Allura’s Secret

Twelve Dancing Princesses Book One

Chapter One

Eddington, Scotland 1815

“You can’t plan to wed me to that—that man down there!” Allura McLellan’s heart thundered, lodging in her throat. Balled into fists her hands trembled. “You promised I could marry for love. I thought when the last man failed to discover this imaginary secret you think I have, you would stop this craziness. I thought you would take the ad out of the Times and the other papers.”

From the boxing ring below, fist met flesh, the sound echoing throughout. Hunter Gray whirled and ducked. He guarded his face to block the stinging blows his opponent rained down upon him. He spun and ducked again. The man he fought countered the attack, but he did not move fast enough. Hunter’s next jab was so fast and so hard the other man didn’t block the punch. The man staggered backwards, blood running from his eye. Men yelled and cheered for the two combatants. Hunter paused and spoke to the man he practiced with before the match continued once more.

Allura saw her life as she had planned it slip away as if it was grains of sand in an hourglass. She stopped pacing and watched the men below before turning on her father. “The ad in the Times—giving me away to any man—you have gone too far. A marriage of convenience is barbaric. You promised.” For a moment, she closed her eyes. She did not want to acknowledge anything that went on here. It was not her fault she could not find a man she loved. What horrific bit of bad luck had found her?

The laird cleared his throat. “Perhaps I have not gone far enough or soon enough. And the ad did not promise you to just any man. He must be strong enough and smart enough to win your hand.”

It was not Allura’s nature to allow others to rule her fate. “These men,” she waved her hand in the air, frustration sweeping recklessly within. “They don’t want me. They come for one reason only. They are greedy and hungry for power. You have taught me everything I need to know. I can run your estate and all of your holdings. I’ve studied endless hours. I know the men who work for you. I swear I’ll defy your wishes. At the altar I will say no.”

The McLellan’s grin faded as quickly as it had appeared and without further thought, he said, “Perhaps not, you are beautiful lass—one with rare promise. And,” he stroked his chin, “no matter how much book learning a woman has she cannot dictate her own life. It is up to the men who love her to make sure she is happy and provided for.”

A strained silence followed. She sagged against the stone wall. As if sensing her vulnerable position, she stiffened. Outraged and furious she looked upon her father. “They are money grubbers and want your land—our land. They have no right to any of your estate.”

The McLellan held back for a moment, seemingly aware there was more than just a little truth in what Allura said. “How indeed?” he questioned her. Yet his smile was tight, forced. “I grow old. I only want this land secured and my daughters happy before I die. You are twenty-two. I have given you ample opportunity to fall in love. I thought it time to bring new blood to this land, a new man. I thought perhaps one would take your fancy.”

“That man,” she began. Her hand shook when she pointed at the man who danced and whirled avoiding each blow as if he dallied in child’s play. She trembled so violently she could not speak. “Is an Englishman.”

“Hunter?” Her father queried. “Is talented with his fists and he seems to be quick-witted also. Yes, I rather like him. He will suit you well.”

White-knuckled she peered over the battlements watching the scene below. The sunlight was blinding at times as it danced off his blue-black hair. She could see little of him. He wore no shirt and he was clad in skintight pants.

“He terrifies me.” She spoke to her father. Hunter scared her half-to-death. In the short time he’d been at the castle, he knew more than any of the men who came before him. He watched her and studied her. He followed her night and day. He was relentless in his pursuit.

When she closed her eyes, she saw the ad—remembered its words. “To any man who is able to discover my oldest daughter’s secret I will grant her hand in marriage. That man will inherit the land, the castle, and the wealth of the McLellan’s.”

“I gave you fair warning.” The McLellan said with a low, half-smothered chuckle. He leaned against the wall and watched as if mesmerized by the scene below. “I believe he is a good man. If I hadn’t already set the rules and put the ads in the papers, I do believe I would betroth you to him this instant. So far he is my first pick.”

“Betrothal is so archaic.” A chill raced down Allura’s spine. She was angry, scared, and humiliated. “You did not give me fair warning. You knew I would not agree to the marriage, and still you had the audacity to try to arrange it.”

“You are wrong. I knew you would agree. In the end you would do what I ask. Because,” the laird paused, “if he discovers your secret and you refuse to wed him, I will still hand over your inheritance to him.”

