Page 4 of To Wed a Witch (Reluctant Brides #3)

S ìne's chamber felt like a cage as she paced from window to wall and back again, her bare feet silent on the cold stone floor. She'd managed to wash the mud and blood from her body and now donned a clean garment, but her father's words still rang in her ears like a death knell.

"I cannot believe ye mean to hand me off to a complete stranger like a sack of grain!" She whirled to face her father, who sat heavily in the chair, looking every one of his sixty years. "Why did ye not tell me about the dowry or the terms of my marriage before?"

"I did not want to trouble ye. But now, things are more pressing. I am not getting any younger, and life is volatile at best."

"Is this why ye were so set against Aidyn? Because it ruined my chances of a match?"

Her father looked shame-faced but nodded. "Aye."

"So this Ferguson is to marry me for the coin and nothing more?"

"It would seem so. His clan are desp—"

"Dinnae say it!" Sìne cut him off. "I ken that's the only reason he is eager to wed a rumored witch. But what do ye ken of him? Nothing! He could be a brute who beats his women."

"Sìne, be reasonable," Laird MacKay said wearily, rubbing his temples. "Bhaltair has a reputation as a fair man, if stern. His clan respects him. 'Twas his clansmen who approached me for information of ye. They want to see him succeed, which shows loyalty."

"His clan may respect him, but what of his women? Perhaps he has someone tucked away in the Keep who will resent my mere presence." Her voice rose with each word, panic making her thoughts race.

"Daughter, ye're being hysterical. If he has a lover, 'tis none of yer concern. Ye will learn to ignore it and do yer duty."

"None of my concern?" Sìne stopped pacing to stare at him. Her heart clenched. She knew her father spoke truth, but it didn't make the reality any easier to bear. "But Father, what of Aidyn? I must return to my cottage."

"No, ye must not!" MacKay's voice was stern.

"But Aidyn is my life!" Tears pricked at her eyes as she thought of her beloved Aidyn.

"Listen to me, daughter. That part of yer life is over now. 'Tis best the Ferguson laird ken nothing of yer sordid dealings and—"

"It was not sordid. Laird Ferguson needs to ken the full extent of the bargain and what he's getting," Sìne replied, her chin lifting defiantly.

"He is getting an heiress with a wealthy dowry and that is all he needs to ken!" her father roared, his face flushing red. "Ye will remain here until the wedding, and I'll see to yer household. Once that is done, ye and only ye will leave with the Fergusons."

"What ye are asking of me is too great. I will not marry him on those conditions, and I will not abandon Aidyn!" The words burst from her like a dam breaking.

"Ye will do as ye're told! There is more than just yer recklessness at stake here!"

"But Aidyn is mine, and no one shall part us for 'tis a sacrifice too great." Her voice broke on the last words, and she pressed a hand to her chest where her heart felt like it was being torn apart.

"Ye must, daughter. There is no future for any of us if ye remain stubborn in yer ways. The Ferguson will reject ye if yer heart remains bound to another."

The silence that followed was deafening. Sìne stared at her father in horror, finally understanding the true cost of this marriage. Not just her freedom, not just her dreams of love, but her entire world.

"What about my cottage, Da? My garden? The autumn harvest is nearly ready, and I've got stores to preserve for winter. There are many who need my healing tinctures."

"The cottage will keep. As for yer healing..." MacKay shook his head. "Perhaps 'tis time ye put that behind ye. 'Tis that very skill that has brought ye nothing but trouble."

"Put it behind me?" Sìne's voice cracked with disbelief. "Da, 'tis who I am. I cannot simply stop being who I am."

"Who ye are," her father said gently, "is a woman who deserves a respectable husband and a keep of her own. Not a life lived in fear at the edge of a cursed wood, healing ungrateful villagers who repay yer kindness with malice. Ye must let go of the past forever."

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them back fiercely. "So I must pretend that I had no life before this marriage?"

"I'll see that all ye hold dear is well cared for," Laird MacKay promised. "But Sìne, ye must understand, this match with Bhaltair Ferguson is the answer to all our prayers. Ye'll be safe. Our clan land will be safe, and ye'll have a husband to protect ye." He hesitated.

"And?" she prompted, though she dreaded the answer.

"And yer sacrifice will save both our clans from ruin."

The words hit her hard. "So 'tis yer legacy and land ye care about? I'm to shackle myself to a man who sees me only as coin to fill his coffers. I must give up my heart and soul for the privilege?"

MacKay's silence was answer enough.

Sìne sank onto her narrow bed, her knees suddenly weak. All her life, she'd harbored a secret hope that someday, somewhere, a man would love her for herself and choose her above all else. Instead, she was to be sold to a stranger for the gold she could provide.

