“You sent away the man Isla fancied!” Her eyes shot daggers at them. “That hardly inspires enthusiasm, or have you forgotten how you broke her heart?”
“That’s a bit harsh, lass,” Duncan muttered, dragging a hand through his unruly hair.
“He was a gardener,” Adair snapped. “You are the daughters of a duke. Patrick Moray knew there was no future with Isla.”
Honoria threw her hands up in exasperation. “He was never just a gardener—he was the object of Isla’s affection. That ought to count for something.” And if Patrick was an unacceptable match, what aboutthem? Her brothers were criminals, the lot of them.
“Honoria,” Callum warned, scowling down at her. “That matter has long been settled.”
“Has it?” Honoria mocked. Seven months was not a grand amount of time. “What did you expect, Callum? We live in Nairnshire. All the acceptable men keep quarters in thecity, where we are not allowed to venture becausethere are beasties that will snatch us away!”
“She has a point,” Gregor muttered with the lift of his shoulders.
Adair and Callum each shot him a glare.
“The surrounding regions have more than enough acceptable men,” Adair pointed out.
“Aye,” Callum said. “Look at us.”
“The only point worth noting,” Adair continued, a soft note of warning entering his voice, “is that the city is no place for a lady, not without a proper chaperone. Perhaps next year.”
“Aye, lass,” Duncan agreed. “Next year we will arrange everything neat and proper.”
Nextyear? As in another twelvemonths? That’s what the scoundrels said last year.Maybe next year, Honoria, we shall see.Nay, Honoria was not waiting another year only to hear another excuse then. Not if she had any say in the matter. Which she did not, but that was beside the point. She would find a way to break free from these wretched castle walls.
“Honoria?” Adair probed.
Her eyes lifted to meet his. “Next year I’ll be an old maid.”
“One-and-twenty is not that old, lass,” Gregor attempted to appease her.
“Nay? I’ll have all but shriveled up like a dried prune!”
“You won’tshrivel, lass,” Adair said, pulling a face at the word. “Not while I’m still alive to witness it.”
Callum, the rotten beast, made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat.
“I may not survive the next twelve months, have you beasts thought of that? I could slip on a river bank and hit my head on a rock. Or catch a cold and perish of consumption.”
Four sets of eyes glowered down at her.
“Don’t say such things,” Duncan reprimanded, green eyes stormy.
“What things? The everyday perils threatening a wee lass like me?” Honoria shook her head, thinking how she wanted to clobber each one of them. “For heaven’s sake, I can stumble down a flight of the stairs this night and perish.”
“That’s enough, Honoria,” Adair said, his voice laced with steel. “We are done debating the matter.”
“Och, but you are all impossible!”
She shot them each a quelling look—since they were too big to clobber—and spun around to stalk from the great hall, nearly careening into Kieran, another good-for-nothing brother. She bared her teeth at him, and he jumped out of her way, wide-eyed.
“What did you say to get the lass in such a hot temper?” Kieran asked.
Honoria did not linger to lend an ear to their obnoxious response.
Growing up with ten brothers breathing down her nape and shepherding her every move had always made her feel smothered.
Don’t touch the horse, Honoria, it will bite you.