“You would not.”

“But I would, Allura.”

More than curious about this Englishman and why her father would pick him over the others, she could not stop herself from asking. “Why do you like him so? What has he done that appeals to you?”

“He is strong. You need a strong man, Allura. Just as your sisters do. I want the best for you, and I believe Hunter Gray has the will to keep you from harming yourself. You are too inquisitive and too intrigued by the unknown. In addition, you are far too careless with your own well-being. You take too many risks with your life.”

She inhaled sharply and he paused a moment. His dark eyed gaze focused on her.

“I want grandchildren.” Looking a bit chagrined the McLellan exhaled a long, deep breath while he fumbled with the material of his shirt. “It is my fault,” he told her. “If I had raised you properly after your mother’s death, none of this would be happening now.”

She smiled. Her heart warmed toward her father. For a moment, she forgot their argument and her desire to find a man she could love. “You raised us the way you saw fit. You did a wonderful job.”

He didn’t seem to hear her words of praise or wish to acknowledge them. He continued, “If you’d had a mother, you would have known what was expected of you, and you would have behaved in a dutiful manner.”

Her smile faded. “Dutiful? You would not have had half as much fun with us if you’d raised perfect little ladies, and you know I speak the truth.”

Her father stared at her closely. “If I had not let you grow up undisciplined, like some wild gypsy wench… If I had not taken such delight in my daughter’s unconventional and wayward antics… If I had curbed some of those high spirits and unladylike manners…”

Once again Allura smiled. She loved her father with all her heart. “You encouraged me to be myself.”

“You didn’t believe I would carry through with my threat to find you a husband.”

“I did not.”

“I dislike the fact that you are so set against this you are losing sleep. Don’t think for a moment the dark circles under your eyes and the lines of strain can be missed.”

“But you have failed to see the solution.”

He ignored her and looked down at the boxing ring. “I find I do not have the patience I once had for the games you and your sisters play.” Her father’s back was rigid, his jaw tense. Allura had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. In this decision her father would never back down.

“Your threats have never meant anything in the past.” She paced again. The castle walls blurred in front of her. She could not lose her freedom or the island sanctuary that had come to mean so very much to her. Far below the field resounded with grunts and ribald male laughter.

“Ah, but I wanted only to give you a chance to find a good and honest man.”

With quiet desperation she tried to hide the terrors that beset her. “Father, we have discussed the topic often, and I have told you time and time again—I do not wish to marry—ever.” Hands clenched at her sides with her nails biting into her palms, she added, “And not to some land-hungry Englishman who appears at the castle walls seeking to discover something that does not exist.”

Her father had the grace to flush. He was not an unreasonable man, and “tyrant” was not a word applied to the easy-going McLellan. But Allura knew he wanted to see his daughters married and happy.

“You have no choice in this matter,” he continued, his fingers gripping the stone where they rested. “My mind is set.”

“So, you have put me into a lottery. The most ingenious stranger will win my hand.” She was not, however, in a congenial mood at the moment, and the fierce look she bent upon her father made him turn away.

“I have not,” he said wearily.

“You have.” Her frustration and despair rose with the tempest brewing on the eastern shore. Thunderclouds rose high in the twilight sky their color as black as midnight. She hoped the wind would die down and the whitecaps on the ocean would ease so she could escape to her island sanctuary in a few hours. Yet the threatening storm fit her mood. Her father was wrong about her. She never put herself in danger.

“I disagree.” He spoke calmly.

Allura understood her father well enough to know he wasn’t at peace with anything she’d said. No, he was feeling very guilty, but he was also upset with her.

She wanted to yell and scream. Instead, she inhaled and watched the man below. He moved with an easy, fluid grace, whirling and turning, ducking then jabbing or blocking a blow before he would spin again. She let her mind wander while she thought about her sanctuary and what a husband would mean to her future. She would have no prospects. She would be confined to the castle with no freedom, never allowed to sail to the island again.

Hunter. She knew little about this man. He was the sixth man to seek her hand, but this man terrified her because he held himself straighter, because his jaw was stronger, and his confidence was so very evident. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t a posturing dandy with ruffles on his shirt and high-heeled shoes. He never wore a wig, his black hair gleaming now in the sunlight.

