Page 58 of The Defiance of a Scottish Heart
“Some lasses who come here have been … how shall I explain this so you’ll understand? Many come here to get away from something. Something that makes them uncomfortable.”
“Aye, my sire wishes to betroth me to a man I don’t wish to marry. And he has insisted we marry in less than a sennight.”She swiped at the tear about to slip down one cheek. “My mother never would have allowed such a short betrothal. She would have insisted on time for my dress, time to send messengers out to invite our neighbors. Why did he insist I marry Taskill so quickly? I don’t understand him at all.” Her father hated her. That was the only conclusion she could draw from what she knew.
“And you do not like this person?”
“I like him, but I don’t wish to marry him.”
“Is it someone you’ve known all your life?”
“Aye, forever.”
The abbess lifted her arms up so she could settle them down on the desk just so, the bell sleeves of her robe now underneath her forearms. She folded her hands on the desk and leveled the most penetrating look anyone had ever given Sheona, a look that dampened her underarms, though the abbess’s voice came out soft and calm. “Has that man touched you inappropriately before? Did he touch your private area? Has he taken your maidenhead already? Is that why you don’t wish to marry him? Lass, you can tell me. I won’t tell your sire if you don’t wish me to do so.”
Shocked by such personal questions, Sheona had the impulse to run. Run away. Far away. How much farther from home could she go? It was too much. Her heartbeat sped up and she stood, her hands covering her ears, stopping the verbal assault. “Nay, nay, nay! Taskill would never do such a thing. Taskill? Never.”
And she ran.
Out the door, down the passageway, to the entranceway, and down the steps, shoving at the handle on the front door so hard that the door flew open, and she nearly catapulted down the seven steps in front of the building.
Righting herself, she dashed back to her chamber, throwing herself onto her bed and letting the tears erupt.
She hated it here. It was beautiful, and she enjoyed her new friends, but it wasn’t home. Perhaps she didn’t hate it, but she missed her old life. The uncomplicated one. The one when she was younger and jumped in the sound with the lads.
With Taskill. And her mother was on the shore and her sister was never far away. When they’d had fun every single day. Now she was in a lovely place, nearly alone.
Her own father had brought her to this horrible place and left her alone. She’d barely been able to carry on without her dear mother. Then Rinaldo had died, and Sloan had married Eva. Marta had miscarried two bairns since their mother passed and then had the one beautiful Margret. Bairns had been kidnapped, battles had taken place, and how could she be seen in all that tragedy? It had been awful for everyone. She knew it. She saw it in the creases in Sloan’s forehead, in the tears behind the closed doors of Marta’s chamber.
With all that had happened, she had melted into the stone passageways, unseen by everyone. She’d gone through the worst experiences in her life, and yet she had no one to talk with. She’d become invisible.
And no one had time for her.
The guilt of being selfish overwhelmed her, which was why she never spoke to anyone about her problem. Others had enough to deal with. Here she was, alone again in a strange place.
Which place did she feel more alone at—here or Castle Rankin?
When her tears were spent, she huddled into a ball against the cold, staring at the door, her breath hitching still. Where did she belong?
Who did she trust to help her with this?
Her mother? Impossible. Her sister? Too exhausted and busy. Her brother? Too busy as chieftain and with Eva.
Her father? Nay, he hated her.
Mother Mary? Never.
That left Brynja and Hildi.
She shivered and pulled a plaid up over her shoulders. The door opened, and Brynja entered with Hildi directly behind her. Brynja was verra intuitive and rushed over, her countenance giving away her feelings.
“What’s wrong, lass?” she asked.
Hildi said, “I saw you going to see Mother Mary. Has she sent you home? Are you leaving us already? We hope not.”
“Nay,” Sheona said, pushing herself to a sitting position. “She asked me if the man my father wishes to force me to marry has abused me. She thinks he forced himself on me.”
“Has he?” Hildi asked. “We have no one to tell. You can tell us.”
“He didn’t. But I just don’t wish to marry. No one understands me.” She’d never told anyone exactly what had happened, instead trying to force it all from her mind.
