid for truce negotiations.

She had hoped that whatever letter they had sent to him would have gotten to him by now, and he would have responded.

He was only on the border. It was not like they had to send messages straight into England.

She yawned and stepped into the bath, ready to face the day with the strength and vigor that had carried her through the past few months.

Sometimes she was grateful that she never really got to know her husband before she died. She had gained control of the castle for quite a long time, and she knew that would never have happened if Fletcher were still alive.

Now, people reported to her. Issues concerning the castle, the clan, and the villages. Folk expressed their grievances in front of her, and the men also respected her.

The chill in the air seeped into her as she sank into the tub, the water coming right up to her neck.

The respect was not bound to last. At the end of the day, this was their clan, and she was the stranger.

She knew they would do anything to ensure the survival of the clan.

And if that meant throwing out the stranger, they would not hesitate.

It was completely up to her to think fast. And think fast she would.

She splashed water on her face, and then fully submerged herself before eventually stepping out of the tub.

Water dripped down her body as she wrapped herself in a towel and headed to her room.

She got ready in less than thirty minutes and stepped out, feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever the day threw at her.

And sure enough, the day’s hands were full.

Stella ran toward her, a nervous smile on her face.

The young girl had grown used to her over the past few months and even confessed to her one night that she would rather die than remain in the castle without her. It made Keira wonder what Stella had gone through before arriving here.

“The apothecary is out of Laudanum. They intend to go fetch some more this morning,” Stella announced, her voice soft as she walked beside her mistress.

“Well, they should. The last thing we need is to run out of Laudanum. Why are ye telling me this?”

Keira was indeed in charge of the day-to-day running of the castle.

But she was rarely informed about shortages of food or medicine.

The people in charge would always take the initiative to get the missing items themselves.

However, she could tell from Stella’s tone that whatever was happening was about more than just Laudanum.

“The market is near the border. The women dinnae want to go,” Stella added.

“Why nae?” Keira asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“They’re afraid that Laird Kincaid’s men might murder them.”

Keira drew to a halt outside the dining hall and turned to look at her maid. “They are afraid?”

“The councilmen havenae exactly been kind with their words. They have terrified these women into keeping still.”

Keira nodded and stepped into the dining hall. The tables were already laden with all sorts of food, from bread to cheese to edible wild berries.

“And what about ye, Stella? Are ye afraid of Lord Kincaid’s men?”

“I am nae.”

Keira turned around and gave her maid a piercing look, one that commanded her to speak the truth and nothing but the truth.

“Maybe a little,” Stella mumbled.

“’Tis normal for ye to be afraid. He killed thirty of our men in a week. I willnae underestimate him as well. But dinnae worry, we’re planning to negotiate with him.”

Keira took her seat at the head table and grabbed her napkin. “Is there a missive from our friend yet?”

Stella shook her head.

“Nay? Are ye certain? It’s been two days.”

“There has been nay message, M’Lady. I went to check meself,” Stella insisted, her voice firmer and louder.

Keira grabbed her fork, her mind already racing. She had asked the councilmen for a week. Two days had already gone by. With each passing day, she was running out of time.

Finding a man to remarry was no longer out of the question. Even if it was, it would take the most extraordinary of skills to find one within the next four days.

“Ye can go. I’ll send for the Laudanum meself if I have to,” she instructed, looking up at Stella.

Her maid bobbed a curtsy and scurried out of the dining hall, leaving Keira to her food and the thoughts roiling in her head.

Later that morning, she stepped out of the castle and wandered into the courtyard, taking note of the flowers she had started to grow a month ago.

She had decided on a whim that she needed to do something and put her personal touch on the castle.

So, she had started growing flowers. She had planted some in the courtyard, some near the fences, and some by the stables, even though she knew the latter had no chance of surviving once the horses were finally let out to pasture.

Just the thought of having something to do distracted her greatly from the situation she had found herself in.

She had planted some rather bright roses near the courtyard, and thanks to the rain that had fallen that morning, she did not need to fetch a watering trough.

She walked to the garden and dropped to her knees to examine the flowers. They were growing rather nicely, which was all she wanted anyway. If she gave it enough time, she might see the flowers grow into the most magnificent creatures and have her very own garden behind the castle.

At least if she wasn’t thrown out before then.

She studied some of the flowers and adjusted the slanted ones. Then she dug into the soil, ready to plant some more. The smell of fresh, damp earth filled her senses and transported her to a rather pleasant place for the briefest of moments.

“M’Lady.” Stella’s voice was unmistakable.

Keira did not bother turning around.

“What are we out of this time, Stella? More herbs?” she asked, her gloved fingers continuing to dig into the soil.

“Nay, it’s nae that,” Stella responded. “Ye have—We-We have a visitor.”

“Well, take the visitor to the Great Hall. They can wait for me there. I am quite busy, as ye can see.”

“M’Lady, ye dinnae understand. ‘Tis nae just any visitor.”

“Whoever it is, I am certain they can wait for me, Stella.”

“M’Lady.”

Keira paused, her hands buried deep in the ground. “What? Who is it? Who cannae wait for me to finish gardening?”

“The new owner of the castle.”

Keira’s breath caught.