“I have faith in you, Allura,” her father spoke with his hands clenched in fists at his side. It was the only sign of his frustration.

“Faith?” She whirled on her father. “Is that why you treat me so callously? Offering my hand to the man who can discover my secrets?” She protested once more though she knew her opposition to her father was to no avail.

Her father smiled, but his eyes were sad. “If what you say is true, no one will win your hand. You won’t have to marry.”

“Father.”

“If you have nothing to hide…”

He was a wily devil, her father. She was sure the sudden rise of heat to her cheeks gave away the untruth she spoke. She thought she had hidden the outings she and her sisters made to the island. She didn’t think her father had known,

Where had she gone wrong?

A wild cry from the field below shattered the air around her and her guarded emotions. She leaned farther over the wall to see what had happened. Embarrassed by her curiosity, she jerked away.

“Father,” she said again, trying not to watch the man below and trying even harder not to let the Englishman insinuate himself into her life.

“Deny it all you want, Allura. I have learned more than you could guess. And now I leave this in the hands of a man who must be clever and wise, one who must be patient and diligent, and I pray the man will also be good and kind.”

She had lost this argument with her father, and she was about to lose all she held dear. She would not. She could not. A mere man would not defeat her. He would have to discover the secret tunnel, find their boat, then the island.

Her father gazed at her for a long time before he continued, “When you are wed, I will see to my other daughters and find husbands for them also.”

“But you cannot pawn them off as you have done me.”

“If they fail to find a suitable mate on their own, I will do whatever I deem necessary. I might even send them to The Duchess so they can have a season or as many as it will take.”

Shuddering Allura walked to the adjacent wall and stared at the tossing whitecaps. Keeping feelings of anxiety and defeat at bay were becoming increasingly difficult but she endeavored to think clearly and to not overlook any possible way out of this dilemma.

If she had only herself to consider, she’d do what? She wasn’t sure but her sisters and her cousins…

The fate of the island sanctuary rested on her shoulders. Over the years the island had become special. And over the years, the girls had come to realize no man would allow them to go there without protection. The island was safe but men didn’t see things the way women did. The island was their private domain, special because they’d spent hours upon hours learning about themselves and the world there. For Allura, the island was a part of her heart as well as her soul. It was not far from the castle. It was safe.

She could see one tip of her island, and she could see the tide ebb and flow. The distance was not far to travel and the girls only ventured there when the seas were calm. They’d never once encountered danger. Emptiness clawed at her insides. The rawness was an ache so strong she knew not how to cure the pain. A shadow of regret for a past she could not recapture crossed Allura’s heart. She was hard pressed to keep the tears at bay.

Suddenly her father stood beside her.

“I do this for your own good.” His tone was grave, his features somber.

Allura pulled a face, grimaced, and swung around to look at him. Her body trembled from the strain of keeping her anger in check. She would not allow Hunter Gray to ruin her life. “My own good?” Her father was a man. What would he understand? He owned her.

“I have only your best interest at heart. You need someone to care for you, to protect you, and to cherish you for the rest of your life.”

An angry flush spread to her heated cheeks, and Allura bit back a furious retort before saying in a tight voice, “To confine me. To keep me locked in the castle barefoot and carrying child. And how would you know if that man would do all those things? All of them—they come for the money. He is a landless Englishman, a bastard.” She knew the uselessness of renewing the argument, but she couldn’t help one last parting shot.

He sighed heavily. “Only at night—I wish only that you would stay inside the castle walls at night.”

She stiffened, trying hard not to condemn herself further.

“I will send Hunter to talk to you.”

She sent him an annoyed glance. “Don’t bother. I will not speak to that man. I will close the door in his face. I will turn my back to him.”

“You must talk. I would prefer a love match, but I don’t suppose such a thing is possible.”

“How could I ever love a man who wants me only because of the land he would control and the power that goes with it?”

“You know love is possible,” he said. “You must give him a chance.”

“I will not stay here and I will not speak with him.” Her voice trembled with those determined and heartfelt words.

She was shaking her head and backing away as moisture filled her eyes. She blinked away tears and pushed back the hot burning in her throat. Birds sang and swooped in the stormy sky then spread their wings and floated on the drafts. Freedom was something she craved with all her being. Innately curious, she could not bear to be confined behind the castle walls.