"He's a good man, Sìne," her father said softly. "The way he protected ye tonight... a brute would not have done such a thing."

"No, Da. Dinnae try to sweeten this bitter draught." She looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "When is this... this wedding to take place?"

"The wedding and handfasting will be in three days' time. Laird Ferguson wishes to return to his own lands before the weather turns."

Three days. Three days to say farewell to all she loved. Three days before she became the property of a man who saw her as nothing more than a solution to his financial woes.

"I'll need time to gather my things," she said dully. "My healing supplies, my preserving equipment. If I'm to live in some foreign keep, I'll want familiar tools around me."

Relief flickered across her father's weathered face. "Of course. Take whatever ye need."

What she needed was choice. What she needed was a man who would love her as she was... all of her.

What she was getting was Bhaltair Ferguson and his empty coffers. It would not do. Sìne began to plan. She was not going to sit by and watch her life be dictated to her for the sake of coin.

***

B ELOW STAIRS IN THE Great Hall, Dugald was staring at his laird as if the man had sprouted a second head.

"Ye're actually going to wed her?" Dugald's voice carried a note of disbelief that set Bhaltair's teeth on edge. "The witch?"

"She's not a witch." Bhaltair's words came out sharper than he'd intended. He stood with his back to the dying fire, arms crossed over his chest, his expression thunderous.

"But laird, ye saw her yerself. Bursting in here like some mad creature of the forest, muttering and wild-eyed, covered in mud and brambles.

" Dugald shook his head. "When I first suggested this match, I thought perhaps the rumors were far fetched.

But seeing her tonight... well, 'tis enough to give a man pause. "

Bhaltair's jaw clenched. "What ye saw tonight was a woman who'd been chased through the forest by an angry mob. Any person would look wild under such circumstances."

"Aye, but—"

"But nothing." Bhaltair turned to face his clansman fully, his eyes glittering dangerously. "The lass saved a bairn's life, and for her good deed she was branded a witch and hunted like an animal. If that makes her mad in yer eyes, then perhaps ye should examine yer own judgment."

Dugald raised his hands defensively. "I meant no offense, laird. 'Tis just ... when she ran straight to ye instead of her own father... well, 'twas passing strange."

Something twisted in Bhaltair's chest at the memory. The way she'd trusted him instinctively, positioned herself behind him as if she'd known without doubt that he would protect her. The feel of her small, trembling form pressed against his back.

"She kenned I would keep her safe," he replied. "And she was right."

"Aye, but why? Ye'd never met before tonight. How could she have known—"

"Because," Bhaltair cut him off, "some things dinnae require explanation. They simply are."

Dugald studied his laird's face in the flickering firelight, taking in the set of his jaw, the defensive tension in his broad shoulders. A slow smile began to spread across his features. "Well, I'll be damned," he murmured. "She's bewitched ye after all."

"Enough with yer havering," Bhaltair replied through gritted teeth. "I'm getting exactly what I came here for. A wife with a substantial dowry who can save our clan from ruin. That's the end of it."

But even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren't entirely true. Yes, the dowry was crucial, and without it, his people would face starvation come winter. But there had been something else in that moment that had stirred to life in his chest.

She was beautiful, aye, even covered in mud.

But more than that, she was intelligent.

Brave. When the mob had accused her of witchcraft, she hadn't cowered or begged—she'd stood her ground and defended her actions with fierce pride.

When he'd told her she was to wed him, the color had drained from her face, but she hadn't fainted or dissolved into hysteria.

Sìne MacKay was exactly the kind of woman who could stand beside him and never flinch from the challenges such a life would bring. The fact that she came with enough gold to rebuild his keep and feed his clan through the coming winter was simply practical.

"Of course, laird," Dugald replied, but his knowing smile remained. "Whatever ye say."

Bhaltair glared at him. "Dinnae ye have duties to see to? Preparations to make for the journey home?"

"Aye, that I do." Dugald headed toward the door but paused at the threshold. "For what it's worth, laird... I ken we may have forced yer hand a wee bit, but the clan and I... we still want what's best for ye."

Bhaltair sighed and simply nodded his head in acknowledgment.

He knew deep down his men were loyal; the truth was they'd been in dire straits for so long it was second nature to try any solution to remedy their situation.

He had to be content with the fact their intentions were pure despite their actions being reckless at times.

He resolved that whatever happened from here on, he would make the best of it. No doubt this would only be a marriage of convenience, and there was no need to become attached or sentimental.

Bhaltair stared into the flames, a strange hollow feeling growing in his chest. He'd secured his clan's future and gained a wife who was far more appealing than he'd dared hope. By any measure, this was a successful negotiation.

So why did he feel as though the battle had only just begun?

***