“Nae more than any of my sane sisters,” corrected Wynda smoothly. “The love Leanna found clearly addled her mind enough to be willing to leave Oliphant Castle.”
Robena rolled her eyes. “How could ye no’ want to leave this place? Ye’re always complaining about the ghosts. Remember, we share a chamber.”
Wynda was the oldest of the three of them, although Nichola and Coira were older still. She shrugged. “I wouldnae mind if the ghosts would leave me to my work, but…”—she gazed around the courtyard—“this is my home. I cannae imagine living anywhere else.”
“If ye fall in love with a distant laird, ye’ll have to leave.” Robena cocked her head to one side. “I suppose we should be grateful Da is letting us choose instead of making matches for us.”
The panic was returning. When Da had issued his rule about marriage and grandsons, Fen had naturally assumed it didn’t apply to her. After all, she was a lady but had never acted like one—and not in the way her youngest sister, Leanna, had never been a lady. Nay, Fen had worked hard enough for four crofters and liked her work in the kitchens. Eppie had been in charge when Fen had been a lass, but now the old woman cheerfully took orders from her.
Aye, why would Fen have considered the marriage ultimatum would apply to her? She was being useful.
But what Wynda had said made sense. If Da wanted to grant the next lairdship to one of his sons-in-law, then keeping his daughters close by made the most sense.
And he couldn’t get any closer than the kitchens of Oliphant Castle.
But the idea of marriage was supremely uncomfortable. Marriage would mean new priorities and a husband who made demands. Of her body, of her time. Actually, it didn’t matter what demands he made; they would either be on top of her current duties…or instead of. The idea of giving up her kitchens, giving up everything she’d worked so hard for…it made her stomach churn like the time the shellfish and the milk had been off, and she’d made oysters in cream sauce anyhow.
Her sisters had continued on their journey home, still discussing Da’s scheme, but Fen stood rooted. Wynda glanced over her shoulder. “Are ye coming?”
“Do ye— Do ye need me for aught?” It was difficult to get the words past her dry throat.
Wynda considered. “I think I’m done with my measurements. I’ll compile them and get ye a compendium on attractiveness.” She held out her hand. “Let me copy yer notes, and I’ll run yer slate back down to ye.”
In relief, Fen forced her muscles to loosen enough to pass the slate to her sister. “Good. I’ll be— I need to… Supper.”
“Supper,” repeated Robena blandly, with a solemn nod. “I believe ye. Naught at all a panic attack at the idea of a man licking yer—”
“I have to go!” cried Fen. “The bread willnae knead itself!”
As she hurried away, she was sure she heard her sisters giggling behind her, but it didn’t matter. At this point, all Fen wanted was to retreat to her cozy kitchens, where she was able to make all the decisions and ensure everything went perfectly. Out here, there were always people watching, but there…
There, she ruled, and the only person who watched her was someone she didn’t want there in the first place.
Right?
Right.