“Then I will devise another way for the two of you to meet. I’m sure with time you will fall in love with him.” Her father’s determination frightened her.

Freedom. Independence. Her island sanctuary gave her all that and more. But now her father would take her dreams of a man she could love with her heart and soul away from her.

“Love? What would you know of love?” Appalled that she would even think such a thing, Allura paled and she hugged him impetuously.

He rested a hand on her shoulder. His eyes were filled with moisture. She had never seen her father cry or look so sad.

“I loved your mother.”

“That was unkind of me. I am sorry. I know you cared for her and loved her deeply.” She wanted to reach out once more and comfort him. She wanted her mother to return somehow, to rise from the dead and right this injustice.

“I know all young people would think their elders know not of love. But they would be wrong.” He smoothed a tear from her cheek. “You would all be wrong.”

~ * ~

Hunter’s heart stopped, his gaze poised on the young lady who stood next to the laird. Beside Hunter his trusted friend choked then whistled softly.

“This cannot be the girl,” Hunter said, his voice rasping, anger and disbelief sweeping through him. His features heated as he strove to stamp down the rising tide of emotion. In the short time he’d been at the castle, he’d followed her, dodged her footsteps, but he’d never been close enough to her to clearly see her features. He studied her hard then grinned.

“What did I tell you?” Blade asked, the question knifing through Hunter.

Hunter paused mid-stride then inhaled a deep, ragged breath before wondering what his next move in this game should be. Then he knew. “I don’t care what she pretends to be or what charades she tries to dance before my eyes,” he told Blade. No, he had come to McLellan lands with one purpose, and he meant to continue in the same manner. He understood his motives and what he wanted. The homely appearance of his bride-to-be could never change the course of events he’d set in motion. Despite what she tried to do, he could see clearly through her ploy.

“Hells bells, I’m glad I don’t have to crawl into bed with her every night.” Blade slapped Hunter on the back. “At least she has all her teeth.” His low, deep chuckle unnerved Hunter, but he resigned himself to this fate and the length she was willing to go to in order to forgo a marriage to him. The winnings sure to come his way were worth whatever game she meant to play.

The coveted prize he sought was not the lady, he reminded himself. Once again he watched her and began an ardent perusal of Lady McLellan.

Allura McLellan, the woman he sought to marry, stood before her father with her hands clasped white knuckled in front of her and chin tilted slightly sideways. Her lips were pursed and her eyes so squinty he could not discern the color. With her hair raked tightly back from her face and formed into stiff coils, Hunter wondered if she could even think. He paused then stared at Blade.

Hunter wanted to say something courtly. Unable to think of anything flattering to say, he grimaced instead, telling himself he should be able to say something that would not sound absolutely stupid in this strange circumstance.

“I hope the power and the land are enough.” Blade spoke to Hunter before Hunter turned and strode forward, his hand outstretched to greet the laird. He ignored Allura for a moment then he turned and bowed, his smile mocking.

Hunter wondered who he was mocking, Allura or himself.

Allura turned to him, her pose regal despite her pinched features. She glared at Hunter and said stiffly, “I am Allura McLellan.” She paused before she walked forward to stand only a few feet in front of him. Her chin rose another notch as she spoke. “Just who do you think you are?”

“Bloody eyes,” Blade whispered, his smug smile disappearing. “She’s as rude as she is perverse.”

Quick wits kept Hunter’s mouth from falling open in astonishment. Not only had her appearance surprised him, but her hostile and belligerent manner caught him off guard. He stared at her stupefied. This unfashionable, tall and scrawny creature in a deplorable and ill-fitting gown squinting so fiercely at him was Allura McLellan of the McLellan castle. But it was her attitude that caused his polite smile to fade from his lips and his dark green eyes to harden with speculation.

Her father cleared his throat. The laird’s eyes narrowed with obvious disapproval. “Allura.” The warning came in the tone of his voice.

She turned, “Father, I do not like these men.” Her strained voice and tense set to her shoulders made her even more unlikable.

Blade inhaled. His voice was sharp. “Hunter,” his hand rested on his friend’s shoulder. “We must talk. She is not as she seems.” Blade’s words were whisper thin, his features calculating, yet easing somewhat before he smiled broadly.