That wasn’t Stella’s voice. No, that was a much deeper and calmer voice. A male voice.

She pulled her hands out of the earth and rose to her feet. Swallowing as she dusted her knees and took off her gloves, she remained facing away from her maid—from them both .

When her breathing evened out and her heart slowed, she finally turned around and came face to face with them.

With him .

He stood before her, his frame towering over her, a mildly polite smirk on his lips. His hair was brown, and his eyes were so brown they were almost black.

He had the lightest stubble on his chin, as if he’d shaved it the previous day or sometime this morning. His square jaw reflected the rather smug look on his face. The one Keira wanted nothing more than to wipe off.

“And who are ye again?”

The man’s smirk widened, his eyes glimmering. He turned to Stella as if she would share the amusement.

“Laird Kincaid. I just said that. It was a little too late yesterday, but I did receive the council’s missive, and I thought I’d make it out here as soon as possible.”

“I see,” Keira uttered, her eyes narrowing on him. “Well, I am the lady of the clan, so whatever it is ye planned to discuss with the councilmen, ye may as well discuss it with me.”

Laird Kincaid nodded.

“And ye may stop calling yerself the new owner of the castle. We would both agree that it is quite inaccurate, would we nae?”

Laird Kincaid cocked his head and furrowed his brow. For the briefest moment, Keira studied his face.

His pupils dilated as he held her stare. “That is not what was in the missive. I was told that ye will be surrendering the castle to me. That is why I am here.”

Keira felt her heart stop for a minute.

What?

Stella seemed to share in her shock as well, but perhaps hers was more latent.

“Nay. Ye were asked to come so we can negotiate, nae hand the castle over to ye. That is quite absurd.”

Laird Kincaid nodded. He pulled the letter out of a pouch on his belt and handed it over to Keira.

Her eyes flicked to the letter and then back to him, a second wave of disbelief sweeping over her. She grabbed the missive and unfolded it, reading as fast as she could.

Just like the Laird had said, the missive was indeed a letter of surrender. It included promises of the clan helping his clansfolk as well, especially those who had been displaced in nearby villages.

“This cannae be.”

“’Tis in the letter,” Laird Kincaid reminded her, pointing at it.

“I ken that ‘tis in the letter. I just read it. And I’m saying it cannae be. This wasnae what I agreed on with the councilmen.”

Laird Kincaid stepped forward, his boots crushing some of the roses Keira had planted. Rage surged through her, but she tried her best to contain it. The last thing she wanted to do—at least for now—was give this stranger any reason to believe she was not fully capable of protecting her castle.

“I dinnae ken what to tell ye. I received that missive late last night and made me way up here this morning.”

“Aye, ye’ve mentioned that a thousand times over, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Laird.”

“What?”

“’Tis Laird Kincaid, nae Mr. I may be out of me castle, but I am nae out of the title.”

Out of a castle…

What in God’s name was this smug man before her—who seemed to be enjoying their interaction and the way it made her spiral into despair more than anything—talking about?

“But the plan was never to surrender the castle. Why would the councilmen do this?”

Laird Kincaid shrugged. “Ye’ll have to ask them.”

“Why do ye want the castle?” Keira asked, looking him in the eyes. “Ye have been killing our men for the past few days.”

“Why do I want the castle?” Surprise flashed across his face. Surprise that she would ask that question in the first place, which only confused her even further.

“Aye. Why?”

“Why do I want the castle?” he asked again, incredulous.

“Did ye nae hear me the first time?”

“I dinnae ken, maybe because ye burned me castle?”

Keira stepped back.

Burned?

“Ye should have thought about the consequences before doing that, eh?”

Keira turned to Stella, who remained frozen beside Laird Kincaid, the nervous look on her face slowly turning into panic.

“Fetch Hudson for me, will ye? Is he in the castle?”

“I am nae certain, M’Lady. I shall look for him.”

Keira nodded and watched her maid head back into the castle, only to return barely a minute later with her man-at-arms.

“Did we burn a castle?” she asked.

“Nay, M’Lady,” Hudson responded, his voice curt.

Keira turned to Laird Kincaid, a look of mild vindication on her face. “Well, there ye have it, Mr. Kincaid.”

“ Laird,” he corrected again, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. “‘Tis nay matter anyway. Ye already handed over the castle to me. There is nothing to be done about that anymore.”

“But ye heard him, did ye nae? We didnae burn a castle. Find yer conquest elsewhere.”

Keira turned around and was about to continue tending to her flowers when she felt it. The cold grip on her right wrist. His hand was strong, and from the way he held on to her, she could tell he was not the kind of man to take no for an answer.

“Perhaps it is ye who didnae hear me properly,” he grunted, his words sending cold shivers down her spine.

“It has been agreed upon that I shall take over the castle as long as I agree to keep yer staff.

‘Tis all in the letter. And I . Have . Agreed . For all intents and purposes, this castle belongs to me. ”

The finality in his voice washed over Keira like ice-cold water.

He was not joking around. He was as serious as anything, and the way he spoke made her understand that no matter how hard she tried, there was nothing—absolutely nothing—she could do about it.

“But what about me?” The words escaped her in a hurried whisper.