“Later.” Hunter brushed off his friend’s warning. Because of the nature in the ad, he had expected the lady to be subservient, docile in nature. Perhaps he had even expected Allura McLellan’s compliance in this marriage. It appeared he would have neither.

He stepped forward, refusing to greet her properly and very determined to meet this prickly little hedgehog in her own manner, Hunter said flatly, “Hunter Gray.”

“What you seek cannot be found here,” Allura said her voice hostile. “Be on your way. There is nothing here for you or your friend.”

Hunter’s mouth tightened. Damn, but she looked as if she swallowed a lemon. Resisting an urge to turn on his heels and abandon all his dreams at least for the near future, he said with grim determination, “I am here to win your hand in marriage. I intend to discover all the secrets you hold close to your heart.”

“Then you embark on a fool’s mission.” Her voice was cold and ice slithered down his spine. Yet he heard a note of desperation in her voice, a strange vulnerability he had not expected. Then she straightened again, her spine stiff and unrelenting.

For a fleeting moment, he’d seen something he wasn’t sure of, and he meant to understand what prompted her strange behavior.

“No, Lady Allura, it is you who overestimate your own prowess.” He was even more determined now, and he didn’t fathom why. At the moment, this young lady possessed no characteristics, either beauty or disposition, that would attract him. He reminded himself that he sought it all: the land, the lady, and if God blessed him, a family.

Even the laird looked displeased. The McLellan stared at Allura, a pained expression on his lined and weathered features.

The laird turned to his daughter. “Allura, you must cease this nonsense.”

Before Allura could reply, her father turned to Hunter, “Welcome,” the laird’s voice rasped deeply, but he smiled and waved to Hunter then acknowledged Blade with a tilt to his head. “Have a seat.” He motioned for servants to bring food and wine.

“You will behave yourself, Allura, or I will see that you are no longer a prize to win. I will give you to Hunter Gray in marriage or not. How the two of you wed makes no difference to me.”

She inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. They were blue, Hunter saw. A very brilliant shade of blue. Very beautiful…

With that newfound knowledge whirling in his head, Hunter sat on the laird’s right, Allura at his left. Intrigued more thoroughly now, Hunter could not keep from studying Allura McLellan. Her face was now bathed in a vibrant shade of pink, her shoulders shaking, and her hands still fisted tightly in front of her.

Thinking Allura McLellan was one of the most unappealing, ill-tempered shrews it had ever been his misfortune to run across, Hunter braced himself for his precarious future with her. Because he still meant to have the McLellan land, the power, and the wealth even if gaining the prize meant bedding the shrew.

His gaze swept her once more, moving over the pulled-back hair of indeterminate color, the squinty eyes, and the pinched mouth as he wondered cynically if it was common knowledge the men who lived in McLellan castle were mentally deficient. The ad had called her beautiful. A beauty? Bloody eyes! If this was their idea of a beauty, it was obvious they all were crazy or in need of better eyesight. Of course, it was the doting father who wrote the ad.

Shrugging his shoulders at the strange quirks in human nature, he leaned back, relaxing while he waited. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he wanted an explanation from the laird. After all, his daughter had been toasted as one of the most beautiful lasses in all Scotland. He wondered if she was beautiful. It was difficult to tell. Beneath the disguise perhaps she was exquisite.

“Allura!” A red-headed imp, posing unsuccessfully as a young lady danced into the room, her skirts sailing around her legs, her hair flying every which way in wild abandon. “Can you come see the new—” she broke off when she caught sight of Hunter.

At the sound of her name, Allura’s tension seemed to vanish and a warm smile suddenly spread across her face. “Oh, Aidan!” she cried in a far nicer tone of voice than Hunter had heard from her yet. “You must wait a few moments. Father wants me to stay here.”

Aidan laughed, and with another tiny skip she seated herself on a stool beside the fire. Glancing at Hunter, she sent him a friendly smile and said, “Hello, you must be Hunter Gray.” She turned to Blade. “And you must be his friend, Blade. What a strange name.”

Her father laughed. “I hope you are finding your accommodations comfortable. If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

A few moments passed before Hunter realized the laird spoke to him. He was still reeling from the fascinating change a smile made on Allura’s face. With an effort he tore his eyes away from the delightful dimple that had appeared near her suddenly not-so-prune-shaped mouth, and looking at the laird, he said politely, “I am sure I will find everything satisfactory.”

Aidan grinned. “He won’t be staying long enough to find fault. No one else has lasted more than a week.”

Hunter laughed, instantly liking this young lady. “I am not going away any time soon.” His gaze drifted from the fireball of energy to the squinty-eyed Allura.

Allura’s prudish expression had returned. “Well, don’t count on winning my hand, Mr. Hunter Gray. Foolishly, my father believes I keep secrets from him. There is nothing here for you to discover.”

His smile fading, he spoke with fierce determination. “We will see.” He turned to the laird. “Blade and I will go now.”

Without another word or glance in Allura’s direction, Hunter sauntered from the great hall. Though he left the hall, he wasn’t about to vanquish the sharp-tongued Allura McLellan from his thoughts. Quite the contrary, he was convinced she was everything unpleasant he had first suspected. And there was no doubt in his mind she was a veritable termagant, but he was, he admitted reluctantly, intrigued by her. When she smiled, he’d had a fleeting yet baffling hint of the beauty the ad had spoken of. But those clothes and that hair! Not to mention her waspish attitude.

There was something about Allura. Something about her that didn’t ring true. He meant to discover what exactly intrigued him. Shaking his head in mystification, he slowly walked to his room.

~ * ~

Looking from the window in her room, Allura recounted other nights—times when she felt free. With an emptiness she had never known before, she watched the ocean lap against the beaches in the cove where her sailboat lay hidden, and she remembered.

Golden moonlight shimmered on the calm sea. When she closed her eyes, she could feel the sailboat skimming across the water toward the island sanctuary Allura McLellan thought of as her own special place.

Vividly, she recalled the last outing. The vessel scraped soft sand. Her cousin Amorica was with her. They both stepped from the boat onto the flat rock nearby. Allura lifted her skirts and jumped from the boulder to the beach, her toes curling into the sand. Laughter bubbled from deep within. Yet the gut wrenching heartache didn’t vanish.

“Amorica,” Allura whispered to her cousin, unwilling to shatter the peaceful calm surrounding her sanctuary. Yet the need to pour out all her heartache to her friend and cousin overshadowed all other thoughts.

“Allura?” Amorica turned. Concern marred her striking features. “What is it?”

“This place is so very beautiful. I shall not ever want to give up this paradise for any reason.” As if in awe of her surroundings, Allura whispered, her voice barely discernible in the warm summer night. She held out her arms and twirled slowly while she inhaled deeply. Sea salt and summer flowers scented the air. She knew when she climbed the hill the scent of pine would linger.

Allura understood soul deep what she would lose when she married. From what she’d seen so far in her sheltered life, no husband would allow her this freedom. The sanctuary meant so much to her. She had taught her sisters to read here. Her soul rested here. Her heart had become part of this island.

Allura turned to her cousin, unshed moisture filling her eyes. “What have I done to deserve father’s wrath?” Her heartsickness rendered her nearly speechless.

Amorica stiffened then cocked her head to one side, looking at Allura as if she was about to lecture a small child. “Because you have turned down every suitor your father has brought before you.”

Amorica shook her head, pulling the ends of her skirt high so she could walk up the stone steps to the shelter the cousins had built.

A noise outside her door brought Allura back to the moment. She stepped back from the window in her bedroom and brushed a tear from her cheek. It would do nothing but harm for her to feel self-pity, but she did. She wanted to shout out how unfair all this was. Instead, she let the sea breeze caress her tear-stained cheeks and let her memories ease her heartache.

She gave Amorica advice that day. “You turned down all your suitors,” Allura reminded her.

“Yes, that I have and for good reason.”

Allura laughed, the tension created by her father over her marriage easing. “Every man my father has presented to me was either bald or soft in the belly.”

“Mine too,” Amorica said.

“They were nice enough but they were old men. Father did say I could marry for love.” Both girls fell silent for several long seconds. Allura tried to memorize the scents and sounds of the island. “He promised me as well as my mother.” Her voice trembled, distress fluttering inside. She needed the pain to turn to anger. She needed to find some way to fight her emotions and the despair,

She knew one day a man would arrive at the castle, and he would be a man she could not best—because that man might be Hunter Gray.

“He has betrayed you in the worst way. I understand, but Allura, you have to be sensible. Choose someone. Someone you care for. There are men in your father’s service you could choose. If you take the first step, your father will be happy. He is feeling his own mortality now, and he wants to secure his lands and the future for his children.”

“I will not go down without a fight. May the best man win but he will have to out think me.” With the back of her hand, Allura wiped away a tear,

“Whoever it may be, he will have a devil of a time. I am sure.” Amorica agreed with her cousin.

Allura bent down and lovingly traced the outlines of a chunk of marble. Her father had brought the stone from Italy for her mother. When her mother died, he’d given the stone to her. Her father had often wondered where it had gone. Each of the girls had picked out one special stone and carried their treasure to the walkway. Allura’s was marble and the first of the twelve stones because she was the oldest. Amorica’s was a large piece of jade her mother had given to her on her fourteenth birthday.

The shelter they built from scratch seemed more like a shrine to Allura than a place to shelter them. But they had used this place to learn, to talk, to write, and to paint. They had been told no man would marry a woman who loved to learn—a bluestocking. But they had never cared.

“Your father will do the same. I saw your father and mine huddled together in a deep discussion just two days past. I would not want to find out what they talked of so purposefully.”

Amorica stiffened. “I would not doubt my father, ever. I know he wants to see me wed. He still wants an heir. I am sure that was the day they concocted the handbill.” Amorica paused thoughtfully. “What makes you think a husband would make you give up the trips to the island?”

Allura shrugged. “I have watched the married folk around the castle. I have seen the women all become subservient to their men. What else would I think?”

“I would look within myself. And I would find some way.”

“What if he beats me? When we wed, he will own me.”

“I understand your fears all too well.”

“We are too old. Indeed, we are old maids and I am very happy to be one.”

“We are long in the tooth,” Amorica laughed.

“On the shelf,” Allura continued, “I don’t want a tether around my neck. I don’t want to be owned. I am not chattel.”

Amorica chuckled again. “You over dramatize.”

“No, I do not. I have seen some of our friends after they wed. Once they were laughing girls, running through the meadows barefoot and swimming in the loch. Now they are chained to their husbands with babies at their knees. Not a moment’s peace do any of them have.”

“If you are speaking of Marrie, she does not want a moment’s peace. She is happy with her lot and rejoices each time she finds herself carrying another child.”

“And she will most likely die in childbirth. It is not something I want for myself.”

“You do not want children?”

“I do not want a child every year for the rest of my life.”

Allura pursed her lips thoughtfully. She stood at the top of the low rise, looking down upon a windswept valley. The shelter rose next to a stream which gurgled upward from a spring. The tiny spring was the only fresh water on the island.

In all the years the girls had spent at their sanctuary, they had never seen another human. The island was too close to the well-protected McLellan castle for ruffians to hide out. There was no danger for them. If they chose difficult times to cross the short distance, they might risk capsizing but they were smart and knew the islands and the ocean currents. There were no dangerous animals on the island either.

“Perhaps a husband could be made to see reason.”

“This is our sanctuary.” Allura lit a candle, wishing all the while she was wrong about husbands. Deep in her heart she knew a husband would never be as indulgent as her father, never allow her to leave the safety of the castle walls without protection.

“We all carry a small, hunting knife,” Amorica said, “and we know how to use the weapon, where to strike.”

“I doubt if that knowledge would convince a man. He would most likely boast of his own strength and agility.”

Amorica chuckled softly. “Come, let us forget about husbands and weddings. This may be the last night we can meet at the island.”

“Very well, I wish to enjoy every moment.” Allura lovingly dipped her fingers in the spring water, watching the ripples spread across to silently lap at the mossy edge. She turned toward the stone shelter and closed her eyes. Inside the sanctuary she kept her books and her sister’s paintings. All the treasures accumulated over the years were stored here.

“What will become of us?” Allura asked, suddenly resigned to her fate.

“You will give up so easily then?”

Allura shook her head. “Never, I will lead anyone seeking my hand astray. To win me the man must have more wit and more patience than I.”

Outside a seagull cried out.

She choked back a sob and threw herself on her bed more determined to keep the island and the passageway a secret from Hunter Gray.